Timing was everything.
27
“He means nothing to me, baby.”
The house was so quiet, Holden could hear Kit’s every soft breath. He also heard his own promise, echoing just as fervent and sweet as its first whisper in a grimy bathroom stall.
Next time we’re alone, I’m going to fuck you.
They were alone in the kitchen now. Holden had many faults, according to other people’s moral scales. But he was a man of his word when it mattered.
Usually. When Holden made that promise, he hadn’t imagined that the next time they were alone would be like this. Darius missing, James and Bishop chasing after him like idiots who care, and Kit quietly frantic over everything.
Holden’s hands still tingled with the memory of cold flesh. He had to break Terry in several places to fit him into the fridge.
Which was exciting. Fun. Of course. Just probably bad for the mood. Holden very much wanted the mood to be right. Because Kit deserved the best.
Not because Holden was nervous.
He wasn’t used to restraining himself with Kit, but he could do his best. “I’m going to check the doors and windows,” Holden said, because that seemed practical. “Make sure everything’s locked up.”
“Good idea,” Kit said in a rush, like he was relieved for the break in the silence. “I’ll make sandwiches—no. We’re out of bread. I made too many sandwiches today.”
Kit’s face crumpled into a perfect, delicate frown. He couldn’t hear the promise hammering in Holden’s mind; all Kit had was the creeping silence.
That wouldn’t do.
“Come with me.” Holden caught Kit’s hand. “You can tell James you supervised me every moment, to make sure I stayed out of trouble.”
Holden’s every atom reveled in the way Kit’s hand settled into his grasp.
“I’ll give James a detailed report.” Teasing slyness snuck past Kit’s worry. “I’m sure he’ll love that.”
They led each other from window to window and door to door. Boxes of other people’s things made the place look like an unfinished video game level. The house was huge, which was good because this murdery polycule had too much personality to be contained in a small apartment. But every inch of fancy rustic sideboard reminded Holden that he had the least to offer Kit financially. He would have to work on that after he graduated.
“What are you thinking about?” Kit asked, as they finished their inspection. It sounded like a leading question, but Holden couldn’t tell where it was leading.
“Career planning.” Holden spun Kit around, bringing him face to face. “But enough of that. I need a shower. I don’t like feeling another man’s touch while I’m with you.”
Kit frowned, in that adorable jealous way—then in that ‘are you fucking kidding me’ way. “You mean Terry. The guy whose corpse you just shoved into a fridge.”
Holden stole Kit’s other hand. “He means nothing to me, baby.”
Kit burst into laughter. Sharp and loud and delightful enough to double him over. He sagged against Holden, shaking, and Holden’s heart thudded with every wheeze.
God, he loved his angel.
Kit’s face was bright pink when he straightened, but his eyes were clear. He wound his hands behind Holden’s neck. “Can I join you in the shower? I don’t want to be by myself.”
Another tiny treasure of vulnerability. “Is that so?” Holden asked, stroking Kit’s waist.
“Mmhm.” Kit lifted onto his toes, pressing more of his weight against Holden. “And I seem to remember a certain promise about the next time we were alone…”
Right. Holden had almost forgotten. He might be a freak, but so was Kit, in his own darling way.
Holden didn’t have to restrain himself at all.
Kit barely touched the ground as Holden whisked him upstairs. Sure, he was walking under his own power, when Holden wasn’t pressing him against walls for teasing kisses. But he couldn’t feel anything beyond Holden’s warm body.
