Don’t You Dare

I’m on Keene like white on rice the second he walks through the door early Sunday evening. And when I say walks, I mean hobbles. I’m watching my best friend hobble his way into our dorm. The sight alone has the same anger building inside me as when I saw that jackass from Washington nail him in the ribs during the game.

“Let me see it,” I demand, grabbing the strap of his bag from his shoulder.

He frowns, letting the duffle slide into my grip. “Hello to you too, Pen.”

I frown right back. “Hello? Really? You get beaned in the side and you wanna start with hello?”

His nostrils flare and instead of answering, he shoves past me toward his room. Not bothering to give me a second look.

What the fuck?

I follow him. Of course, I follow him, my fury only growing. Except now, it’s also aimed toward him instead of the dickface who hit him.

He doesn’t look or spare me a second glance, speaking straight ahead of him as he pushes open his door. “I was hit by a pitch. Big deal. It’s happened plenty of times before.”

Dropping the bag next to his door, I cross the room to him and grab his shoulder. “Don’t you dare play this shit off, Kee,” I snap as I spin him toward me. “Now take your shirt off and let me see.”

The minute I see his wince, I know I made the wrong move.

Shit.

His lip curls back in a sneer before he yanks his arm from my hold. “Yeah? Well, I’m not really in the fucking mood to be ambushed and then manhandled the second I walk through the door.”

I bite my tongue and step back, putting some space between us when I don’t want there to be any. It wasn’t my intention to piss him off the second he walked through the door. It’s just…

“I know this isn’t the first time and it won’t be the last,” I say, calming myself by clenching and unclenching my hands at my sides. “I’ve seen it hundreds of times. But I’ve never seen one take you to the ground like that.”

His scowl slowly fades as he fiddles with the hem of his shirt, glancing away from my imploring gaze. “I promise, I’m fine.”

My tongue wets my lip and I grab the hem of his shirt, pulling him back into my space. The words are a whisper off my tongue. “Then show me. Prove it.”

He gives me an exasperated look. “Pen—”

I raise a brow. “Don’t make me dare you.”

A slow smirk crosses his face and he shakes his head. “So stubborn.”

“One of my most endearing qualities,” I remind him, slowly lifting the hem of his shirt up.

He snorts. “If you say so.” But then his arms raise, albeit slowly, allowing me to slip the fabric over his head with ease.

Brown eyes heat when they reconnect with mine as I drop the shirt to the floor between us. Neither of us dares break away from the other. I don’t even think either of us are breathing when my hand connects with the skin covering his side. The contact is enough to have him glancing away from me.

Clearing my throat, I move my attention to where I’m touching him. I take in the massive bruise across his ribs, my breath hitching as the pads of my fingers trace over the black and blue and purple skin. It’s welted and raised in places to the point where I can even see the stitching from the ball in one spot. But what has me wanting to cringe the most is the indentation, making it look like the ball is still lodged into his side entirely.

I’ve seen Keene’s baseball injuries up close and personal before. None of them have ever looked like this.

“This is just from a ball?” I whisper. He winces when I brush over where the skin is raised, the area clearly more sensitive than the rest of the injury.

“Yeah, but I’m fine, Pen. Seriously,” he says, trying to pull away from me, but my fingers wrap around his bicep to stop him. He glances down at my hand and sighs. “I’ve been hit by a pitch plenty of times. You’ve seen it in person, you’ve watched it on TV. It’s part of the game.”

Yeah, but your body wasn’t mine any other time this has happened.

My attention flicks up to his face and I can tell how much pain he’s in, though he’s trying not to show it. Between the ball he took to the ribs and spending twelve innings behind the plate, he’s gotta be hurting. Sore muscles and aching bones.

“Did you take an ice bath for it?”

“Didn’t have time there, so I took a quick one in the team’s clubhouse before coming home.”

He shifts away from me again, and this time, I let him go. He drops onto his bed with a thud, a low groan following as he buries his face in his pillow.

