Adoring Keaton: A Stand-Alone Friends-to-Lovers MM Romance (The Kennedy Boys Book 9)

by Siobhan Davis

“Austen! Please.”

  “Sorry, Mom.” I take pity on her. “I’m just trying to lighten the situation. It’s not like he murdered anyone. He just had sex.”

  “With the preacher’s daughter! An older woman! And she was engaged to boot!”

  “Relax, Ma. You’re going to give yourself a coronary. Just let Orwell stay with me this weekend. I’ll try to talk some sense into him.” I wink at my brother, happy he’s here. I don’t get to see enough of him, and he’s good for my soul. “And it’ll give you a break from his crap. You can punish him next week.”

  Orwell flips his middle finger up at me.

  “Okay. But I’m trusting you to look after your brother. You know what he’s like. He’s even more reckless than you were as a teenager.”

  I didn’t pull half the shit Orwell does. Sure, I went to parties, smoked a little weed, indulged in a few beers every now and then, but I was dedicated to football, and it kept me on the straight and narrow. I never fucked around or missed classes. The only thing I did was date guys and develop a passion for tattoos. Something my mother considers reckless.

  Yeah, I’m so done with this conversation.

  “I’ll make sure he stays out of trouble.” I hang up before she can reply.

  Orwell whoops, dragging me into a half-assed headlock. “Thanks, big bro. I owe you.”

  I twist around, locking my arms around his neck, landing a soft punch to his gut. “Do. Not. Make me regret this.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Keaton

  “I’m sorry tonight got derailed,” Austen says, climbing into my bed alongside me. Setting my book down, I turn to look at him.

  “It’s okay,” I lie, because it’s not Austen’s fault. Truth is, I could’ve done without the ambush.

  And Gia’s wandering hands all over my boyfriend.

  Orwell, I like.

  Gia, not so much so far, but that could be my jealousy talking.

  “It’s not.” Austen takes my hand. “I didn’t even hear how it went with your friends.”

  A layer of tension flitters off my shoulders as a smile ghosts over my mouth. “It went better than expected. They already knew, man. About me. About you. And they are happy for us.”

  He pecks my lips, pulling back, smiling. “I knew they wouldn’t let you down.”

  “It’s got me thinking,” I admit, fisting one hand in the comforter as I speak. “So far, everyone has reacted positively. Maybe, I’ve been making this out to be worse than it is.”

  Austen cringes a little, sitting cross-legged in front of me. “I’m glad things have been positive so far, but there are still plenty of assholes in the world, Keats. The people who care about you will be supportive. They might be shocked at first, but they won’t stop loving you. However, not everything will be rainbows and unicorns. Social media is full of self-righteous bigoted assholes who will wade in. You’re right to be cautious.”

  I worry my lip between my teeth. “Are we doing the right thing this weekend? With Gia, I mean.”

  He studies my face for a few seconds. “Are you having second thoughts?”

  I shrug, because my emotions are a bit of a clusterfuck when it comes to that girl.

  “I’m doing it for us.” He threads his fingers in mine. “To deflect suspicion from the team until we’re ready to admit the truth.”

  “That’s what I’m worried about. If you parade Gia around this weekend, pushing the girlfriend agenda in their faces, and then you come out as gay, they’ll hate you for lying so blatantly.” I wish I’d thought of this before Austen arranged for her to come to Cali.

  He shrugs. “I’ll explain things, but if they’re pissed, I’ll live with it. I’m not close to most of the guys, and I doubt I’ll keep in contact with anyone besides Colton and maybe Preston after we graduate.”

  “See, that’s where I have issues. I don’t want them thinking bad of you because you’re trying to protect me. Protect us.”

  “Are you sure that’s where the issue lies?” He stares at me in that intense all-knowing, all-seeing way of his.

  I exhale heavily, squeezing his hand. “I am concerned about that, but I also don’t like the way she paws at you.”

