8. Magnolia Steel
Chapter 8
Magnolia Steel
The coastal walk was breathtaking, and the markets were filled with shiny trinkets and tempting sweet smells. Whitney and Sophie sampled every pastry in sight. But me? I spent most of the day wandering around in a daydream, replaying every moment from the night before with Julius Caesar—the way his voice curled around my name, the warmth in his laugh, and how he’s gotten under my skin.
Dinner should’ve been enjoyable—a cozy restaurant tucked away with a warm, intimate charm. But Elijah ruined it, flirting with Sophie and then eyeing me when she wasn’t looking.
Fuck, he gives me the ick.
As I suffered through it, my mind kept drifting back to Caesar and his invitation.
I’ll be at the Rabbit Hole again tomorrow night. Ten o’clock. It’s Retro Rhythms night. A throwback to ’ 70s and ’ 80s music. There’ll be dancing in the back room. Come. Wear your dancing shoes.
His words have been stuck in my head all day, looping like a broken record.
It would be foolish to go. Seeing him again isn’t worth risking everything I’ve worked for. I’ve invested too much of myself in this job to throw it all away on a man I just met, no matter how much he pulls me in. These are the things I keep telling myself.
Violet’s words echo in my mind. This guy’s a client, Mags. And he’s been matched with someone else. You’re playing with fire here.
By the time dinner ends, I feel resolute. I can’t see him again. I won’t. It’s the only right choice if I want to keep my life intact.
Back at the hotel, I kick off my shoes and strip away the day, slipping out of my clothes so I can throw on pajamas and call it a night. But when I open the closet, my eyes catch on a dress—the shimmering one I packed on a whim.
Under the soft light, its metallic tones shift between champagne and gold, the fabric practically glowing. The sleek high neckline gives it a modern edge, while the sleeveless cut and mini length hint at both disco and new wave vibes. It would be ideal for Retro Rhythms Night at the Rabbit Hole.
I pull it out and hold it up in front of me, facing the mirror. I can already imagine it with platform shoes, bold red lipstick, and smoky eyes—blending eras, exactly like the theme of the night.
The shimmer catches the light just right as I smooth my hands over the fabric. “What a shame to let a dress like this go to waste.”
I slip the dress back into the closet and sit on the edge of the bed, my thoughts swirling. Ghosting Caesar wouldn’t be right—not after he invited me. That’s not who I am. A small voice in my head insists I owe him at least that much.
I’ll go––just for a little while––so I can explain. I’ll make it clear that it isn’t right to see him while he’s matched with Cleopatra. She paid as much as he did. And no matter how much I want to explore what’s between us, I can’t.
Yes, that’s the plan.
The gold dress glides over my skin, a shimmering second layer that catches the low hotel light in all the right places. It hugs my curves perfectly—just tight enough to show them off but with a high neckline that adds a touch of class, balancing the boldness of the hemline. I step into my platform heels, their height making my legs look impossibly long.
With a smoky eye, my gaze takes on a sultry, intense allure. A bold red lipstick makes my lips look even fuller. I tilt my head, studying the effect in the mirror. It’s been a long time since I felt this sexy. The confidence I feel is the kind that straightens your spine and tells you that, tonight, all eyes will be on you.
I check the time—eleven p.m. Perfect. The later, the better. With any luck, Sophie, Whitney, and Elijah are already settled in for the night. I’m not in the mood to explain myself, or worse, weave a lie about where I’m headed.
With one last look in the mirror, I grab my clutch and take a steadying breath before opening the door. Just one night, I remind myself. One night won’t hurt.
The Rabbit Hole is as dark and seductive as I remember, but unease creeps in the moment I step inside. I’m much later than planned, and a thought tugs at me—maybe Caesar has already left, assuming I wasn’t coming.
I weave through the dimly lit space, my heels clicking softly against the worn wood floors. I find no familiar broad shoulders, no dark waves of hair, no rugged figure leaning at the bar waiting for me.
Maybe he never came at all because he thought better of it.
The disappointment hits sharper than I expected, a twist in my chest that surprises me. Why do I care this much?
