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“Not talking about that, Tigger…” His finger grazes over my cheek and I wince, jumping away from him.
“Forgot about that.”
“You knew what you were getting into the second you spread your legs for me.” He bites down on the cork of a bright pink bottle, pouring the contents into the bath and spitting the top in with it. He holds my stare. I need to calm the fuck down. I haven’t seen him in two years, but it’s like seeing him with fresh eyes. His hair is still shorter around the sides, enough to see all his tattoos over his scalp, and longer on the top. Not too long, though, because it would get in the way while he’s riding, and he can’t have that. His eyes are the product of evil, dark and murky. His cheekbones sit high, sharp, and perfectly symmetrical, and his jaw seems to have gotten wider. Stronger. Firmer. Keaton has always been the one who looks different to the other brothers. He’s obviously handsome, but the kind that most people find intimidating because he looks like an asshole—and is an asshole—or worse. He has a void stare in his eyes twenty-four seven, and everyone wants to fuck him until they lock eyes and then they mostly change their mind. Boys like Keaton are a reminder for girls that things really do go bump in the night. Keaton could ruin everyone in his path, but for some reason… it never applies to me. I think I knew that from a young age. Growing up, I’d be confused when people would say they feared him, because he’s never that person to me. Yet. I hope never.
He turns the hot water off and starts the cold. “You just dozed off…”
“Oh…” I watch as he tosses an empty bottle of oil onto the basin, shoving his jeans farther down his legs and removing his shirt. How did he manage to do all of that without even removing his shirt? “What were you saying?” I turn sideways and slide my toes into the bubbles, holding my breath until I finally hit the surface of the water.
Keaton turns off the cold water and slides in behind, splashing me as he rests backward where the tub claws upward. “I was saying whatever secret you are hiding, by the time we leave, I’ll know what it is.” His eyes are closed so he can’t see me once again scanning him in a way that I’ve never done before. Why does he have to be literal perfection? It isn’t fair. It really isn’t. People this good looking should have a personality like Kill. Funny, light-hearted… Funny.
Keaton is none of those things.
“Get in the fucking tub, Cartier. It’s getting cold.”
Case in point.
I roll my eyes since I know he can’t see me and drop my foot into the water. It’s risky business us both being here in this moment. Kyrin could be trying to find him, or worse, put two and two together, but when it’s just he and I, I don’t see much of anything else that is going on around me. I know that I love Keaton. I love him just like I love all of them, but I’m starting to notice that the love I have for him gives me tunnel vision and… well… a sore ass.
“I’m not hiding anything from you.” The lie is too easy. I play with the bubbles that hug my body, grateful for my back being turned to him even if his eyes are closed.
He slides forward, his arm wrapping around my belly to pull me farther into his chest. My muscles throb as if all my secrets display over them and he can read every single one.
“Relax…” he whispers into my ear, and my blood turns hot when I feel his lips graze my ear slightly. “I’ll play the game you’re playing, but you and I both know that I don’t play to lose.”
“Mmhmm,” I murmur sleepily, finally relaxing against him. My finger circles the tattoos over his forearm, and I stop when I see two cherries. “When did you get this one?” It’s simple, but the color is a lot richer than the usual red.
“We ain’t talking about me, Tigger.”
