I still wanted to apologize. I didn’t mean to bite him, but of course, he would have liked it.
“Hey, look at me, it’s ok. You don’t like storms? You wanna tell me why?” he asked gently, his arms still providing me security.
“Yeah, I don’t like storms,” I confessed. “And I have a hard time talking about it. But the night my parents died, I was really young, and I woke up to a storm like this. Dragged out of bed in the middle of the night to the news that they were just… gone.” I burrowed myself deeper against him, trying to breathe past the memories.
“You know, sometimes I think I would like to forget my past, everything that I’ve been through. But then I wouldn’t have the wonderful memories of my mom. Just like you wouldn’t have the wonderful memories of your parents,” Cezar mused.
He rose to his feet, taking me with him. “Lina, will you let me try something?”
“All right,” I replied, mirroring his caution.
The French doors at the back of the room led to a small deck overlooking the garden. I picked this room because I paid for the damn house, so I took the best one—but during storms, it always looked like the kind of place where people wandered out to die. Charming.
“Close your eyes, please,” Cezar urged, and without hesitation, I complied. This was certainly an unexpected turn of events.
I trusted him. For some fucking reason, I trusted him.
I heard the door open, and my nails dug into his skin. I didn’t know what he was doing, but I kept my eyes shut and clung to him like he was a parachute, and I just jumped out of a plane. He stood still for a moment, coaxing me to breathe with him.
The air smelled refreshing. Memories crept in. I used to love nights like this. My mom and I would sit on the deck, with blankets, watching the sky unravel in the most beautiful way. My dad would show up with some bizarre drink he swore was ‘innovative’—and it was always awful. Except for the last time. The last storm. He brought hot cocoa instead. Real cocoa from a box, not whatever chemical sludge he usually made.
I remembered him picking me up and setting me in his lap. Despite growing bigger and thinking that I was such an adult back then, I didn’t protest. On stormy nights, I became their little girl again, and they were my protectors, my everything.
Cezar carried me further out into the rain, and when the drops hit my face, they were freezing against tear-soaked skin. Then he started singing again. He felt like a shield I’d somehow earned. Like maybe I could be who I was before everything was taken from me.
“Cezar, can you, maybe, make me some hot cocoa?” I whispered, terrified the moment would fade away if I spoke too loud. When was the last time I even dared to think about my parents? When was the last time my thoughts weren’t consumed by the night they were fucking murdered? The reality of Cezar and how he made me feel was where I wanted to exist.
Please don’t take that away…
“Of course, my Petal,” he said, briefly attempting to put me down before realizing his mistake. He led us back into the house, not bothering to close the door but instead instructing me to stand on the bed. What was he thinking?
I did, water dripping from our clothes. He turned around, giving me a once-over, his eyes taking in my soaked appearance. “Hop on,” he directed, tapping his back.
Am I a fucking bunny? Hopped on anyway. This man was giving me a god damn piggyback ride because he knew, he knew what it was like to be all alone with the fucking thoughts that just wouldn’t shut up, and he didn’t want me to feel that way.
We made our way to the kitchen, not wanting to wake anyone or trip. He spent more than enough time here to know his way around. I was so happy that we had hot cocoa, and it wasn’t expired. I couldn’t wait to savor the sweetness again.
Cezar took the cup and led us back into the room. He didn’t stop there. He continued outside, placing it on the small table before maneuvering me until I was clinging to the front of him.
Once seated, he acted as if what he had just done was nothing, reminiscent of the time he had picked me up when we first met. I loved how he could effortlessly handle me like that. As we settled in, he brought the cup to my mouth, allowing me to take a careful sip. It was hot, and it was fucking delicious.
Taking it, I welcomed the warmth against the chill of the outdoors. His hand supported my back, while the othersqueezed one of my thighs. “You’re wet,” he stated the obvious, and I couldn’t help but chuckle at his observation.
He was a pervert through and through. I could see the desire in his eyes. I wanted his touch as much as he seemed to want mine. “How do you feel about getting a little dirty?” he asked with a grin playing on his lips.
I wasn’t sure what to say, so I kissed him.
What was he planning?
“Mmm, you taste sweet.” Licking his lips, he grabbed the cup from me to take a drink.
“You can have more than just one drink.” I averted my eyes.
“I am thirsty for something else.” His lips twitched upward, forming a jagged line that hinted at amusement. He lifted me from his lap, and we were standing in the rain again. “You know, you haven’t jumped at the thunder since we have been out here.”
It was like nothing mattered but the here and now. Here and right fucking now, I wanted this man to please me. “Cezar, touch me.”
He gently placed me on the wet ground. I took a quick, short breath at the cold of the water pooling around me. He practically ripped my pants off. Good thing I didn’t love these pajamas. Situating himself on top of me, his shadow swallowed me, his face right in front of mine, our noses almost touching. He closed his eyes and kissed me. It was filled with so much love. At least that was how it felt.
