Misconducts & Temptation (The Crestwood Elite Hockey Academy #10)

16. Keaton

Chapter 16

Keaton

S he was quiet.

The car hummed beneath me as I glanced over at Elodie, her silence unsettling. She stared out the window, her expression blank, and it gnawed at me. She should have been crying, yelling—anything but this stoic calm.

"Are you going to say something?" My voice cut through the quiet, harsher than I intended. Her eyes flicked toward me, then back to the passing scenery.

She didn’t even flinch.

Her indifference pissed me off.

Why did I care if she reacted or not? This wasn’t supposed to matter. She was a means to an end, nothing more.

I gripped the steering wheel tighter, knuckles whitening. "You don’t have to act like this is a death sentence," I muttered, more to myself than to her.

"I'm not." Her voice was soft but steady. It carried a weight that settled heavily between us.

"What are you talking about?" I snapped, feeling my control slip.

She turned to face me, her eyes finally meeting mine. They were calm pools of resolve. "What do you want from me, Keaton?"

That question hung in the air. I opened my mouth but nothing came out. What did I want from her?

The silence stretched on as we continued down the road.

As I turned the corner, the familiar sight of my father’s mansion loomed ahead. The sheer size of it never failed to strike me. Even though I’d lived there my whole life, the grandiosity felt more like a prison than a home. The sprawling lawns, meticulously maintained, stretched out like green carpets leading up to the colossal front doors. Marble columns flanked the entrance, holding up a balcony that was more for show than use. The windows were tall and imposing, giving off an air of cold grandeur.

I pulled up to the circular driveway, my hands tightening on the wheel as I hoped my father wasn’t home. His presence always brought tension—something I could do without right now.

Not that he could change anything, but still.

Beside me, Elodie stared wide-eyed at the mansion. Despite her best efforts to remain composed, awe seeped into her expression. Her normally guarded face softened for just a moment as she took in the opulence before her.

Her blonde hair caught the light from the overhead lamps, casting a subtle halo around her head. She had this quiet strength about her, an inner resolve that shone through even in moments like this. Her eyes, usually shadowed with caution, now sparkled with reluctant admiration.

"You live here?" Her voice held both disbelief and curiosity.

"Yeah," I replied, my tone flat. "For now." I glanced at her. "I think you mean, we live here."

She turned to look at me, and for a second, there was something like pity in her gaze. It irritated me. Pity was for the weak.

I got out of the car and slammed the door shut with more force than necessary. Elodie followed suit but did so quietly, her eyes still lingering on the mansion's facade.

I needed to get my own place—somewhere far from my father's reach and expectations. But first things first: we had to get inside without running into him.

As we approached the front door, I couldn't help but glance at Elodie again. She walked with an air of resilience that was both impressive and infuriating. Here she was, thrown into this mess because of me, yet she seemed more grounded than I felt.

I pushed open the heavy door and stepped into the grand foyer. Crystal chandeliers hung from high ceilings, casting shimmering light across polished marble floors. Everything screamed wealth and power—the very things that suffocated me daily.

Elodie hesitated at the threshold before stepping inside. She took it all in silently, her expression unreadable once more.

"Come on," I said brusquely. "Let’s get this over with."

We moved deeper into the house, hoping against hope that my father was nowhere to be found.

I led her through the labyrinthine halls of the mansion, her footsteps echoing softly behind me. The grandeur of the place never ceased to feel suffocating, but tonight it seemed almost mocking.

Reaching my bedroom door, I pushed it open and stepped inside, holding it for her. She hesitated only a moment before crossing the threshold. I closed the door behind us, shutting out the rest of the world.

My room was pristine—thank God for the maids. I hadn't expected to get married today; hell, I barely had time to throw on a suit that didn’t feel like a noose around my neck.

I gestured to the walk-in closet, a cavernous space that dwarfed her entire wardrobe, no doubt.

"Tomorrow, we'll get your stuff," I said, trying to sound casual. "This is where you're living now, so you can have half the closet."

She glanced at it and then back at me. "I don’t think I have enough to fill up half the closet," she murmured.

