CesarR: Military Romance (Overwatch Division Book 3) Page 2

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re an angry little chick, I’d be afraid you’d probably chop it off, or something.” He covers his hands across his groin as my eyes snap to his.

  “I wouldn’t chop off your dick!” I scream. I clamp my hand over my mouth and glance around the subway car to be sure no one had heard my outburst.

  Cesar glances around as well, and we both spot an older man in the back, asleep. When we turn to face each other, our eyes meet and we both burst out into a fit of laughter.

  After the laughter subsides, I throw my head back against the seat. “Fine, you can stay the night. But, first thing in the morning, you are out.”

  “Deal.” He relaxes his body, and suddenly I want to know more about Cesar. What is his story?

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Of course, Janelle.” The way he says my name again, all breathy and sexy, makes me forget my question and I stammer trying to gain control.

  My cheeks flush as I stare at him. His eyes are closed as his head rests against the back of the seat. His hand wraps around the seat in front of him, and his elbow sits along the window’s edge.

  “How long have you been living like this? Sleeping with women and staying at their houses.”

  He lifts his head and turns toward me, he doesn’t look at me, rather his eyes are focused on a far-off distance on the subway car. “A few months.”

  “Okay, you can ask me a question if you want.”

  He appears deflated as if he isn’t happy with his life situation. I want to pry more because there has to be more to this guy than just what’s on the surface– but I refrain from asking any more questions.

  He sits up and when he stares into my eyes, the world shifts. His eyes are on fire, and an intensity I’ve never seen before rings through them. I don’t know what is coming next, as my heartbeat explodes in my chest.

  “Do you think people can change?” he asks in a whisper.

  My head jars back slightly as confusion takes over. I wasn’t expecting that question…and I have no clue how to answer it.

  Do people change? I know my mother and father are still the same people they have always been. Happily married, living in Jersey, and completely sarcastic. It’s where I’ve gotten the gift.

  Had I ever changed? Somewhere along the way, I guess I have, but in what ways I’m not too sure.

  I return my gaze to his and study his eyes once more. They appear lost as if he is searching for something he can find in my eyes.

  “I’d like to hope that people can change,” I respond.

  His eyes relax and he turns his head toward the window to look out into the nothingness beyond. Tunnels and tunnels of darkness. But as he glances out the window, his reflection shines through the glass.

  His face is solemn and sad. I feel the incredible urge to soothe him or wrap an arm around his muscles. Unknown feelings are creeping into my system, and I know I shouldn’t have them. I shake my head to clear it as he turns back around with a glint of humor in his eyes. His previous question and sour mood seem to be erased and he leans back in his seat.

  “Do you have anything to eat at your place, I’m starving,” he asks.

  “Uh, I don’t know...maybe.”

  So now dude wants me to cook for him? Incredible.

  When we exit the subway station, my apartment is only a few blocks away and we scurry through the cold, dark streets. It is the end of winter in New York and spring is just around the corner. This last cold front should be our last, and I can’t wait to bust out the summer clothing.

  When we arrive at my apartment complex, I notice Grant’s car parked near my building. Shit. I forgot he said he might stop by. He has a key to my apartment and is most likely inside, waiting for me. God, I hope he’s dressed.

  “Um, before we go inside,” I start. My key hanging in the lock as I gaze up at Cesar. “I might have company in my house.”

  “I don’t care. I’m freezing.” His hands are in his leather jacket, his bag slung over his shoulder and he bunches his jacket tighter around him. “Open the door.”

  Chapter Three

  I open the door, and we rush inside to warm up. Just as I thought, Grant is seated in my oversized stuffed chair, feet up, and with a glass of red wine in his hand.

  “Hey, who’s this?” Grant asks when he notices Cesar walking inside.

  “This is a friend from work. He needs a place to stay tonight.” I throw my purse on the entryway table and Grant rises to his feet. Yes, he is dressed…thank God.

