17. Beau
seventeen
Beau
I ’m not sure what I’ve done to deserve this.
While the cut is still raw where I was severed from Lithos and the bone-deep disappointment from my most recent album will probably always linger, I’ve had several good days in a row.
Liam’s studio has begun to feel like home—a place where music has no creative end and the pressure in the front of my skull becomes a dull afterthought to recording and composing.
I’m playing for fun again, and it’s a hell of a comfort drug. It reminds me of early mornings on my dad’s ranch, perched in a rocking chair, strumming with no purpose but to watch the sun bleed warmth onto the land.
There have been a handful of nights when I've stayed so long at the studio that I’ve passed out in a chair. The first time it happened, Liam woke me up at the start of his shift. My arms were still draped around an acoustic guitar like it was the only thing keeping me afloat.
The second time it happened, Liam walked in with two coffees, two breakfast sandwiches, and no more complaints about my lack of self-care.
I’m not gonna lie, I’m tired as fuck. More tired than I’ve ever been. I don’t think I noticed before because I was traveling and playing shows. Now it’s catching up to me .
It’s all good. I can sleep for a week straight when I get home. Right now, I don’t want to miss anything during my short stay in paradise.
Not only do I get the pleasure of watching Liam Beckner work, I get to hang with Stasi, too. She’s currently nestled in one of the leather studio chairs, blonde hair pulled up in a bun, and something she called manga propped open on her lap.
I’m straddling the piano bench, left hand tapping out a melody on the keys while I watch Liam chat with one of his artists.
There’s no question he’s a workaholic. This is my way of giving back. I know how it feels to be passed over when you’re trying to get your footing in the music industry.
I almost swooned at his excuse for working six—sometimes seven—day weeks. Pretty sure my heart hasn’t found a normal rhythm the entire time we’ve spent in the studio together as I’ve witnessed him respectfully push artists to reach their highest potential.
Wish Lithos had him to produce our last album.
Nope . I’m not going to give space to thoughts like that today.
Wandering out of the recording room, I grab a guitar off the wall and plop down in the chair next to Stasi. She peeks up at me from her book. Her cute smile fills me with joy. I smile back, strumming out a few light chords to match the way she makes me feel.
One minute, I’m messing around, and the next I’m singing a melody to go with the notes I'm stringing together. I’m not sure how long I play, but when I reacquaint myself with my surroundings, two pairs of shocked eyes are locked on me.
“Louder, Beau,” Liam orders.
My pulse quickens. I’ve had plenty of face-offs with my nerves, having played on big stages, but something about this intimate setting with the attention of a highly talented musician and a girl I’m hot for has me getting hung up on my failing album and absent creativity.
I’m not about to be a martyr and admit any of that, so I return the guitar to the hook on the wall. “I was just messing around.”
Dark eyes stalk me all the way out the front door as I fish out a cigarette with shaky hands. Leaning against the brick exterior, I light one up and suck in lungfuls of smoke to get that nicotine hit faster.
The door opens, and I brace for Liam’s appearance. It’s Stasi who graces me with her presence. She rests beside me on the wall, loose tendrils of blonde hair whipping around her face in the hot breeze.
Sighing, I pop my snapback off and fit it to her head.
“There,” I say, grinning.
She doesn’t smile back. “Beau, are you okay?”
Tipping my head back against the bricks, I squint in the harsh sunlight. “Had a moment. I’m better now.”
After a pause, she says, “Liam mentioned you’re not in Lithos anymore.”
“Couldn’t take the pressure, I guess.”
“Do you think Liam could help? He’s got connections…”
I take another hit from my cigarette and blow out the smoke. “I appreciate it, sweetheart, but I’m not looking for solutions to a problem. I'll figure my own shit out.”
When she doesn’t respond, I glance over at her. She’s got her nose scrunched up in a troubled expression, and that doesn’t sit right with me. Dropping my cigarette, I stomp it out and pull her against my chest. I hold her for a while.
“You smell like an ashtray,” she mumbles in complaint.
“Sorry. I’ll quit.”
“I should head home. I’ve got babysitting duty for my niece tonight.”
I drop a kiss to her forehead and walk her to her car. “Text me if you can, okay?”
“No promises. Felicity’s already a handful. A chaos baby born from the most anal retentive people I know.”
Chuckling, I steal one more kiss from her. She goes to hand me my hat, but I stop her. “Keep it. I like knowing you have something of mine.”
As soon as she pulls out of the parking lot, my mood plummets. It’s like my sunshine has been stolen away, and I’ve been plunged into a cold, starless night.
