Chapter 24
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR
Dropping the car off was as easy as picking it up had been. The person behind the counter, an older gentleman this time, didn’t blink at his name. He processed the paperwork, took payment, and off Zavier went.
Getting back into the hotel, however, was another thing entirely.
While it had been easy enough to sneak out via a fire exit and an alley behind the hotel, getting back in required him entering through the lobby.
Zavier tried to play it cool, tried to breeze into the hotel and to the elevators, but the press and paparazzi were there and they were on him in a heartbeat.
He was glad he’d added ten minutes to the estimate he’d given Ray, because the phones and recorders shoved into his face seemed as dangerous as knives. He backed away, hands held up defensively. “I don’t have anything to say.”
The questions that came were pretty much what he expected: What happened? How was Ray? What was he doing? Did he have any comment about Carl? Was he still part of Twisted Wishes?
He fought his way to the elevators, head and heart pounding. That last question? Hit home a little. Technically, he wasn’t part of Twisted Wishes at all. Ray said he was, but legally? Nope. On the outside, looking in.
Very much like he’d been the night of the release party.
He pushed through the reporters as they photographed him, shouted questions, and tried to get him to say anything that would make a good sound bite.
“No fucking comment,” he muttered.
Thankfully an elevator was just opening as he got to the bank.
He stepped in, and turned around just on the other side of the door.
“Don’t try it,” he said to the guy who looked like he might push past Zavier and into the car, too.
“Leave it alone, guys. I’m sure there will be an official statement soon enough. ”
With that, the doors slid closed. He pressed the button for their floor and stepped back until his ass hit the car wall.
Shit. Off balance and angry was not how he wanted to reenter Ray’s life, and the elevator ride was not nearly enough time to shake off the crowd of rabid reporters.
But here he was, with the doors opening on their floor.
He stepped out of the car and took a breath.
A moment later, a security guy he hadn’t noticed stood up from a nearby chair.
“Can I help you?” Dude crossed his arms, and his muscles bulged.
Wow. Okay. Made sense. This wasn’t the normal band security, though. “I’m Zavier Demos. The drummer.”
Guy didn’t move. “Got ID?”
God, did he really have to do this? He knew it was a precaution. Likely the security company didn’t know who the fuck they were by sight. But he so didn’t need this right now. He pulled out his driver’s license and handed it over.
In his mind, he turned over that shouted question. Are you still part of Twisted Wishes?
Security dude looked over his license, then made a call on his phone. “Got a guy here who says he’s with the band.” He rattled off Zavier’s name.
With the band. With. The word cut into him, even as he chided himself at his reaction. He was reading too much into everything. Too many hours in his head, not enough of them asleep.
After a moment, the guy straightened. “Right.” He hung up and gave the license back. “Sorry about that, Mr. Demos. Go right ahead.”
See?
He tucked his license away and headed down the hall to their room. He keyed himself into the closer of the two doors—and when he entered, there was no Ray. The bedspread was rumbled to hell, and there were playing cards scattered on top.
So, his room had become the hangout. Which meant the other room hopefully held Ray.
When he got to the threshold between the rooms, the adjoining door was open slightly. He pushed it open, gripped the frame, and his breath caught in his lungs.
The light was soft in the room, and Ray was naked and kneeling on his heels, eyes closed, in front of an empty chair.
His blond hair was wet and dark, and drops of water beaded on his shoulders.
His breathing was slow and his smile beatific, and every toy from Zavier’s duffle had been artfully arranged on the bed.
It was like a kinky rendition of some artistic masterpiece. A sculpture of an angel on his knees beneath a still-life banquet of erotic choices. His willing, submissive partner.
Ray flicked his eyes open and turned his head to meet Zavier’s gaze. No words.
There didn’t need to be any.
This man knows me better than anyone has ever known me. No other partner had ever had the forethought to think about Zavier’s needs. Zavier’s desires. And maybe that was something else he never considered—that what he and Ray had went in both directions.
He crossed to Ray and touched that damp head of hair. “I can’t possibly use all of those on you tonight.”
Ray leaned his head against Zavier’s leg, but other than that didn’t break his posture one bit. “I know. Pick what you want and use those, then.”
Zavier traced his finger down Ray’s cheek. “Oh, I will.”
A sigh and a shudder, then silence.
