Author: Jet Mykles
Date: 2014-06-02 07:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Contemporary; Gay; Romance; m-m; mm
Description: Years ago Lance and Gordon fell in love when the bass player and band manager were part of The Might. The band was led by a rich, self important genius and everything was just great as long as no one rocked the boat. But Gordon chafed in the restrictive atmosphere and Lance was too laid back to test any boundaries. Gordon pushed for more; Lance fought any change. The final straw came when Lance acted out by sleeping with someone else. That was it. Gordon broke it off and was gone. Now, Gordon’s invited Lance to join the Indigo Knights, a new band he’s managing. He’s made it clear that this is
Publisher: Loose Id

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

SQUIRE

CHAMPION

LANCE

NOBLE

Loose Id Titles by Jet Mykles

Jet Mykles

INDIGO KNIGHTS:

The Boxed Set

Jet Mykles

www.loose-id.com

eISBN: 9781682521748

INDIGO KNIGHTS: The Boxed Set

Copyright © 2016 by Jet Mykles

Original Cover art by P.L. Nunn

Boxed set cover design by Fiona Jayde Media

Publisher acknowledges the author and copyright holder of the individual works, as follows:

SQUIRE—Copyright © September 2010

CHAMPION— Copyright © September 2012

LANCE— Copyright © June 2014

NOBLE— Copyright © September 2014

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Image/art disclaimer: Licensed material is being used for illustrative purposes only. Any person depicted in the licensed material is a model.

This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Chapter One

This was going to be great!

Rabin Squire drove his truck up the road, far more energized than he had been all of last year. But this year was his year; he knew it. Things were going to turn around, and the Indigo Knights would finally get what they deserved. He laughed at his thoughts, combing a hand through his short, wind-tossed hair to get it out of his face, elbow braced in the open window. He wasn’t normally so dramatic with himself, but the situation warranted some melodrama. This chance could be his last chance at the life he’d always dreamed of living.

The need to pay attention to his printed-out directions distracted him. Brent had said the house was easy to find, but Rabin hadn’t expected all the trees. He wouldn’t have pegged either Brent or Hell for the type who wanted to live in a rural area. If asked to guess, he’d have put them in an apartment in the city, not a house on a couple of acres of lakeside property. But it was gorgeous, and there was no doubt that he was now driving through a high-quality area. He could only imagine what a place out here would cost.

His phone rang. Keeping the hand holding the directions on the wheel, he picked his cell up off the passenger seat with the other and set it to speaker without looking. “It’s Rabin.”

“You there yet?”

He smiled. Zane. “Not yet.”

“Jesus, didn’t you get in town like an hour ago?”

“I told you, they don’t live in town.”

“Fuck. Is the studio out in the boondocks too?”

“Nope. Studio’s in the city. Brent says we shouldn’t have any problem finding an apartment.”

“Good deal. Damn, I wish I could have come with.”

“Yeah, me too.” Zane had been his best friend, roommate, and bandmate for seven years, ever since they’d met in college. School had gone by the wayside, but they’d stayed together since, through a dozen different living arrangements. It would be weird looking for a place to live without him. “But I’ll see you at the end of the month.”

“Right.”

Rabin stopped at a four-way stop, wondering if he was still even outside Chicago or in a completely different city. “Oh man, this place is surreal.”

“Their house?”

“No. I’m not even there yet. I’m talking the trees. It’s like I’m in the middle of a forest.”

“Whoa. They must have some bucks.”

“You know it.”

“That’ll be us someday soon, my brutha.”

“You’re bloody well right it will.” He laughed. “Listen, I’m gonna cut you off before I get lost. I’ll call you tonight.”

“Okay. Don’t do the fun stuff without me.”

“You bet.”

He shut down his phone and proceeded at just below the speed limit down a paved road lined with tall bushes and trees and no streetlights. Gates would break the greenery every now and then, all of them closed and all of them with a security system in plain view. Each gate showed a driveway beyond, but only a few houses were visible. Mostly the driveways just kept going. Occasionally a break in the foliage would show him the great expanse of Lake Michigan to his right. He grew more and more envious of Brent and Hell the farther he went.

Music. Music and too much fucking talent had landed them where they were today—rich, successful, and happy. That’s what Rabin wanted. What Zane wanted. What Brent had very graciously agreed to help them with.

When Rabin finally found the gate with the number Brent had given him, he was fairly bouncing with excitement. This place was fucking unreal. He leaned out his window to press a button on a pad mounted in front of the gate.

“Hey, Rabin.” Brent’s voice was crystal clear.

“How’d you know it’s me?”

“Cameras everywhere.” Brent laughed as the gate in front of Rabin began to slide open. “Come on up. Front door’s open.”