  “Hey, man,” Cesar says, standing in my entryway unsure of what to do.

  He glances his head back and forth between Grant and I as Grant crosses the room and puts his arms around me, which by the way he never does. Normally, Grant and I would chat a little, drink some wine, have some sex and then he would leave. But I guess Cesar being here is making Grant feel as if he needs to stake a claim, so essentially– he is peeing on me. Like a dog, marking his territory.

  I’m not surprised that Cesar doesn’t appear to be affected in any way by Grant’s ridiculous behavior. Instead, he glances around my tiny apartment casually taking everything in. He looks at my small brown couch with two orange decorative pillows and my huge chair which is white and orange in an Aztec design. Then he looks at the kitchen which is small as well, a galley-type style, with maybe a few dishes in the sink. Hey, nobody’s perfect.

  Cesar steps forward after he has completed the mini-tour with his eyes. “Well, sorry you came all the way out here, brother, but now you can leave ‘cause there’s no way you two are hooking up tonight.”

  My mouth drops open as soon as Cesar finishes his sentence. Grant is just as dumbfounded and locks eyes with mine. “Excuse me, but is this guy for real?” He jabs his thumb in Cesar’s direction.

  Cesar is smiling a big, cocky grin as he leans up onto his tiptoes. “Yeah, I’m a hundred percent for real.”

  “Okay, hold on,” I step in. “First off, how do you know he’s here to hook up? Second, what gives you the right to send him away? You’re barely a guest here yourself.”

  Cesar steps closer to me, ignoring Grant’s proximity to me. “First, you would have told me you had a live-in boyfriend on the train, but you didn’t so one could only assume this is a hookup type of situation.”

  I suck my teeth and he chuckles.

  “Second, and more importantly, you don’t really want to fuck this guy.”

  My mouth almost drops as Cesar takes a sideways glance at Grant. And despite Cesar’s rudeness, Grant is doing a damn good job keeping his shit together. Well, he was doing a good job.

  Grant grabs my arm and twirls me to face him. The wine in his glass splashes a little due to the sudden movement. “What the fuck, Janelle?”

  I don’t know what to do, I mean part of what Cesar said is true. I’m not serious about Grant. All we do is hook up, and I definitely won’t be sleeping with him while Cesar is in the next room. The walls are too thin, and I don’t know... I feel odd about it. So what’s the point of him being here?

  At this point, I just want to take a shower and go to bed. The fighting, or standoff, or whatever the hell this is needs to stop. I mean this is my house.

  “Okay, time to go,” I say, pushing Grant toward the door. “No more, I’m tired and cranky.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Grant follows me outside in a huff, and we stand on my front porch staring at each other.

  His brown eyes and dark curly hair are wild with anger as he stands brooding for a second before he speaks again.

  “You’re throwing me out, Janelle?”

  “No, Grant, not exactly.”

  “Who is that guy? He’s an asshole. He’s the one you should send packing.”

  Grant towers over me, and his strong frame is rigid and solid. I’ve never seen him like this. He is obviously pissed, and I completely understand why. I just don’t want to deal with it tonight.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow, I’m going to bed. Tonight has been one hell of a night.” I grab my doorknob as Grant huffs off toward his car. He doesn’t even say goodbye.

  Walking back into my apartment, I find Cesar rummaging through my fridge and I lock the front door. I make my way into the small kitchen and sit up on top of the counter. My legs dangle in front of me, and Cesar turns to face me.

  “Any trouble with fuck buddy?”

  “Shut up.”

  “What do you have to eat?” he asks as his eyes roam my body.

  “I’m too exhausted to cook.”

  “There has to be something we can heat up.”

  “You’re so annoying. I’m giving you a place to sleep and now you want food?”

  “It’s not like we’re going to be doing anything else to keep us occupied.”

  Ugh, he’s such a pig.

  “There’s a frozen pizza in the freezer.” I jump off the counter and stand next to him to get it.

