Somebody to Hold (Tyler Jamison #2) - April Wilson Page 0,3
When I come back down, I find Ian tidying up the kitchen.
He must have changed while I was in the shower because now he’s wearing a pair of purple flannel PJ bottoms that hang low on his lean waist. I stand in the doorway for a moment just enjoying the view—the set of his shoulders, his back, the way his torso tapers to his waist. The sight of his PJ bottoms cupping his round ass makes my cock stir.
I’m drawn to him. He’s the flame that lights my way in the darkness. He warms my body and soothes my soul. I love everything about him—his tender heart, his courage, his resiliency. The way he responds to me, the way he sets my blood on fire.
Stepping behind him, I slip my arms around his waist and rest my chin on his bare shoulder. “Thank you for dinner.”
He smiles. “You don’t have to thank me. You know I love cooking for you.”
The house is quiet and mostly dark. There’s only a faint glow coming from the light fixture over the kitchen island. I turn my face toward him and press my lips to his pulse point, reveling in the feel and scent of his warm skin. My hands slide down the front of his PJs to trace the outline of his already sizeable erection.
Ian turns off the water and wrings out the kitchen rag before hanging it over the faucet to dry.
Pressing up against him, letting him feel my own erection, I wrap one arm around his chest and tease his nipple piercing. “Come to bed.”
He dries his hands on a towel before turning to face me with a grin on his handsome face. His green eyes are lit with arousal.
Ian slips his arms around my waist. “I thought you’d never ask.”
I run my fingers through the longer strands of brown hair on the top of his head. His undercut looks freshly trimmed. “You cut your hair.”
He runs a hand over one of the short sides and to the back. “It was getting a little long.”
I cup the back of his neck. “Next time, ask me. I’ll do it for you.”
He grins as if I just offered to blow him here on the spot. “Really? You’d cut my hair?”
I smile. “Sure.” As I thread my fingers through his hair, scraping my nails over his scalp, he shivers.
It’s the quiet moments like these that make me realize how lucky I am. At the ripe old age of forty-four, I thought I’d never find this kind of connection with anyone. After years of trying—and failing—to meet the right woman, I’d just about given up. I thought I was destined to be a bachelor all my life. As it turns out, I was simply looking in the wrong place.
Ian takes my hand and leads me up two flights of stairs to our rooftop retreat. The bed is already turned down, a candle lit on the nightstand.
I pull him close. “You have such a romantic streak.”
For a moment, I’m overcome with emotion. I craved a relationship for so long, and now that I have one, I realize how much I’d been missing. How much I need this—how much I need him.
Then reality hits me hard, and I’m swamped with a sense of dread. If anything happens to us, I don’t think I’d recover.
Shoving away thoughts of doom and gloom, I grasp his wrists and walk him backward toward the bed. When we reach the thick, faux fur rug beside the bed, he sinks to his knees.
Immediately, his fingers are at the waistband of my pajama bottoms. He frees my erection, and then glances up at me from beneath long lashes. As I stare down at him, I slide my fingers through his hair before tightening my grip on the strands.
His gaze darkens as he takes hold of me and licks his lips. And then his tongue glides over the head of my cock, teasing me, tasting. His fingers and lips work their magic, firm, yet nimble.
When I groan, he smiles.
Chapter 2
Ian Alexander
I revel in the weight of Tyler’s body on mine as he covers me. I’m lying on my belly, and he’s captured both of my wrists in one hand, pinning them to the pillow above my head, while his other hand grips my chin and turns my face toward his for a kiss. I groan as his mouth eats at mine. My erection is pinned against the mattress, and it’s pure torment—both pleasure and pain.