The bass thumps from the back of the speakeasy, vibrating through the air, and I follow the rhythm, clinging to a sliver of hope that I’ll spot him on the dance floor. But as I push through the curtain into the back room, he’s nowhere in sight.
The lights pulse with the music, casting shadows over the swaying crowd. But only strangers are moving to the beat of retro rhythms.
A man steps out of the crowd, flashing me a smile as he leans in. “Fancy a dance, love?”
“Sorry. Not tonight,” I say with a polite smile, stepping back without another word. I don’t have the energy to fake it tonight.
The urge to leave sweeps over me. What am I even doing here? I feel foolish, going through all the effort to dress up, letting my hopes build, only to end the night alone.
I turn toward the door, heading back to the hotel. Disappointment settles heavy in my chest, and I can’t shake the feeling that coming here was a mistake.
A hand wraps gently around my wrist—firm but not forceful. My breath catches as I turn, heart racing… and there he is.
Caesar.
He’s dressed in a black button-down, the fabric snug against his broad chest and tucked into black pants that fit him perfectly, accentuating his frame in all the right ways. He’s close, his dark eyes catching the dim light, and whether it’s the music or just him, my pulse refuses to calm.
“Leaving so soon?”
“I thought you’d already gone. I was running late and figured you wouldn’t wait.”
He shakes his head, a faint grin curling at the corners of his mouth. “I knew you’d come. There’s no way I’d leave and miss seeing you.”
“Apologies for my tardiness. Dinner ran late, and then I had to wait on my coworkers to settle in for the night.”
He leans in, close enough that I catch the scent of his cologne—something dark, woodsy, and dangerously intoxicating. “I’m glad you made it.”
He takes my hand, his grip warm and steady. “Come on. Let’s dance,” he says, gently tugging me toward the dance floor.
The familiar beat of “Misled” by Kool & the Gang pulses through the room, funky and infectious. A grin tugs at my lips because I know this song well. My musical taste is all over the map, but I know this one to be a gem.
I slip out of his grasp, walking ahead before turning to face him, stepping backward in rhythm with the beat. With a playful lift of my finger, I give him a slow “come hither” gesture. His eyes narrow with a hint of amusement as he follows, matching my pace without a second’s hesitation.
As the rhythm intensifies, I let myself go, moving with energy, every lyric slipping effortlessly from my lips. My gaze stays locked on him as I circle him slowly, my finger trailing lightly across his chest with each step.
Caesar’s dark eyes follow my every move, his head turning as I glide past him during the song’s slower beat, the tension between us humming like a live wire.
As the tempo shifts back to its upbeat groove, I give in completely, my body moving instinctively to the beat. There’s something liberating about dancing to music from another era, like stepping into another time for a moment.
“You obviously know this song.” A grin spreads across his face as he watches me.
“Of course I do.” I catch my breath between steps. “You don’t?”
He shakes his head, still smiling. “Never heard it before.”
The music pulses through me, thrumming beneath my skin, my heart racing with the beat. I feel alive—more than I have in a long time. The seductive rhythm pulls us closer, and as the song slows to a sultry tempo, I turn and lean back against him. His arm slips easily around my waist, drawing me in.
His breath is warm against my ear, and for a moment, I forget everything—my job, Cleopatra, the consequences. It’s just me, him, and the music.
I know I shouldn’t be here, and I shouldn’t be dancing with him like this. But for tonight, I want to let go. One night of fun before I walk away for good.
The next song flows from the speakers, the overlapping notes softening before transitioning into something tender and familiar. “Suddenly” by Olivia Newton-John and Cliff Richard drifts through the air. The tempo shift is immediate, slower, intimate, and I smile as the first notes settle around us like a warm embrace, wrapping us in the song’s gentle rhythm.
“Ah, it’s the original Aussie queen herself, Olivia Newton-John.”
Caesar raises a brow, a spark of amusement in his eyes. “Had no idea.”
I glance up at him, still swaying to the slow beat. “Never heard this one either?”
He shakes his head. “Not once, at least that I’m aware of.”