I glance back at the studio, knowing I should finish my shift. But I can’t bring myself to head back inside, so I call up an Uber instead.
I think I need a long nap.
Liam hasn’t come home yet.
I’ve been laid out in his bed for hours, full starfish pose, with my finger hovered over the button to call him.
Am I being too needy? Is he mad that I bailed out earlier? Wouldn’t it be a good thing to have him push me away?
I don’t realize I’ve hit call until he speaks my name like a prayer.
My pulse leaps. “So you do have my number saved in your phone.”
Staggered grunts and heavy breaths come over the line. At first, my stupid brain assumes I’ve caught him at the wrong time. Normal people wouldn’t answer the phone during sex, but Liam’s not normal.
“Sorry.” The clang of something heavy sounds. “At the gym.”
Air rushes out of my lungs in relief. “I didn’t mean to interrupt—”
“Don’t you fucking hang up. Talk to me. What’s wrong? Why’d you leave today?”
I wriggle deeper under his blankets, further messing them up. I have no intention of fixing them. I want him to know I was here. Want him to think of me when he finally crawls into his bed tonight.
“You know, for someone who claims he’s not good at this relationship shit, you’re doing a pretty good job,” I say.
“Give me time to fail.”
“Nope. Wrong answer.”
His breath hitches—a sign he’s working through another set of reps.
“Arm or leg day?”
“Legs.” He grunts. “Worst day of the week.”
“Mmm, I disagree. Those thighs are unholy. Feel free to send me a pic.”
“Shameless flirt on the phone, too. Your little selfies have been distracting.”
I’ve enjoyed sending them any chance I get since Liam gave me Stasi’s number and I created a group chat between us.
“Yeah? Stasi said she likes them. Guess I’ll send her more and leave you out since you never reply to them.”
His voice drops to a threatening murmur. “You stop sending them to me, and I’ll make sure you don’t get off the next time we’re in bed together.”
Smiling, I close my eyes. “Stasi seems open to this.”
“Yeah.”
I don’t know if I expected him to tell me otherwise, but when he doesn’t, I ask, “We’re playing to her comfort level, aren’t we?”
“I’m not sure how else to do this,” he admits.
After a few beats of silence, I do my best to lighten the mood.
I chat with him about musicians we’ve been working with in the studio.
He shocks me by offering his Porsche for me to drive so I don’t have to sleep at the studio or rely on Uber to get around.
I don’t tell him it’s not safe for me to drive.
Not with the way my vision sometimes warbles and blurs with these persistent migraines.
Instead, I ask him for his best Atonement tour stories. He tells me his wildest experiences always involved his bassist and drummer. He tells me about Hail and how he fell hard for the pretty, broken singer from Visage in a smoky London bar.
Running my hands over the soft fabric of his comforter, I ask, “Did you ever hook up with any of them?”
“I don’t hook up with people I work with.”
“You’re working with me.”
He pauses. “You’re the only one I’ve broken that rule for.”
“Yeah?” A goofy smile takes over my face. “Maybe I am trouble.”
Another grunt. “You have no idea.”
I rub my socked feet together under his sheets. “Are you partial to solo workouts, or could I come with you to the gym next time? Does Stasi work out with you?”
“Solo. But I’m trying this new thing where I don’t shut people out. Fair warning, I won’t go easy on you. And you cannot interrupt Stas, no matter what she’s wearing.”
The visuals his words summon up go straight to my groin. I’ve been rocking a semi since he picked up the phone and rumbled my name. Now that I’m thinking about Stasi in tight shorts and sports bras, I’m aching to get off.
I slip a hand beneath my sweats and give my shaft a slow pump. “Warning heard and ignored.”
He lets out a laugh, and then his voice drops low. “Are you touching yourself, Beau? ”
This conversation has effectively turned my entire night around. “Would you like that?”
“Hold on.”
He cuts the call, leaving me frowning with my hand around my cock. Seconds later, a FaceTime call pops up.
“Oh, hell yeah.” I grin, sliding a finger across the screen to answer it.
My mouth waters at the image of him in the empty locker room, dressed in a sleeveless tank and gray sweatpants. His tattooed skin glistens with sweat, and his hair is piled on top of his head.
I’m so done for. I’m in over my head for sure. Obviously, the only reason I came to Dallas was to torture myself.
“Do you ever not look good?”
Liam smirks as he drags his shirt off his body, revealing each set of rigid ab muscles and those defined pecs I want to run my tongue over.
“You too, trouble. Shirt off,” Liam demands.
“Shit, is that what we’re doing? What if someone walks in on you?”