  Austen moves up in the bed, wrapping his arms around me. “That’s just the way she is, but I’ll talk to her.” A pregnant pause ensues, and I attempt to unscramble the mess in my head. He tips my chin up. “I need you to be honest. If you want to call it off, I will. I’ll send Gia to her boyfriend for the weekend. I thought this’d help keep our relationship a secret, but if it’s going to damage things between us, then I’d rather not do it.”

  “I don’t think I could bear to watch you and her putting on a show. I think my reactions would give the game away, which defeats the purpose. So, either you go to the party without me or we call it off.”

  “It’s your call, Keats. You have to make the decision.” His gaze challenges me, and I rise to meet it.

  “I want to call it off. No one gets to touch you but me.”

  His lips claim mine, and we clutch one another, kissing and kissing and kissing, only stopping when we need to draw breath. Austen rests his forehead on mine. “Thank fuck.”

  I ease back, commanding his gaze. “You didn’t want to go through with it either?”

  He shakes his head. “You think I’d ever want to hurt you like that?” He rubs a hand over his chest. “It was a stupid idea to begin with. I didn’t properly think it through.”

  “You were trying to protect our relationship. I’ll never fault you for that.”

  “I’ll tell her first thing, before I head to the gym. Would you be okay to drive her to the airport?”

  “Of course. I think I’ll skip classes tomorrow anyway and hang out with Orwell.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Austen says, running his fingers through my hair as he smiles adoringly at me.

  The effect is like being knocked over by a giant bowling ball. I flatten into a puddle on the bed. “I want to get to know your brother, and this way, I’ll ensure he keeps out of trouble.”

  His shoulders slump in relief. “That is a weight off my mind. Thanks.”

  “You do so much for me. I want to help where I can.”

  He kisses me tenderly. “We make a good team.”

  Those words imprint on my heart, and I melt into the bed. “We do.”

  Austen moves, sliding down the bed and pulling the comforter off my legs. “What are you doing?” I ask when he tugs on the end of my pajama pants.

  “What does it look like?” he teases, eyeing me through hooded lashes, his eyes drenched in lust.

  “Your brother is in your room across the hall, and Gia is in the guest bedroom,” I say, in case he’s forgotten our visitors.

  “So?” He yanks my pants down, freeing my semi-hard cock.

  “So, we can’t do anything sexual. We should just sleep.”

  Austen’s hands crawl up my thighs, and my cock stiffens, making an instant liar of me.

  “If every couple thought that, there’d be a lot less babies in the world.” He shoves a pillow at my chest. “Scream into that,” he adds, grinning as his hand encircles my engorged cock. “Because this is happening, babe.” The second his hot mouth wraps around my dick, all protests disappear, and I throw my head back and close my eyes, just enjoying the feel of his skilled lips gliding up and down my shaft.

  ***

  “I can get an Uber,” Gia says the following morning as I grab my car keys and my wallet and leave a note for Austen’s brother on the kitchen counter. Orwell is still sleeping, and Gia didn’t want to wake him to say goodbye. I take her bag, and she follows me out into the hallway. “Don’t be ridiculous.” I open the front door for her. “It’s the least I can do. Considering.”

  I don’t elaborate because I don’t want to get into it with her. She’s a virtual stranger, and I don’t know her. Austen woke her early to explain, and she was more than happy to let him pay for a plane ticket to Cheyenne, to jo
in her boyfriend and his band for the weekend. I offered to pay, because I didn’t want Austen dipping into the savings fund he’s been building for his Plan B tattoo dream, and it was ultimately my decision to call a halt to things this weekend, so it only seems fair.

  He argued against it, but eventually let me pay for half, and I’m glad he’s reasonable when it comes to financial stuff, because arguing over money is unnecessary when I have more than enough to go around. That’s not me being arrogant or flippant. I know how fortunate I am. Which is why I think nothing of spending money on my loved ones. As long as we have enough to support ourselves and our dreams, isn’t that all that counts?

  “It’s cool,” she says, touching my arm. “I’d rather be with the band, so I’m not at all unhappy with Austen’s decision.”

  Placing her bag in the back of my SUV, I climb behind the wheel and drive us out of the apartment building.