"Then we'll get you more," I replied. It came out more gruffly than I intended. Turning to face her fully, I found her eyes fixed on mine. She was nervous; it was all over her face despite her efforts to appear calm.

"Elodie," I began, but words failed me. What could I say to make this easier? To make her understand that this wasn’t what either of us wanted?

She took a deep breath and stepped closer, breaking eye contact to look around the room. "This is... nice," she said softly, running her fingers along the edge of my desk.

"Nice?" I scoffed, though not unkindly. "It's a gilded cage."

Her eyes flicked back to mine, something unreadable in their depths. "Maybe," she said, "but it's still better than where I was."

That hit harder than I expected. For all my complaints about my life, I'd never had to endure what she did daily. My father's control felt less oppressive in comparison.

"Look," I said, trying to find some semblance of common ground. "We’re both stuck here now. Might as well make the best of it."

She nodded slowly, still taking in her new surroundings. "All right," she said finally. "Let's make the best of it."

I moved closer to her, each step feeling heavier than the last. It hit me then—I was nervous. The guy who never flinched at anything, was actually nervous. And it pissed me off.

"You know what comes next," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "We talked about it."

"I do," she replied softly.

"Have you?—"

"You already know I haven't," she cut in, her tone tight.

"I've never been with a virgin," I admitted, more to myself than to her. "So, you gotta tell me if… if you don't like something or if you want more. Don't be scared to tell me what you want."

"And you'll just give it to me?" she asked with a scoff, a hint of defiance in her eyes.

"Well, yeah," I said, shrugging. "I'm your husband, ain't I?"

The word husband hung between us, and for some reason, it thrilled me. I tried to push that feeling down.

"What if," she began slowly, "what if I don't know what I want?"

My lips curved up into a small smile. "Then I'll show you."

I stepped closer to Elodie, feeling the tension crackling between us. Tentatively, I placed my hands on her waist. She stiffened at my touch but didn’t pull away. Her breath hitched, and I could feel the slight tremor in her body.

"You know," I murmured in a low voice, leaning in. "You looked absolutely stunning today."

Her green eyes widened in surprise, flickering with an emotion I couldn’t quite place. Vulnerability? Confusion? Whatever it was, it pulled at something deep within me.

Slowly, I lifted a hand to cup her cheek, my thumb grazing her bottom lip. The contact sent a shiver through her, and goosebumps erupted across her skin. I liked that—being able to evoke that kind of reaction from her.

She was intoxicating.

I leaned down, our eyes still locked. My breath mingled with hers as I closed the distance between us. Her lips were soft and warm against mine, hesitant at first but gradually yielding.

The kiss was gentle, exploratory—a dance of uncertainty and curiosity. Her hands found their way to my shoulders, gripping lightly as if she needed something to anchor herself.

I deepened the kiss, my hand sliding from her cheek to tangle in her hair. Her lips parted slightly, allowing me to taste the sweetness of her mouth. The softness gave way to a rising hunger that neither of us could ignore.

Elodie responded with an intensity that matched my own, her fingers digging into my shoulders as if afraid to let go. Our breaths grew ragged, and the kiss turned more urgent—an unspoken need driving us closer.

My hands roamed from her waist up to her back, pulling her flush against me. Her body molded to mine perfectly, every curve and contour fitting like a missing piece of a puzzle.

She moaned softly against my lips, a sound that sent a jolt of desire through me. I kissed her harder, more passionately, savoring every moment of this unexpected connection.

Her hands slid up to cup my face, pulling me even closer as if she couldn’t get enough. I felt like I was drowning in her—each kiss deeper than the last, each touch igniting a fire within me that I couldn’t control. The world outside ceased to exist; it was just Elodie and me in this moment of pure passion and vulnerability.

We finally broke apart for air, our foreheads resting against each other’s as we panted heavily. Her eyes were dark with desire and something else—something unspoken but understood between us.

For once in my life, I didn’t feel alone or controlled. With Elodie in my arms, everything felt right.

Stupid.

Fucking stupid.

