Chapter 17
IAIN
Ialways slept in fits and starts, so I wasn’t surprised when I woke up to a darkened bedroom. I’d probably only been out for three or four hours.
What was shocking?
I was in bed with my bodyguard.
And I hated sharing a bed with anyone—especially the guy who had ruined my libido for anyone else.
To top it all off, I wasn’t just lying beside him, but I was wrapped around his body, holding on to him like he was one of my prized guitars. I was a possessive motherfucker when it came to the rare things I loved.
Not that I loved Dawson.
That would be reckless on a level I’d yet to achieve.
Lifting my head off his chest, I stared up at his face, and memories of the night before began to flicker in my mind.
I remembered the club. And drinking a lot of tequila and champagne, and fuck, I reeked of both.
I’d been dancing with a few guys, and then Dawson had walked off.
I’d tried following him, but Lennie stopped me.
Then, I headed back to the hotel with the cute bartender, but I ended up alone.
Knocking on Dawson’s door, we had another argument.
He pinned me to the wall and, fuck, I liked that memory a lot, as evidenced by my now fully erect cock.
Then I admitted to Dawson that he was fucking with my head. Did I tell him he was the only one I wanted?
Shit. Way to make things awkward, Iain.
I should roll away, get up, and go back to my room. Forget last night ever happened.
But I didn’t.
Because a part of me deep inside that had been cold for so long was now a fucking inferno.
And no one could be more shocked than me.
Like my band brothers, I liked to fuck and hit the road, so to speak.
Well, Brodie used to. Now, he was magnetized to Van.
But me? I didn’t enjoy sleepovers.
I’d had enough of that early on in our career when the guys and I had to share crowded buses and shitty motels.
Now, I liked my space. I was a restless sleeper anyway.
So why, then, didn’t I get up? Walk away.
Why did I want to lie here and stay? With Dawson?
“Stop angsting and go back to sleep.”
The sudden interruption of Dawson’s deep voice had goosebumps popping up all over my skin.
Normally, him telling me what to do would result in me telling him to fuck off, or some variation, and then doing the opposite.
So why did I get a primal thrill when he did it here and now?
Being in his bed made me realize there might be some orders I wouldn’t mind taking. Preferably when the two of us were naked.
I placed my head back on his chest and listened to the soothing sound of his steady breathing, matching my own. Since I was used to being independent, it was strange for me to take comfort in anyone else.
I closed my eyes again, and the next time I opened them, it was bright in the room.
But I was alone.
Well, not quite. I pushed the heavy curtain of my hair out of my face and looked around, spotting Dawson sitting on the nearby couch, his phone plastered to his ear. In his usual black jeans and T-shirt, his red hair wet, he was barking orders into the phone.
“Did you run that security check? Make it a priority. They’re not getting any backstage passes until they pass the screening, and they keep texting me.”
Pulling the sheet up around me, I inhaled Dawson’s spicy scent, and fucking hell, my morning wood was so hard, it was damn near painful.
I sat up in bed and rubbed the sleep from my eyes, then grabbed Dawson’s pillow and placed it over my lap, willing my cock to calm down.
“I gotta go,” Dawson declared as our eyes met.
He placed his phone on the table in front of him.
Then he stood up and stalked over to me, his eyes running down my covered body in a gaze so heated I’m surprised the sheets didn’t ignite.
“How are you feeling?” he asked as he sat on the edge of the bed near my feet. “There’s water and meds on the table.”
“I’m fine,” I replied, my voice hoarse with sleep. “A bit dehydrated, but surprisingly, no headache.”
Suddenly, I was nervous and awkward like I never was.
What do I say to the man I couldn’t stop thinking about, the one who held me all night long but didn’t make a move?
What in the ever-loving hell was going on?
“I ordered room service, and it should be arriving shortly. Same order as last time; I hope that’s okay?”
I nodded and reached for the glass of water, sipping it slowly to ease the enormous lump in my throat.
“So, are we going to make stilted morning chit-chat or talk about what happened last night?” I finally asked.
Dawson chuckled and shook his head. “I figured I’d let you shower and eat first. You need something to wear off that alcohol.”
“I didn’t have that much. I was still able to talk. And walk. Without falling down, I might add. I can tolerate a lot more than most people.”
“We’ll agree to disagree. It smells like a distillery in here.”
“That’s because I’m pretty sure I dropped a bottle. Somewhere.”
“You did, but luckily, it was almost empty, so there was hardly any spillage.”
“That’s too bad; I enjoy making a mess.”
“Iain—”
God, I loved to tease him.
“Go shower.” Dawson stood up. “I’ve left a pair of my sweats and a T-shirt in the bathroom. We can talk when breakfast arrives. I think we both need caffeine for this conversation.”
“Ouch. You know, I could just slip back into my room, and we could pretend last night never happened.”
Dawson stilled and looked down at me. “Is that what you want?”
I licked my lips and shook my head. “No.”
Did I really just say that?
“Because it’s not too late. And nothing happened.”
“That’s not entirely true.”
I threw the sheet aside, swung my legs over the edge of the bed, and stood up, clad only in my tight black briefs.