  The only flight I could get at the last minute is out of San Fran, so the forty-five-minute journey is bound to be awkward. I switch the radio on, and we’re both quiet until I get on I-80 W, and then she lowers the volume and turns to face me. “Austen said he was the one who’d changed his mind, but it was you, right?”

  I nod, glancing at her briefly as I drive one-handed along the highway.

  “Good.” She smiles, bouncing a little in her seat.

  “Good?” I inquire, quirking a brow. “Aren’t you mad?”

  She vigorously shakes her head. “On the contrary. Austen needs someone to put him first. I would’ve been disappointed if you’d let me publicly pretend he was mine,” she adds, popping the cap on an energy drink and knocking it back.

  “I couldn’t do that. Even watching you put your hands on him last night drove me insane,” I truthfully admit.

  She smirks. “Knew it.” Her eyes dart wildly around the car. “I’m glad he’s got you. I know Austen misses being in a relationship.”

  “You knew his exes,” I surmise.

  “Yep.” She drains the last of her drink, tossing the empty bottle on the floor of the back seat.

  Okay, then.

  I still can’t figure this girl out, except she’s not who I imagined Austen’s bestie to be. But I won’t form a judgment before I even know her. She’s important to my boyfriend, so I want to make the effort.

  “I’ve always thought Austen had shit taste in men,” she adds, thumping me in the upper arm. “Until you. You’re a good catch, Keaton Kennedy, and you make him happy. Happier than I’ve ever seen him.”

  “Is that true?” I’ve no idea if she’s blowing smoke up my ass.

  “Absolutely.” She lifts her legs, planting her dirty sneakers on my clean dash. I try hard not to look offended. “He’s different with you. In a good way.” She levels a stern look at me, but her unfocused gaze takes away from the intent. Her eyes are flickering all over the place and rolling back in her head.

  Shit. Is she on something? At nine o’clock in the morning?

  I know Austen is concerned about her taking drugs. He talked to her last night before bed, but she assured him there is nothing to worry about. This seems to indicate otherwise.

  “You know Dax then,” I say, choosing to keep the conversation going. It’s not my place to call her out for being high first thing in the morning, but I’ll be sharing my suspicions with my boyfriend later. Austen deserves to know, and he can decide if he wants to bring it up with her again.

  “I hate that motherfucking prick.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  Pulling her legs down, she jumps around in her seat, her eyes out on stalks. “How the fuck do you know about Dax Madden?”

  “He’s at Berkeley. He got into some prestigious art program just so he could win Austen back, or so he says.”

  She snorts, and a hiccup erupts from her mouth. “He’s a selfish asshole. He never cared about Austen, and I doubt he does now. Probably just wants the notoriety that would come from dating one of the football stars.”

  That’s not a bad theory, and if Dax had his way, Austen would be openly gay, I’m sure.

  “If he came here thinking he’d win him back, he’s an idiot. Austen would never go back. He won’t stay with someone who doesn’t treat him right. He might’ve been blind at the start, but Dax showed his true colors in the end. Woody puts everything into his relationships, and he expects the same in return. It’s why none of his previous relationships lasted. The guys were more takers than givers.”

  I know this, but when she puts it so bluntly, I begin to panic-worry.

  Am I taking more than I’m giving?

  Those troubling thoughts occupy my mind for the rest of the weekend, eating into my bonding time with Orwell, and though I know Gia meant well, I wish she hadn’t opened her mouth at all.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Keaton

  “I wish you were here,” I admit, from the privacy of my childhood bedroom on Friday night.

  “I wish I was there too because I’m already missing the fuck out of you, but we both know this is something you need to do by yourself.”

  Austen is right.

  As usual.

  Even if he didn’t have a game, I still would’ve come home alone. “I’m shitting myself.” I wipe my clammy hands down the front of my jeans.

  “It’s only natural,” he reassures me. “But this is your family. They love you. It’ll be okay. What time is it going down tomorrow?”

  “Mom’s told everyone to be here for lunch at one.”

  “Call me the minute the game is over,” he says. “I’ll be thinking of you.”

