Chapter 10
Chapter ten
Drake
Spring Fires was a mix of punk and alt, a good blend of what I was looking for to headline the fire station fundraiser. Sure, a show might scare away some of the folks who normally attended the spaghetti dinners, but Chief had wanted me to shake things up a bit.
I ran my fingers through my hair for the thousandth time since I’d arrived at the venue.
I’d only been here for half an hour, early enough that the first band was still setting up.
A few counties over, the music hall here wasn’t a huge drive but had good draw from the Main Line, despite being smaller.
The lights were already dimmed, and I loitered by the bar with the beer I’d grabbed.
I wasn’t nervous for the band, and I’d attended a dozen and one shows by my lonesome.
However, I’d invited my sister’s ex to come here with me, and I also wanted to fuck him again something fierce.
Which was all sorts of wrong. I scrubbed at my face. Fuck, I needed to talk to Serena, at least get a vibe off her to see how attached she’d been. She wasn’t languishing over the breakup or anything, but still. Sticking my dick in her ex pretty much broke the sibling code.
Yet August had been all I could think about for a week straight.
The rapture in his gaze when he’d sucked my cock, the brightness in his features.
The goofy way he rambled about the weirdest topics.
His tousled blond hair, the tattoos decorating his lithe limbs.
Yeah, the guy was a stunner, but I also felt insanely comfortable around him. Which was a rarity.
The first band, Dumpster Toilet, launched into thrash punk, the discordant sound echoing through the place.
People were trickling in, some taking the seats lined around the perimeter, others flooding to the center floor to watch.
The lights flashed on stage, and the music boomed, and I settled back against the wall in the spot I’d claimed.
The pressure to succeed in this fundraiser had started to creep in.
Not that Mom or Dad made me feel like I had anything to prove, but both Serena and Blair were effortlessly impossible to live up to.
Serena was a lawyer, and Blair was in her residency as a doctor.
Cream of the crop careers. Meanwhile, I had leapt straight into being a firefighter, which, while solid, didn’t have the same prestige.
And the odd hours had scared many a guy away.
I didn’t mind hooking up, but lately, I’d been craving something real. I hadn’t realized how badly until I met August. He was so genuine with his responses and reactions, and I craved spending time with him in a way I hadn’t around anyone for a long while.
Pure trouble.
Dumpster Toilet counted off, then launched into their next song, another erratic tune that I wasn’t vibing with.
The band name fit the music. Going to small shows like this was always fun though, because you ended up with stories regardless.
I chugged a little more of my beer, finishing off the dregs.
They had a good variety on tap, this one spicy and hoppy.
I strode back to the bar and placed the glass on the counter.
“Drake?”
I whipped around to spot the exact person I’d been waiting for.
August strode up to me, looking fine as fuck.
His blond hair was tamed, and he wore a black tank top that exposed more of the tats along his arms and torso.
The camo pants clung to his thighs, making me want to peel them off him.
His hand was still raised in a wave, a bright smile on his face that lit his features. My pulse thrummed.
“Let me buy you a beer,” I said as he approached. “I was planning on another anyway.”
He shook his head. “When are you going to let me buy?”
I shrugged. “You’re cute. Let me handle it.”
August’s lips twitched in a grin. “So cute’s the stipulation for free drinks?”
“Well, and willing to weather these concerts with me.” I wrinkled my nose as Dumpster Toilet hit a loud crescendo.
“Yeah, uh,” he said, casting a quick glance at the stage. “They’re enthusiastic at least.”
A bark of a laugh escaped me. “That’s one way of putting it.”
The bartender circled around to us, and I ordered two beers before returning my attention to August. He stood close enough to me that I could reach out and touch him, and the urge to lean in and claim his lips roared inside me.
It had killed me not getting to touch and taste him when we’d run into each other at Fun-Guy, but he’d been there with his parents. And we hadn’t discussed anything.
Like the fact we’d met over my sister.
Who he’d dated.
I sucked in a sharp breath, trying not to notice the whiff of amber and antiseptic, an odd combination that was uniquely him.
With him so close to me, all sense flew out the window, and when the bartender swung back with our drinks, I stepped a little nearer to hand him his, making sure our fingers brushed.
A zing rippled through me. His breath puffed against me, his eyes widening, and I bit my lower lip, forcing myself back.
Damn, I wanted to kiss him again.
“We are Dumpster Toilet,” the lead singer called out. “Thank you, and good night!”
A ripple of claps rang out, as well as a few hoots. August and I shared a glance and smirked. God, it was fucking fun being here with him.
The band started to move their equipment, which meant Spring Fires should be next.
I placed my hand on August’s shoulder and tipped my head in the direction of the wall, so we could grab a closer spot.
Problem was, once I touched him, I didn’t want to stop.
He looked up at me with those fuck-me eyes and lush lips, and goddamn.
