I laughed under my breath, tossed my phone on the bed, and ran a towel over my hair one more time before dropping it into the laundry basket in the corner. I was already shirtless from my shower and wearing only sweatpants, so there wasn’t much point changing if I was going to end up in Keaton’s room anyway.
I cut through the bathroom to where he was waiting.
He was lying on his bed in black sweats, one arm behind his head, phone in his hand. His mouth curved the second I walked in. “Took you long enough.”
“It’s been maybe twenty seconds.”
He held a hand out. “Come here.”
I stepped closer, and he caught my wrist and pulled me down until I was half on top of him, with one hand braced on the mattress next to his shoulder.
“Better,” he murmured.
I laughed. “You text me from one room away now?”
“You came.”
“That wasn’t my point.”
His mouth curled up. “It was a little the point.”
I rolled my eyes, but he was already sliding his hand up my side, and it was hard to take his mouth seriously when he was touching me like that.
For the past month and a half we’d been doing our thing behind our bedroom doors. While they saw us getting along at the gym and at home, the guys didn’t know we were secretly together. I wasn’t sure when Keaton wanted to tell them, but I’d be ready when he was.
Most nights, it was the same. We trained, he went to work, then we ended up in his bed. Our schedules didn’t leave much room for anything else.
I had things I wanted to ask him, like what his life looked like after I left and who he’d been without me. But every time I thought about bringing it up, something got in the way—training, exhaustion, or the way his hands would find me under the covers and shut everything else down.
So I let it go, telling myself that once we got back from LA, things would slow down, and we’d finally get a chance to talk about everything we hadn’t said yet.
Keaton’s fingers brushed the ends of my hair. “I still like this.”
I smirked. “You and my dad are apparently the only two.”
“Your mom still hates it?”
“She doesn’t hate it; she just thinks I look like I’m in a band.”
That got a laugh out of him.
I chuckled too, but it faded when his hand stayed in my hair, pushing it back off my forehead. The look on his face changed a little, softer than it had been a second ago.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“That’s bullshit.”
He smiled. “I just like this.”
I stayed there for a second. “My hair?”
He slid his hand down to the back of my neck. “Being able to hold you like this.”
I leaned down and kissed him before he could say anything else. He kissed me back right away, one hand sliding to my waist, the other still at the back of my neck. It quickly went from zero to one hundred in about two seconds with us, fast and familiar, and impossible to second-guess once I was in his bed.
When I pulled back, his grin was already there. “We should get our own place.”