  “I will.” I lie spread-eagled on my bed. “Just think, this time tomorrow, my family will know. It’ll be a relief, but I’m scared shitless. I doubt I’ll be able to sleep tonight.”

  “I can help with that,” he says, his voice dropping to a deep, seductive level that does funny things to my insides. “Did you find the box I put in your bag yet?”

  I’m already climbing off the bed as I say, “What box?”

  “Go get it and FaceTime me from your tablet.” Austen hangs up before I can question him.

  Unzipping my duffel, I rummage inside, my fingers landing on the firm box. I pull it out, eyes widening as a gleeful smile tugs my lips up. Excitement and a smattering of nerves creep up my spine. Flipping the lock on my bedroom door, I move back to the bed, exhilaration mounting at the prospect of another first with Austen. Depositing the box on top of the comforter, I power up my tablet and sit up against my headrest to FaceTime my boyfriend.

  Although it’s past midnight here, it’s only a little after nine in California so I’m surprised to find Austen in bed when the screen loads. He’s shirtless, slouched in the bed, with his head propped against a mountain of pillows, and the comforter is scrunched at his waist, hiding one of my favorite parts of him. His hair is damp, and beads of water cling to his chest, confirming he’s not long out of the shower.

  He is the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. Inside and out.

  How the fuck did I get this lucky?

  His sketch pad lies at his side, and I smile as I visualize him naked in bed, working on the design he’s going to one day ink on my skin.

  “Keats?” Austen’s lip curls, and his eyes glint with smug confidence. He knows I zoned out dreaming of him. Shaking my head free, I lift the box onto my thighs. “Where’d you find it?” I inquire, knowing I had it hidden on the top shelf of my closet.

  “I borrowed one of your shirts yesterday morning, and I found it by accident. Why’d you hide it from me?”

  “It wasn’t intentional,” I truthfully reply, removing the lid. “I haven’t needed my stash of sex toys since we got together. I honestly forgot about it.”

  “Pity.” Austen palms a hand over his washboard abs, and I wish I was there with him. “We could’ve had some fun.” He leans into the camera. “We can now, if you’re game.”

  “Aren’t you tired?” I rasp, my dick already hardening in anticipation. I
t’s been a long week, and Austen is usually pretty beat come Friday night.

  “I’m never too tired to have video sex with my boyfriend.” He pulls one of my dildos out from under the comforter, along with some lube. “Hope you don’t mind I stole one.”

  I grin. “As if.” I remove my favorite prostate massager from the box along with lube. “We’re really doing this?”

  Austen points the dildo at the screen, grinning. “Hell yeah. Strip for me baby. I need to see your hard cock.”

  Propping the tablet up against the lamp on my bedside table, I slide my sweats and boxers down my legs, kicking them away, watching my boyfriend peel back the comforter to reveal his insanely hot naked body and his beautiful straining cock.

  Precum leaks from my crown as I grab hold of my aching shaft, stroking myself while I watch Austen do the same.

  “Get comfortable on the bed, babe, and spread those gorgeous thighs,” he instructs, his eyes darkening with pure need. I settle myself sideways on the bed, supporting my head on several pillows, ensuring I’m in full view of the screen.

  “Lube up,” he says, smearing liquid in his palms, expertly coating his fingers. I do the same as I watch him pump his dick and slide two digits into his ass.

  “Fuck, that’s hot,” I admit, mirroring his actions.

  Austen’s eyes are locked on my hand as I thrust two fingers into my puckered hole, moaning at the tight fit.

  “Does that feel good?” he murmurs, jacking his dick while he finger fucks himself.

  “So good.”

  “Imagine it’s me,” he adds, his breathing heavy. “I’m stroking my fingers inside you, feeling your ass clench around me.”

  I groan as I visualize it, pretending Austen is here and that it is his fingers working inside me. My cock aches with intense longing.

  “Open your eyes, babe,” Austen commands. “I need to see those baby blues.”

  “Fuck. I wish you were here.” I stare at the look of lust on his face, wishing it were my fingers pumping in and out of his ass.

  “Replace your fingers with the massager,” he instructs, squeezing lube on the dildo in his hand.