Mostly, because I was a control freak.
The game from last night was over without the sex-induced haze, and the urge to grip hold of that control tugged me out of bed.
I showered quickly, the bedroom connected to the bathroom. It hadn’t been until after I toweled dry and threw some clothes on that I smelled, well, food. It wafted in like he’d started to ready it after I woke up. He might have even been listening for me to wake up so he could start.
I wouldn’t put it past him, shaking my head when I cracked the door open and a myriad of smells hit me. I was talking eggs, baked goods, bacon.
I’d even smelled steak.
I got a suite with a kitchen, but he’d have to have gone out to get food. Or called a delivery service. I padded down the hall with my bare feet in a pair of jeans and a tank top. My hair still wet, I towel-dried it on my search to find Ramses and that food. I found them both in the sitting area.
And he’d completely outdone himself.
He hadn’t cooked, silver domes indicating room service lining the counter between the kitchen and the sitting room. But it appeared he’d ordered everything on the menu.
Platters with stacks of danishes, three-tiered stands arranged with muffins and scones. He’d order pancakes, as well, and he did have steak and eggs. It all sat arranged on their various plates near the bacon, a feast with at least two types of cold beverages and coffee. Ramses was coming out of the kitchen with silverware for it all. Two place settings had been arranged next to each other. The table sat at least twelve, but he only put silverware in front of the two chairs. It reminded me of the sweetheart table at his friend’s wedding.
And God, was he delicious too.
He hadn’t spotted me at first, in only his lounge pants, gray sweats that cuffed at his ankles. He must have planned to stay overnight in the city as well, a complete and ab-lickable god with his shaven head and magnificent body. The sweats helped his Men’s Health Magazine aesthetic, the outline of his package on full display. Whoever invented gray sweatpants needed to be knighted for their service to womenkind.
I cleared my throat, and Ramses jerked that buzz cut in my direction, his grin wide. Eyeing me, he placed a hand toward a chair, and I took it.
“What’s all this?” I asked, letting him push me in, and he joined me.
“This is a do over.” He snapped out a napkin, placing it on my lap before draping an arm across my chair. He folded a hand behind my neck. “And you’re sexy as hell.”
I didn’t understand the whole do over thing, but I definitely computed his mouth on mine.
He captured my lips in his hungry kiss, smelling all fresh like he’d showered. He must have snuck one in while I’d been sleeping. The fact only made me want to get in his lap and bury my face in his neck, but I resisted.
He didn’t.
He mouthed his way down to my rapid pulse, hooking my waist and actually tugging me on top of him. A heavy hand kept my ass on firm thighs, his thick cock probing me right through his sweats.
He groaned, tasting the other side of my neck, and if we kept this up, we wouldn’t be eating. I smiled. “Ramses?”
“Yep?”
“Do over?” I fisted his biceps, physically easing him away from me. This was no easy feat.
He was definitely hungry.
Though I had a feeling that hunger ebbed more towards me. Even still, he picked up a fork and speared a piece of melon for me.
He summoned me to open my mouth, which I did, the taste explosion absolute heaven and even better since he fed me.
He allowed me to enjoy myself, sampling what he’d clearly had brought up for me. Everything in front of me was cooked to perfection. He’d even ordered poached eggs for me, which I loved.
His arms ensnared my hips while I ate, what I deciphered as pleasure across his face as he watched me feed myself. I offered him a bit, but he refused. He just liked watching me.
“The do over seems to be going well,” he said, and I noticed he hadn’t answered me the first time. I’d been too busy eating and enjoying his presence to poke him about it. He rested a chin on my shoulder. “Are you happy?”
I faced him, actual worry knitting his brow, and he smoothed a hand over his shaven head.
He sat back. “The last time we did this, you left. Though, obviously not physically. You had me do that part.”
I had, guilt and something else sagging heavy like a sopping blanket on top of me.
He wanted me happy?
At least, he was worried that I wasn’t. That I’d leave. I placed down my fork. “Ramses…”
“No.”
I faced him again, his expression serious. He cuffed his wrist on the other side of my hips, his lips pinched tight in thought. Or maybe hesitance. I’d given him more than one reason to do the latter.
I had run.
I planned to possibly do more of that today, but I said nothing at the present.
He lifted a hand. “Before you say anything, give me a list of reasons why this won’t work…”
Wow. He knew me so well, didn’t he? At least, thought he did.
I adjusted in his lap, my jaw shifting. He may have thought I was uncomfortable, so he returned me to my chair.
He hung an arm on the back. “Tell me I’m too young for you again or how much it bothers you that I’m your friend’s son…”
He was both those things, our reality. I wasn’t very comfortable with the age gap, but I may be able to get over it, had we not had the other issue.
I’d lied to his mom. I’d lied to my friend, and though he had as well, he was her son. Kids lied to their parents. But friends?
I followed the hard curve of his bicep with my hand, solid and unyielding beneath my flesh. I wished it was different. I wished we were different, our circumstances, and I’d said that before.
Ramses wouldn’t allow me to say it again, cuffing the back of my neck. Bracing me, he caused our foreheads to touch and breathed me in.
I sighed.
“Just,” he started, my skin warming beneath his hand. He squeezed. “Tell me what I need to say. Tell me what I need to do for you to give this a chance.”
He brought my head up, scanning my eyes.
“To be my girl,” he said, basically my entire insides fluttering. “To be with me, as mine and not just for sex. To be out of the dark with all this. To be a real thing.”
My throat thickened, my mouth dry. “Can I speak now?”
“Depends on what you have to say.” He sat back. He lifted a hand. “Do I even have a chance? A chance with you?”
I hated that he felt that way, that I gave him such a run around, that that was the relationship we had.
I fucked with this guy’s heart something crazy, and I hated that.
I cuffed his other arm, so powerful beneath me. He was mighty Ramses, all-powerful pharaoh of the world. At least, mine. “It’s not so simple.”
“What’s not so simple about it?”
“People who are different ages, our kind of age difference is fine on paper. But with that difference comes life experiences. Different life experiences, and relationships are already difficult enough.”
“Well, I’m willing to try.” A frustrated hand came over his head again. “And it’s not that different. Our ages?”
“It is enough of one, yeah, and then there is your mom.”