I clear my throat again before saying stay here, not bothering to wait for a response.

“Wasn’t planning on moving until Monday morning,” he calls, slightly muffled as I enter the bathroom.

I quickly fill the tub with steeping hot water, dumping in a few scoops of Epsom salts I knew he keeps under the sink after long, rough days. His coach always harps on him about doing both ice baths and salt baths after spending the weekend behind the plate, since alternating between the hot and cold can help heal and soothe his aching muscles.

Yet somehow, he always manages to forget the hot portion of this cycle, because the container of salts is pretty much full.

A few minutes later, the tub is full with the salts tossed in, and I make my way back to Keene’s room to usher him to the bathroom. He fights me at first, refusing to move from his place on the bed, but eventually I manage to get him to agree to get in the damn tub if I order his favorite Italian place for delivery tonight.

That gets his ass up real quick.

“Mmm, that looks like heaven,” he says, staring at the tub as he starts stripping out of his shorts and underwear.

I busy myself with putting away containers when he undresses, then picking up his clothes to keep my eyes off him while he slides into the tub. A low hiss escapes him, and I’m not sure if it’s out of pain or from the heat of the water, but I tamp down the urge to turn and check on him. The last thing I want or he needs is me ogling his body when he’s in no shape to do anything about the stupid amount of lust he causes anytime I catch a glimpse of his bare skin.

So instead, I grab a clean towel from beneath the sink as I wait for the sound of water sloshing against the side of the tub to subside as an indication that it’s safe to turn around. Even if it’s completely idiotic and unnecessary, considering I’ve seen him naked hundreds of times now.

Something he’s quick to point out, which isn’t a surprise.

“You should know better than anyone, I’m not exactly shy,” he teases. I turn to see that shit-eating grin of his aimed my way from his spot in the tub. “I mean, I answered a FaceTime call in the shower with you.”

I feel heat rush to the tips of my ears at the mention of what happened when he was in Arizona, but I fight to keep the embarrassment from sending me to the safety of my room. “I just…was trying to be polite. Not ogle or anything.”

“Because knowing you want me is such a bad thing, right, Pen?” His eyes roll. “I fingered my ass and basically made a live porn video for you. I don’t give two shits about a little bit of eye-fucking.”

He’s got a point…

“Fine.” I shake my head and take a seat on the edge of the tub, letting my eyes trail over the lines of lean muscle and smooth skin. “So wanna tell me about how things went today? Besides the welt the size of the moon on your side?”

He leans back, closing his eyes as he goes over how the game went before he took a fastball to the ribs. My eyes trace over his face as he talks, grateful for the few minutes to take him in without his knowledge.

He’s got a couple bruises and cuts along his forearms, which isn’t all that abnormal. His skin looks more tanned, though, and the freckles dotting his cheekbones and nose have darkened some since I saw him Friday.

“I can feel you staring at me,” he says suddenly, opening his eyes. “Thought you weren’t gonna ogle.”

“Just making sure you’re still in one piece.”

He smirks. “Always the worrier. I swear, I’m fine. But if playing the injured card gets you to grant my every request, I’ve got one for you.”

“And that would be?”

He licks his lips as he takes his time mapping my face with his stare. Unlike me, he doesn’t care that I’m watching him, which somehow manages to make me more nervous.

It makes no fucking sense.

“Come in here,” he finally replies.

“What?”

“You heard me,” he replies, doing his best to slide up in the tub to make room for me. The issue is, we’re both over six feet tall and nowhere near small. No damn way we both fit in there. Comfortably.

“Not happening.” I laugh softly, but I stay seated on the edge of the tub beside him to keep him company while he relaxes. I think he gives up on the idea pretty quickly, when out of nowhere, his wet arm wraps around my waist, effectively soaking my shirt and shorts where his skin touches me.

