Chapter 7 Asher
Jared and I retired to the luxurious hotel suite the label had sprung for. The hotel room was a welcome oasis of calm after the frenzied energy of the concert, all muted tones and plush furnishings that practically begged to be sunk into. I shouldered through the door with a groan, my guitar case banging against my hip as I fumbled for the light switch.
I deposited my guitar by the door and made a beeline for the bed closest to the window. The mattress gave a decadent little bounce as I flopped onto it face-first, the sheets cool against my cheek.
"Dibs," I mumbled into the duvet, my voice muffled by the plush fabric. Behind me, I heard Jared chuckle.
"Aren't you a little old for calling dibs? What's next, a pillow fort and lights-out by nine?"
I lifted my head just enough to shoot him a baleful glare, which he returned with a smirk.
Smartass.
"You're never too old for dibs," I informed him. "It's the law of the jungle. And if you're nice to me, I might even share my animal crackers later."
He rolled his eyes, but I could see the way his mouth twitched, fighting a smile. "Careful, rockstar. You keep spoiling me like that, I might start getting ideas above my station."
"Can't have that," I agreed, rolling onto my back and lacing my hands behind my head. "Next thing you know, you'll be demanding piggyback rides to the bus and making me check under the bed for monsters."
That startled a laugh out of him, bright and unguarded. Something in my chest squeezed tight at the sight.
Luckily, Jared chose that moment to stretch, the hem of his shirt riding up to reveal a sliver of taut, tanned skin at his waist. I swallowed hard, my mouth going abruptly dry as I imagined putting my mouth there. Tracing the cut of his hip with my tongue, nuzzling into the trail of dark hair disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans.
Jesus, get a grip, Asher. The man was just stretching, not putting on a private peep show for my benefit. I really needed to get laid if a glimpse of skin was enough to send me spiraling into X-rated fantasies.
Or maybe I just needed to stop mooning over my straight bodyguard, pining for something I couldn't have. Something I had no business even wanting, given the radioactive mess my life had become.
Jared deserved better than to be sucked into my orbit, spat out mangled on the other side. He'd already seen too much, gotten too close to the swirling vortex of self-loathing I carried in my chest.
Sure, he'd been kind about it so far, endlessly patient and understanding in the face of my meltdowns. But everyone had a limit.
And with my track record? It was only a matter of time before I found his. Before I pushed too hard or asked for too much, and watched him recoil in disgust, in weary resignation, just like everyone else.
The thought made something vicious and aching twist behind my ribs. Hating myself for the weakness, for the needy, grasping part of me that wanted to burrow in Jared's arms and take up permanent residence. That craved his touch, his attention, his unwavering focus like a drug.
God, I needed to cut it out. Needed to find some way to shove this inconvenient crush back into its box where it couldn't fuck up the one good thing I had going. The one person who'd seen the worst of me and hadn't gone running for the hills.
Yet, whispered a traitorous voice in the back of my head: He hasn't gone running yet.
Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I pushed to my feet with a dramatic groan. "Dibs on first shower," I announced, snagging my toiletry bag from my suitcase. "Try not to pine for me too hard while I'm gone."
Jared, in the midst of unlacing his boots, flipped me off without looking up. "Take your time, princess. Just try not to use up all the hot water jerking it to your own reflection."
I squawked indignantly, heat flooding my cheeks even as a reluctant laugh bubbled up my throat. "Fuck you, I do not-"
"Uh huh, sure. I've seen your hair routine, Rapunzel. No shame in the vanity game." He shot me a wink, eyes glinting with mischief. "I'll just be out here, counting the seconds until your glorious return."
"Asshole," I muttered, with no real heat. Before he could retort, I whisked myself into the bathroom and shut the door with a decisive click.
Minutes later, I slung a towel around my waist and reached for the doorknob, bracing myself for another around of talking in circles, saying everything but what I really wanted to, needed to .
Another night of lying awake until the small hours, staring at the ceiling and trying to convince myself I wasn't imagining the weight of his gaze on my skin. The phantom heat of his body inches from mine, radiating temptation like a furnace.
I was so lost in my own bleak thoughts, that I completely forgot Jared's earlier claim on the second shower.
So when I stepped out of the bathroom, still damp and flushed, I found myself face to face with Jared, in all his naked, dripping wet glory.
There was really no preparing for that. No bracing yourself for the sheer, overwhelming reality of all that toned skin, the acres of it on display without a stitch of clothing to obstruct the view.
I'd seen Jared shirtless before, of course. Hard not to, given the hours he spent in the gym and the casual way he treated his body, stripping down unselfconsciously in locker rooms and backstage areas alike.
But this was something else entirely. This was Jared fresh from the shower, steam still curling around him. Jared with water tracing the stark ridges of his abdomen, pooling in the divots of his hipbones. Jared displaying the thick, powerful muscles of his thighs.
My mouth went dry as I drank him in, my eyes tracking greedily over every inch of exposed skin. The broad, perfect expanse of his chest, dusted with crisp dark hair. The roped, corded muscle of his arms, his shoulders. The tantalizing trail of hair leading from his navel to his cock.
I wanted to follow that trail with my fingertips, my tongue. Wanted to map every ridge and valley of him, learn the texture and taste of his skin until I could recreate it from memory alone.
I wanted him under me, over me, any way I could get him. Wanted to feel all that coiled strength and power bearing down on me, holding me together even as it took me apart.
