Page 48 of The Key Holder

12

Dylan

I was able to gather my thoughts in the much-needed shower, and Ford remained quiet while I wolfed down the macaroni he had made me. Only when I had reassured him for the second time that there was nothing else he could make for me to eat or drink did he seem to relax.

When I said how tired I was, he suggested we go to bed early and I didn’t argue. If the situation was going to progress, the bedroom would be a natural setting for what I wanted.

I brushed my teeth quickly and told him I was finished. As soon as the bathroom door closed, I stripped everything off, got into his bed, wearing only the cage, and waited.

Ford came out wearing a pair of black briefs and came straight to bed. I continued to read my book, feigning indifference at his presence. It was a tough few minutes because I could feel Ford watching me the whole time, and my urge to say something was strong.

Too strong.

“Everything okay?” I asked, putting the book down.

“I should be asking you that,” he replied.

“I feel better after showering. I’m just thinking about earlier…with River.” I reasoned if we didn’t go there now, we might never get there. “He was pretty forward.”

This was so fucking awkward. It was like he forgot everything I confessed to him earlier before I took a shower. Now he was just lying there, staring at me.

“Some people are like that.” Ford crossed his arms.

“Did it bother you?” I watched for his reaction, other words tangled in my throat, desperate to escape. But I needed him to say the words now, that his jealousy meant something more to him, that I wasn’t just a possession.

“Yes, Dylan,” he said, his voice low and rough. “It bothered me.”

I held back my frustration at having to milk the words out of him and instead focused on Ford and his admission. My question had worked.

“It bothered you?” I asked, trying to keep my voice from sounding gleeful, but the validation was almost too much.

Ford couldn’t hold eye contact with me. He glanced down at his lap and softly said, “Yes.” As if an afterthought, he cleared his throat and added, “It bothered me a lot.”

Now’s your chance.

Carefully and ever so slowly, I moved towards him, keeping the blanket bunched in front of the cage, until I was straddling his thigh with most of my body completely exposed. Bracing myself against the headboard, I leaned down, close enough to smell the faint scent of his body wash. His gaze dropped to my mouth, then back up to my eyes, a silent question passing between us.

“Why?” I whispered.

This needed to be it. After years of unspoken history, of suppressed yearning, of this simmering forbidden attraction. No more hiding, no more pretending, no more bullshit. I had to know.

Ford reached out—his hand was trembling—and cupped my cheek. “Because I don’t…I don’t want anyone else looking at you like that. I don’t want some guy to think they can just…claim you.”

I melted against his touch but restrained myself from showing pure unadulterated joy. “Claim me?”

“Yes, claim you,” he said, more confident than a moment ago. “Because you’re mine…or I want you to be.”

His confession was like a dam breaking; the flood of his feelings broke the tension between us. I saw a clear path for us to move forward and I was taking it.

“I want to be yours, Ford,” I whispered. My gaze dropped to his parted lips, and as if an invitation, his tongue subtly brushed across them. I leaned down, slowly, giving him every chance to pull away, to stop me.

But he didn’t.

Instead he tilted his head up and met my lips with his, soft at first, but the movement was deliberate. This was a choice.

As the kiss deepened, I let the breath out I had been holding. His hand moved down from my cheek to around my neck, pulling me closer. His other arm went around my waist, drawing me against him until I slid onto his lap. I winced slightly as the cage, wedged between us, pinched a bit of my skin. A gentle reminder that I didn’t have everything I wanted just yet.

Ford noticed. “You okay?”