Chapter 8 #2
I time the coffee with when I hear the water turn off, so that it’s hot for him. I’m no house mouse, but—fuck it. Hard to be a house mouse with no house, so maybe I do like the domesticity with the right person. Just because I lost my shit with Sullivan doesn’t mean I can’t be sweet.
There aren’t that many dishes available, but I make use of all that I found, placing hard-boiled eggs, canned peas with mayonnaise, and other simple foods in separate bowls, including a can of tuna in case Cesar wants it.
By the time Cesar returns, with a towel around his hips, the spread I’ve prepared for him looks as impressive as it can, given the circumstances.
I’m particularly proud of the even way I cut the tomatoes and how I folded the napkins.
It was a lot of work, but the surprise in Cesar’s eye is all the reward I need.
His hair is now out of place, and while he’s towel-dried it, small droplets keep falling to his chest and shoulders as he settles at the table, adjusting the eyepatch. “Is it some kind of holiday I don’t know about?”
I start loading food onto my own plate, maybe a little too quickly but I’m starving. I wanted to wait until he got up, so we could eat together. I did grab a few crackers, but that was that.
“No, I just wanted to treat you. You already did so much for me. The way you handled those cops yesterday? Wow.”
Cesar wraps his fingers around the mug of coffee and smells it, watching me so quietly my thoughts start going in circles. Is it too much? Does he think I’m being a suck-up?
The tension inside me loosens when he smiles and takes his first sip. “It’s been a while since someone praised me like this.”
Be still my heart. It’s like giving a treat to a dog that’s been kicked all its life.
I have a massive bite of my peanut butter and jelly sandwich, while with my other hand, I’m already shoveling a big spoon of peas in mayonnaise onto my plate.
“I also…” I don’t know if it’s appropriate at the table.
Another ex of mine, Terry, liked to fuck as much as any other guy, but didn’t like discussing sex and would get upset if I attempted to bring it up. “I never came with no hands before.”
Cesar freezes with a peeled egg halfway to his mouth, and meets my gaze. He blinks, puts it down, and wipes his hands on the towel around his hips. Fuck, he’s so handsome. I don’t deserve him.
“So… I assume you mean you enjoyed that?” he asks, as if he hadn’t eaten my ass like it was his favorite dessert. Guys like him are never shy, but he seems almost... uncertain.
He was definitely confident last night.
I smile at him, giddy that he didn’t shut me down. “Well, yeah. That was so hot. Was there something you liked most?” I ask, bump his foot with mine, then fill my mouth with the peas. It only now occurs to me he might find that combination strange, but what’s done is done.
Cesar licks his lips, resting his elbows on the table. “Do you want to have sex now?”
I sink back into my chair, unsure how to answer that despite arousal already blooming in my balls, as if his desire is my on-switch. “Do you? I mean… maybe. But I’m also really hungry? Is that okay?”
Cesar frowns. “Why would it not be okay? I just thought…. that’s why you mentioned what you enjoyed.” We both stare at each other until he stuffs the egg into his mouth. “I-uh… I liked how you looked at me,” he says. “And that we can do it whenever we feel like it.”
I beam at him, mindful of keeping my full mouth closed. He liked the way I looked at him? Throw snow at me, because I might be melting. “I just wanted to be accommodating. In case you really wanted sex and it was a dealbreaker,” I say as soon as I swallow.
He watches me intently with his eyebrows drawn, as if he wants to read my thoughts out of my skull. “It’s not. I want you to want me. What do you mean when you say ‘accommodating’?”
I get flustered when I realize how that might have sounded.
“Not that I’d do it even if I don’t want to.
I just…” I look up from his navel, all the way to his face.
“I can’t imagine ever not wanting you. So if you wanted sex, I’d be up for it.
I have quite a high sex drive, and I lived like a monk for far too long.
I kind of… I’m not always good at initiating things, so I just wanna say, if you feel like it, go for it.
” I barely hold back a smile when I notice him spreading his thighs a little.
His eye is now darker than black. It’s a void leading straight to Hell’s Circle of Lust.
His nostrils widen as he leans in, taking in air, as if he wants to smell me. “So what you’re saying is… if I feel aroused, I should use your body to get off?”
I have to fan myself as I grin at him. He gets it. My heart beats faster, but we need to eat first. Unless of course he does decide to act on my declaration. I love that it’s up to him.
I really fucking do.
“Yes,” my voice comes out raspier than I expect. “I want to satisfy you. It turns me on. If the impossible happens and for some reason I can’t or don’t want to, I’ll just say so. Otherwise…” I wink at him and lick jelly off my top lip. “You know.”
He’s watching me like a lion getting access to live prey for the first time in years. Eggs disappear in his mouth so fast it’s almost as if he wants to get the breakfast done and bend me over.
Hot.
“I like this whole talking thing,” Cesar tells me, moving his hand across the table to settle it on top of mine.
“I ask about stuff to get to know you better. And sex is part of that, you know? I’m aware that the way we met is super weird, and the situation is highly abnormal, but we’re alive, not in jail, snowed in in this lovely cabin, and Sullivan’s dead. What’s not to like?”
Cesar chuckles, then laughs so hard some of the coffee spills down his hand.
But instead of getting frustrated over burning his fingers, he knocks the mug against mine, as if we were toasting.
“To the man who made it happen. I’ll rim your tight hole whenever you want me to, so you always remember I appreciate what you’ve done. ”
I’m sure I’m blushing, but I grin back. It’s so hot that he likes it.
“I had to do a lot of things myself from a young age, you know? So maybe that’s why I figured in the end that if the court won’t convict him, I just have to roll up my sleeves and get to work.
