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He turns into a neighborhood with tree-lined streets, older buildings with character, and it’s nice. It feels like a good spot for him. It’s not brand new or flashy. Marcus doesn’t strike me as someone who needs to show off. He’s more practical, and I like that about him. I’ve never felt like I needed to impress him, which is refreshing working in a world of the latest and greatest.

“We’re here.” He parks on the street and drops my hand before opening his door to grab my bag from the back. “Let’s get inside. It’s freezing out here. I don’t want you to start shivering again.”

“If I do, you’ll just have to warm me up, and I won’t complain about that at all,” I tease and the corner of his lip tugs up before he locks the car.

“Come on.”

I follow him up the steps to a brick building, and he unlocks the door to let us into a small lobby. We take the stairs to the second floor, and then he’s unlocking another door, pushing it open, and gesturing for me to go in first.

His apartment is small but clean, which fits his personality. He has a small kitchen, a two-person dining table, a gray couch in the living room looking at a TV, and a balcony.

“Told you, it’s not much.” Marcus shrugs, walking into what must be his bedroom with my bag before coming back out empty-handed.

It’s neat and functional, but there are no framed photos, no trinkets, no personal touches. The only thing that looks like his is a record player in the corner with a crate of records beside it and I’m reminded of the man from the record shop. Beyond that, nothing says a person lives here instead of just sleeps here. It almost feels like he’s just passing through his own apartment he’s lived in for years. As if he hasn’t let himself settle in completely because he’s not sure this is where he wants to be, or maybe because some part of him doesn’t think he deserves to take up more space than this.

I want to tell him he’s allowed to actually live here, to hang something on the walls, to make it his own. But when I turn to look at him, there’s vulnerability in his expression. He seems to be waiting for my approval, as if my opinion matters to him.

“It’s plenty, and I’m really happy to be here with you.”

He looks at me, surprised, and I step closer, closing the distance between us. I rest my hands on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my palms.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It means a lot that you invited me.” I want to show him just how much, so I lean in to kiss him, initiating a “thank you” without saying the words. He sinks into it, before taking control of the kiss and I happily let him.

Marcus’s fingers dig into my hips as he walks me backward toward his bedroom. His mouth claims mine with an intensity that makes my knees weak. We’ve been together three times before, and each time, the chemistry between us somehow grows more electric.

When we reach his bedroom, he pulls away for a second to tug off his hoodie. I look around his room quickly, and it’s exactly like the rest of the apartment—clean and minimal. He has a gray comforter, a wooden dresser, and two wooden bedside tables.

Then I shift my attention back to him and take him in, the confident set of his jaw that’s clean-shaven today, the dark intensity in his eyes as he looks at me. I’ve never seen such deep blue eyes before and every time I see them, I get more lost in them. They remind me of the ocean.

“Strip,” he commands from his spot right in front of me as he does the same.

I tug at my clothes. My shirt comes first, then my shoes and jeans, until I’m standing bare a few feet from the bed, already hard knowing where the night is going to go. Marcus watches, his gaze appreciative and hungry, then he pushes off the door and approaches me slowly.

“God, you’re so sexy.” His voice is rough with desire, but I light up under the praise. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

“Show me,” I challenge.

He moves behind me, stopping at my back. My breathing picks up at the intensity of this moment, at not knowing what he’s thinking.

“Gladly. Bend over, baby.”

I do as he says, feeling vulnerable as I place my hands on the edge of his bed and spread my legs for him.

There’s a thud behind me as he drops to his knees and next thing I know, his tongue is on me. Swirling and pressing against my rim as he devours me. He grips the globes of my ass in his hands and squeezes them as he pulls them apart, and the sharp sensation is delicious, complementing the way he’s worshipping my hole.

“I just had to taste you,” he murmurs when he pulls back. “I’ve been thinking about this since you told me you were coming. Haven’t stopped.”

I nod, unable to form words as his hands explore my body. It’s all I’ve thought about too.

He uses my hips to pull himself up and I feel his body behind me, his erection trailing over my ass. He turns me so we’re face to face, pulls me in for a quick, dirty, open-mouthed kiss, then pushes me back onto the mattress like I’m just the object of his desire. His plaything to be worshiped and used. And god, I fucking love it. I love giving up control, the way he takes charge.

He follows me down on the mattress, covering my body with his as he pins me in place. His mouth finds mine again, and it’s as possessive as before. When he finally pulls back, he trails wet kisses down my body. Down my neck, where he nips at my pulse point, making me arch into him. Across my chest, where his tongue swirls around a nipple before his teeth scrape over it, sending a jolt straight to my cock, then doing the same to the other. Down my stomach, where he pauses to dip his tongue into my navel, making me squirm. He follows my happy trail like it’s a map.

I watch as he settles between my legs, his eyes dark with hunger. “I love that I can make you feel so much with just a simple touch.”

There are a lot of words I’d use to describe the way Marcus touches me, but simple isn’t one.