“Yeah.”
He poured some into his palm before sliding his hands over my chest.
I laughed softly. “Keep that up, and you’re going to make me hard again.”
He grinned and then rinsed me off under the spray. “You’re in a really good mood,” he teased.
“Can you blame me?”
“No.”
I reached past him and turned off the water. He stepped out first and snatched a towel from the rack before wrapping it low around his hips. Then he picked up the other towel and threw it at me.
I caught it. “Thanks.”
I grabbed his wrist before he could step away and pulled him in for a quick kiss. He slipped out, and I stood there for a second,looking at his bedroom and trying not to grin like an idiot. That lasted maybe two seconds, but then I went to my room and got dressed.
A few minutes later, I left my room with my bag over my shoulder and saw that the house was empty. Keaton was already gone too. That was probably for the best.
We might’ve shared a shower—and more than just a shower—that morning, but to everyone else we lived with, we were still two guys who could barely stand being in the same room as each other.
So I took my keys, went to the garage, and rode my Ducati to the gym. By the time I pulled up to Titan, Keaton’s Elantra was already there. I parked a few spots over, turned off the engine, took off my helmet, and headed inside.
The moment I stepped onto the mat, everything seemed normal again. Or at least it appeared to be.
Keaton was warming up near the cage with Mason. Devon was barking at someone on the far side. Music thumped low through the speakers. A couple of guys from the morning class were wrapping hands near the benches.
Nobody acted like I had a neon sign over my head saying I was no longer a virgin and had had sex with my childhood best friend.
I kept moving and went straight to the locker room.
After changing, I walked back out and started stretching, keeping my focus where it needed to be. A couple of times, I caught Keaton in my peripheral vision, but I didn’t go near him, didn’t speak to him, didn’t do anything to draw attention to us.
Training moved fast.
We began with wrestling entries, then moved on to sprawls and cage work, and by the time we switched to drilling combinations, sweat was dripping down my back, and my mindhad settled enough that I’d finally stopped replaying the shower every five seconds.
Almost.
“Rowan. Office,” Devon called.
I picked up my water bottle and went that way without asking questions.
He sat behind the desk with a notebook open in front of him. “Close the door.”
I did.
He leaned back in his chair. “There’s an event in LA in a few months. Tough competition, good exposure, and a different set of eyes than the ones you had in the Air Force.”
My pulse quickened. “Okay.”
“I’m not taking everybody. I want the guys who are ready, the guys who won’t fold, and the guys who won’t waste the opportunity because they can’t keep their heads on straight.”
I sat down. “Thank you. I appreciate this.”
“You’ve earned the shot,” he replied. “Your grappling causes problems for your opponent, your wrestling’s solid, and your boxing’s already there. The rest of your striking is catching up fast enough that I trust you not to go down there and embarrass me.”
I chuckled under my breath. “I would never do that, sir.”
