9. Eight - Keegan

Keegan woke to Chance’s low growl.

He waited. Chance was the best alarm system money couldn’t buy. He heard movement long before anyone reached them and was smart enough to know the difference between normal traffic and something Keegan needed to be woken up for.

Chance was in the center of the room, facing the door with his ears pricked and his hackles raised. He gave a low, warning woof that had Keegan sliding out of bed. Lucky hopped down with him, while Riley continued snoozing away, on her back with all four paws in the air. The perk of being a deaf dog was sleeping through anything.

Keegan pulled on his sleep pants and shoved his feet into his boots. He was looking for a shirt when the rumble of a car pulling into the short driveway reached him. He gave Chance a pat and asked him to stand down.

Chance heaved a sigh but went to his bed in the corner, turning a few times before settling. He trusted his pack leader to protect them if necessary.

Keegan shut Riley in the bedroom as well but let Lucky follow him. There was nothing wrong with having ninety pounds of deterrent when investigating a disturbance at—he checked the digital clock over the stove—one in the morning.

He flicked on the kitchen lights. At the same time, someone started pounding on the front door.

Lucky’s hackles lifted, and he gave a single, warning bark.

The pounding paused, then started again, followed by a shout of, “Hey, asshole! Open up!”

Keegan sighed and rubbed his eyes. He knew that voice. What the fuck? He crossed the living room, ripped open the door, and nearly ended up with an armful of tall, blond ranch hand. Fortunately, Izzy caught himself on the doorframe before he fell.

Keegan stared. Even disheveled and wasted, Isaac was a beautiful man. The porch lights turned his hair into a glowing halo. His lips and cheeks were flushed from the cold, and snowflakes were melting on his eyelashes. His blue-gray eyes were half lidded and locked on Keegan as he aimed a wavering finger in his direction.

“You,” Izzy spat out, then paused, his gaze raking over Keegan’s bare torso. He licked his lips, then jerked his glare back to Keegan’s face. “I fucking hate you so much.” He levered himself upright and staggered inside, pushing Keegan out of the way.

Keegan sighed in defeat and looked out to the driveway, praying that Izzy hadn’t driven himself in this condition.

An SUV he didn’t recognize was idling, exhaust fogging the cold air, its wipers flicking snow from the windshield. Keegan squinted but couldn’t see more than a shadow in the driver’s seat. As he watched, the driver put the SUV in gear. Whoever it was better not leave this drunken idiot here with— They pulled away, the silhouette of a hand lifted in a wave that Keegan returned helplessly. Fuck.

He turned back inside, shutting and locking the door behind him, and found Izzy on the floor with Lucky. Keegan’s big, bad German shepherd was attempting to lick the man to death, his tail sweeping back and forth with excitement.

Keegan left them to it and went to get a glass of water. He was too tired for this, and it was clearly going to be a while before he could get back to sleep.

“This is all your fault,” Izzy declared from behind him while Keegan was at the fridge, filling the glass.

Keegan took a calming breath and counted to five before answering. “How so?” He shut the fridge and leaned against it as he sipped the water.

Izzy was less than steady on his feet as he clung to the edge of the counter and glared at Keegan. He’d discarded his coat somewhere, but not his boots. A trail of wet, dirty boot prints trailed across the hardwood floor.

“Take off your boots, Isaac.”

“That,” Izzy spat out. “That’s why.” His long legs folded as he half sat, half fell to the floor and started fighting with his laces. “You’re so fucking sur-superior.” He grunted as he pulled on the boot. “You think you’re better than me, ’cause you’re smart and e-educated, and you aren’t a fuckup. Why’d you have to be hot too?”

Keegan fought not to smile. Was Izzy insulting him or complimenting him? “Sorry,” he offered, moving closer and crouching down to tackle the laces on the other boot. Someone had knotted them and tucked them inside, adding to Izzy’s struggle.

