"No. Of course not."
"Exactly. You like mein spiteof my age. That's a key difference. That's what doesn't make this a situation where some rich old dude preys on someone younger."
The icing on the cake? He slips his hand into mine, and in a heartbeat, the rightness of what he's saying reverberates through me, rattling and loosening up decades of preconceived ideas and judgments I've been carrying around with me.
"I'm messed up," I confess quietly.
"Who isn't?" When he notices that didn't land as he'd hoped, he murmurs, "Anson, I've gone through a lot of shit, too. I was bullied my entire childhood. My weight has fluctuated my entire life. I wasted my entire twenties, depressed and unmotivated. If my brother had given up on me and I hadn't gone to rehab, worked on my shit, done a PT course…I'd still be depressed and unmotivated."
His vulnerability, his honesty, his rawness, unravels me. My gaze falls to our hands, still entwined. "So what do we do?"
He offers a hesitant smile. "One, you tell me you agree with me and that there's no reason why we can't explore this thing between us and see where it leads. Which would conveniently lead to number two."
"Which is?"
He blinks fast a few times, his eyes landing on my lips. "You kiss me."
My breath catches in the base of my throat, a rush of emotions unleashing within me. Excitement. Joy.Possession.
I run my fingers he's so enamored with lightly down the side of his face. "Any chance we can revisit point one in greater detail later and skip straight to the second part?"
His unsure smile blooms into something real, something fiery. "Fuck, yeah."
We have a lot to unpack. As much as I wish one conversation could miraculously undo decades of my thinking, I know that's not the case. But I—we—can deal with all that later.
Because right now, I don't want to waste any more time not kissing this amazing, surprising, sexy, and incredibly mature young man standing before me.
I swoop an arm around his waist and tug him into me, then I descend on his lips, catching the surprised sound he makes in my mouth. Jarvis's tongue meets mine, and they engage in a delicate dance, tentatively exploring each other for the first time, before Jarvis grabs my hands, plants them on his ass, and escalates the kiss into a full-blown make-out session.
We stumble our way into the living room and crash onto the sofa, two bodies joining, becoming one.
12
Jarvis
"Just so we're clear." I'm under Anson but draw back just enough to get a full view of his handsome face after getting my throat fucked by Anson's wickedly talented tongue. "Jumping straight to number two means agreement with point one?"
He smiles like I've never seen before, like we've crossed the threshold of some invisible barrier. "Yes, baby. I agree. And I want you to know that I meant what I said. I want to get to know you as a person. This is more than just physical attraction for me."
The casual dropping of the endearment, the tenderness of his words, all amazing, but I want Anson so bad I could die.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. That's all well and good, but you do want to fuck me, right?"
A chuckle leaves his lips. "I do."
I glance over to my right, to a hallway I've never been down before but that I assume leads to the bedroom wing of this ginormous penthouse. "Well?"
"There's no need to rush. We can take all the time we need. I want to do this right."
"Tell you what? I'll answer any three questions you have about me, then you can fuck me." Another chuckle, and I'm so addicted to the sound, determined to find new, outrageous things to say and do just to keep drawing it out of him.
"You're sure?"
"I am. After all, I'm here to give you a workout, and I have some seriously heart-pumping things in mind for today's session."
"In that case…" He rolls off me, grabs my hand, and we cross the room, two men on a mission.
His place is so big, he actually gets a chance to ask three rapid-fire questions on the way to his bedroom. Bonus points, they weren't standard, tired ones, either.