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I haven’t seen him all day. Maybe he blew off some steam with The Brothers, or went for a ride, or maybe King exploded and they needed to calm him down. Whatever the reason is, I know I’m acting like a total mundane stressing over it.
I keep my eyes locked on the mirrored wall, watching the muscles on my body flex as I push through the fatigue. The gym at The Village is all state-of-the-art. Licked with black paint over the walls, neon lights rim the edges of the equipment and skirtings so that if you wanted, you could train in the dark. It helps with our coordination in the tent. My legs begin to wobble like Jell-O and I jump off the side, swiping my head with my towel as my phone starts blaring in my hand. Kyrin’s name flashes over the screen.
Not fucking Keaton.
“Yes, Brother?”
“Sorry about not checking in on you last night. Keaton slept outside your bus, but he’s—he took it rough. Maybe I was—” He pauses, and I know what he’s trying to say, but his pride won’t allow him to say it. He clears his throat. “About tonight. What do I have to do to make you stay behind?”
I laugh, and then hang up on him, pushing my phone back into my back pocket when he tries to call back. He insults me every single time he does this. The constant undermining me.
Pushing through the entry doors to the gym, I pick up my pace back to my bus, not wanting to see anyone else. I need a distraction or this is going to drive me insane. As soon as I’m home, I grab my phone out of my pocket again as I move through to the master bedroom, turning on the shower. He doesn’t want to text me? Fine. But I need to at least know he’s okay.
Me: Where R u?
Shoving off my tights and sports bra, I fling them into the corner of the bathroom and slip under the hot water. I go through the motions of washing my body when my phone vibrates on the counter. My heart skips a beat and I reach out blindly to grab it, only fingers connect with mine. I pull away instantly and peek around the corner, sighing when I see Keaton sitting in front of the bathroom sink.
“What’s wrong?” Blood stains his face and hands like paint does an artist. He rests his head against the cupboard as his leg slides down, his elbow resting on the other. He moves to the side, before looking back at me, and when he does, it’s like he punches me in the gut and leaves me hollow and heavy.
Stepping out of the shower, I bring my hands to his face and watch as the dried blood turns back to liquid and trickles down my arm. “I’ll wash you.” Memories fight their way to the surface, but I force them down. Not because he’s unlovable with them, but because he needs me right now and reminiscing isn’t helpful.
He staggers to his feet, almost robotic, and I grab his soiled shirt from the bottom, pulling it over his head. When his hands fall back to the sides, I peer up at him below, but my eyes are heavy from fatigue. He’s staring down at me with a void so deep it almost looks endless. Pupils dilated, hair sticky with blood, and cheeks hollowed in like he has been fighting his restraint for too long. I take his hand with mine. “Keaton, it’s me.” Fiddling with his button, I flick it undone and pull his jeans down to his feet. “Lean on the counter so I can take your shoes off.” My body shivers when the air touches it, but I focus on the job at hand… like I have many times before.
His hands squeeze the basin and I yank off both boots and socks before standing back to my full height and pulling him beneath the scalding hot shower. I leave him to stand beneath the water as I squirt soap into my hand and rub it over his chest. Over the tattoos—one for each one—and over the others I’m familiar with.
“Why?” The word is delicate as it leaves his lips.
“Why what?” I whisper, bringing my palm to his cheek and rubbing off the excess blood.
“Why do I always find myself back to you?”
I scrub the final mark off his lip. “Because even in your darkest moments, you know you can.”
He chuckles, and I look up into his eyes to find his pupils back to normal. Stepping into my body, his hands come to my ass at the same time his lips are on mine. He flips me around until I’m beneath the water, and I sigh when the hot droplets slip over my body. “How am I going to live without you?”
I press my forehead to his, rolling my hips over the tip of his dick and slowly sliding down his length. “You won’t ever find out.”
He growls gently over the side of my throat as I take him all in. “Ah, if only that was true, Tigger.” He thrusts into me hard but slow, pushing me farther up the wet tiled wall. His lips rest back onto mine as he continues the motion, sucking my tongue into his mouth and licking the rim of my lip. His hand is on my throat, but not enough to break me the way he likes to, more with reassurance that he could if he wanted to. His other hand leaves my ass cheek and comes to my nipple, twisting it hard between his fingers as he snaps down on my bottom lip so hard blood touches my tongue. “I’m a bad man.”
He pushes harder, so hard that I feel him collide with the beginning of my ovaries. “I know.”
He curls into my neck and sinks his teeth right over my vein. “But you love me anyway…” It’s so low I almost miss it and my heart drops to the floor. Because I do. I love him with all that exists within me. I’ve known that all my life, but this is the first time that it has been mentioned between us out loud.
His lips continue to rub against my damp neck and my body tingles. It’s like the words he uses get me drunk, and I don’t realize until it’s too late.
Two words. “I do.”
His arm slips behind my back, and he crushes me tight against his chest as he lunges deeper inside of me. Flipping around, he moves us out of the shower and places me on top of the basin, widening my legs. I lean against the large mirror behind me, placing one foot on the tub and leaving the other open.
He glides the tip of his finger down past my navel, stopping at my clit. I suck in a deep breath when he applies just enough pressure to make me convulse. “Promise me something.”
“Anything.” At this point…
He dips his finger down farther and circles my entrance. “You won’t let anyone come near you, even when I’m not.”
“Keat—”
“—answer me, Cartier.”