“What the shit?” I ask, attempting to jump up. I don’t make it far though, because Keene’s arm tightens around me to hold me in place.

“Oh, no,” he says in mock innocence. I can practically hear the smile in his voice as he presses his cheek against my back. “How’d that happen?”

I roll my eyes and remove his arm from me, albeit as gently as I can since it’s the side of his body that took the hit. He still winces and I immediately regret not letting him keep it there.

“I wonder,” I say, my voice laced with sarcasm, but I still don’t turn around.

Instead, I reach down and peel my now partially wet shirt over my head, tossing it across the bathroom. My shorts come next, joining my shirt, but my boxers are still dry so they remain on my body as my last layer of decency.

Decency. Right. Because Keene hasn’t become very well acquainted with my cock by now.

His forehead presses into my back again when I move back into place. The heat of his skin directly against mine sends a shiver up my spine and goosebumps break out across my body like little zings of lust rippling through me.

“Are you gonna make me get your underwear wet too, or are you gonna take them off willingly and get in here with me?”

The words don’t come out much louder than a whisper, a breath of air leaving his lips and sliding over my skin like a siren’s call. It makes it almost impossible to deny him a fucking thing.

“We won’t fit,” I tell him softly.

“I can sit on your lap,” he surmises and my dick likes that idea instantly, thickening behind the navy cotton of my underwear.

“You won’t get much rest if you’re sitting on my cock.”

I feel his cheeks tilt up in a smile before he presses a kiss to my back. “Kinda the point there, Pen.”

My heart hammers in my chest and my dick swells behind my boxers, loving the all-too-vivid picture he’s painting for me.

Though I know I shouldn’t, I rise just enough to shed the last layer of clothing on my body. Shifting, I slide into the foot of the tub, hissing as my skin comes into contact with the water that might as well be boiling.

“Jesus, how aren’t you cooked right now? Did I make this too hot?”

He shakes his head and smirks. “It’s perfect. The hotter, the better.”

I shake my head. “Right, I forgot you like to boil yourself alive.”

His smirk grows. “Not all of us like our baths to be as cold as our hearts, Pen.”

Smartass motherfucker.

Like I assumed, the fit is tight, and that’s being generous. Once my shoulders rest comfortably between the spout and the edge of the tub, I stretch out my legs best I can. The only issue is, there’s nowhere for them to go unless it’s directly into Keene’s chest.

Looking up at him across from me, I give him an exasperated sigh. “This isn’t gonna work.”

“Yeah, it will.”

“How—”

Keene does some quick maneuvering of my limbs before I can get another word out, and all of a sudden, we just fit. Perfectly.

He’s between my legs, one of my knees bent toward the wall, while the other is outstretched and resting on the edge of the tub over his shoulder. He adjusts his body to match my position from his end. I try not to notice the way he winces and grimaces whenever his bends or twists too far, but I bite my lip to keep from saying anything. Drawing even more attention to his injury will only make the entire situation that much worse.

“See?” he says in victory when we’re comfortably relaxing in the miniscule tub, suds and salts floating all around us.

I chuckle lightly. “You live to prove me wrong, you know that? It gets you off or something.”

His brown eyes heat with a quick flare and he raises a brow at me. “You’d know a lot about what gets me off, wouldn’t you, Pen? But the last time I checked, it’s usually got to do with your cock or mouth. Not your ability to be wrong.”

My teeth sink further into my lip and I glance away quickly before said cock can start to get any stupid ideas. Like dragging him into my lap so we can grind our way to an orgasm, which sounds pretty fantastic right about now.

“What’d you do while I was gone, anyway?”

I wet my lips. “Nothing worth talking about.”

His brow raises. “You played video games the entire time, didn’t you?”

No, I missed you the entire fucking time. Not that I’d ever dare say the words out loud, because they feel like they’d be crossing into territory we really need to stay away from.

