Page 70 of Heal Me, Love Me

We headed back toward the front, with Grant beside us. At the door, he paused and offered his hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I shook it. “Yes, sir.”

“Get on the mat first,” he told me. “If it feels right after that, we’ll talk next steps.”

“Sounds good.”

He turned and extended his hand to Keaton. “Nice to meet you, Keaton. Good luck with your career.”

“Thank you,” he replied, shaking his hand.

Then Grant stepped back, leaving Keaton and me to walk outside alone.

Josh waited near the curb, the Escalade running. For a moment, I stayed under the awning with Atlantic Combat behind me and Keaton at my side, trying not to admit what I already knew. The visit wasn’t over, but the question had changed. It wasn’t whether Atlantic Combat could make me better. It was whether I could accept what it offered without potentially losing the man standing beside me.

On the ride back, Keaton stayed quiet beside me. Halfway to the hotel, his hand slid along the seat between us. Not much, but enough for his fingertips to brush mine. I didn’t move away, and neither did he.

We stayed like that for the rest of the drive, barely touching, both of us pretending it wasn’t the only thing keeping me out of my head.

When we got back to the hotel, the lobby was even more crowded than before. A family checked in with beach bags stacked around their feet, a couple argued near the elevators about dinner reservations, and someone in business attire talked too loudly on a phone.

The elevator ride up felt longer than it had earlier. Inside the room, the door clicked shut behind us, and the air conditionerrattled near the window. A car horn sounded somewhere outside. Keaton dropped onto the edge of one of the beds, then braced his forearms on his thighs.

“Atlantic Combat is good,” he admitted.

“Yeah.”

“I wanted it not to be.”

“I know.”

“That makes me a shitty boyfriend.”

“No.” I moved closer. “It makes you an honest one.”

His throat moved as he swallowed. “I want this for you. I also want you in Sacramento.”

“I get it.”

“And I hate that I can’t have both the way I want.”

I reached for his wrist, my thumb brushing his pulse point. “I’m not deciding tonight.”

“I know.”

But knowing didn’t make him hurt any less. I could see it in the way he sat there, trying to acknowledge this was good for me even though nothing about this felt good for him.

I got between his knees and cupped his face in my hands. “I’m here right now.”

His hands came to my hips, bunching his fingers in my shirt. “Yeah.”

“Then let me be here.”

His breath caught, and that was all I needed. I kissed him, and he pulled me closer, his hands slipping under my shirt as he kissed me back with the same need I couldn’t ignore. He scooted farther onto the bed, and I followed, climbing over him as his legs spread around me.

When I pushed closer, the sound he made against my mouth went straight to my dick.

My shirt came off next, and he watched me toss it aside then reached for me again, but I caught his wrists and pushed his hands down to the mattress.