Page 58 of Deck the Fire Halls

He sighed and we fell into a contented silence. I rubbed his arm and his breathing got deeper. I wasn’t sure if he fell asleep again or just dozed, but there was no way I was risking waking him.

This was perfection.

I’d known this man for a week. We’d officially been dating for one day, and here I was waking up in his bed, with him in my arms.

Too soon? Probably.

But my god, it felt right.

This was what I’d longed for. Not some crazy fantasies about mega-rich playboys, or muscle men, or younger guys looking for a daddy-figure to rail them.

What my heartshouldhave been looking for was a guy who was older than me. Not some young gym-bro,but a doctor, no less. Intelligent, funny, with a sexy natural body, who just wanted a simpler, quieter life.

Because if perfect for me was a person, I was beginning to think it was Robinson O’Reilly.

Waking up on my day off work with this man in my arms was something I could so easily get used to.

I had no idea what time it was, and I didn’t care. I wanted to stay in bed with him all day. Except he’d said yes to going out for a ride on my bike with me this morning and that was what my real dreams were made of.

I smiled at the ceiling and rested my eyes. I was happy.

So freaking happy.

And hungry, and I needed to piss.

But I still wasn’t moving.

“I can hear your stomach,” Rob said. “I think it’s searching for food.”

I chuckled. “You should hear what my bladder is saying.”

He laughed and rolled onto his back. “I’ll make a start on breakfast.” He rolled out of bed and stood up, and I didn’t miss the tented sleep pants, and he didn’t miss me looking at it. “Don’t blame me. It’s your fault,” he said as he walked out.

I laughed and waited for him to use the bathroom first before my turn, and yeah, I had the same problem. The flamingo pajamas did nothing to hide my morning wood, though a piss and a splash of cold water on my face helped a little.

I found him in the kitchen at the coffeemachine. Christ, he was so sexy. Gray sweatpants, shirtless, stubbled chin, hairy chest. And my efforts to stop the tenting of my pants was in vain.

“How do you like it?”

“Oh, I like it exactly like this,” I murmured.

He looked at me, so I very pointedly looked him up and down. I was not ashamed for finding him so damn hot. He was a fox. Hell, I even loved the hint of gray in his hair.

“I meant your coffee,” he said, turning back to the machine.

I could see his cheeks were red, as was the tip of his ears. I had to bite back a groan because damn.

Just fucking damn.

“Black is fine,” I replied. Then, taking pity on my aching dick, I sat at one of the two stools at his small kitchen counter. It was such a cute place. The layout was almost identical to my house, probably built in the same year by the same builder. Most houses in this street were. But his was bright and cheerful, and dare I say it, maybe decorated by someone with more style than the person who chose and installed my kitchen and the paint color.

Or maybe it was the man standing in front of me offering me coffee.

Certainly made for a cheerier start to my day.

“Thank you,” I said, taking the mug. It smelled like the good stuff too.

“You’re welcome.” He sipped his own. “Now, breakfast. Scrambled eggs on toast sound okay?”

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