Page 32 of Steel Beauty

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 aformerclient.”

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—overfresh 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.

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