Honestly? I didn’t actually think I’d do it till the last second. Still can’t believe it.”
“That’s why you prepared all this food for just one meal? To celebrate that it happened?” Cesar asks and gestures at the full table, eating with more vigor.
A deep sense of satisfaction fills my chest. “Maybe? Unconsciously? My mom always did that. Not just celebrate with food, but she’d make it special.
Even if it was just pizza and cookies, she’d take it all out of boxes, put it on nice plates, maybe light some candles, put on music.
” I clear my throat, hoping it’s not all too sad for him, but I want him to know me.
“When she died I tried to continue with that for me and my dad. He wasn’t doing so well even before…
you know. Her death really hit him hard, and he battled depression, so even as a kid, I tried to do what I could to brighten his day. ”
Cesar watches me in silence, then places his hand on my forearm. “Thank you for wanting to brighten mine. I don’t often have company.”
“How so? I imagine a guy like you would always have someone vying for his attention.” A compliment, but I also do want to know so much more about who this amazing person sitting across from me is.
If he’s ex-special forces then what does he do now?
Was bodyguarding for Sullivan his last job?
He did say he was let go after he lost his eye.
Cesar shrugs and leans over his plate to shovel tomatoes into his mouth. The glow of the lamp above adds warmth to his skin tone, until it’s almost honey-like, and I kind of wish to taste it.
“Maybe. I try not to overthink it.”
Okay, so I’m getting that he can be a bit closed off.
Makes sense for someone who was a soldier.
“If that’s what works for you. I, on the other hand, overthink everything.
” I laugh, but it’s actually kind of a problem.
“Like whether you like my new clothes, or if you’d be mad I grabbed them myself.
If you like the food I prepared. Where we will go and how I will live there as a wanted man.
Can police dogs sniff out my scent over snow?
Should I keep my gun or throw it away? Was it okay to use the old bleach over the tiles in the bathroom, or should I have used something more environmentally friendly? Do I talk too much?”
“I like your voice,” Cesar says, sipping his coffee almost as if he were trying to hide behind the mug.
“I also like your new clothes, so I’m not mad, even though I prefer you naked.
The food is delicious, but we need chicken for protein.
You don’t need to worry about the future, because I will take care of you and make sure you’re never caught.
The Festive Fugitive will forever remain a mystery.
I’m not sure if police dogs can ‘smell over snow’, but don’t worry about it.
They lost our scent when we started using cars.
Keep your gun. Bleach is fine. You don’t talk too much. You are nice, and I like your company.”
My heart beats faster, and this time not just because I’m horny.
I can’t believe he’s not only listened to my babbling, but also remembered every single thing.
“That’s so reassuring. My mind can be such a mess.
How about your family though? Sorry for asking straight up, but if we’re going off-grid… ”
“There isn’t anything to talk about, really,” Cesar says curtly, and I find myself sinking down the well of anxiety again, because who says stuff like that to someone’s face unless they want to dismiss them or point out that a line was crossed?
I shouldn’t feel this hurt when he’s just reassured me. Not everyone has to share as much, but yeah, I am a little hurt, because last night he told me that I’m his. How no other man will exist for me, yet now I’m getting shut out.
Then again, maybe his whole family died in a car crash, which then prompted him to join the military? I could see him being not ready to talk about that, and it’s no fault of mine.
I gobble down another sandwich to relax before I speak again.
Last thing I want is for him to decide I’m too needy.
“I’m sorry I’m coming on so strong. It’s been a while since I got to talk this much.
I’ve been living out of my car and feeling kinda invisible.
And it’s been even longer since I had a boyfriend, so sorry if I’m a bit feral. ”
The silence following that last sentence is like a growing hollow inside my chest. Anxious, I look up and meet the single black eye in Cesar’s handsome face.
“Is that what we are?” he asks, each syllable smashing the hopes I’ve built up in my stupid head.
My stomach sinks and I can’t meet his gaze anymore. “I don’t know. Maybe? We could be. We’ll see. No need to put a label on it,” I fake a cheery tone when on the inside I want to scream into the void.
What the fuck was I thinking? Of course he declared things last night in the heat of the moment.
Maybe he even meant them at the time. Why do I have to keep pushing like this?
Just like with Sullivan. I couldn’t let go, and now the life I knew is over.
Not that there’s much to cry about there, but I can’t go to prison. I wouldn’t last two weeks.
I can see how Cesar might like me, find me convenient in a non-cynical way, but why did I have to say boyfriend? Why would someone like him choose to tie himself to a ball and chain like me?
Cesar grins and reaches for the peanut butter before proceeding to gather a big spoonful, which he then shoves into his mouth. “Okay,” he mumbles.
I bite the inside of my cheek but keep my expression neutral. “I’m full. I’ll start cleaning the dishes if you don’t mind.”
Cesar shakes his head. “No way. You need to rest. I’ll do it.”
In truth, I only wanted to do it to escape the uncomfortable situation and not cry in front of him over something he’s allowed not to want. I know I’m an emotional wreck and he’s not responsible for my feelings. My own insane life choices have led me here.
I get up, grabbing a rice cracker. “Thank you. I’ll go check out the snow before the sun sets. There’s piles of it,” I fake a cheery voice, but it might crack soon, and I need to be out.
Cesar frowns and points toward the corner. “Be careful. It’s best if you don’t get off the porch with that injury. But there’s warm boots you can take by the door. We should trash your old pair.”
I nod, touched that he remembers the problem with my old shoes. I rush away to get dressed, put on the warm winter boots that fit my foot as if I’m Cinderella, and I step into the cold air, which doesn’t ease my frantic mind.
I know I’ll fall for him all too fast and then suffer inevitable heartbreak.
Fuck my life.