Perfect. He stepped past Ray and took a seat in the chair. “I need this part more than you do tonight, I think. But forehead on my shoes, Ray, and hands at the small of your back.”
Ray complied beautifully, and the arch of his spine was like art.
Zavier palmed his hardening dick through his jeans, closed his eyes, and let his breathing and body still.
His need for Ray didn’t abate, but all the worries, all the fears nibbling at his mind vanished.
What filled the void was warmth. Contentment.
No. He opened his eyes and studied Ray, his supplicant pose, his stillness. More than that. Joy.
Zavier spoke. “Up, please.”
Ray sat up, his hands still tucked at the small of his back. God, that grin.
“I had never felt so much fear as that moment you fell into my arms at the party.”
Ray’s smile slipped away. “I don’t remember. It’s—” He struggled, shifting on his knees. “I hate that part. Not remembering.”
Zavier nodded. “I’d want to know, too.”
“I’m sorry I scared you.”
He leaned forward and brushed a lock of Ray’s hair off his forehead. “You weren’t at fault. And it wasn’t just the fear of losing you—it was the utter helplessness. There was nothing I could do.”
For a moment, Ray’s gaze turned inward, and he nodded. “I should—we should—figure out the legal stuff. Power of attorney, all that.” He met Zavier’s gaze again. “If that’s what you want.”
It was. They were already tangled together.
Better to tidy things up legally. They could pool resources.
Find a place to live. Ray’s idea was a good one, but Zavier had a better plan, one with more protections for the both of them.
One he’d never thought he’d ever suggest to another person.
“There’s a far easier way to handle the legal end of things than power of attorney.
If you’re agreeable to something a little longer lasting. ”
Confusion for a long moment, then Ray’s eyes widened and he stared. Finally he opened his lips and spoke carefully. “It’s more customary for the person proposing marriage to be the one kneeling, you know.”
Zavier rose and loomed over Ray. “I like this better.” He threaded his hands into Ray’s hair. “And I think you do, too.” He yanked. Hard.
A gasp and a swallowed moan. “Yeah. I do. It’s us.”
Exactly. “So?”
“Yes. Please marry me.”
Good. So good. A weight lifted off his shoulders. Ray would be his.
Another thought followed—he’d be as equally Ray’s. A little vertigo flew through him, and he loosened his hold on Ray’s hair.
“You give me hope, Ray.”
Ray furrowed his brow. “How so?”
“I’ve spent most of my life under the assumption that no one would ever come close to understanding who I am.” He gave a huff of a laugh. “And here you are.”
A little shrug of the shoulders. “But this is who we are. You and me. And I don’t understand everything. But I—I care, Zav. I want you to be happy.”
Ray wanted him to be happy. Ray cared. Zavier turned that over in his head and cupped Ray’s cheek. Everything about this moment, from Ray kneeling to all the toys on the bed, carved that into his mind. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”
His smile was sly. “Oh, I think I do.”
And maybe he did. Zavier patted Ray’s cheek. “Get the cuffs, all of them, and bring them here. Do not stand to do it.”
Ray’s eyes flickered and his grin widened—and he obeyed beautifully, crawling to the bed, picking up the cuffs and returning. Ray was glowing, eyes bright and face enraptured.
“May I ask for something?” Soft words.
Zavier took the cuffs and set the ones for Ray’s ankle aside for the moment. “Yes.” Because this scene was being run by both of them in some way.
“I’d like to bring you the collar, too.”
Heat chased ice chased heat through Zavier’s veins, and he shivered. Couldn’t help it. Collaring Ray. He nearly spoke, nearly poised the question. Do you understand what you’re asking? But of course he did.
Ray fucking grinned at him, but said nothing at all.
Zavier’s voice was rough and his dick very, very hard. “Yes. Get it and bring it here.”
A few seconds later, he was holding the leather collar in his hands. A significant moment. He gazed at Ray, who seemed to be trying very hard not to laugh.
“What?” Zavier fingered the collar.
Ray’s face was joy. “I never see you like this. And I’m so fucking happy, I could fly.”
Zavier parsed the second sentence before the first, since the first made no sense. “We’ve played this game before. You’ve seen me over you before.”
The joy remained, but Ray’s smile fell to an intense seriousness Zavier had only seen on him when he talked music. “We’re not playing a game.”