Typical. Guys my age never know songs like these. I’m used to it, but that doesn’t stop me from wishing, just once, to find someone who can keep up with my taste in music. Someone who doesn’t flinch when I slide from ’60s classics to ’70s funk, belt out an ’80s power ballad, or dive into ’90s grunge and indie tracks that most people our age probably couldn’t name.
One of these days I’ll find that guy.
I reach up, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. It’s a stretch— Caesar is tall, and even with these platform heels, I barely reach him. But I don’t care. There’s something about the way I feel in his arms—small, delicate, and feminine in a way I haven’t felt before.
I lean in closer, and he pulls me tighter, his arm firm around my waist as we sway together. The world blurs and fades away until it’s only us, the music, and this perfect moment.
“You’re a good dancer.” My cheek grazes his arm as the rhythm guides us closer together.
Most guys aren’t into dancing—it’s usually a grumbled excuse. They act like it’s a chore, like they’re too cool to let loose or step into the rhythm. It’s rare to find someone who enjoys it, someone who moves like they actually feel the music.
He lets out a quiet laugh, his breath warm against my hair. “I don’t look like someone who’d be so light on his feet, do I?”
I laugh, soft and genuine. “Not at all.”
The next song kicks in, and the upbeat tempo pulls me back into the moment. “Maneater” by Daryl Hall & John Oates fills the room, and I can’t stop the grin on my face. What a classic.
Without hesitation, I turn in Caesar’s arms, my back brushing against his front as I move to the rhythm. His hands slide to my hips, guiding me, and I let myself get lost in the music.
The heat builds fast. My skin becomes slick with a faint sheen of sweat, and my heart races though I’m not sure if it’s from the dancing or the way Caesar feels against me. Either way, my pulse refuses to slow.
As the song winds down, I lift a hand to fan myself, laughing breathlessly. “Okay, I need a drink.”
Caesar tugs at the front of his shirt, using it to fan himself. “Definitely.”
We weave through the crowd, making our way off the dance floor and toward the bar at the front of the speakeasy. Dim lighting casts a warm glow over the rows of bottles, their reflections dancing across the polished counter. Before I can say a word, he orders two old-fashioneds. The gesture brings a small smile to my lips—he remembers.
He gives me a slow, easy smile as the bartender starts mixing our drinks. “We make a pretty good team out there.”
I grin, still catching my breath. “Not bad for someone who’s never even heard of Kool & the Gang.”
The music hums softly in the background now, a steady rhythm that keeps the energy alive without overpowering the room. The bartender places our old-fashioneds on the counter, and I take a slow sip, letting the burn slide down my throat.
Caesar leans in slightly, his dark eyes locked on mine, a quiet intensity in his gaze.
“How was your day?”
I swirl the drink in my hand, watching the amber liquid catch the light. “Pretty good. We did a late morning walk, checked out the market after that, and then went to dinner. But getting away from my coworkers wasn’t exactly easy.”
His brow lifts, a hint of curiosity in his expression. “Oh?”
I let out a soft laugh. “I was too chicken to leave my room before eleven. I kept imagining one of them catching me sneaking out and bombarding me with questions.”
He gives me a surprised look, his brow furrowing slightly. “You’re a thirty-year-old woman. Maybe they should worry less about what you’re doing.”
I laugh softly, swirling the drink in my hand. “Sneaking around felt like I was on some kind of secret mission. All I needed was a trench coat and sunglasses.” The corner of my mouth quirks up. “But honestly? I liked it—sneaking out, all dressed up, like I was getting away with something.”
Caesar chuckles, his dark eyes sparkling. “A secret agent by night and a design genius by day. You’re full of surprises.”
“What can I say?” I take a slow sip of my drink, meeting his gaze over the rim. “I’m a woman of many talents.”
His eyes lock on mine, dark and steady, holding a heat that sends a ripple of awareness through me. There’s something unspoken in the way we look at each other—an electric current passing between us.
I clear my throat lightly, breaking the spell. “I ran into Elijah last night on my way to my room, and he immediately started asking me where I’d been. Not that my whereabouts are his business, but that didn’t stop him from interrogating me all the same. I guess that’s why I was so on edge about being seen tonight.”
