Page 37 of Trained Royal

Kieren wriggled and grimaced. “It smarts, but it’s not uncomfortable. More like a bruise you can’t stop yourself from pressing.”

“Good.” He ran his hand up and down Kieren’s back. “What did you think of it?”

“It’s something I’d like to explore more.”

Patrick kept his focus on the ceiling but couldn’t contain his smile. “I’m glad.”

“The question is, are you willing to teach me?”

Patrick lowered his head, meeting Kieren’s gaze. “I’d love to,” he whispered. “But only if that’s truly what you want. I can find you someone else if you’d prefer.”

Kieren’s nostrils flared, and his fingers tapped a rhythm against Patrick’s chest. “I wouldn’t prefer. I don’t know if I could trust anyone else enough to let them do this with me.”

Inwardly, Patrick preened. It’s what he wanted, but he couldn’t refuse Kieren the opportunity to find someone else. “I’m glad you can trust me.”

They lay in silence for a short time, and then Kieren made a move to get up. “I think I need some food.”

It was probably a ruse to get him back home and away from Patrick, but he’d let him go. Everyone needed the chance to recalibrate what happened, even Patrick, and he wouldn’t stop Kieren. They dressed, but the lack of conversation wasn’t uncomfortable. Patrick stole glances at him and caught Kieren doing the same. He had no idea where they were going with whatever they were doing, but he was there for the entire ride.

Before they left the room, Patrick touched Kieren’s arm. “Whenever you want—or need—to do this again, just say the word.”

Kieren stared at him, and Patrick’s cheeks heated under his scrutiny. “Friday?” he asked finally.

Patrick nodded, his mouth dry. He grabbed on to the future “date” and held it close to his heart. Opening the door, he led the way out, smiling when Kieren slipped his hand into Patrick’s. Patrick threaded their fingers together and headed for the exit. It was time he took them home.

****

Patrick dodged the punch, spinning away from Kieren, and kicked his leg high, aiming for Kieren’s thigh. He didn’t make contact because Kieren grabbed his ankle and pulled, taking Patrick to the floor. He put his hands out as he hit the floor, but he misjudged it, and agony tore through his wrist.

“Ahh!”

He cradled his left wrist against his chest, panting with the pain.

“Shit! Patrick! Fuck! What’s wrong?” Kieren slammed to his knees beside him. His hands hovered over him but didn’t touch. “Where do you hurt?”

Patrick gritted his teeth and breathed through a wave of nausea. “My wrist.”

“Can I see?” He removed his good hand, leaving his painful one resting on his chest. “It’s swelling already. We need to get you seen by a doctor. Let me help you up.” Kieren stood and moved to Patrick’s head. He slid his hands under Patrick’s armpits and lifted.

Pain tore through him again, but Patrick bit it back, not wanting to make Kieren feel bad. When he stood upright, he swayed as his head spun and arms came around his waist. Despite the dizziness, Patrick’s skin tingled at the contact. It had happened few and far between in the six days since the club.

“I’m good now,” he said a few minutes later.

“Let’s get you to the doctor.”

Patrick shook his head. “Just get me to my room, and I’ll speak to the doctor over the phone. I don’t fancy driving anywhere.”

“But they might need to see you,” Kieren argued.

“Then they can come here and see me.” Kieren opened his mouth, but Patrick stared at him, and he snapped his mouth shut again.

“Please, just help me to my room.”

Kieren nodded and opened the door of the gym, resting a hand on Patrick’s lower back and guiding him through the corridors to his room. Once he was sitting on the sofa in his living area, he cursed.

“What?”

“I left my phone in the changing rooms.”