Page 85 of Casita Casanova
“Have you been crying?”
She laughs, looking down into her lap. “A little bit.”
Frowning, I stare at the top of her head, the tip of her nose, waiting for her to look back up at me.
I reach toward her, then my hand freezes in the air between us. I don’t know what to do for Maryn. She’s not some bottle bunny in the VIP room, or a desperate Upper East Side housewife throwing herself at me to punish her husband.
I drop my hand back down and focus on the tiny birds as they dart in and out of the waves. My heart beats a quick rhythm in my chest. I chew on my bottom lip, unsure and uncomfortable around a woman for the first time in my life. What the fuck is going on here?
“Cas?”
I swallow hard at the realization that not even that name on her lips can make me cringe. Since my mother passed, I never allowed anyone to use my real name, choosing instead to go by Ridge, short for Ridgeway after my grandmother on my mother’s side. My mother’s maiden name became my middle name, given to me to honor that half of my bloodline. I find myself wanting to tell Maryn who I am. “My first name is Cassius.”
She turns toward me, a bit of shock in her expression.
“It means vain and self-centered. Hollow.” I look away before I can note the look in her eyes.
Another comfortable silence stretches out between us. Maryn pours herself more wine, and from the corner of my eyes, I watch her down it in three gulps, then she whispers, “Cassius.”
I close my eyes. Hearing my name on Maryn’s lips stirs something inside me, like a piece of my broken soul stitches back up with just that simple word on those beautiful lips.
“I don’t think you’re hollow.”
Meant to be reassuring, her words cut me like a knife. Pain blazes in my chest. The problem is, Iamhollow. Iamvain.
But Maryn sees something more than that.
I don’t deserve her faith in me.
“Will you touch me?”
My eyes fly open and I whip my head to meet her gaze. I’ve made her feel like she has toask?
“Please.”
Jesus. I close my eyes, the pain behind that one word tightening a fist around my lungs. When I open my eyes again, her eyes are wet as they search mine. And now I know what it is that draws us to one another.
Heartbreak.
But I’ll evaluate that later.
Because I don’t want her to ask twice. I won’t make her beg. A woman like Maryn should never have to beg.
Especially since all I’ve wanted to do since we met was touch this woman.
Her body.
Her soul.
I reach out and cup her cheek softly, trailing my thumb over her bottom lip. Her lips part, so I lick my own and lean toward her. When her eyes flutter closed, tears trail down her left cheek, barely visible in the darkness. I lean in and press a kiss to her cheek, just below her eye, letting my lips linger there for a few seconds. I’m surprised by the gesture. It feels intimate and raw, but I don’t pull back. She needs this.
For whatever reason, she needsme.
And I need her.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Maryn