“You should be,” Izzy grumbled back. “You ruined my night. All I wanted was a good dicking. Just a nice fat cock.” He mimed wrapping his hands around said imaginary cock—Keegan was vaguely concerned at the apparent soda-can dimensions—then groaned in frustration. “But then it snowed! Why do you have to be such an asshole?”

Keegan got the second boot off, then set them under the kitchen table and rested his elbows on his knees as he eyed Izzy. “Are you blaming me for the weather?”

“No,” Izzy said, exasperated. “It snowed and everyone left. How am I supposed to find someone to fuck all these thoughts out of my head?” He grabbed the edge of the table and used it to haul himself back to unsteady feet. Keegan stood with him, hands out, just in case. The last thing this night needed was Izzy cracking his head open and bleeding on Keegan’s kitchen floor.

“So, you came here?” Keegan was starting to get the full picture, and he wasn’t thrilled with being a booty call.

“Yes,” Izzy said. “To tell you that you suck. I can’t find a good cock, and it’s all your fault.”

“Because I made it snow.”

“Because none of them are you,” Izzy snapped. “Fuck.” He turned and stumbled toward the front door again. “I hate you. Why am I even here? Whose dumbass idea was this?”

Keegan caught him before his hand touched the knob. Izzy tried to pull away, but Keegan, with the advantage of both strength and sobriety, wrapped his arms around Izzy and trapped the struggling man against his chest. Keegan held on but didn’t respond to Izzy’s question, mind reeling as he tried to sort through that statement. Izzy was upset because he wanted Keegan?

It shouldn’t be that much of a shock. They clearly had chemistry. Both of their encounters had been off-the-charts hot. But he’d been so sure it didn’t go any deeper. Keegan wasn’t special. Izzy liked sex. Keegan had been convenient. But now, Izzy was saying, what? That he preferred Keegan to his many other available options? That was a mindfuck and a half. He didn’t know how to react.

Well, his dick knew how to react, especially with the way Izzy was squirming to escape and rubbing his sweet ass all up against it. But Izzy was also wasted, and Keegan didn’t fuck guys who were too drunk to consent. The bathroom blow job at the Lookout had skirted the edges of that too closely, and he wasn’t going to take the risk again.

“Fuck, I have the worst taste in men,” Izzy whined, finally giving up his struggle. “If they aren’t lying, deceitful bastards, they’re fucking judgmental kidnappers. Let me go . Kidnapping is illegal.”

Keegan pressed his forehead to Izzy’s shoulder and tried not to laugh. He shouldn’t find this funny. Izzy was drunk and angry and saying shit he was going to regret in the morning. But dammit, drunk Izzy was a trip. “I’m only going to let you go if you promise you’ll stop trying to leave.”

“That’s still kidnapping.” Keegan could hear his pout.

“Baby, it’s snowing, we’re ten miles from the ranch, and you’re not wearing shoes. If you leave, you’ll freeze to death.”

“ Baby, it’s cold outside, ” Izzy sang, off-key. “I fucking hate that rapey song.”

Keegan shook with restrained laughter. “Me too. But I swear, if you stay, you’ll be safe from me. We aren’t having sex.”

“What? Why not?”

Keegan banged his head on the muscled plane of Izzy’s shoulder. “Because you’re drunk. And because I’m pretty sure you’re going to hate me even more in the morning than you do right now.”

“Sounds fake,” Izzy replied, but when Keegan warily released him, he didn’t go for the door again.

Keegan let out a relieved breath. “The bed in the guest room is comfortable.” He paused, eyeing Izzy, then decided he was probably used to sleeping at an angle or, at the very least, was drunk enough that he wouldn’t notice his feet hanging off the end of the standard-length mattress.

With Lucky leading the way, Keegan showed Izzy where the hall bathroom was, then opened up the guest room while Izzy was relieving himself and using the toothbrush Keegan dug out from under the sink—a remnant from when Ryan used to crash at his place back in the day. Toothbrushes didn’t expire, right?

The guest room was a decent size, but Keegan had never put much effort into it. The bed was made and there was a rug on the floor, but compared to the rest of his warmly furnished home, it was borderline sterile.