Dimly, I registered that I was staring - gawking, really, my jaw practically on the floor as I ate him alive with my eyes. But I couldn't seem to stop, couldn't tear my gaze away from the feast laid out before me. It was like trying to look away from the sun, or an oncoming train. Futile and mesmerizing in equal measure.
And then Jared turned, one hand coming up to sweep his dripping hair back from his face, and caught me dead in my tracks, his eyes widening as they met mine.
For a moment, we just stared at each other, frozen in place like figures in a tableau. I could feel the heat flooding my cheeks, the tips of my ears, a mortified flush spreading all the way down my chest. My tongue sat heavy and useless in my mouth.
I couldn't force my lips to move, couldn't wrench my eyes away from the riveting sight of him. I could’ve sworn I saw something flicker in his gaze.
Something hot and hungry, a spark of unmistakable want flaring to life in those depths. It was there and gone in an instant, so quick I might have imagined it - a trick of the light, or my own fevered projections.
"I, uh. I was just looking for..." Frantically, my gaze darted around the room, landing on a random toiletry bag. "Floss! I was looking for floss."
Jared's other eyebrow crept up to join the first. He looked pointedly at the pack of floss sitting on the counter, easily within my reach.
"Right. Yes. There it is. I'll just get out of your way." Face on fire, I snatched the floss and backed out of the room so fast I nearly tripped over my own feet.
The door snicked shut behind me. I thunked my forehead against it, squeezing my eyes shut. "Smooth, Asher," I muttered. "Real fucking smooth."
It was fine. I was fine. So what if I'd just made a complete ass of myself ogling my extremely straight bodyguard? It wasn't like I'd been harboring secret fantasies of Jared pinning me to the nearest flat surface and having his wicked way with me.
Jared emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, a towel slung low on his hips. I heroically kept my eyes above his collarbones, even as I caught a whiff of his clean, masculine scent.
When he returned again minutes later, he had mercifully donned a pair of low-slung pajama pants. He sprawled on the bed closest to the door, long legs stretched out and arms folded behind his head.
His casual pose only highlighted the defined musculature of his arms, the lean stretch of his torso, and the bulge in his pants. I averted my gaze quickly, my tenuous calm already slipping.
"I don't know about you, but I'm starving," Jared announced. "Room service?"
"God, yes." Food was a safe topic. I could handle talking about food. "I could murder a cheeseburger right now."
As we demolished our burgers and made easy conversation, I started opening up to him in a way I rarely did with anyone.
"When I first started gaining some recognition in the industry, my parents suddenly wanted to be a part of my life again," I said, picking at a stray fry. "They'd kicked me out for being gay, but the second I had a little bit of clout? They were blowing up my phone, trying to make nice."
Jared made a disgusted noise. "Let me guess. They wanted to ride your coattails?"
I huffed a humorless laugh. "My mom even had the nerve to cry to the tabloids about what an ungrateful son I was for not wanting a relationship with them. Never mind that they couldn't even be bothered to remember my fucking birthday half the time."
The old hurt welled up, as fresh as if it had happened yesterday. I could still picture with crystalline clarity the moment I'd realized, at age twelve, that my parents had forgotten my birthday entirely.
No party, no presents, not even a hasty grocery store cake. Just me, alone in my room, waiting for an acknowledgment that never came.
Jared's hand landed on my knee, squeezing gently. "You deserved so much better than that."
I shrugged, trying for unaffected. "I learned early on not to expect much from them."
"Still. That's a shitty thing to do to a kid." Jared's thumb rubbed absent circles over my kneecap, sending sparks of awareness up my thigh. "For what it's worth, I think you turned out pretty damn amazing, despite them."
My face heated. "What about you? You close with your folks?"
Something shuttered in Jared's expression. "Not exactly. We had a falling out when I enlisted. They didn't approve of me going into the military."
I winced. "Shit. I'm sorry."
He shrugged. "I've made my peace with it." But there was a hint of old pain in his eyes, a glimpse of the hurt he kept carefully hidden.
Impulsively, I reached out and grabbed his hand. Laced our fingers together and squeezed, offering wordless comfort.
Jared glanced down at our joined hands, something unreadable flickering across his face. For a moment I thought he might pull away.
But he just squeezed back, shooting me a grateful little smile. "Anyway. I've got my chosen family now. My Marine buddies, a few close friends. That's enough for me."
"I get that," I said quietly. "Sometimes the family you choose is better than the one you're born into."
"Damn straight." Jared's grip tightened fractionally. "Blood doesn't mean shit if they don't have your back when it counts."
"Amen to that." I raised my beer bottle in a wry toast. Jared clinked his against it obligingly.
As the night wore on and the conversation wound down, we retreated to our bed. But then, in the middle of the night, a faint murmur pulled me from my dream. I squinted into the dimness of the room, trying to place the sound.
There. The glint of moonlight on dark hair, the shadowed curve of a broad shoulder. Jared was standing out on the balcony, phone pressed to his ear.
I knew I shouldn't eavesdrop. Knew it was a violation of the fragile intimacy we'd built. But I couldn't seem to stop myself from straining to hear his low rumble of a voice.
"...don't know what to do, man," Jared was saying, frustration evident in his tone. "It's not like I planned on catching feelings."
My heart stuttered in my chest. Jared had feelings for someone?
Hope rose in my throat, dizzying and bright. But I tamped it down ruthlessly. Of course Jared didn't want me like that. Who would want a neurotic mess of a pop star with more baggage than an airport?