Chapter 16
Keaton
Present Day
The moment I walked into the gym, I knew it was going to be one of those days because everything felt off.
My shoulders were tense even before I started warming up, and my mind was elsewhere entirely. I wrapped my hands with tape more slowly than usual, flexing my fingers as if I was trying to shake loose something that wouldn’t let up.
It had been less than forty-eight hours since I’d been in my own bed, alone, hand wrapped around my dick, thinking about Rowan like I hadn’t spent years pretending he didn’t exist. Despite my attempts to forget that bad decision, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
The grappling session the day before hadn’t helped either.
As I left the locker room, I saw him standing near the cage, talking to one of the coaches with his arms crossed over his chest. He appeared relaxed, as if he had been training here for years rather than just two weeks.
I moved over to the treadmill and tried to focus on my cardio rather than how my body reacted whenever he entered my line of sight.
By admitting to myself that I was still attracted to him, it felt like I’d flipped some switch I couldn’t turn back off.
And to make it worse, he kept looking at me.
It wasn’t enough that anyone else would likely notice, but I did.
Somehow, I got through my training for the day and even managed to avoid the man who’d basically turned my world upside down the moment he’d stepped through the doors of Titan Elite.
I was just finishing up in the locker room when I heard someone say, “Keaton.”
“What?” I snapped. Irritation flared because I didn’t need to turn around to know who that voice belonged to.
“Devon’s been looking for you. Said if I saw you, to have you stop by his office.”
Devon was the last person I wanted to deal with. He could probably tell I was off my game and was going to give me shit about it.
I slammed my locker shut and turned around. “So you’re his little errand boy now?”
“What? No,” he replied hesitantly. “Just telling you what—”
“I don’t need you to tell me shit.”
His expression turned into something like anger or frustration. I couldn’t tell. “You’re in a mood today.”
I stepped closer before I could stop myself. “Maybe I just don’t feel like dealing with you.”
“Clearly.”
He began changing, slipping on the dog tags he wore whenever we weren’t in the gym, while I grabbed my shit and took off. Devon would have to wait until tomorrow because nothing good could come from going to his office right now.
I hopped into my car and drove off. Luckily, the rest of my roommates had plans. At least Enzo, Derek, and Mason did, which meant if Rowan stayed out, I’d have the place all to myself.
However, luck had never been on my side.
As I reached the last stoplight before our house, a red Ducati pulled up behind me. Anyone else would have lane filtered, but he stayed behind my car.
By the time we got back to the house, the bone-deep tension inside me still hadn’t gone away. If anything, it had gotten worse.
“Keaton—”
I didn’t stop. I pushed the front door open harder than necessary without glancing back at him and headed straight down the hall, my pulse racing and my head spinning.
I just needed space.
I barged into my room and tore off my shirt over my head.
Behind me, I heard the door open and slam close again, and I spun around to see Rowan leaning back against it, his chest rising and falling with each breath.
“Get out!” I barked.
“You want to tell me what that was?” he asked, ignoring what I said.
I scoffed. “What what was?”
“At the gym.”
I shrugged, turning away from him. “Nothing.”
“I mean, you’ve been a dick since I got here, which I understand, but that was a bit much even for you.”
I laughed under my breath. “Maybe you’re reading into it.”
“Maybe you’re full of shit.”
I turned back toward him. “Excuse me?”
His eyes held mine. “You’ve been acting strange since you walked in on me in the bathroom.”
My stomach twisted. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah, you do.” His voice lowered slightly. “Something’s changed.”
I shook my head, needing this conversation to end. “You’re imagining things.”
“I don’t think I am.”
“Then that’s your problem.” I moved past him, but he wrapped a hand around my arm. I looked down at where he was touching me, then back up at him. “Let go.”
His grip didn’t tighten, but it didn’t loosen either. “I will if you admit you can’t stop thinking about me."
My heart pounded harder against my ribs. “Stop acting like you know what I’m thinking.”
His gaze briefly dropped to my mouth. “Four years may have passed, but I can still read you.”
That was the final thread holding everything together.
I couldn’t ignore how I’d been feeling any longer.
I grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him in.
The kiss was full of teeth, frustration, and something that had been building over the past two days.
He didn’t pull away; rather, his hands went up my sides to pull me closer, as if he’d been waiting for this just as much as I had.
I pushed him back until his shoulders hit the door, one hand still clenched in his shirt, and the other hand braced beside his head.
“I fucking hate you, but I’ve been wanting to kiss you for two weeks. Tell me to stop,” I breathed against his neck.
“I don’t want you to stop, but …”
Something in his voice made me pause. “What?” I let out a breath, my lips hovering over his pulse point.
“I haven’t …” He hesitated. “I haven’t done this. With anyone else.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’re the only one I’ve ever …”
The realization hit me before he finished. “Wait. You’re a—”
He nodded, and I’d never seen him so uncertain before. It was as if he were preparing for me to walk away.
The air rushed out of my lungs, and I stumbled back a step, my hand dropping from his shirt.
For four years, I’d tried to convince myself I was over him, that what we’d had was just some teenage bullshit.
I’d dated, I’d slept around, I’d moved on.