  He steps back and watches me carefully as I pull the pizza out and turn on the oven. He is making me nervous. I’m not really sure why, but he’s watching me like a hawk.

  Now that dinner’s cooking, I start walking toward my bedroom. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to get out of these clothes.”

  I am still in the shirt which has dried with beer and whiskey in it. It reeks, and I shut the door to my bedroom as I throw on my yoga pants and another t-shirt.

  When I walk out of the bedroom, I notice that Cesar’s shirt has come off and he is standing in my living room in just his low-rise jeans.

  Dammit, he’s hot.

  He has the body God intended for men to have. His chest, back and arms are firm, solid, and are covered in a variety of beautiful tattoos. One of them is a large bird whose wings span the entire width of his back. His six-pack though is something else. It leads to a sharp V-shape into his jeans. Manly shoulders- check, Firm pecks-check. A decently sized package down low–probably.

  His body isn’t professional bodybuilder big, but he has a perfect firm body with short, dark hair and expressive eyes that twinkle when he laughs, or maybe they twinkle all the time. Either way, I was sure I was drooling. Apparently I can’t turn away, and so I study Cesar’s body a bit longer until he coughs and snaps me out of my admiration daze.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “Getting ready for bed, I take it I’m on the couch.” He moves to grab his bag by the front door, and I decide to be a gracious hostess and grab a pillow and some blankets from the linen closet.

  He grabs his bag, scoots past me, and heads to the bathroom.

  This is weird. I feel weird in my own home. Or maybe I am nervous.

  I place the blankets on the couch and go into the kitchen just as the pizza timer dings from the oven. The pizza is oozing with cheesy goodness, and I run the silver cutter through it and dish us both out a slice.

  When Cesar arrives back from the bathroom, it is even worse. Still no shirt, plus he has ditched the jeans and put on black gym shorts which hang just off his hips. I try to pretend that I don’t notice, but inside I am turning into a pile of mush. I’m like a horny teenager all over again. My mind racing with how quickly I can get myself undressed.

  But then, the images come back, fluttering through my mind as if I had just stepped back into the room and saw Cesar fucking the bar bimbo. My smile falters as I grab my plate of pizza and head to the couch.

  I click on the television in an effort to ignore him and his perfect body. He follows me and sits next to me on the couch with his pizza in hand. We sit quietly watching some random reality show, and eating our food. Until finally, Cesar gets up and heads back into the kitchen. Again, I try to ignore him but now he’s rifling through my cabinets. So I finally get off the couch and follow him.

  “What are you looking for?” I ask as I set my plate down on the counter.

  “That bottle of wine Grant was drinking from.” He continues looking high and low for it as I laugh.

  The bottle of wine is sitting right in front of him on the counter. I grab it and hold it in front of me.

  “You mean this bottle of wine?”

  Cesar flashes his eyes at me and smiles. “There it is. You want some?”

  Wow, he sure is making himself at home.

  “Sure,” I say, grabbing two wine glasses down from the cabinet. I wouldn’t mind having a drink. It’s been a long night and it will go well with the pizza.

  We settle back on the couch and he takes the remote from my hand and switches the television off. With our red wine in our hands, he leans back.

  “This is nice.”

  “Um, yeah,” I say.

  Maybe too nice.

  Chapter Four

  The air is uncomfortably intimate between us and I don’t want to stop soaking in Cesar and his dreamy eyes, but as I said before... the images of his latest conquest are still fresh in my mind. A one night stand with him would feel like there were three people in the room.

  “So, Grant huh? What’s up with him?” he asks.

  I pull the blanket I have on the couch for him to sleep with and cover my body. “What do you mean? He’s a friend.”

  “Uh-huh. A friend waiting for you in your house with a glass of wine in his hand. He’s really comfortable.”

  “Look who’s talking.”

  “You don’t have to be shy with me, I just think you could do better.”

  “Better? What, you mean with someone like you?” I ask, laughing.

