Chapter 12
brODIE
“No.”
“Dee—”
“I said no, Van. That’s it. End of discussion.”
“This came directly from Greg. I don’t have a choice in the matter and neither do you.”
Today was off to a shitastic start.
Last night wasn’t any better. It could’ve been.
If Van and I hadn’t been interrupted…
Fuck, when Van grabbed hold of me in that club and teased the skin on my lower back, I nearly came in my lace underwear.
He was about to kiss me, and I was more than ready for it.
Fucking hell, I just about had a heart attack, and we’d done nothing but brush our hips together.
Then we were whisked out of the club by Dawson, and my attention pivoted to Holls.
Despite my friend’s assurances that he was okay after his scuffle, I could see that the incident had shaken him up. I stayed with him on the ride back, but he insisted he was fine. Holls hugged me after we exited and assured me that all he needed was aspirin and a good night’s sleep.
Van was on his phone per usual as he exited the SUV at the hotel. He looked irritated and stressed.
It was late and we all needed rest, so, like a mature rock star, off I went to my own room. Alone.
Frustration didn’t begin to cover it.
All I really wanted to do was to knock on Van’s hotel room door, shove him onto that king-sized bed, and show him that these lips were made for his. They were gonna rock his fucking world, pun intended.
I was going to give him all the pleasure. I was going to ruin him for anyone else.
Admittedly, I had a rockstar ego.
But I came by it honestly.
The same couldn’t be said about Greg Haddley.
Since when did I need to hire a fucking date for an event? And making Van organize this? It pissed me off on so many levels. And more so because Van acted like it was no big deal and I should just acquiesce. (I’m not just a pretty face; I know big words.)
“I’ll agree to it, but only if you can be my date,” I replied, smiling at Van.
We were huddled around the coffee table in my suite, the remnants of breakfast and coffee mugs littering the space.
I hadn’t slept enough. I’d hardly slept at all.
As soon as I entered my suite last night, I yanked down my underwear and wanked off to the thought of finally slipping my tongue deep inside Van’s mouth.
I pictured him lying on his back as I made my way down his body.
The visual was so clear, so sexy, that I worked my dick furiously, using pre-cum and spit as lube.
Van would devour me with those denim blues of his and groan out my name.
With only a couple of tugs on my throbbing dick, I was there. I came all over my hand, my kilt, the rug.
Then I passed out on my bed and woke up at nine.
To a knock on my door and a weary looking Van on the other side of it.
Hungover, cranky, and hungry as hell, I let Van in. But all my irritation vanished as I took in the concerned expression on his face.
I ordered room service and took a quick shower while Van worked on his phone.
Okay, maybe the shower wasn’t so quick. I did manage to jerk off again under the heated spray of the water.
Hey, the man I was lusting over for what seemed like forever was in my hotel room, looking sleep-rumpled and sexy. Can you blame me?
An hour later, with full bellies and caffeinated veins, Van sprung the news on me.
And I, to say the least, was not taking it well.
Fucking Greg.
“You know I can’t do that, Brodie, come on. I’ve got a shitload of stuff on my plate for this event,” Van snapped and passed over his phone. “Here’s the list of possible dates Greg sent. Review their pictures and profiles and let me know which one you… want.”
Van looked as happy about this as I did, a dark scowl on his face.
“None of them,” I answered without looking at his offered phone. “I want none of them.”
“It’s just for show. And when the head of the label tells you to do something, you do it.”
“What’s he going to do if I say no? You think he’s gonna threaten me?
Or the rest of the guys? I don’t fucking think so.
Fans are already clamoring for our next album, our next tour.
How many tens of millions did we make for him this year alone?
We’re the ones paying his fucking mortgages, not to mention the alimony for his four ex-wives.
He should be kissing my ass, not threatening it. ”
Van burst out laughing, and the deep, husky sound filled me with a happiness I couldn’t explain.
It was just the best sound in the world.
The crinkles at the corners of his eyes deepened, and that dimple in his cheek made an appearance.
I drank in the sight of him like an addict needing my fix.
God, did he know how fucking beautiful he was? I wanted to see him laugh every goddamn day.
“How about you do it for me, then? Since I don’t want to get fired,” Van replied as he rubbed a hand over his jaw.
He hadn’t bothered shaving this morning, and I was a fucking fan. I wanted that scruff on my face, my nipples, my thighs… and shit, so much for the morning wank session.
“I’ll agree to it on one condition.”
“You don’t need to barter to get me to spend the day with you. I’m here, aren’t I?”
I leaned forward on my elbows. “I thought this was a business breakfast.”
“It is, but it’s also you and me. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be. I could’ve just called or texted.”
