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“I’m the same way,” I said. “It really is magical.”
He gave me a playful shove with his shoulder. “Oh, shut up.”
“What?”
“You’re 23,” he said. “Of course nothing’s had the chance to wear off for you yet.”
I snorted. “I’m a grown-up, goddamnit.”
He reached his hand into my back pocket, giving my ass a squeeze. “I know you are.”
My heart skipped a beat again as we approached my house. “Well, this is it,” I said, walking up the short path to my front steps. “Home, sweet home. Don’t expect much, because I’m still moving in, okay?”
As we walked inside and kicked off our boots in the entryway, my mind was running through its usual loop when I had new visitors over: I always gave a little tour of the place, asked people if they wanted a drink, and helped them feel at home. From the entryway, the medium-sized Christmas tree was visible from the edge of the living room. I’d set it up on a timer, and every night at sundown, the lights flipped on, casting the room in its glow. I loved coming home to it after dark, and it had been the first thing I’d been showing to guests.
I scratched the back of my neck .“So, um, I guess I’ll show you the living room first—”
“Come here,” he said as his hands caught my waist and tugged me in close.
He knew what I wanted. He knew what Ineeded.
And I realized that I wasn’t going to have to worry about any of the usual niceties that I showed to other guests.
He crushed his lips to mine without a hint of hesitation. There was nothing polite about his kiss now, and that was exactly the way I liked it. We were inside, away from any onlookers, and Rome sure as hell wasn’t shy.
He pushed me backward toward the wall of the entryway, pushing his hips forward against the front of my body. My back hit something soft behind me, sliding against the wall, and I realized he’d shoved me up against the new, rolled-up rug I had leaned there.
A shiver ran through my body as his palm found its way to my thigh, then slowly, firmly made its way up toward my dick, palming me through my jeans.
“Fuck,” I whispered against his lips. “I didn’t even turn the lights on yet. I was going to give you a grand tour and everything.”
“I want a grand tour of your body,” he said. “And the light from the Christmas tree is better than anything else could be.”
“You’re not wrong,” I said. The last word came out low and breathy because Rome was dipping lower, now, slowly sucking a kiss against the side of my neck. I leaned my head back against the soft rolled-up rug, arching for him.
His hair was soft as it brushed against my jaw. My cock throbbed with every move Rome made.
Fuck,it was like nothing I’d ever felt. I’d known that I was attracted to older men for about as long as I’d been attracted to anyone, but having the real thing was different than what I had imagined. Better. His strong, slightly calloused hands on my hips. The low rumble of his voice when he hummed near my ear. The way he was making me feel small, in the best fucking way, even though I was only a few inches shorter than him.
He was every bit a man. And I already wanted to sink to my knees for him, and we’d only been inside for a minute.
He reached a hand up toward my shoulder, edging underneath my peacoat and starting to push it off. I shrugged it off quickly, then pulled off my sweater and T-shirt.
Rome let out a groan, and his eyes danced across my bare torso. It was a little chilly in the room, and for a moment I had a flash of self-consciousness. Here I was, desperate and stripping for a man I barely knew, so ready to give myself to him. But then he took off his jacket and shirt, too, and I was too distracted to even care what the hell he might think of me.
“Jesus Christ,” I muttered. “Having a body that good should be illegal.”
I had never seen someone have such a sculpted body outside of a gym before. He looked like he’d earned the body he had through years and years of hard work and physical labor, and he’d been very well rewarded with the results. I couldn’t help but reach out and run my fingertips through the soft trail of salt and pepper hair that led from his stomach down lower, tracing the planes of his muscles.
“You’re good at making a guy feel flattered,” he said as my fingers skated near the waistband of his jeans.
“No,” I said softly. “Usually I’m terrible at that. Every compliment I’ve given you is just more of afact, really.”
He hummed, his eyes dancing over my face, like he was trying to make a decision. “Get on the floor.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “The floor?”
He nodded toward the living room, right beside the glow of the Christmas tree. “That rug looks comfortable. I want to see you lying down on it.”
