Page 61 of Under Locke & Key
“See something you like?” His smile turns to a smirk.
“We’ve got to eat something. Gotta keep your strength up. I’m not done with you just yet.” And that thought is a little scary but if I bury it beneath the physical maybe I can postpone the panic.
“Is that a promise or a threat?” Bryce asks.
“Both.”
I slip into the shower, knowing it doesn’t matter how much water I use, Bryce Dawson will remain on my skin. My body is tender where his hands have touched and gripped, my core a slight ache letting me know exactly where he’s been. I take the time to center myself, to tuck away my traitorous feelings before they bloom into something uncontrollable. Like the mint that nearly took over my mother’s back garden one year, Bryce threatens to overwhelm, and I can’t let myself consider that yet.
Not when it’s so tentative between us. Not until we’re done with the escape room and I can know without a doubt that this isn’t just the rush of a shared project, of feeling valued and respected.
Bryce waits for me to emerge before he kisses my cheek and steps under the spray. I dress, choosing soft material that won’t affect my sensitive skin.
Clean, bones languid, I settle onto the sofa and pull up delivery options near me while I wait. My apartment smells like him and it’s only once he walks out in nothing but a towel slung low on his hips that I realize our clothes are soaked and he has no others.
“Oh. Let me get our stuff into the wash. I totally forgot.”
Gathering the piles of clothes off of my bathroom floor, I chuck them into the washer as quickly as I can, and the old machine grinds as it starts.
“You in the mood for any particular kind of food?” Bryce asks from the living room.
“Whatever you’d like. I trust you.”
He’s on the couch, the towel still wrapped around him, and I settle down beside him.
“My washer and dryer are really slow, sorry.”
He quirks an eyebrow at me, “And what does that mean, exactly?”
Words. Of course. He needs me to say it.
“That means it would be better if you gave them time to dry properly. It’ll be late once they’re done. Maybe you should stay.” My cheeks flame and my attempt at being coy about it is totally ruined by me blushing like a fool. I drop my gaze down to my hands, wringing them in my lap.
How can I be so confident about sex and so unsure about what comes after?
Bryce tips my head up, his finger crooked under my chin to urge me to look at him.
“I’d love to stay,” he says, quiet and devastating, and tucks me into his side.
Our food arrives shortly after we order, the scent of sweet tomato sauce and savory cheese sending my own stomach growling, and we devour the pizza in front of the TV.
“What do you mean you’ve never seen Smallville?” Bryce sounds aghast.
“Exactly what I said.” Taking another bite of my slice, I suppress a grin at his expression.
He takes the remote from my hand and pulls it up. “That is something we are going to remedy right now.”
The theme song comes on, something missing from recent shows, and I watch the light of the screen flicker across Bryce’s face as sunset steals the daytime. Content. I am so content. He laughs against my side at how ridiculous the early 2000s special effects look, that rumble passing through his body and to mine.
Later, with his clothes dry and folded, he puts his boxer briefs back on and I strip down to an oversized shirt and underwear. Melting into the bed, both of us are tired from the exertion of renovation, stress from being locked in, and the exhilaration of the storm and what followed.
Bryce tucks himself behind me, enveloping me. His knee between my legs, arm slung over my side to splay across my stomach, Bryce spoons me from behind and I know I’m in trouble.
Because I’ve never felt safer or happier than right here in his arms. Sleep drags us under and the last thing I’m aware of before it takes me is Bryce’s whispering, “Good night” and the press of a kiss against the top of my head.
* * *
One unexpected perkto falling asleep next to your half-naked boss is that forgetting to set an alarm is a non-issue. Can’t be late to work if they are too. Sunlight streams through the crack between my curtains and somehow in sleep we’ve migrated from spooning to me partially on top of him. Leg thrown over his hips and my head on his chest, Bryce’s breath is a gentle ebb and flow beneath my ear.