Caesar straightens, his interest sharpening, a trace of something unreadable in his expression. “Elijah?”
“He’s the carpenter. He builds the set pieces—the divider between each side of the dating suites, millwork, stuff like that. Basically, anything I need him to do construction-wise.”
Caesar nods slowly, his expression thoughtful. “Hmm… I didn’t figure you’d have a bloke along for a trip like this.”
I raise a brow, half amused. “And what exactly do you mean by that?”
“I guess I figured Soul Sync would mostly have women on staff. Not to sound sexist, but it doesn’t really seem like the kind of industry most men would go for.”
“It’s a common assumption.” I give him an easy smile. “I’m not offended. Honestly, you’re not wrong—Soul Sync is mostly staffed by women.”
Caesar takes a slow sip of his drink. “Are your rooms close to each other?”
“Yeah, all of us have rooms right next to one another.”
His gaze darkens slightly, something unreadable crossing his face. “Does your room adjoin his?”
“It does.”
For a moment, there’s a subtle shift in his expression—not quite jealousy but maybe something closer to him sizing up the competition. Except there isn’t any competition. And even if there were, it wouldn’t matter. Not really. Because after tonight, I won’t be seeing Caesar again.
That thought settles heavy in my chest, unexpected and unwelcome. The idea of this being the last time I’ll feel his gaze, hear his smooth, warm voice, or see that teasing smile—it stings more than I’d like to admit. I didn’t come here looking for this, yet the idea of letting it go feels… wrong.
The song “If You Leave” by Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark drifts through the air, wrapping around us like a bittersweet promise. I draw in a steadying breath, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “I called my best friend when I got back to the hotel last night. She reminded me why seeing you isn’t a good idea.”
He doesn’t respond, his dark eyes fixed on mine, his expression unreadable.
“I’d lose my job if anyone found out. And I can’t lose my job.”
His hand moves gently, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear. The simple gesture sends a shiver down my spine, unraveling my resolve a little.
“Go on,” he says, calm and steady, his words almost daring me to finish.
I lay out every reason, stacking them like armor to resist the pull I feel toward him. “There’s my job, the boundaries I can’t cross, and the reality that you live here while I live halfway across the world.” I shake my head, forcing myself to hold firm, determined to do what I know is right. “I’m only in Australia for three months. Anything we started would end before it even had a chance.”
He leans in slightly, his dark eyes steady on mine, the intensity in his gaze making it impossible to look away. But he doesn’t say a word. He just listens.
“You’re looking for a wife. That’s what this whole process is about—you finding someone to marry. I’m not looking for a husband. I’d only be in your way, keeping you from finding someone who wants the same things you want.”
I pause, searching his face for any hint of a reaction, but his expression remains unreadable. “Marriage is not in the cards for me right now.”
His jaw tightens briefly before he exhales slowly, giving a single nod. “That’s not what I wanted to hear, but I understand. If that’s what you’ve decided, I’ll respect it.”
He glances down, his thoughts clearly weighing on him, before lifting his eyes to meet mine again. His words come softer now. “Can I at least walk you back to your hotel and make sure you get there safely?”
I nod, my chest tight with a mix of gratitude and heartbreak. “Yeah, I’d like that very much.”
I gesture toward the hallway leading to the restrooms. “I need to stop by the ladies’ room first.”
Inside, I catch my reflection in the mirror, resting my hands on the cool edge of the sink. The song playing softly through the speakers makes me freeze—“Fire” by the Pointer Sisters. A bitter laugh slips out. Could there be a more fitting song for this moment?
Whoever picked this playlist is absolutely on point tonight.
I take a deep breath, filling my lungs, and then slowly let it out. I didn’t want to tell him I could never see him again. I didn’t want to say any of it.
What I want—what I really want—is to walk back out there, look him in the eye, and tell him I was wrong. That we should see where this goes, give in to the fire that ignites inside me every time I’m near him.
But I can’t. It’s not possible. Not in this world, not in this moment.
The ache in my chest tightens as I push away from the sink and head back to the bar. When I step out, he’s still there, finishing the last of his drink.
