“I’m not right for you,” I growl, then tear my eyes away. “Why can’t you see that?”
Drew yanks at my shoulder, tugging me around. “Why are you mad?” he yelps.
“I don’t know!” I bellow. “Because my old man was my age when he died! Because you deserve better than this! Because I fucking love you!”
Drew gasps and steps back. The room is painfully silent, but I can still hear my words crashing through the air.
Fuck. Now I’ve really gone and ruined everything.
“Well,” Drew yells back, “I love you, too!”
Grace growls. My head is swimming. I’m pissed off and stressed out, and my heart is breaking, but the words slowly sink in.
He loves me. His face is pink and torn with emotions, and I realize I’m crying, too.
I grunt under my breath. “Hell, kid. I can never say no to you.”
Drew throws himself against me. Our lips crash together as I catch him, then step back with his weight. He manages to pin me against the fridge as we kiss passionately, grabbing each other all over, and then I lift him and spin him against the wall.
“Love you,” I growl in his ear.
Drew’s entire body jerks. He writhes up against me, dragging his hard erection on my thigh and stroking the back of my head. Our kisses are hungry and wet, desperate.
Pure lust ignites at my core, heating my nerves. The overwhelming emotions disintegrate with the force of it.
I’ve never heard another man say those words to me, not even my father. But when Drew presses his lips to my ear and whispers them again, the truth of it eclipses anything else.
“Love you, softie,” he whispers.
Fuck age. Fuck the whole rest of the world. We’re in love, and Drew is in my arms, and nothing else matters.
He pushes my chest harder, crawling up on me as we stumble toward the living room. I throw my arms around him in a big bear hug and squeeze him to my chest, then carry him through. I’m ready to toss him on the couch when Drew tugs at my shoulders instead, pulling me to the floor.
He lands on top of me. We’re wrestling, passion burning as hot as the anger and frustration were a moment ago.
We love each other, and the force of that love breaks the world open.
* * *
Drew
One minute, I’m falling into deep despair, the next, I’m furious and poking Caesar’s chest, and only a heartbeat later, I’m crawling over his body, so happy I think I’m going to burst.
This is out of control. Caesar loves me. Everything is real.
We roll back and forth on the hardwood living room floor, pawing at each other. When Caesar slams his knee into a bookcase, I grab his hand and pull him to his feet, then up to his room.
I grab at his jeans, unbuttoning them as I walk backward toward the bed. “Clothes off now.”
Caesar works at my shirt. “Bossy,” he grunts.
“You like it.”
He cocks up half a smile, then lightly shoves me in the chest, sending me stumbling to the bed. A second later, naked Caesar crawls on top of me. I laugh as he throws me onto my belly and yanks my briefs off, but then I surprise him, spinning and pulling him back down.
We’re side by side, our legs tangled together. I run my hand over his chest, drawing my fingers through his silver hair.
It’s not that I’m naïve about Caesar’s age. I know it means we won’t have as many years as I probably would with someone my age. But I love him. I can’t imagine anyone else like him for me, so as I kiss his neck and stroke his ink, his age just makes our love all the more urgent.