  He glances down my body and lingers on my chest, which is having a hard time breathing. Heat warms my body as he stares at me.

  He moves in closer to me and closes his eyes.

  What the hell was he doing? Smelling me or something?

  When his eyes pop open, they are intensely staring at me.

  “Maybe,” he says.

  I swallow the lump in my throat before I respond.

  “Not interested.”

  Once I say it, it’s obvious that we both know it is a lie, but I’m no dummy. There is something about Cesar. He’s no Grant. I don’t trust myself with him. I don’t think I’d really be in control of the situation like I am with Grant.

  I could be reading things wrong but Cesar appears hurt when I turn him down, but then quickly replaces his disappointment with a smile.

  “Neither am I,” he says.

  “So, then why did you kick Grant out of my house?”

  “I just didn’t want to listen to you two go at it all night long,” he says as he sips his wine. “If he’s even capable of going all night.”

  “So...I can watch you have sex, but you don’t want to hear me having sex…seems fair enough.”

  I hold my glass up to my lips as he closes his eyes for a moment, again. Was he picturing the break room? Was he picturing himself and- what was her name- Sasha? He takes these weird pauses in our conversations and I never know what they’re about.

  “It wasn’t like I invited you into the break room with us.” His eyes open, and he studies the glass in his hands.

  “I’m sure you would have loved that. Don’t all guys fantasize about two women?”

  “I’m not all guys,” he whispers before taking the last gulp of his wine.

  He hops off the couch and goes into the kitchen. With the bottle in his hand, he fills up his glass and then tops off mine.

  “Oh,” is all I can say.

  When he sits back down beside me, he laughs. “So, I’ve decided I need to stay here for a while longer.”

  “Wait…what? What do you mean longer?”

  “More than tonight.”

  “Ummm–”

  “I think you need me,” he says, dead serious.

  “Why would I need you,” I scoffed, taking a sip of my wine. Was I hearing him right?

  “To keep an eye out for you. Grant isn’t a good guy, and besides, I need a place to live. I could pay you.”

  This was ridiculous, or better yet, ridonkulous! The money part had a nice ring to it, but what did he care if I hooked up with Grant. There was also a question burning into my subconscious which I knew I was dying to know, but with the alcohol coursing through my system made it hard to remember.

  “No,” I say, flatly.

  “Yes, it’s already decided.”

  Is he nuts?

  “No, it isn’t.” I stare him down, and our eyes connect. Neither of us was backing down.

  “Yes,” he says, still not breaking eye contact.

  “No, and I can do this all night,” I say, standing my ground as we scoot closer to show the other we are serious. Our eyes bear into each other, and I can see the different shades of copper sparkling in his.

  “I can do it all night too, and I’m not talking about staring you down,” he whispers leaning closer to where we are inches apart.

  Frazzled, I don’t know what to do. His body sends mine into overdrive and I try to control my breathing. His jaw is lightly covered in stubble, and I want to graze my fingers over it. I was so close to his lips, if I stuck out my tongue it would be able to touch his bottom, plump lip.

  His lips curve into a knowing smile and his dimples appear out of nowhere. Okay, I want to lick them too. He is deliciously sexy, half-naked on my couch and he smells good to boot. His body radiates a mellow warmth that wraps me up in a cocoon of happiness, and I want to nuzzle my face closer.

  “I’m sure you could do it all night,” I whisper not even knowing what I am saying.

  Wake up, Janelle! Get out of your horny daze.

  I was screaming to myself to snap out of it. Snap out of this Cesar spell he had me under.

  “You want to find out?” he asks, breathily.

  Was he under the same spell? Were my brown eyes captivating him? I thought he had no interest in fucking me. At least that’s what he said ten minutes ago.

  “No,” I say, snapping out of it.

  I lean a hand on his bare chest to push him away but it’s a bad move. His rock-hard muscles don’t budge under my fingertips. His skin is warm, surprisingly baby soft, and I want to slide my hand down further.