Daylight was slowly fading to twilight as Rabin parked his truck beside a dusty black Corvette and a recently washed white Mazda under the shade of a spreading tree. Rabin knew fuck all what kind of tree it was, but it sure was pretty, matching many of the other trees that surrounded the house and the embankment that led down from the house to the water. The house itself was two levels and looked like a huge cabin, complete with all the rustic finishes. Gorgeous.

After hefting his guitar case and the largest of his three suitcases from the truck, he headed toward the front door and found it open as promised. “Hello?” He stopped at the threshold. Loud pop music and a truly heavenly scent of some sort of cooking poultry lead him to his right and what he thought might be the kitchen.

Kitchen it was, all done up in dark colors to match the rural feel of the exterior of the house. The appliances were state of the art, lining the wall to the left of the opening that led into the room as well as the wall in front of Rabin. A huge island dominated the center of the room, complete with copper pots hanging above it. A four-seater table was built into a huge bay window overlooking the lake to Rabin’s right.

There was a young man who was very obviously neither Brent nor Hell busy at the sink, his back to Rabin. He was on the short side, closer to Hell’s diminutive height than he was to either Brent’s or Rabin’s size. His hair was shining black, pulled into a tail that hung in gentle waves halfway down his back. He was singing and jiggling to the music, shaking slim shoulders, a trim waist, and a pert little ass. Reaching the chorus of the song, he belted out in a very nice if slightly off-key tenor. Tugging a towel from where it hung at the waistband of his jeans, he turned around, eyes closed as he sang into an imaginary microphone. Rabin grinned, enjoying the show. The kid was incredibly pretty. A softly rounded jaw and high cheekbones gave his face a gorgeous shape, and a long, thick fringe of that black hair hid his forehead, brows, and part of his eyes. Seen from the front, his snug, lime green T-shirt proclaimed Straight? So is spaghetti until you heat it up. Once the chorus was done, his dusky pink lips curled up in a smile and his eyes opened. Amazing eyes. Big and almond shaped, with irises as dark as chocolate bonbons and lashes any woman would die for.

Finally seeing Rabin, the young man stopped, eyes and mouth open wide in surprise. “Oh. Hi.”

Rabin felt like applauding but didn’t, since he still held his bags. “Hi.”

The kid’s mouth closed and his throat worked over a swallow while an embarrassed flush colored softly rounded cheeks. “You must be Rabin.” Tucking the towel back into his waistband, the young man hastily circled around the island toward him. One hand extended to go with a wide, welcoming smile. “I’m Izzy.”

Rabin set his suitcase down and switched the guitar case to his left hand. “Nice to meet you, Izzy.” If he hadn’t heard Brent’s voice at the gate, he’d think he was in the wrong place. Although Izzy did look a little familiar.

Izzy stepped back. “I’m Brent’s cousin. I’m staying with them for the summer.”

“Ah.” Rabin kept his grin, although he had the weirdest feeling that he was drowning in big brown eyes.

“Hey!” Brent’s voice and slap on his shoulder shocked him out of his trance. Brent took a step into the room so Rabin could see him properly. A few months hadn’t changed him much. His pitch-black hair was shorter, perhaps recently cut, so the curls stopped just below his ears. Rabin had never seen him unshaven before, but Brent’s afternoon shadow wasn’t all that dark. He wore jeans that had seen better days and a threadbare button-down over a white T-shirt. The clothing and the lack of shoes showed that he was right at home. Rabin was profoundly glad to see Brent without a brace on his right hand. They’d last seen each other when Brent had fractured his hand and needed Rabin to fill in for him when Heaven Sent played a New Year’s concert. Since Rabin hadn’t been called to substitute in Japan in March, he could only assume Brent was all healed. Thank God. Great as it had been to play with Heaven Sent, he wouldn’t wish further injury on a man who’d become a very good friend.

“I see you met Izzy.” Without a word, Brent picked up Rabin’s suitcase. “The brat’s staying with us for the summer. Lucky us, he’s an amazing cook.”

Not until the mention of “brat” did Izzy’s wide eyes stray from Rabin’s face. He gave his cousin a narrow look and stuck out his tongue.

Brent laughed. “See what I mean about the brat part?” He spun Rabin around by the arm. “Come on. Let me show you to your room.”

“Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes,” Izzy called after them.

Rabin glanced over his shoulder to find Izzy’s gaze roaming down his body. Caught checking Rabin’s ass, Izzy flushed, then grinned and winked before retreating behind the kitchen island.

“Don’t mind Izzy,” Brent said, leading the way up a wide staircase of polished wood. “He’s a good kid and mostly harmless.”