Lucky, in typical doggy fashion, trotted into the newly accessible space, leaped up on the bed, and flopped down, dropping his chin to his paws and giving Keegan a pathetic look.

“Off,” Keegan said sternly, pointing at the floor.

His normally perfectly behaved, highly intelligent, search-and-rescue-trained German shepherd yawned and flopped onto his side, then heaved a sigh.

Keegan echoed it. Dammit.

“Ugh,” Izzy said, too loud in the quiet hallway. “You’re doing this on purpose!”

Keegan turned in time to see Izzy, stripped down to a T-shirt and boxers, making his way toward him. Damn, his legs were long. Keegan’s palms itched to slide them under the loose hem of Izzy’s boxers. Even his T-shirt wasn’t long enough for him, skin peeking through the enticing gap. Keegan needed to keep his distance.

“Doing what on purpose?” As if the fates were reading Keegan’s mind, Izzy caught his foot on the edge of the hallway rug and staggered straight into Keegan’s chest.

Keegan let out an “oof” as his back hit the doorframe, but he managed to stay on his feet, gritting his teeth against a pained groan.

A moment later, he was resisting a different kind of sound as Izzy’s hands slid over his skin, mapping out the planes of his chest. “Isaac, behave.” He caught Izzy by the shoulders, easing him back.

“ Isaac, behaaave, ” Izzy mocked, then stuck out his tongue, blowing a raspberry.

Keegan mimed biting it, making Izzy jerk back with a gasp, unbalanced until Keegan righted him again. All right. That was enough. “Bedtime,” he ordered, pointing to the guest room.

“Woof,” Izzy shot back, then paused. “I thought you had three dogs.” His unfocused gaze was on Lucky, still sprawled across the bed.

“I do. Riley and Chance are down the hall. I try not to overwhelm my guests, even when they’re attempting to kick the door down in the middle of the night.”

“I’m gonna meet them.”

Keegan cursed as Izzy pulled away and stumbled to the only other door on the hallway. “Izzy, wait.” He tensed for an explosion, but none came.

Inside the room, Riley was curled into a tight ball at the end of the bed, fast asleep with her nose tucked under her tail. Chance was in his bed in the corner, head on his paws but eyes alert.

Izzy didn’t seem to have noticed him. He beelined—well, as straight as a line could be after however much he’d had to drink—for the bed. “Awww…”

“Careful,” Keegan warned, then stomped his foot on the floor hard enough for Riley to feel the vibrations and crack open an eye. When she saw they had a visitor, she lifted her head, her tail thumping and her tongue lolling in a doggie smile.

Izzy paused and cocked his head, unintentionally mirroring her. “Is he deaf?”

“She,” Keegan corrected. “And yes.”

Izzy nodded and slowed, approaching more carefully, his hand out. “Most white animals with blue eyes are,” he told Keegan, as if Keegan—the veterinarian and owner of said dog—wasn’t aware. Izzy crawled onto the bed and settled with his feet tucked under him. “What’s her name?” he asked, stroking a soft white ear.

“Riley.”

Izzy nodded. “You’re the best girl, aren’t you, Riley? Yes, you are.” He bent down, pressing kisses to the top of her head, his long fingers buried in her thick scruff.

Riley’s tail thumped faster.

Keegan melted. Damn brat was winning him over just as fast as he was the dog.

He could feel Chance judging him from the corner.

“Izzy,” Keegan said, trying for patience. “It’s late. I’m tired. Can we please go to bed now?”

“Mmph,” Izzy said, slumping sideways until he was curled around Riley, his face still buried in her fur. “Wanna sleep here.”

Keegan swore under his breath and scrubbed a hand over his face. Fuck it. He was too tired to fight. He kicked off his boots and turned off the light, making his way to the far side of the bed in the dark.

Once he was in bed, he shut his eyes and waited. Sure enough, less than a minute later, Izzy wiggled his way up the mattress, stripped off his tee, and snaked himself under the covers, his head landing on the other pillow.