Liam’s smile turns wicked. “Let them watch.”
“You don’t have any limits, do you?”
I scramble to pull off my shirt as he stares at me with his usual intensity. My face in the tiny little square box next to this sex god is laughable.
“Very few. Don’t care to be touched. I want to be in charge. It’s how I stay safe. Shorts off, Beau.”
I hesitate, my mouth parting at what he just shared. He doesn’t let me dig into the piece of him he just exposed.
“Are you in my bed?” he asks.
I wet my lips as I shove a hand back into my pants. “Yeah. Problem?”
Liam draws his sweatpants down those thick thighs, exposing tight black boxers that barely contain his massive erection. Anyone walking in on that thing would fall to their knees and beg to worship it. I don’t give a shit if they think they’re straight.
I prop my phone up on his nightstand, kick away the comforter and sheets, and strip off my pants.
Liam rumbles in approval. “Fist your cock for me, Beau.”
Tipping my head back, I squeeze my shaft. I make a show of running my hand up and down my length, eager to please him. The fact that someone could walk in on him has me worked up even more.
“Look at that beautiful cock. Drawer in my nightstand has lube. Slick yourself up.”
My voice comes out strained and raspy. “Want to see your dick first.”
“Cute how you think you’re in charge.”
How can he both terrify me and turn me on at the same time?
I fumble for the bottle of lube in the drawer. My eyelids shudder at the tight, slick sensation when I wrap my lubed up hand around my cock. I stroke myself slowly. Tightly. Turned on by the obscene sounds I’m creating while sprawled out in his bed.
“Play with that piercing, Beau.”
I do, imagining Liam tugging on it with his teeth and sucking it into his mouth. So glad I left it in. I hadn’t planned to. It was a drunken decision egged on by Noah and my bandmates early into our career when maturity wasn’t a word we knew the definition of.
“ Fuck . That feels good,” I utter.
Liam picks up his phone and walks into a shower stall. Heat floods my groin as he sets the phone on the bench across from the showerhead, giving me a full view of his naked body.
“Why aren’t you home right now?” I whine.
“Because I can’t keep a body like this if I skip gym days. Keep stroking yourself, Beau. ”
“Fuck yeah. You got it.”
I watch water slither down his gorgeous body as my orgasm begins to build. It’s a scene I could appreciate forever, especially when he lathers up his own cock and runs a big hand along his length.
“Want that in my body again soon,” I beg.
“You’ll have to earn it. Use your other hand. Play with your balls.”
Groaning, I do just that. It’s a struggle to keep my focus on my own pleasure when I’m glued to the screen, watching Liam jerk himself.
“Want to suck you so fucking bad. Want you to fuck me hard like you used to.” I ramble.
“Finger yourself, Beau. Now.” Liam’s tone takes on a growl. He’s starting to come apart at the seams.
Working two fingers inside my hole, I imagine they belong to him. That he’s pressing me down on his bed right now, spreading me open. That his dark eyes are searing into mine as he gives me orders up close and personal.
“Come for me, Beau,” Liam says roughly.
“ Liam .” I let out another groan and arch off the bed as my release shoots up to my chest. As I ride the waves of pleasure, Liam’s growls from his own orgasm fill my ears.
Panting, I grab my t-shirt and use it to wipe away some of my sweat and cum.
Liam falls into his shower routine. I continue watching silently, admiring the way his long black hair molds to his chiseled body under the water.
There’s no way I can ignore my feelings for this man. Not when they’re growing at an exponential rate.
“We should go on a date,” I blurt out. “All three of us.”
Liam pauses. With a blank expression, he glances at me through the phone, and I brace for rejection. “When?”
It’s my turn to hesitate. Did I hear him right? Did Liam Beckner just agree to a date ?
“Tomorrow?” I ask, suddenly nervous. “Aren’t Sundays the only day you allow for fun?”
He’s silent, and my heart sinks. “Never mind. It was a stupid request.”
“No. We can try it.”
Slowly, my smile finds its way back to me. “I need you to really commit, Liam.”
“Bossy after you come, aren’t you?”
“If I say yes, are you going to deprive me of orgasms? ‘Cause then it’s a no.”
I’m not sure I’ve ever glimpsed a gentle smile from Liam, but here it is to warm my bones.
Fuck . This is already starting to get heavy. I know I can’t stay here. I’m the type to fall headfirst into love. I’m affectionate and clingy and too fucking much.
But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to learn all the things that would make them smile.
“Get some sleep,” Liam says. “I’ll be home soon.”
When the line clicks, I find I’m in a much better mood as I make myself comfortable under his sheets.