22. Beau
twenty-two
Beau
P ain wakes me before the sun.
I shift on the pillow to find a more comfortable position and wince at the pressure throbbing in my head.
Cracking my eyes open, I settle at the vision of Stasi sprawled over Liam’s bare chest. He’s got one arm slung over her shoulders, pinning her waves of golden hair to the gray t-shirt he loaned her.
I watch them breathe for a while, determined to ignore the oncoming headache. When it doesn’t let up, I roll out of bed and stumble into the bathroom.
Nausea overtakes me, and I curl over the toilet to puke my guts out. After I’ve dry-heaved for a while, I fall back onto my ass, wrung out and skin clammy.
At least the dizziness is gone now, though the sour taste of acid in my mouth isn’t fun.
I pop some medicine and return to my spot on the floor in the bathroom to wait for it to kick in, not wanting to wake Stasi and Liam with my tossing and turning. But when the pain finally subsides, I’m not tired enough to climb back into bed.
After brushing my teeth and splashing cold water on my face, I creep down the stairs to slip on my shoes. I grab two sets of keys off the hooks next to the garage door—the spare key for the studio and the set for Liam’s other car—the black Porsche.
I hesitate, knowing it’s not smart for me to drive. There’s always the fear that a migraine will set in and my vision will fade to a mass of warbling gray.
But my headache is mostly gone… so I should be okay.
My blood beats a little harder beneath my skin as I pull out of the garage and hit the gas.
It’s blissfully quiet when I enter the studio—an Eden of musical possibility opening its gates to me. No other eyes or ears.
No expectations.
I’m anxious to work on my song. I’ve never been solo. My career started in a sweltering garage in Phoenix with Noah and three other guys we met at a concert. I figured it would end with a group, too.
As I run my fingers along the curved body of the classical guitar I’ve come to know on a spiritual level in my time working here, I question if I’m ready. Am I giving into false confidence that I can climb my way back to where I was when Lithos released our first album?
I poured my heart into those tracks. Two decades-worth of want so potent, it was practically a living, breathing entity.
To think I have the success now but can’t produce…it’s a special kind of mental hell.
My confidence flags as I pick up the guitar and wander into the recording room.
No, we’re not going to spiral out.
Planting my ass on a stool, I’m prepared to slaughter my worry for the future and fight for my dream.
I pick up where I left off in Liam’s music room earlier, finding peace in the way the notes fill up the empty space around me. My right hand is in sync with my head for once as my left glides along the frets, tapping and bending strings .
It’s going to be a good day.
Everything feels good.
I fall deeper into the sound, letting it guide me. I don’t force anything, and what results is a song filled with more emotion than I ever thought possible for me to produce.
About to play through it again, movement in the studio has me startling. I glance up and see Liam braced against the recording room door frame. Natural light pours in behind him.
Is it morning already?
“It sounds good, Beau.”
I drag a hand through my hair and blow out a breath I feel like I’ve been holding for years. “Maybe.”
Dark eyes flash. “Will you let me prove it to you?”
My heart kicks with an extra beat. When I told him I’d like to record something, I wasn’t expecting it to be this soon.
Liam strides into the recording room. Picking up two microphones, he positions one near the guitar and the other in front of my face. After fitting me with a pair of headphones, he moves behind the glass window in the control room.
This isn’t the first time I’ve experienced the soul-deep burn of his gaze, but the pressure to perform for a man who creates absolute art has doubt sharpening its blades.
We haven’t even started recording, and I’m already choking. It was so much easier to hide behind Noah and let him take the lead. Now, I’m up front and center. I’m exposed. A raw nerve for the poking.
“Beau.” Liam’s firm voice through the headphones snaps me to attention.
“Shit. Sorry. You wouldn’t happen to have a pack of smokes lying around, would you? ”
His frown is proof I’m fucking this up. Groaning, I tug on the roots of my hair. It’s at an awkward length where it’s curling at the ends, but it’s not long enough to pull back.
I’ve been floating in this strange gray area of existence for a while now. Self-care things like haircuts have fallen to the bottom of my priority list.
“I’m wasting your time.” I deflate.