He sees me approaching and, without a word, grabs his jacket. In one fluid motion, he drapes it over my shoulders. The fabric is heavy and warm, wrapping around me like a cocoon. It smells like him—dark and woodsy with a hint of spice, a scent so distinctly him it feels like an embrace.
“The breeze off the water is cold this time of night.”
I look up at him, my words barely more than a whisper. “Thank you.”
The walk back to the hotel is quiet, the night air definitely cooler than it was when I walked from the hotel to the Rabbit Hole. I pull his jacket tighter around my shoulders, the warmth of it a welcome comfort against the chill.
“Has your stay at the hotel been all right so far?”
I glance up at him with a small smile. “It’s been excellent.”
“Is there anything I can get for you?” The sincerity in his words is unmistakable.
I shake my head. “No, everything’s been spectacular.” And it has been.
“Will you be staying at the hotel for the duration of your work assignment?”
“Yeah, Soul Sync worked out an extended stay rate with the manager.” A playful grin creeps on to my face. “Was that your doing?”
He chuckles. “No. I don’t handle guests.”
I laugh, the sound light against the quiet night. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t. Not when your family owns the hotel.”
As we near the hotel entrance, Caesar glances at me, his expression thoughtful. “You really don’t care who I am or how much money I have, do you?”
I shake my head. “I don’t. Growing up with so little taught me to appreciate the small things. It really doesn’t take much to make me happy. I guess that’s why money doesn’t impress me.”
“Or fame?”
“Oh God, no.” I laugh softly. “I’m perfectly fine never being in the spotlight. Honestly, I prefer it that way.”
He tilts his head slightly, his gaze curious. “So, what does make you happy?”
I take a moment to consider his question. “Music, dancing, losing myself in a great book. Nature. Fresh, wholesome food—not the processed kind, which probably sounds bizarre, I know. I don’t have a place for a garden right now, but I’d like to have one in the future. I want to grow my own food one day. And I’m ridiculously competitive, so I love beating someone at cards and board games.” I grin, my smile widening at the thought. “Oh, and Dak Prescott. He definitely makes me happy.”
Caesar halts mid-step, one brow arching in amused disbelief. “ Dak Prescott? ”
I laugh, but it’s already too late to backtrack. “But I need to be clear about one thing: I’m a Dak fan, not a Cowboys fan. I’ve had a crush on him since my sophomore year in college. We had a class together.”
Caesar chuckles, amusement sparkling in his eyes. “Do you like watching American football?”
I nod, smiling. “I love it. Football is the best.”
“The best , huh?” He tilts his head, a painful smirk tugging at his lips. “Ever watched rugby?”
I shake my head. “Never.”
“You should catch a game while you’re here.” His eyes sparkle with a challenge. “Think of it like American football but rougher. Tougher.”
I arch a brow, mirroring his playful energy. “Intriguing. I’ll have to add that to my list.”
As we near the hotel, our steps slow, neither of us ready to reach the end of the walk. The cool breeze brushes against my skin, and I pull his jacket tighter around me, wanting to hold on to this moment a little longer. I’m not ready to let it go—not yet.
Without a word, Caesar takes my hand. “Come with me.”
He leads me toward a gated courtyard beside the hotel. The quiet beep of the keypad fills the air as he enters a code, and the gate swings open, revealing a hidden garden beyond.
The scent reaches me first—sweet blossoms mixed with the earthy freshness of greenery. I inhale deeply, the air feeling lighter here, as though we’ve stepped into another world.
“Wow,” I whisper, my eyes wide as I take in the scene before me. Soft lanterns cast a golden glow along the winding pathways, and vibrant flowers spill over the stone walls, lush and alive. “This is breathtaking.”
Caesar glances around, a small, satisfied smile playing on his lips. “Popular venue for wedding ceremonies.”
I nod, still in awe. “I can see why. It’s absolutely stunning.”
He tugs gently on my hand, leading me deeper into the garden, where the lanterns fade into soft shadows. In the far corner, the air grows still, almost reverent—a quiet sanctuary untouched by the world beyond. He leans in, his words a low murmur. “No cameras here.”
