21. Roman
Roman
The engine of Damon’s bike purrs beneath me, the rumble settling into my chest as I hold onto him. My arms are draped around his waist, my cheek resting against his back like I’m not losing my goddamn mind over everything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours.
Damon wants me. The guy I thought hated me, wants me, and fuck, I want him too.
When we pull up to the house, the driveway’s packed with the usual chaos—Killian’s SUV, Thorn’s old beat-up truck, and a couple of random cars that probably belong to their hookups or friends.
“Alright, Hotshot,” he says, glancing over his shoulder at me. “End of the line.”
I roll my eyes, sliding off the bike reluctantly. “You make it sound like a train ride.”
“Better than a fucking Uber,” he retorts, pulling off his helmet. His dark curls are a mess, and it makes him look unfairly good.
I tug my helmet off, running a hand through my hair as I step back. “Thanks for the ride.”
He leans forward, his hand brushing my hip as he pulls me in by my belt loop. “Come here,” he murmurs, and before I can respond, his lips are on mine. The kiss is possessive as fuck, and completely Damon. I melt into it for a second, my hands gripping the back of his head before I realize where we are.
“Damon,” I mutter, pulling back slightly. “We’re in front of my house.”
“So?” he says, smirking as his thumb brushes over my cheek. “Let ‘em see who you belong to.”
My stomach flips at his words, but I don’t argue. Instead, I kiss him one last time, quick and soft, before stepping back. “Later, Hotshot,” he murmurs, his voice just loud enough for me to hear.
I swallow hard as I hand him the helmet then step back. “Later.”
He shakes his head. “Keep it, and get inside before you freeze your ass off,” he says, his smirk softening. Then he slips his helmet back on, revs twice, and drives off while I stand there, staring after him like a goddamn idiot before I hear a voice behind me.
“What. The. Actual. Fuck?”
I turn around and see Killian standing in the doorway, one hand braced against the frame, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open like he’s just witnessed a murder.
“Shit,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair as I walk toward him.
“Was that Damon fucking Ward?”
“Yeah.”
“And did he just kiss you goodbye?”
“Yep.”
“Care to explain why the fuck he would do that?” he asks, his voice loud enough to cut through the quiet.
I groan, dragging a hand down my face as I walk past him into the house. “Can we not do this right now?” I call behind me.
“Like hell,” Killian says, following me inside and shutting the door behind him. “You’re gonna spill, Bishop. Right fucking now. I don’t even fucking care about the new bruises on your face because I know you went out looking to get beat up.”
I drop the helmet onto the kitchen counter and grab a bottle of water from the fridge, ignoring his pointed glare.
“Roman,” he says, his tone serious now.
I sigh, cracking the bottle open and taking a long sip before meeting his gaze. “What do you want me to say, Kill?”
“I don’t know,” he says, throwing his hands up. “How about starting with why you were kissing the guy you nearly had a fucking breakdown over?”
“It’s not—”
“Bullshit,” he snaps. “You don’t just casually kiss someone like that, especially not someone you’ve been glaring daggers at for the past few months.”
I sigh, leaning against the counter as I rub the back of my neck. “It’s complicated.”
He raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms again. “Then uncomplicate it for me, because I’m pretty sure I’m losing my mind here. I’m not judging. Just… what the fuck, man? I thought you were gonna stay away from him.”
“So did I,” I admit, my voice quieter now.
Killian leans against the counter next to me, his blue eyes narrowing as he studies my face. “But?”
“But I can’t,” I say, the words tasting strange in my mouth. “He doesn’t want us to, either. And… he never hated me.”
He lets out a low whistle and shakes his head. “This is some next-level shit, Bishop. Even for you.”
“Tell me about it,” I mutter, rubbing my temples.
“So what’s the deal?” he asks, his tone softer now. “Are you… like, together?”
I take another sip of water, my thoughts swirling as I try to figure out how to explain. Finally, I set the bottle down and look at him.
“Yeah,” I admit. “He said he wants me. And I… I told him about being with Caleb and he says it doesn’t make a difference to him. That he still wants us to do this.”
Killian doesn’t say anything, but the look on his face tells me he’s biting back whatever smartass comment he was about to make.