Van raised one eyebrow, and I nodded in return.
“So, what are we doing sitting in this hotel room? We’ve got a city to explore.”
If I wanted to convince Van that taking a chance on me, on us, was worth the risk it entailed, I needed to show him that I was all in.
And not just in a horizontal way.
Not that I didn’t think about that every moment of the day, but there was more to him and me than sexual chemistry.
Much, much more.
I got up and held out my hand, hoping, please, God, just fucking take my hand.
I watched the expressions flitting over his face—the nervous way he licked his lips, the movement of his throat when he swallowed hard, the slight trembling in his hand when he placed his phone in his pocket.
Finally, he reached out, placing his palm against mine.
All my senses electrified. Like that first moment when I walked on stage—the buzz, the anticipation, the fever—it was the best feeling ever.
“First up, more coffee and beignets,” I declared as Van stood. “Then, a tour of the French Quarter and lunch at a hidden place that only locals know about. An afternoon at a jazz club on Bourbon Street. Oh, and an authentic Creole dinner, somewhere intimate.”
“That sounds amazing,” Van replied as he pulled me in close, our hips and thighs touching.
No more caffeine was necessary. I was wide awake now.
“But we’ll have Dawson with us. And you’ll need to wear a disguise or something.”
I nodded. “Don’t you have a baseball cap I could borrow? The one you wear when we’re on tour. It’s got a red and blue logo. I like it.”
“My Expos cap? Yeah, I have it with me. It… it belonged to my dad. He was a baseball fanatic, especially when Montreal had a major league team. I take that cap with me everywhere.”
Van’s eyes welled up, but he quickly blinked away his tears.
“He’s always with you.”
“He is.”
I gripped his waist, the heated muscles quivering under my palm. I slid my hand around to rest on his lower back and pulled him in even tighter. God, being this close to him was already making this the best day ever.
“This okay?” I asked.
“More than,” he admitted, his deep blues filled with a longing I recognized.
He reached up and cupped my face.
“I’ve never… I mean… with a man.” He shook his head. “I think I’m bisexual or pansexual. I’m not sure. But I’ve never been with a man. Never kissed one, nothing. I thought maybe I’m too old, but here we are.”
“You’re never too old. It’s just like singing,” I murmured as we shared the same breath. “You don’t always know what you’re gonna sound like or if you’re gonna hit those notes, but you gotta try.”
“I’m nervous as fuck.”
His hands were trembling. I turned my head and brushed my lips against his palm.
“I know. We take this at your pace; there’s no rush.”
“Why me? You could have anyone. Like one of those models Greg wants you to be seen with.”
Van practically growled, his blue eyes darkening. It gave me enormous satisfaction.
“Stop right there. I’m here with you,” I squeezed his waist and moved in closer. “Why do you think I haven’t been with anyone else in ages? Even the guys have noticed my lack of a sex life. Hell, Greg, too, and that’s why he suggested the ‘date,’ right?”
Van’s face flushed, and the color suited him. “No one? For how long?”
“Eleven months and thirteen, no, fourteen long fucking days.”
“What?”
Van practically shouted, his eyes widening.
“Hush, that’s between you and me and this hotel room. I don’t want to ruin my rock star reputation.”
“Are you serious?”
I cocked my head. “Would I joke about something like not having sex in almost a year?”
“No wonder you were extra cranky on tour.”
I glared at him, but it had no effect.
He just smiled at me like he knew a secret. Well, he did now.
“The one and done is… done. I need more. I need a sexy man who challenges me in and out of the bedroom. AKA you,” I insisted.
“We haven’t even kissed yet; how do you know it’s gonna be good between us?”
I rolled my eyes and licked my lips. “Please, I know you. You’re thorough about everything. Intense, talented, passionate.”
Van’s cheeks were bright red.
In all the years we’d worked together, I’d never seen him blush, not with anyone. I loved that only I could make him flush like that.
“Come on. It’s a beautiful fall day. The sun is shining and we’ve got a moment to ourselves. Let’s go have fun,” I encouraged, trying for a lighter tone.
I was all in to take things slow, but we needed to get the hell out of this hotel room and away from the temptation of that nearby bed before I taught Van a lesson he was not yet ready to learn.
Van nodded. “Let me text Dawson.”
He stepped out of the circle of my arms and I reluctantly let him go.
It was gonna be difficult to stop myself from touching Van now that I knew I wasn’t the only one in over my head. His admission was just what I needed to hear.
He wanted me.
And sooner or later, when we finally took that first step together, it wasn’t just his world that was gonna blow up. It was mine.
In that, I had no doubt.