Eventually, I gently push him far enough away that I’m not tempted to kiss him again. Not immediately, anyway. He’s so beautiful, with kiss-swollen lips, and a faint blush splashing across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.
“We should go, or we’ll be decorating until midnight,” I say.
“It’s a good thing I’m not tired, Daddy.” He flashes me a grin and then grabs his overnight bag. “Let’s go decorate!”
14
ROWAN
We stop by a florist on the way to Damon’s place. Miraculously, they have a few sprigs of mistletoe left. The moment we step through the door of Damon’s apartment, he puts the box of decorations and the shopping bags on the floor and holds the mistletoe above our heads. I’m not going to say no to kissing him, so I gladly melt into his arms, allowing him to give me a long, deep, commanding kiss that leaves me breathless. Only then do I get a chance to sweep my gaze around the room.
Like my apartment, it has an open-plan living area, but it’s easily three times the size of mine. It’s bright, neat, and organised. Nothing is out of place, and everything fits together. It’s too dark to see much of anything but city lights outside the window, but I look forward to seeing it tomorrow. On Christmas Day. I’m spending Christmas with Damon. My heart pounds and my head spins at the amazing thought.
Together, we put the shopping away and then hang the decorations. He was right to pick my blue-and-silver collection. They look amazing in the mostly cream coloured room. A room this size needs a tree, preferably a real one, as he has wood flooring, but it’s far too late to find a decent one now. Perhaps next year. I clap my hands to my mouth. Eyes wide.
“Something wrong, boy?” Damon pinches his lips together in concern.
“No. My thoughts were just running away with me.” I wave his worry away. “Where should we put the lights?”
“Above the sofa? There’s a plug socket just to the left of it.”
“Sounds perfect.”
He catches me by the waist before I can walk away from him. “Tell me what you were thinking.”
“You don’t want to hear about my silly fantasies.”
“Yes, I do.” His tone is commanding. This is an order, not a request. “I’m sure there’s nothing silly about them.”
I take a breath. “Well, maybe notsilly, but certainly premature.”
“In what way?”
“I was thinking about how good a real Christmas tree would look in here and if I would be able to persuade you to get one next year.” I wince and hold my breath.
“I’d like that.”
I gasp and lift my brows. “You would?”
“Yes.”
“But we’ve only just started screwing each other?—”
His commanding lips muffle my words. He strokes my cheek. “I can imagine doing this with you again next year.”
“You can?” I’m not sure if I should find that scary or flattering. I opt for the latter, mainly because I can envisage it, too. I want it. Probably because I’ve spent so long lusting after him.
“Yes. Too soon?”
“It would be if I didn’t feel the same way.”
And we’re lost in kissing again, hanging the lights forgotten, even though I’m still holding them. Maybe I am hoping for too much, too soon, but does it matter when we seem to be on the same page?
Somehow, we end up on his sofa, still kissing. I let the lights slip from my hands, so I can run my palms over his thighs and chest, and back. His hands rove over my body, too, making my skin tingle and my breath hitch in my throat. Damon knows how to make me feel good, even through clothes.
“We should finish decorating,” he says after a while.
“Do you like what we’ve done so far, Daddy?”