Dawson stepped back, hands in his pockets, but not before I heard his sharp inhale.
There was no hiding my hard-on, and yeah, my body liked being in Dawson’s bed. More than liked it. Being anywhere near Dawson was starting to become addictive.
Was this a smart idea? Not in the fucking least.
Did I need to feel his body against mine again?
Oh yes. But more than last night. I wanted to touch and taste and discover every single thing about him. A heated kiss or a quick fuck just wouldn’t do.
I walked around him, but not before trailing my hand over his bare forearm.
Like strumming that first note, one simple touch with Dawson was electric.
“Iain.”
I fucking loved the way he moaned my name. I wanted to hear him say it again; I wanted him to scream my name so loud that everyone around us could hear.
But I kept walking, heading for the bathroom and shutting the door behind me.
I turned on the shower and stripped off my damp briefs. Fuck, we hadn’t even kissed yet, and I was leaking pre-cum like crazy.
Stepping into the glass enclosure, I let the heat of the spray wash over me. As much as I wanted to jerk off, I didn’t. I was gonna hold off as long as I could. Until I had Dawson’s big hand wrapped around my dick.
Ignoring my raging boner and aching balls was no easy feat. Grabbing Dawson’s shampoo, I lathered up and quickly rinsed off, then picked up his bar of soap and finished washing.
When I stepped out of the shower a few minutes later and reached for a towel, I heard voices on the other side of the door and the familiar rattle of the room service trolley.
An unwrapped toothbrush, mouthwash, and a new razor were on the counter.
After gratefully brushing my teeth, I drank another glass of water and then slipped into Dawson’s green sweatpants.
With a “Proudly Philly” logo down the side, they were huge, but I tied the drawstring as tight as I could and rolled up the bottoms.
Then I lathered up my face and shaved off my scruff.
Finally, with a smooth jaw and minty breath, I pulled on the white T-shirt he’d left for me. It was also big, but I liked it. Everything smelled like Dawson. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that wearing another man’s clothes would be something I’d ever want.
God, listen to me.
Whatever was going on here went far beyond my experience. So much so that I didn’t know whether to laugh or freak out again.
Getting naked and getting off with the object of my desire was always my end goal, not this. Cuddling in bed, wearing each other’s clothes, eating together, talking. Talking? I only had experience with the dirty kind, so what the fuck was I gonna say?
A loud knock on the bathroom door startled me out of my headspace.
“Stop freaking out and get your sexy ass moving. Your breakfast is getting cold.”
I yanked on the sliding door to find Dawson standing there, with one hand on the door frame, an easy smile on his full lips. Unlike me, he hadn’t shaved, and the red scruff suited him. He was like a hot mountain man, the bodyguard version.
“Sexy ass?”
Dawson gave me a blatant once-over. “Sexy, gorgeous, delectable. You and your ass. Now hurry up.”
“What’s with the flirting and then bossing me around in the same sentence?”
“Are you complaining?”
I struggled not to smile. “I don’t know. It’s hot when you do it, but if anyone else talked to me like that, in any other situation—”
“Aw, are you saying you have a crush on me?”
“If anyone has a crush, it’s you,” I countered. “You let me use you as a body pillow last night.”
“But I didn’t cop a feel.”
“That’s because I’d been drinking, and you’re a gentleman.”
“You know that word?”
I gently shoved his chest, but he was a solid wall, immovable. His smile faded as we stared at each other.
He bent forward, so close that I just knew he was going to kiss me. A rush of adrenaline coursed through my body, and all my senses heightened. My lips tingled, and he hadn’t even touched me yet.
“You look hot as hell in my clothes,” he whispered against my lips, teasing me.
“Too bad there was no underwear.”
“Oops.”
“Are you going to stand here and just breathe heavy on me or actually kiss me?”
He raised one eyebrow. “What did I say about giving orders?”
“I can’t…remember.”
Dawson smiled, and I held my breath.
“Food first,” he announced and slapped my ass.
Then he walked away.
I stood there in shock until my temper unleashed. He’d flipped the table on me again.
“Did you seriously just turn down a kiss from me for food?”
“Your rockstar ego is showing. Sit. Eat. Kissing will come later.”
“Kissing will not be happening at all! Ever!” I snapped.
Dawson laughed and poured two cups of coffee. He added brown sugar and cream to one, then held it out to me.
“And I can fix my own damned coffee,” I growled as I walked over to grab it.
“I know. But I enjoy taking care of you.”
My hand shook when he passed me the cup, and I nearly spilled the entire thing.
He enjoyed taking care of me?
My racing heart told me I didn’t mind it so much, either. The fuck?
He stood up again and guided me over to the sofa. “Sit down and relax, sweetheart.”
I flushed hot, sweat breaking out all over my body.
“That’s it.” I slammed the cup down on the table, the coffee sloshing over the rim. “What the hell, Dawson? I’m not your sweetheart.”
“Not yet.”
The confidence in his voice had me shivering. “Are you drunk?”
He shook his head and sipped his coffee, calm as can be. “Nope.”
“Am I?”
“Not anymore.”