Twenty-One
Hollis
I’m lying on my side, watching Ford sleep as the morning lights peeks in through the blinds, basking him in a golden hue. Like I am every morning, I’ve been up since the ass crack of dawn, my internal alarm clock never letting me sleep any later than that. As quietly as I could manage, I rolled out of bed a little while ago and started a pot of coffee in the kitchen before brushing my teeth and running some cold water over my face. I slipped back into bed about fifteen minutes ago, and it’s an oddly relaxing thing watching Ford’s chest rise and fall with deep, even breaths. His features are soft and relaxed. He looks peaceful. He’s on his back, one hand on his stomach, the other on the bed between us. At some point in the middle of the night, the covers shifted down so his whole abdomen is exposed, and I can’t seem to tear my eyes away. The salt-and-pepper fuzz on his chest trails down to his navel, then dips just beneath where the blanket lays.
It’s not often I share my bed. And by not often, I mean never.
Never been a sleepover type of man, and typically, I like it that way, but it felt so natural asking him to stay last night. And surprisingly, I slept great. I thought for sure I’d end up tossing and turning, knowing somebody else was there, but it was quite the opposite. I’m sure he’ll wake up soon, and I should probably climb out of bed, or roll over, or do anything other than get caught being a creep when he opens his eyes, but I don’t. I could stare at him all day and never get sick of the sight. Ford is beautiful in the way dusk settles over the land—quiet, steady, and soaked in gold. He’s rugged, and gruff, and covered in wounds nobody can see, but he’s beautiful.
Being with Ford is so different from anybody else I’ve been with. I can’t explain it, but what we’re doing feels like more than justhooking up, and to be honest, it’s kind of freaking me out. Not enough to kick him out of my bed and never speak to him again, but enough to make me wonder what the hell is going on with me because I like that he’s in my bed. I like that he spent the night. And I already know I’m going to want it to happen again.
A few minutes later, Ford stirs. His eyelids flutter open, gaze unfocused and bloodshot as he blinks a couple of times before his focus settles on me. “Mornin’.”
“Mornin.” A smile curves my lips.
“What time is it?”
Glancing at the clock on my bedside table, I say, “Only ’bout seven.”
Ford nods, sitting up and stretching his arms over his head. “Your bed’s ridiculously comfortable,” he offers.
“It is, isn’t it?” I chuckle. “Take it that means you slept well?”
“Better than I’ve slept in months.”
My chest warms, heart pounding against my ribs, and I feelall jittery. Not in a too-much-caffeine type of way, but more like a teenage-crush sort of way. That’s weird, though… Right? Why would Ford telling me that he slept good at my house make me feel like that? Maybe all this top-tier dick I’m getting from him lately is making me lose my mind.
Or maybe it’s the way he fucked me last night.That was definitely one for the books. I don’t think I’ve ever felt as connected with someone during sex as I did with him, and I don’t just mean physically. The slow, deep strokes, and the heady eye contact that felt like he could see into my soul, unlocked something inside of me.
Clearing my throat, I ask, “Want some coffee?”
“Sure, that’d be great.”
I climb out of bed, still naked from last night, and when I turn around, I catch Ford checking me out. My stomach flips as a smirk spreads across my face. “Like wakin’ up to all this, Cap?” I ask, waggling my brows.
“It’s not a bad way to wake up, I suppose,” he drawls as the corner of his mouth twitches.
“Not bad, he says.” I huff a chuckle. “Come on, I’ll make us some breakfast too.”
“Let me,” he offers, climbing out of bed,also still naked. Goddamn, he’s sexy. “I don’t need you burnin’ the house down while I’m in it.”
“Oh, he’s got jokes too?” I tease as we walk out of my room. “I should let ya dick me down and sleep over more often if you’re this funny in the mornin’.”
Glancing over at me, Ford raises a brow. “I wasn’t jokin’.”
Then he strolls into my kitchen and finds what he needs in the fridge and the cabinets, andliterallymakes us breakfast, like he’s done this here a hundred times before. I like it a little too much.
“How do ya take your coffee?” I ask, maneuvering around him to grab a couple of mugs. “Also, if you’re about to cook that bacon, I’d suggest puttin’, at least, your briefs back on. Speakin’ from experience.” Then, shamelessly dragging my gaze down his body, I add, “But I also wouldn’t complain if you made breakfast just like this.”
As if just now realizing he’s still naked, Ford glances down. “Good idea.”
“That should speak volumes about how much I care about your safety because, damn, I was likin’ the view.” Then I call out, “Grab me a pair of sweats from the bottom drawer, would ya? You can wear a pair too, if you don’t feel like puttin’ on yesterday’s underwear.”
His chest rumbles with a chuckle before he disappears into my room again, coming out a moment later with two pairs. Tossing me one, he slips his legs into the other, and like a pervert, I watch. They barely fit around his beefy thighs, and since they’re gray, I can make out every last inch of his cock and balls.
“Fuck, daddy,” I groan. “Keep flirtin’ with me like that, and I’m gonna have to eat you for breakfast instead.”
“You’re fuckin’ insatiable,” he drawls, rolling his eyes like he doesn’t love it as much as I do.
