He kisses me, dragging his sweet lips over mine. I almost lose myself in it, but when the bench wobbles again, I wrap my arms around his side and stand, lifting us both.
“Come on, Caesar,” he coos in my ear, the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard. “I want to give you a massage first.”
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
DREW
My toes landon the pavement. Caesar has one arm wrapped around my shoulder, the other at my hip, and he holds my weight gently, lowering me without effort.
“A massage?”
The expression on his face makes me grin. His brow is tight, and his eyes creased, like I suggested we do something reckless. “Yeah, a massage,” I tell him. “You keep stretching your arm. I know you probably hurt yourself, moving those heavy machines alone.”
I glance into the garage. It undoes me how nice the place looks. All of Caesar’s other stuff is shoved back into the corners, and the two rusty, broken pinball machines are in the center with lights shining down on them. He’s obviously gone out of his way to prepare it. The tools are set out in careful arrangement, there’s a stool waiting for me, and it looks like he’s even cleaned the dust off the machines.
It’s been years since I had someone else to take care of me, not since I was a kid, and every time I glance at the broken old machines, I get a lump in my throat.
I turn back to Caesar. He’s got one hand shoved in the pocket of his loose cargo shorts, and there’s an almost shy expression on his face. “I guess I could use a massage,” he grumps.
It’s true that I do want to dive into the machines and get to work, but my other needs are much, much stronger now.
I take Caesar’s hand. “A garage is no place for a massage. Let’s go inside.”
He grunts, pleased. “All right.”
Caesar closes up the garage, rolling the big door down and locking it. He brings me and Grace inside, not saying much, but whenever our eyes catch, I see that he’s smiling.
“Couch good?” he asks.
I shake my head firmly. “Nope. Bedroom.”
He’s earned this massage. It’s been a long time since someone did something nice for me, but I’m pretty sure it’s been even longer since anyone gave some tender attention to his grumpy ass.
“Meant to clean up earlier,” Caesar says as he leads me through the house. There’s wood-paneling on the walls in the stairway and old carpet on the floors upstairs.
I grab his sides from behind and rub as I follow. “Don’t apologize. You were busy cleaning the garage.” Caesar pushes open the bedroom door. “And anyway…”
He pauses and turns to me. “Anyway?”
I surprise him with a kiss, short and sweet. “Anyway, I’ve already seen your messes,” I add quickly, then hurry past him into the room.
Caesar hits the light. “Whatever you say, kid.”
There’s a big bed pushed against the wall, covered in dark gray sheets. Across from it, I see a small dresser with books piled on top of it and a TV that’s sitting on an old chest, and all around, there are countless photographs of tattoos pinned to the walls, seemingly at random.
“It’s your room!” I say with a wide grin.
“Where the hell else would I take you?”
I laugh. “You know what I mean.” I step forward, wrap my hand around the back of his neck, and then pull my body up to his. “I’m in your room for the first time.”
Caesar growls as he grabs my hips. “I like that.”
He kisses me, deep and hard. Everything in my life is upside down, and Caesar should be the most confusing part of it all, but he’s not. We understand each other, and we make each other happy, and I really, really want that to mean that we have a chance for something more.
I pull my lips back, shivering with pleasure. “Wait,” I breathe with a laugh. “Massage. Get on the bed for me.” He doesn’t move, so I swat his arm playfully. “Go on. On your belly.”
Caesar grunts, annoyed, but moves. It’s so fun to boss him around now that I know he’s a softie.
