Page 122 of Bound By Her

Their reflections stared back at them; two figures caught in the dim light.

Bryson’s voice came low. “No.”

Kaydon tightened his arms around him, pressing closer, his warmth sinking into Bryson’s skin. “But you trust me, right?”

Bryson swallowed, and let his eyes flutter shut.Kaydon’s scent filling him, grounding him, steady and real.

His voice was a whisper. “With my everything.”

Kaydon exhaled, his breath warm against Bryson’s ear. “Then believe me when I say I see it.”

Kaydon’s grip tightened, holding Bryson in place like he could anchor him there.

“Seth and I would both follow you into hell.” Kaydon’s voice was steady, no hesitation. “That’s not by accident. That’s because of who you are. Not your father. You.”

Kaydon’s chin rested against Bryson’s shoulder.

“And when you decide it’s time to show more people the real you?—”

He paused, letting the words settle between them.

“Not the mask you put on.”

Bryson’s fingers curled into Kaydon’s arms, holding onto him, needing him to keep standing.

“They’re gonna see it, too.”

Bryson barely breathed as he whispered into the room, “I’m sorry, Kay.”

Kaydon didn’t hesitate. He spun him around, pressing close, tilting Bryson’s chin up so their lips were barely touching.

Kaydon’s voice came low, a smile in his tone. “Obviously.”

Then, he kissed him.

CHAPTER 29

NORTH CAROLINA

When Bryson returned from his mid-morning run, he was surprised to see that Eric wasn’t around. Having the old man keep track of his workout time was half the reason he did it.

An unfamiliar voice in the garden room drew his attention.

“So what if you liked it? I can name a hundred Doms that do.”

Bryson peeked through the open doorway leading into the garden room. Inside there was a silver-haired woman. Older, but beautiful in her own right. Her Ricci blouse and designer watch said she had money, and a lot of it. She reminded Bryson of a mom that had graduated to a grandma, but no one was allowed to point it out. He saw Adria sitting across from her, sipping tea out of her favorite purple mug.

“They don’t like to be disturbed when they are talking.”

A voice whispered over his shoulder.

Unfamiliar and nasally, Bryson ignored his skin’s protests to the new man’s proximity and turned.

He was young.

“Regan,” the boy said, still in a low voice, “could you…”

He motioned to the door that Bryson held slightly ajar. Bryson allowed it to swing silently shut.

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