When Liam vanishes from the window, I prepare for him to kick me out. It’s obvious I’m not worthy of this opportunity.
The recording room door opens, and Liam walks in, no trace of irritation in his expression. He reaches for the guitar and sets it aside. Then he moves between my legs, gently sliding the headphones off me.
I forget how to breathe in his presence. I don’t think he understands the effect he has on me. How he makes my hands tremble and my pulse race.
Guiding me off the stool, he maneuvers my body until my back is pressed against the wall. His mouth meets mine in a crushing kiss, and lightning sizzles through my body, waking my cock right the fuck up. I slide my hands up his shirt, doing my best to match his sudden, aggressive energy.
“What’s it going to take to help you relax?” he murmurs, sinking his teeth into my jaw.
“This.” I gasp. “You. Us .”
He works his mouth back to mine. Our tongues tangle as one of his hands moves down to grip my ass and tug me closer.
“Fuck. Liam ,” I whine.
His other hand wraps around my neck, right under my jaw, tilting my head back. When he licks my Adam’s apple, I almost slump to the floor.
Why is that so hot?
He slides a knee between my legs to keep me upright, but all this does is put more pressure on my erection. I moan and grind my hips against him as my hands explore the hard ridges of his abs. Gliding my hands higher, I tease his pebbled nipples. His answering growl rumbles through my entire body.
Suddenly, he tears his body away. I reach for him like I’m tumbling over the edge of a cliff.
His pupils have swallowed up the rings of dark brown. “Office. Now .”
“Office. Yeah. Yes .”
Breaking into a jog, I clutch a hand to my erection to keep it from bobbing in the loose fabric of my pants.
Liam’s on me the second I make it to his office. With a hard shove, he sends me tumbling into his leather desk chair. I mumble curses as he drops to his knees in front of me.
What have I done to earn his attention? What planets or stars have aligned in my skies? Last night I snuggled with him in his bed alongside a beautiful, sweet woman. And now he’s here, kneeling for me like I’m some kind of higher being.
Inked fingers slide up my thighs. He hooks them under my shirt, dragging it up just enough to sneak his fingers under the waistband of my pants.
“No underwear, Beau?” he murmurs.
My stomach muscles quiver, and I squirm in the chair. “Like to live dangerously.”
“That you do, trouble.” His hand dips under my waistband to grip my erection.
I drop my head back and shut my eyes. “That feels good.”
Giving me a few more slow, decadent strokes, he tugs at my pants. “Ass up. Tired of waiting. Your pretty, pierced cock belongs in my mouth.”
I buck up fast enough to have him grinning. He drags my sweats down to mid-thigh, and a touch of nerves hits me at the thought that this man could have anyone he wants. He has Stasi, for god’s sake. Why would he want a failing musician with an aversion to the gym?
“Shirt, too,” Liam orders. “You’re too fucking sexy to be covered up.”
“You first. Want to see you.”
Liam raises a brow, and my heart stumbles over a beat, imagining him bending me over his desk and smacking a palm to my bare ass.
Yeah . I might be into that.
After he pulls off his shirt, I clumsily remove mine. As I lean back in the chair again, he stares down hungrily at the shine of precum leaking from my slit. I bite my lip, squirming as he lowers his head to lick it up. He runs his tongue slowly along my shaft before he sucks me into his mouth.
Chaotic words tumble out of me. Demands. Praises. Curses. I’m not even aware of everything I’m saying, only that he’s sucking my dick like he doesn’t have a gag reflex.
“Gonna come,” I say through gritted teeth.
Liam hums around my cock, and I explode, pulsing into his mouth with several unhinged groans. He doesn’t waste a drop. He swallows what I have to give him, leaving me boneless and breathing heavily.
Sitting back on his heels, Liam’s dark eyes glint. I’ve never seen anyone so poised after a blow job. He gracefully rises, brushing his fingers along my jaw.
He could ask me for the world, and I’d do everything in my power to give it to him.
“Let me do you,” I beg.
His hand moves to his belt buckle and unhooks it. “You’ve got ten minutes until staff show up.”
I grin, licking my lips. “Love me a good challenge.”