Caesar takes both of my hands in his, his gaze locking on to mine with an intensity that roots me in place. His thumbs move in slow, deliberate circles over my skin, a touch both calming and electrifying.
“Please don’t think I’m not hearing you. I understand what it would mean for your job if anyone saw us together. But unless I’m wrong…” His gaze searches mine, warm and unwavering. “I think you’re as drawn to me as I am to you.”
My breath catches.
There it is—confirmation that this pull between us isn’t just in my head. It’s real, undeniable, and shared. I came here tonight with every intention of ending whatever this is, of walking away before it went any further. But now, standing here before him, I feel something shifting, something I’m not sure I can fight.
I exhale slowly, my words soft but steady. “I came here tonight intending to end this, but it’s clear this isn’t something that ends so easily.”
He hesitates for a moment, his thumbs still tracing slow, calming circles over my skin. “You’re right—I am looking for a wife, and I know you’re not looking for a husband.” He pauses, his gaze steady, locked on mine. “I can live with that. What I can’t live with is not seeing you again… not if it’s something we both want.”
The sincerity in his words tugs at something deep inside me, tightening my chest.
“I know that seeing you again is what I want,” he says.
I close my eyes for a moment, summoning the strength to say what I know I need to. “I want to see you again too. But I can’t. There’s too much at risk.”
Caesar’s grip on my hands firms, his gaze unwavering, the quiet determination in his words cutting through the stillness. “We’d be careful. We’d meet in secret. No one at Soul Sync would ever find out.”
I open my eyes, raising a skeptical brow. “So, you want to see me in secret while you continue pursuing a marriage with Cleopatra?”
“No, I would never do that.” His expression softens, the sincerity in his gaze cutting through my doubts. “Regardless of what happens between us, Cleopatra isn’t my match. I only went on that second date with her because it was the only way to talk to you again.”
Cleopatra may not be his match, but he’s still a client of Soul Sync. “So, you want to date me while you continue searching for a match?”
Caesar shakes his head, his gaze locked on mine, unyielding. “I’ll pause the matchmaking process, tell them I need time to decide if it’s the right path for me.” He takes a step closer. “The conflict with your job… gone.”
“I don’t think Soul Sync would agree.”
“Then the conflict is reduced.” A small grin tugs at his lips. “I won’t be an active client. Surely, they can’t fire you for dating a former client.”
I let out a small breath. “No, I suppose they wouldn’t.”
The thought bounces around, turning over in my mind. No active matchmaking, no client status… could it really be that simple?
His grin deepens, lighting up his features. “Come to dinner with me tomorrow night. We can discuss it—over fresh food , of course.”
Despite the knot of uncertainty still coiled in my chest, a laugh slips out. “All right. I’ll come to dinner.” Having a meal together is innocent enough.
Caesar steps closer, so near I can feel the gentle heat radiating from him. His hands cradle my face, the touch tender and deliberate. His dark eyes search mine, and in them, I find a question—a silent, unspoken plea.
Permission?
My breath hitches, and I give a small nod. That’s all it takes.
He leans in, slow and deliberate, his breath warm against my lips. When his mouth brushes mine, the world shrinks to this single, electrifying moment. His lips are soft yet sure, coaxing rather than demanding, moving with an unhurried rhythm that sends my pulse into chaos.
His hand slides from my cheek, fingers threading through my hair, the slight tug sending shivers down my spine. His kiss deepens, subtle yet deliberate, as if he’s savoring every second, every touch, every breath.
God, this man can kiss.
The scent of his cologne mingles with the cool night air, subtle but intoxicating. It lingers in around us, intoxicating me.
I lean into him, matching his rhythm as the space between us narrows until it disappears. His thumb grazes my jaw, grounding me, even as the rest of me feels like it’s floating.
A soft moan escapes me, and Caesar takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue delving past my parted lips to caress and tease. I press closer, melting into his strong embrace. The initial tenderness gives way to rising passion as our kiss turns more urgent, more demanding.
Caesar trails his lips along my jawline and down the column of my throat, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. My body responds to his touch, arching into him as I become lost in the intense sensations. His hands explore my curves, gliding lower and lower until his fingers brush against my thighs.