I shouldn't feel that way, but…

I took a step back, my eyes locked onto hers. Elodie’s breathing was shallow, her chest rising and falling rapidly. My hands moved to the delicate buttons of her wedding dress, each one slipping through its loop with a soft pop. The fabric loosened, revealing the smooth skin of her shoulders and the delicate curve of her collarbone.

I pulled the dress down slowly, letting it pool at her feet. The sight of her in just her bra and underwear sent a jolt through me. Her skin was flawless, almost glowing in the soft light of the room. She stood there, vulnerable yet strong, her green eyes never leaving mine.

Reaching behind her, I unclasped her bra with practiced ease. It fell away, exposing her breasts—full and perfectly shaped, with rosy nipples that hardened in the cool air. She instinctively crossed her arms over her chest, but I gently stopped her, placing my hands on hers and lowering them to her sides.

“Don’t,” I whispered.

Her breath hitched as she complied, standing fully exposed before me. I hooked my fingers into the waistband of her underwear and slid them down, leaving her completely naked.

I took a step back to take it all in. Elodie was breathtaking—more than stunning. That word didn't even begin to accurately describe her. Her body was a perfect blend of softness and strength, every curve accentuated by the play of shadows and light. Her skin was smooth and unblemished, like polished ivory. Her legs were long and toned, leading up to hips that flared beautifully.

“Perfect,” I whispered, unable to tear my eyes away.

“What?” she asked nervously, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re perfect,” I repeated softly.

Her eyes widened slightly at my words, a mix of disbelief and something else—something warmer—flickering across her face. She didn’t say anything more; she didn’t need to. The look in her eyes said it all.

She was mine.

I kissed her again, hungrily this time. Our mouths collided with a fervor that left no room for hesitation. Her lips parted under mine, and I took the invitation, deepening the kiss until I could taste every bit of her sweetness.

My hands traced her curves, fingers gliding over the smooth expanse of her skin. Each touch felt electric, sending shivers through both of us. I wanted to memorize every inch of her, to commit her to memory in a way that words never could.

My lips left hers and traveled to her throat. I left a trail of kisses down her neck, feeling the rapid pulse beneath my mouth. Her skin was warm and soft, yielding under my touch. When I reached the hollow of her throat, I lingered there, sucking gently on the delicate skin until I knew a mark would form.

I pulled away slightly to admire my handiwork—a small, dark mark already blooming on her neck. It sent a thrill through me to see it there, a visible claim that she was mine. The thought made my cock twitch with desire.

She looked at me with wide eyes. There was uncertainty, but there was also a need reflected in their depths.

But that mark on her neck… it did something to me. Seeing it there stirred something primal inside me.

Mine.

The word echoed in my mind as I leaned back in, kissing along her collarbone and relishing the way she trembled under my touch.

I kept my eyes on her, my gaze locked onto hers as I cupped her breast. The softness beneath my hand sent a jolt of desire straight to my core. Her gasp filled the room, and she instinctively arched into me, pressing herself closer.

"You like that?" I asked, my voice low and rough.

She nodded, her eyes half-closed.

"I want to hear you," I murmured, leaning in closer. "Tell me."

"Yes," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

My lips found her nipple, taking it into my mouth. I swirled my tongue around the hardened peak before sucking gently. Her response was immediate—a small moan that escaped her lips, sending a thrill through me. The sound was intoxicating, making my cock grow even harder.

I released her nipple only to move to the other breast, giving it the same attention. My hands roamed her body, memorizing every curve and dip of her skin. Her fingers tangled in my hair, pulling me closer as if she couldn’t get enough.

Elodie’s breathy moans filled the space between us, each one stoking the fire inside me. My hand slid down her waist to rest on her hip, pulling her even closer. The heat of her body against mine was almost unbearable; I wanted nothing more than to lose myself in her completely.

But I held back, savoring each moment of this connection—each sound she made and each tremble that coursed through her. This was more than just physical; it was something deeper, something I hadn’t expected to find with anyone.

I didn't understand it. Sex was never important, not really.

But with her…

Fuck, I wanted her to feel good.

And I didn’t want it to end.