Or so I’d thought. And he … he hadn’t been with anyone else.
The thought was so shocking, I couldn’t wrap my head around it.
“Rowan, I …” I started, my voice cracking. “All this time ... you’ve never ... with anyone?” The words sounded stupid, but how could I even begin to talk about something so huge? I wanted to ask him why. But he didn’t seem interested in conversation.
A fierce look of determination crossed his face. Before I could say another word, he got down on his knees in front of me and lifted his hands to the waistband of my shorts. The sight of him there, gazing up at me with those intense hazel eyes, brought up so many emotions, but I pushed them down.
“We can talk about that later,” he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. “Right now, I don’t want to wait any longer.”
My brain short-circuited. All the questions, confusion, and years of history between us vanished. He wasn’t a boy anymore. He was a man who knew exactly what he wanted, and what he wanted was me.
He didn’t wait for a response. He hooked his fingers into my waistband and smoothly pulled my shorts and boxers down in one motion. I stepped out of them and kicked them aside.
Once they were out of the way, he bent forward and took me into his mouth.
A choked gasp escaped my lips, and my hands flew to his shoulders to steady myself.
The wet, velvety heat of his mouth was a shock to my system.
I had memories of his mouth on me, but it didn’t compare to what was happening right now, his tongue swirling, his suction perfect.
He was better. So much better. He moved with a confidence that hadn’t been there when we were teenagers.
Or maybe it wasn’t so much his technique as it was the fact that his lips were stretched around my cock.
When he took me deep, his lips brushed against the base of my shaft, and I saw stars.
I threw my head back, my eyes squeezing shut as waves of pleasure washed over me.
It was almost too much. My mind, still reeling from his confession, tried to connect the dots.
How could he be this good if he’d never been with anyone else?
Or maybe it was just because I’d missed him so much that everything felt perfect in that moment.
I tangled my fingers in his hair, my hips beginning to move with shallow thrusts. “Rowan,” I breathed, a mix of warning and praise.
He hummed around me, the vibration sending a fresh jolt of pleasure straight to my core. The sight of his lips wrapped around me, his cheeks hollowed as he sucked, was the hottest thing I’d ever seen. That was it. I was done.
“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” I ground out, trying to pull back.
He wouldn’t let me. His hands gripped my waist harder, holding me steady, while his mouth took me deep.
My orgasm hit me hard, like a tidal wave.
With my body trembling, and my knees about to buckle, I yelled his name as I climaxed.
He stayed with me through it all, swallowing every drop until I was completely drained.
Sagging against him, I felt boneless and breathless.
He pulled back slowly before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, then stood up.
A smug and satisfied expression crossed his face and it hit me all at once how badly I’d missed this.
Missed him. I was still angry; I was still not even close to over what he’d done.
But none of that changed the fact that he was the only person who’d ever made me want more instead of less.
When I pulled him for another kiss, I could taste myself on his tongue. I poured all the gratitude and awe I couldn’t put into words into that kiss. When we finally broke apart, I was panting, but I wasn’t done. Not by a long shot.
Taking his hand, I guided him to the bed and stripped him out of his clothes before pushing him down to sit on the edge. I knelt in front of him, mirroring his position from a moment ago.
“My turn,” I whispered. “But not with my mouth. I want you to fuck me.”
His confident mask fell away to show the raw vulnerability underneath. “I’ve never …”
“I know,” I said softly. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” Standing up, I went to my nightstand and opened the drawer. I grabbed a condom and the bottle of lube, then turned back to him.
He kept his gaze fixed on me. The fear in his eyes gradually faded, replaced by a burning desire that matched my own. “Okay.”
I took off the rest of my clothes and knelt on the bed, turning my back to him and showing myself. I heard his sharp breath. I looked over my shoulder. “Come on.”
He moved behind me, his hands trembling a little as they settled on my hips. I coached him on how to prepare me with slick fingers. He got the hang of it quickly, and within seconds, I was begging him to get inside of me.
“I’m ready. Don’t keep me waiting any longer.”
He rolled the condom down his dick and pushed inside of me with a slow, careful thrust. I gasped at the initial stretch, but the familiar burn quickly faded into a deep, pulsing pleasure. He paused to let me adjust.
“I’m okay,” I breathed, pushing back against him. “Don’t stop. Move.”
He began to pump into me, his movements tentative at first, but quickly found a rhythm that had us both moaning. I reached down and took my own erection in hand, stroking myself.
He wasn’t going to last long; I could sense it in the way his movements became jerky and the desperate sounds he made. His chest pressed against my back, his lips finding the sensitive spot where my neck met my shoulder.
“Keaton,” he moaned.
“Let go,” I urged him. “Come while you’re deep inside me.”
With a final, powerful thrust, he did, his body shuddering against mine as he found his release. The sensation of him coming undone inside me was enough to send me over the edge again, spilling over my own hand.
We collapsed onto the bed in a heap of tangled limbs and sweat.
For a long while, neither of us spoke. I just lay there, my head on his chest, listening to the beat of his heart as it slowly returned to normal.
He wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight, and for the first time in over four years, I let myself stop hating him.