“Look,” I say, running a hand through my hair again. “I know it’s fucked up. I know it’s messy. But I… I really want this with him, Kill.”
My best friend is quiet for a moment before he sighs, clapping me on the shoulder. “Alright, man. Just… don’t let this wreck you, okay? You’ve been through enough shit.”
“Yeah,” I say, though I’m not sure I believe it. “But so has he.”
“And the fact that he still wants you after dropping that bomb about you and his brother? Mature as fuck, dude,” he says, and I nearly burst out laughing because he looks nauseous paying Damon a compliment.
I sigh, running a hand through my hair as I gather my thoughts. “We kinda hooked up,” I say finally, the words rushed.
Killian blinks like he wasn’t expecting that. “Wait. When?”
“Last night,” I admit, my cheeks heating. “It just… happened.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Look, if this is what you want, then I’m happy for you. But if it’s not…”
“I know,” I cut in. “I know.”
He studies me for a second longer, then nods. “Alright. Just… be careful, yeah? Damon’s not exactly a walk in the park.”
I smirk, though it’s weak. “Neither am I.”
Killian laughs, shaking his head as he grabs a beer from the fridge. “No shit. Now, tell me—was it good at least?”
“Kill,” I groan, throwing a hand over my face as he cackles.
“Hey, I’m just saying,” he says, grinning. “If you’re gonna lose your mind over a guy, he better be worth it.”
I drop my hand from my face, glaring at Killian, but the heat in my cheeks probably kills any chance I have of looking intimidating. “It was more than good,” I admit as the heat crawls up my neck.
Killian raises an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Oh, now this I gotta hear.”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t stop the corners of my mouth from twitching. “I’m serious, man. He’s… he’s insane. Like, ridiculously good with his mouth. And…” I trail off, biting my lip as I glance away.
“And?” Killian prompts, leaning against the counter with his beer in hand.
I groan, my head falling back against the cabinet. “His cock is cut and fucking huge, Kill. Like, ruin my fucking life huge. That thing is gonna split me in two when we eventually fuck.”
He nearly chokes on his drink, coughing as he laughs. “You’re shitting me.”
“I’m not,” I say, shaking my head. “I mean, I’ve seen some shit in the locker rooms, but this guy? Fucking hell. It’s not fair.”
Killian’s laughing so hard he has to set his beer down, wiping at his eyes. “Oh, man, Bishop. You’re in so deep, it’s hilarious.”
I glare at him, but it doesn’t last. The memory of Damon, his tattoos, the way he looked at me—it’s all too fresh and too intense. The way he fucked my mouth this morning before making me breakfast... God, that man is going to be the end of me.
“It’s not just that,” I say after a moment, my tone more serious. “He… he looked after me, Kill. After the bar fight.”
He straightens, his grin fading. “What do you mean?”
“I got into a fight last night,” I say, gesturing to my face and catching Killian’s glare. “I was wrecked, man. Dizzy, bloody, ready to pick another fight. He pulled me out of there and got me cleaned up. Made sure I was okay.”
Killian’s quiet for a moment, his gaze thoughtful. “That’s… that’s good,” he says finally. “I mean, I’m glad he did that when I wasn’t there.”
I nod “Yeah. He didn’t have to, but he did. And not just last night.”
“Meaning?”
I hesitate, but the truth spills out anyway. “He cares about me. As much as he pretends to be this untouchable asshole, he gives a fuck about me.”
Killian studies me, then nods. “Alright. That’s all I needed to hear.”
“Really?” I ask, surprised by how easily he’s taking this.
He smirks, picking up his beer again. “Hey, if he’s looking out for you, making you happy, and rocking your world in the bedroom? Who am I to complain?”
I groan, throwing my hands up as he cackles. “You’re the fucking worst, you know that?”
“Yeah, but you love me,” he says, his grin wide. “Now go. Get some sleep or something. You look like shit.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, flipping him off as I head for the stairs.
Killian’s laughter follows me, but I can’t even be mad. Not when my mind is still stuck on Damon—on the way he looked at me like I mattered, the way he touched me like I was something worth keeping.
Maybe this is a disaster waiting to happen.
But for now, I think I’m okay with that.