Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
I feel my cheeks flush, and I hope like fuck that it’s just dark enough for Izaac not to notice, but he’s always been on point with this type of thing. And despite not having said a single word about Caesar, Izaac no doubt knows exactly what’s up.
I discreetly glance across the room, following Izaac’s stare, and sure enough, Caesar is sitting in a dark corner of the club, taking up a private booth and looking more delicious than ever. His black suit and the way he’s lounging in the booth have every part of me weakening.
With one arm slung over the edge of the booth and one foot propped over his knee, he casually sips his drink as though he has all the time in the world. The woman I’d seen him with the last time I was here is draped over him in a red bandage dress, but he barely seems to notice her. His gaze is locked solely on mine as she chats animatedly to him.
I won’t lie. I’m jealous. And that’s not something I’ve ever been, especially when it comes to a man.
I’d give anything to be able to drape myself over him like that, to have his hand possessively fall to my thigh as I tell him all about my day. Only difference is, if I were going to be draped over a man, I would have his whole attention, and he sure as fuck wouldn’t be looking at another woman.
As if noticing that Caesar doesn’t give a single flying fuck about whatever she’s talking about, the woman follows his stare across the club, landing directly on me, and as her grip tightens on his arm, a scowl stretches across her lips. She’s finally realizing that she has more than just a little bit of competition tonight.
“Fucking hell. That looks messy,” Izzac mutters under his breath. “I’m going to take off before Annie tries to gouge out your eyes.”
“What?” I demand, my gaze whipping back to Izzac. “Would she really?”
“No,” he laughs. “But that doesn’t mean she’s harmless. She’s had a warped sense of ownership over Caesar for years.”
Years? Jesus. They’ve been doing this dance for that long? “And Caesar?” I ask, my gaze still locked on the mysteriously hypnotic man across the club.
Izaac chuckles. “I don’t think he even remembers her name,” he tells me, before turning and meeting my stare. “What I do know is that while he’s more than happy to indulge in everything this club has to offer, he’s not the type to blatantly ignore the woman he was with or focus so heavily on a woman who was clearly talking to another man. He doesn’t cross lines.”
“Oh, I have it on good authority that he loves crossing all sorts of lines.”
Izaac shakes his head and looks away. “I don’t want to know,” he says, watching Annie continue to glare at me. “Just keep your eyes open. Caesar is clearly intrigued by you, and while he’s a good man and isn’t going to hurt you, he’s definitely got some demons.”
My brows furrow, and I go to ask about it when Izaac turns around to face his bartender. “Anything she wants,” Izaac tells him. “It’s on the house.”
And with that, he offers me a small smile before shoving his hands into his pockets and striding away.
My attention turns right back to Caesar, and I can’t stop wondering about what kind of demons keep him up at night, but as that dark, penetrating stare quickly holds me captive, all train of thought falls out of my head.
God. He’s so delicious.
His gaze narrows, a silent challenge flashing in his eye, daring me to make the first move.
He wants me to come to him, to march my ass across this club and fall to my knees, begging for his attention. But he’s got another thing coming if he thinks that’s about to happen, especially while he has another woman draped across him like a delicate fabric molding to his body.
Hmm. Peculiar.
I’ve never been a jealous woman. Never felt possessive over a man or cared when a friend would bat her eyelashes at a guy I was seeing, but right now, I want to punch this woman right in the tit simply for existing in his orbit.
She’s had years of having him. Of tasting him. Of pleasing him. And now, it’s my turn.
A sultry smile pulls across my lips, and I lean back against the bar, crossing my legs as I lift my drink and openly eye-fuck Caesar across the room, not giving a shit how Annie glares at me. She’s had more than her fair share.
I sip my drink, making it known that I have absolutely no intention of playing by his rules tonight, and when other men start to notice just how lonely I am over here and try to get my attention, it’s all that Caesar can handle.