His breath brushes my ear, the words low and deliberate. “What’s it going to be, Charleston? Do I stop, or do I keep going?”
Shivering in anticipation, my body aches for more.
“Tell me to stop, and I will. But if you don’t, I’m going to give you a small taste of what being with me will feel like.”
It’s been so long since I’ve been touched by a man. A part of me still yearns for that physical connection, but another part is terrified of being vulnerable. It’s a struggle between my longing and my need to protect myself.
But I want this. I want a taste of what he’s offering me. “Don’t stop.”
Caesar captures my lips again in a searing kiss as his hand slips beneath the fabric of my dress, gliding between my inner thighs.
I gasp into his mouth when his fingers barely graze my heated core through the damp lace of my panties. He swallows my moan, kissing me harder as he rubs me through the wet, flimsy barrier. Electric pleasure shoots through my veins and my hips rock instinctively against his touch, seeking more.
Caesar gently moves his hand to push my lacy underwear to the side, exposing me. A soft gasp escapes my lips as he grazes his fingers over my most sensitive spot, sending electric currents of pleasure through my body. I hold on to his shirt tightly for support as my legs threaten to buckle under the intense sensations coursing through me. My body feels like it’s on fire, every nerve ending ablaze with desire and need.
He pulls back enough to watch my face as he slides a long finger inside me, then another, pumping them slowly. My head falls back against the brick wall behind me, my lips parting on a silent cry of ecstasy. Caesar leans in to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses along my neck as his curled fingers continue their sweet torment, driving me closer and closer to the edge.
“Just let go, Charleston,” he murmurs against my ear, his breath warm and close, sending shivers cascading down my spine. “Give in to it. Give in to me. ”
His words are my undoing.
I shatter in his arms, my inner walls clenching around his fingers as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashes over me. He captures my lips with his, muffling my cries while swallowing every whimper and moan.
My body trembles, my skin flushes, and my heart races as his fingers gradually ease up. I slowly float down from my high and he presses soft kisses along my cheekbone, jaw, and the corner of my mouth.
He whispers, his words carrying a quiet reverence, “You’re absolutely radiant when you come.”
He tenderly brushes my hair away from my face, his eyes shining with both wonder and adoration as they lock on to mine. I can only manage a shaky smile in response, still reeling from the intensity of my release.
Caesar seems to understand, pulling me into his arms and just holding me close. I rest my head against his chest, listening to the strong, steady beat of his heart as my breathing gradually slows.
We stay like that for a moment, wrapped up in each other, savoring the intimacy. Part of me wants this magical night to never end. Being in his arms feels so right.
But the spell is broken by the distant sound of a car horn, jolting us back to reality. He sighs, his breath ruffling my hair. “As much as I’d love to stay here with you all night, you should probably head inside before someone sees us.”
He’s right, of course. The risk of getting caught only adds to the thrill in the heat of the moment, but now, modesty and prudence make themselves known. Reluctantly, I untangle myself from his embrace, though I keep hold of his hand, not ready to let go yet.
I gaze up at him, the moonlight casting soft shadows across his chiseled features. “I had a wonderful time tonight. Thank you for a lovely evening.”
The pleasure is all mine.” He lifts my hand to his lips, brushing a kiss over my knuckles, slow and deliberate. His dark eyes smolder with the burn of something undeniable.
“Dinner tomorrow night?” he asks, his words low, carrying a quiet promise.
A smile teases the corners of my lips. “Yes. I’d love that.”
He nods, satisfaction dancing in his gaze. “I’ll pick you up at six. Meet me around the corner from the hotel, by the service entrance. Deliveries come during the morning hours so no one should be there.”
My heart skips, the thrill of secrecy igniting within me. “All right,” I whisper, barely louder than a breath.
For a moment, neither of us moves, as if the night itself is reluctant to let us part. But finally, he releases my hand, leaving behind the unmistakable pull of him even as he steps back into the shadows.
“Goodnight, Charleston.”
“Goodnight, Caesar.”
And the night ends, but the promise of tomorrow awaits.