He licked his lips, and I was about to combust.
The need rose high in me, and I threw hesitation out the window.
I grabbed August by the shirt and tugged him forward as I backed up against the wall. His chest crashed against mine, and he opened his mouth, the question clear in his eyes.
I answered him with a kiss.
He melted against me like he belonged there, his palm resting on my chest. I drove my tongue into his mouth, deepening the kiss, savoring the spicy, crisp taste of the beer we’d drunk.
My head spun from the sheer force of kissing him, the chemistry between us undeniable.
I didn’t have a hard time getting along with people, but rarely was the connection this effortless.
Being around him was like soaking in the rays of the summer sun.
My cock woke up at our proximity, at the way his chest, his hips, pressed against mine.
His body was hard and warm and begging to be explored thoroughly.
My pulse sped at the thought of getting to take him apart with my tongue, my teeth.
When had I experienced an intense fixation like this before?
Not in a damn long while, that was for sure.
I savored his lips against mine, the way awareness crackled through me. He moaned, the vibration humming against my mouth. Fuuuck. I wanted to bury my cock inside him. His length nudged against my thigh, signaling I wasn’t the only one affected.
The whine of the microphone split the air. “You all ready to start some fires?”
Fire? I yanked back from August, my adrenaline kicking in before my gaze landed on the band that had arrived on the stage while we’d been making out.
Spring Fires.
My fucking god. I let out a groan and scrubbed my face.
“Look, it’s your calling card, fire boy.” August snorted, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “Were you ready to dash off for an extinguisher?”
“Shut up,” I muttered, the sound muffled with my palms on my face. Clearly, I’d been working as a firefighter for too long. But seriously, shouting fire in a venue wasn’t the smartest plan.
My brain whirred. Wait, maybe we could work that into a bit.
If I could even convince them to do the fundraiser show.
The first song kicked off, fast-paced and fun. I found my foot tapping instinctively. I’d checked out their music online ahead of time, and they had a pretty wide range between punk and alt rock. Plus, they were ridiculously talented.
August craned forward. “Is that Ethan?”
“What?” I asked, scanning the stage. The band had a lot of energy, everyone in motion, and the crowd reacted in turn. It was such a dynamic shift between the last act and this one, and I couldn’t help but notice.
“The vocalist,” August said. “I’m pretty sure that’s Ethan.”
“That an ex?” I asked. The guy singing was the quintessential scene guy—black gauges, dark hair, guyliner. Definitely attractive, but he didn’t hold a candle to August. No one had captured my attention like him in a long, long while.
“Nah, a client,” he said, his elbow brushing against mine.
The thrill that rippled through me from the mere touch was incendiary.
All too easily I could imagine finding a dark corner, a bathroom stall, and crowding him up against it, fucking him until he was babbling.
Except something about our last encounter had struck a spark within me, and this fantasy had burned through my brain until it was all I could think about.
And if he came home with me tonight, we’d have the chance to fulfill it.
His words broke through the haze of lust that descended. “Wait, a client of yours? Like you could get me in contact with him?” I asked, then realized how that sounded. “Unless that crosses some lines.”
August shook his head, his blond strands moving with the motion. “Nah, he’s always asking about gigs. These guys would be a great fit for your fundraiser.”
My heart thumped hard. There was an ease to August that I craved, like the languid waves rolling to the shore, so different from the adrenaline I normally chased. He lured me in, like a tether to stop a free fall, and I couldn’t help but text him, make plans, touch him, kiss him. Fuck.
Standing next to him and not having my hands all over him was driving me insane. I wanted to touch him constantly, just to get the feedback loop of electricity that existed between us.
“Yeah, if we could book these guys, I could guaranteed bring in some money to fix up the kitchen.”
August wrinkled his nose. “I think he’s in my book tomorrow. Want me to ask?”
I swallowed hard, trying to tamp down my excitement. Everything about August ticked my boxes—his goofy sense of humor, his insane talent, his calm energy. Two concerts in and we’d wandered far outside of hookup territory.
And I didn’t hate it, even though I should.
“Shit, if you don’t mind,” I said, clutching my nape. The lights flashed as Spring Fires ended their first song, and I let out a holler in appreciation. The crowd lit up with shouts and applause, but the band didn’t even hesitate before launching into their next song.
I inched closer to him, so our shoulders bumped.
August glanced my way, and his breath hitched. Fuck. The urge to kiss him again rose something fierce, but I’d come here to check this band out, not to make out with a hottie.
“What are you doing after the show?” I asked, hedging my bets.
August’s eyes grew a little more intense. “I’m free.”
“Want to come over?” I asked. The tension percolated in the air between us, thick and pervasive. He licked his lips, the light gloss there entrancing.
“Only if I can crash at yours,” he said, an impish grin on his lips.
I couldn’t help the smile that rolled to my lips. “Like I’d let you out of my bed.”