Heat floods my veins in an intoxicating rush.
I draw his bottom lip between my teeth, biting, and Rome’s big hands grab my ass in a move so hot, I’m not sure how my clothes haven’t incinerated. He stands, lifting me with him, never taking his lips off mine. Wrapping my legs around his lean waist, I lock my ankles at the small of his back as he settles between my thighs, his cock pressing against my aching core through our clothes.
The caress of his mouth against mine steals every thought from my mind until I just feel. And my entire body feels more alive than it’s felt in so long.
Toolong.
My world narrows to this kiss. To this night. To this man.
“Jesus, Dillan,” Rome groans as he sucks at the sweet spot between my shoulder and neck, and I arch, giving him better access. My breath catches as he turns and drops us onto the couch.
One palm slides under my sweatshirt, and rough, calloused fingers splay along my ribs as his lips worship my pulse as it beats wildly for him. “You are fucking delicious...”
The words are ripped from his throat, his breath hot against the side of my neck before he draws back and tugs my shirt off. His eyes pool with a wild need matching my own, and I lace my fingers through his hair and tug until his mouth is back on mine.
Rome groans as I tug at his T-shirt, desperately wanting it gone from his body. Needing to feel his skin against mine as the press of his hard cock through his rough jeans threatens to undo me before we even start.
He fingers the strap of my brahesitantly, like he’s suddenly worried he’ll hurt me.
“Don’t be gentle...” I taunt as I bend my knees and cradle him between my thighs, tugging at the hem of his tee. I want it off. I want to feel him. Now.
“Rome,” I moan and watch the thread he’s hanging onto fraying with each brush of my fingers against his skin and each drag of my tongue over his. Until he reaches behind his head and pulls his shirt off.
Oh. My. God.
This man’s chest is chiseled granite covered in beautiful ink.
Hard and firm and impossibly perfect.
His muscles ripple under my touch as I glide my fingers over his pecs and down his eight-pack abs.
“Like what you see, Ryan?”
I scrape my nails down his warm skin and lick my lips as his dark eyes devour me. “It’s not bad.”
I don’t tell him how much I like it. Don’t feed what I used to think was an overinflated ego, but looking at him now, I know is more like hard-earned confidence.
I can’t give him those words.
Not if I want to be able to walk away at the end of tonight.
And I really should want that.
But I can’t even think straight enough to string two solid thoughts together as a cocky, gorgeous smile curves his lips. His finger skims along the waistband of my leggings, and I wiggle, wanting them gone too. Wanting to feel his skin on mine. His weight on me.
“You sure you want this?” he asks with a gravelly desperation I feel in my soul.
He’ll stop if I want him to, but I don’t want him to stop. Not yet.
I nod breathlessly.
“Words, Dillan. Give me your words. Give me permission or tell me to stop,” he demands desperately.
“Don’t stop, Rome,” I plead, and a beautiful hiss slips past his lips.
“Fuck, Dillan...” The sound is ragged and rough and so fucking hot, I know that’s the only way I want to hear him say my name. God only knows what I’ll be willing to do to hear it again.
I lick my lips and focus on his handsome face, an unfamiliar sense of confidence cementing somewhere inside me. “Fuck me, Rome.”
