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His arm that’s around my back tightens while his eyes fall to my lips with that same smirk on his. “Go on…” He leans in close enough for the tips of our noses to touch. “Do it.”
Without thinking, I bring my hand to the back of his neck and pull myself onto his lap so I’m straddling him. His other hand drops to my hip—not my ass, my hip—when he leans back against the tub again, that stupid smile still on his mouth. He hasn’t stopped me, and by the cues I’m getting, he’s not gonna. The bulge of his Adam’s apple pulses when he swallows, and before I can back out and put myself back in the corner of the prized princess, I rest my forehead on his and he pauses for a moment, his eyes crossing in on mine. When my lips lower to his, and he realizes I’m not bitching out, the hand he had on my hip finally slips to my ass as his lips part. My heart flatlines when I realize he’s allowing me to kiss him. His lips taste as soft as they look, and I deepen the kiss, grabbing a chunk of his hair with that same hand that’s on his neck and tugging slightly as I flick my tongue over the curve of his lip. Jesus. His tongue. He slides it inside my mouth as his other hand lands on my other ass cheek, pulling me against the thick swell between his legs.
His fingers sink into the fat of my ass cheeks as he deepens the kiss, slowing the pace enough to make me dig my fingernails into his shoulder blades as I rock against him. My clit pulses at the friction and my thighs tighten around his waist, but nothing—and I mean nothing—can match the way my heart races from having him like this. In this position. Between my thighs. I could come apart right here and now and he wouldn’t even know.
His hand travels up my spine before my hair is wrapped around his fist and he’s tugging me away from his lips.
I press the base of my thumb against his swollen bottom lip. Pinched red like his cheeks. “Don’t…” I know he’s going to stop me, and after all that, I might just burst into tears if he denies me of it.
“Baby.” My stomach does cartwheels as I swallow down how it feels to be called that from him, even though I know his next words are going to be anticlimactic. “I can’t do this with you. You and I both know that…”
I reach for his cheek, running my finger over the harsh edges of his angular jaw. “Please.” Apparently, I’ve lowered myself to begging.
He kisses me softly down the side of my neck until he reaches my ear. “Not yet.”
All the heat that poured through me from our kissing and touching starts to turn to molten lava. “Fine,” I whisper over his lips. “Then you’ll have to see me fuck someone else. Everyone else. Until you can get over the fact that my brother doesn’t have a say in who I open these legs for.”
He doesn’t react. This is not surprising because Keaton has always been void of pointless emotion when it comes to petty drama. You’ll never catch him in it. But to say he’s emotionless isn’t right either, because he has a lot—which is why he has so much to release when he finally does. Bless.
A dark chuckle tickles the curve of my neck. “First of all, this ain’t got shit to do with your brother. I’ll fuck you every single fucking time he’s not watching. You think I’m scared of him? You forget I taught him everything he knows…” His teeth catch my earlobe. “And you wanna try me? Then game on, Tigger. Let’s see how many more tattoos you give me.”
The first time I rode a bike, I was running from Kyrin. My parents were almost never home because they were always on the road, but when they were, my mom made an effort to bake. She’d make donuts that would dissolve on the base of your tongue, leaving an after-taste of buttery cinnamon sugar that would leave you craving for more, long after the last one had been eaten. Kyrin was angry that I had eaten the final donut. That’s how petty my brother was. I swung my leg over his bike that was a model or two too big for me, and I kick-started it to life. I didn’t have time to think because I squeezed the handle and it shot forward. Lucky the Nero manor at The Village backed up to a forest clearing because I didn’t know how to slow, brake, or stop. Kyrin was yelling at me from behind—probably about the donuts—and the wind was whisking through my hair at speeds I didn’t dare look down to see, and it was all frightening at first. It wasn’t until I figured out the clutch, the gear change, and—thankfully—the brake, that I recognized the power between my legs. I continued through the forest and didn’t look back. Trees zipped past me, and I directed the front wheel onto a dirt path, the same one that Kyrin rode on, and I ran on. It took you to all the other manors in The Village if you stuck to the path, but I’d never gone to the middle. I’d never strayed off this path when I wandered.
I squeezed the handle and the bike zipped forward. The faster I went, the wider my smile. I looked down at the speedometer in time to see the stick tilt to the side as I picked up speed. I needed one. No, I needed one now. I couldn’t believe The Brothers all got a bike and no one ever asked me if I wanted one. What kind of staunch masculinity was that shit?
I hit the brakes when I came to a crossroad, leaning the bike to the side and closing my eyes as the engine twanged between my thighs.
My eyes popped open, and I jumped on, launching forward onto the clearing that had no path. The trees were far spread, and I didn’t know if it was nature or The Fathers had hired someone, but there were never really any fallen trees out here.
I slowed down a little since I was on a path of uncertainty, but I continued at a speed fast enough to think I knew where I was going. The wind continued to assault my hair, and the smile never left my face. I dodged rocks and branches from the rogue path of the forest, when I saw that the path ended a few meters ahead. I tapped the brake and skidded to a halt with dirt and twigs flinging into the air just as I hit the edge.
“Holy shit…” I peered down over the edge, my feet tingling with adrenaline. Down the bottom of what looked like a hundred-foot drop was a large lake of water, but what backed up to that was what stopped me. There was a large building with ceilings that could rival the Midnight Mayhem tent. Four large spikes arched to the sky, but instead of whatever the tent was made of, it had walls. Glass walls that were tinted black. If it wasn’t for the metal Kiznitch star that was stapled above the opening, I would have thought a rival group had been living below us all this time.
The bike continued to idle between my thighs, and when I revved the engine and started to back away, movement from below stopped me. Keaton glared up at me. He was shirtless, wearing nothing but jeans.
I tilted my head.
He shook his and waved his arm at me to leave.
What was this place and why had it been hidden?
Literally.