Because it’s not the normal kind of missing him. Hell, it wasn’t even missing the sex the few days he was gone, which is exactly the reaction I should be having if this is just sex between us.

There shouldn’t be this…aching need inside me that’s been growing for him.

But no matter how I try to deny it, it’s there. It’s shifted something between us, changed our dynamic already in ways that terrify me.

“You know me so well,” I deadpan.

He smiles, big and bright and so fucking Keene. It has my heart stumbling in my chest at the very sight.

Then the shithead goes and ruins it the second he opens his mouth. “I know you better than anyone. Biblically, and otherwise.”

The innuendo has my lips twitching, but my heart’s still pounding.

When I don’t respond, I feel his hand wrap around my foot before hot breaths float over my skin. It ignites my entire body more than the scalding bath water ever could.

He presses a kiss to my ankle bone, moving up on to my calf as far as he can reach without sitting up entirely. Then his hand begins trailing up my soapy leg until it reaches the crook of my knee, fingers dancing along the way.

Just like the way he touched me when I was sitting on the edge of the tub, it sets off goosebumps.

“Does this turn you on? The soft touches?” he asks when my eyes finally move back to meet his gaze.

I swallow harshly when his fingers reach my inner thigh, inches away from my dick. It’s been hard ever since I got in the damn tub, my naked skin pressing into Keene’s. Now it’s on full-out alert and all I can do is nod at him as the other hand starts taking the same path down my opposite leg.

His brow raises, and he smirks. “Really? I would’ve thought you’d prefer it when it’s rougher. Harder. Needier.”

Both his hands are millimeters away from my cock as it begs for his attention. He takes no mercy on me though, letting the tips of his fingers graze against the sensitive skin of my inner thighs.

Fuck.

I want him so much, it might kill me. I’ve wanted him for a while now. Craved the way he touches me. Kisses me. Fucks me with his mouth and hand. Like he was crafted by a higher being to know exactly what I need at any given moment.

And that’s why I can’t bring myself to stop this thing between us, even while knowing we’re already in far too deep.

“Touch me,” I plead when his thumb grazes the side of my dick. “Please, for the love of fucking God. Just touch me.”

His smirk is filthy. “I already am.”

“You know what I mean,” I mumble, shifting quickly to get his hand on me. But the moment I do, water sloshes over the side of the tub. Keene winces, as if my movement somehow caused him pain, and I freeze instantly.

Shit.

His eyes flash to mine and he must read my fear all over my face, because he smirks again and shakes his head.

“I’m fine.” His chuckle is deep and throaty, and the genuine sound of it instantly puts me at ease. Then he glances over the edge of the tub. My eyes follow suit, and I instantly realize why he winced, because the floor is completely soaked.

“Oh, fuck.” I laugh.

“You put way too much water in here for both of us.”

I shoot him a look. “It wasn’t originally for both of us, asshat.”

He grins, his fingers returning to my legs again. “Maybe, but it’s a lot more fun this way.”

My lip twitches, a smile forming because, yeah, he’s right. I don’t have the chance to tell him that though, because his hands grip the outside of my thighs and he drags me to him.

An awkward laugh slips out as he pulls me into his lap, more and more water sloshing over the edge of the tub. “What do you think you’re doing?”

His smile is both devious and shy when he looks up at me through those stupidly thick eyelashes of his. “Well, seeing as you already decided the water belonged on the floor, I wanted to play along.”

I snort out a real laugh this time, shaking my head. “Naturally.”

“Of course,” he murmurs. His expression softens slightly as his eyes roam my face. “And it’s definitely not an excuse to touch you after being apart for three days.”

My tongue darts out over my bottom lip, and I swear I can feel his cock thicken beneath me as he watches. “Not at all, hmm?”

Keene’s eyes are half-mast and full of heat as they flick back up from my mouth. He shakes his head, the hand on his good side coming up to cup the back of my neck.

“Absolutely not,” he whispers, pulling my mouth to his.