Keegan listened to him breathe and wondered if he was asleep already. Passing out as soon as his head hit the pillow wouldn’t be surprising, considering how drunk he was.

His assumption was proven wrong when the mattress shifted a few times. Then a hand slid across the sheets until it bumped into his arm. He sighed. Now what was the brat up to? “Izzy—” he started.

Izzy cut him off. “Do you really want to sleep?” The bed moved as Izzy inched closer. “’Cause I could help you with that.” His searching hand traced along Keegan’s bicep, aiming south. Keegan caught his wrist, but that didn’t stop him. He wiggled closer, until his warm, minty breath was fanning against Keegan’s neck. “Orgasms are great for relaxation.”

“‘I’m not fucking you’ wasn’t a challenge, Isaac.” He aimed for stern, but maybe went too far.

Izzy’s breath stuttered. He jerked his wrist out of Keegan’s hold and rolled away, toward the other side of the bed. “Fine. Whatever. Message received.” He paused. “Sorry.”

Keegan swore under his breath, shifted onto his side, and wrapped an arm around Izzy’s waist, dragging him back into the curve of Keegan’s body. “Does it feel like I don’t want you?” he asked, grinding his erection, which had persisted since he’d had Izzy squirming in his arms at the front door, against his ass.

Izzy let out a wanton moan that had Keegan swearing more urgently and gripping his hip to stop him from making the situation harder—more difficult—than it already was.

“Dammit, Izzy.” Keegan firmed his resolve. “You’re drunk. We aren’t doing this.”

“So what if I am?” Izzy said, tone somewhere between aroused and frustrated. “Why are you being such a prude? It wouldn’t be the first time I got fucked while I was wasted.” He grabbed Keegan’s hand and dragged it down.

Keegan stopped him. “You want to get off?” he asked, feeling Izzy nod before he even finished asking. He reversed their grips, directing Izzy to take himself in hand. “Then you take care of it yourself, brat.” It didn’t require any effort to wrap Izzy’s fingers around his cock and give them a squeeze, before letting go and leaving Izzy to it.

Izzy sighed, the sound turning into a moan as he started to stroke himself. “It’s more fun if you participate,” he told Keegan, breathless already.

“I’m good,” Keegan lied. He’d love to be the one with his hand wrapped around Izzy’s long, hard cock, but it wasn’t going to happen tonight. Maybe in the morning, if Izzy didn’t wake up hating him all over again.

It didn’t take long before Izzy was panting and squirming against him, whimpers and pleas escaping as he approached the edge.

Keegan gave in, just a little, stroking Izzy’s bare belly and murmuring words of encouragement as his tongue traced the shell of Izzy’s ear.

Izzy shivered and groaned as he came.

Keegan pressed his lips to the soft spot behind Izzy’s ear and breathed him in. “Fucking gorgeous,” he murmured, causing Izzy to shiver again in reaction. He grabbed a discarded tee, his or Izzy’s, he wasn’t sure, and used it to wipe up the mess before it could drip onto the sheets. He tossed it aside, then settled again and hugged Izzy close. “Now sleep, brat.”

Izzy sighed and snuggled closer. Despite the drunken exhaustion coloring Izzy’s tone, Keegan could hear the eye roll. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Isaac,” Keegan warned.

“Henry,” Izzy threw back.

Keegan stilled. “How…”

Izzy snickered, his voice slurred and fading fast. “Micah…told. Use my full name, ’m gonna… Use yours.”

Keegan let out a bemused chuckle. No one had ever called him by his legal name, not even his parents. It was on official documents, like the diploma that hung in his office, but that was it. Micah had either seen it there or Ryan—who also went by his middle name—had told him.

Izzy’s breathing finally deepened, and his muscles relaxed. Keegan was aware of Lucky returning from the guest room and jumping up to lie across their feet, but he was also fading, Izzy’s weight warm and comfortable in his arms.

Keegan only hoped he wouldn’t be woken up by a fist to the face from a brat who didn’t remember how he’d ended up in Keegan’s bed.