“Mostly?”

Brent waited for Rabin to catch up with him on the landing. “He’s gay. Could you tell?” Dark eyes were filled with mirth under a long fringe of hair the same shiny black as Izzy’s.

Rabin pretended shock. “No. Really?”

Brent snorted, proceeding down the hall. “My aunt figured Hell and I would be a good influence on him.”

“And why she would think that, we don’t know,” came a musical voice from down the hall. Hell stepped out of an open doorway, dressed as casually as Rabin had ever seen him in a loose T-shirt and snug jeans. Like Brent, he was barefoot, and Rabin thought he even detected a bit of a tan to that normally porcelain skin. The hair that had been faded lavender when Rabin last saw him was now stark white. Not the white of age. Either the shoulder-length curls were bleached, or that was his natural color.

“Hey, Hell,” Rabin greeted, accepting an air kiss with a brief hug made a little awkward by the guitar case. “You going blond these days?”

A graceful hand strangely bereft of all but one gold ring lifted to comb through said curls. “I cannot be bothered with color these days,” he proclaimed, his German accent clipping his words. “Too much to do.” He turned back into the room he’d come from. “Here, this is your room.”

“He just does it because I like it,” Brent announced, following them both into the room.

To that, Hell’s only response was a snort.

Rabin grinned, enjoying their banter. He’d never been close to an openly gay couple before them. It was nice to see them so comfortable together. And to be comfortable with them. He’d never say it to their faces, but Rabin had been kind of leery of gay men before—a product of how he’d grown up, he supposed, since there weren’t any homosexuals he could remember. But he’d known Brent before he’d known Brent was gay, and spending time with Heaven Sent over New Year’s had shoved aside all of Rabin’s ignorant doubts.

He set his guitar case right beside the bed, then did a slow turn around, whistling as he stopped. “Wow, all this for me?”

There was a wide window overlooking a lawn and trees. He’d get to see some amazing sunsets if the last vestiges of the sun he could see in the sky now was any indication. The walls of the room were papered in a white and green pattern with a little bit of gold laced in. Two dressers, a table, a large reclining chair, and the bed’s head- and footboards were all solid, heavy pine. The bedding was green and white, with one gold throw pillow perched at the head. He appreciated—and coveted—the framed vintage tour posters for Pink Floyd, the Stones, and The Who that graced the wall. But for those, Rabin had to wonder who’d decorated. Hell might have the touch for it. Doubtful Brent did.

“This is your bathroom,” Hell told him, indicating the open door. “The cleaning crew keeps the closet stocked, but if you need something, let us know.”

Brent pushed back the heavy green curtain that had obscured half the window. “Sorry, no lake view, but the only rooms with views are ours and the one across the hall, and Izzy claimed that one already.”

Rabin nodded, noting that Izzy would be close. Good thing he’d gotten a good initial vibe. “Anyone else living here?”

“Nope.” Brent sat on the arm of the heavy chair. “Just the four of us. Cleaning crew comes in once a week, and Hell’s been trying out gardeners for the wilderness outside.”

Shaking his head, Hell wandered close enough to press himself against Brent’s side. Obediently, Brent circled his slim waist with one arm. “Someone must care for the trees.”

“I know.” As Hell’s arm draped his shoulders, Brent focused again on Rabin. “So, this’ll do for a while?”

“Are you kidding me? This is great. Though you should’ve put me in the basement or something. I might never leave digs like this.” He made sure to emphasize the joke with his tone.

Hell smiled. “You might prefer the basement. That is our studio.”

Brent grinned when Rabin’s face lit up. “I’ll show you that later. And no worries—stay as long as you like. We’ll let you know when you’ve overstayed.”

Rabin didn’t really doubt they would. “It’ll just be for a month or so. As soon as I find a place, Zane’ll be out to join me.”

Brent nodded. “And then we can get the Indigo Knights up and going again.”

“Damn straight.”

With an indulgent smile, Hell pulled away from Brent. He pointed at the one suitcase Brent had set down beside one of the dressers. “Is that all your luggage?”

“I’ve got two more in the truck, but that’s it.”

“You should bring them up.” Hell headed for the door. “And we should join Izzy. Dinner should be ready.”

Rabin smiled after him, then startled when he saw that Brent hadn’t moved.

“A word of warning about my cousin.”

“Oh?”

“Nothing bad, but…” Brent stood, then shoved his hands into his back pockets. “He will flirt. Shamelessly. He only recently came out, and I think he’s feeling the freedom of being around people who understand. It’s harmless, and he wouldn’t do anything, but if he makes you uncomfortable, let me know, okay?”

Rabin blinked. “Oh, hey, no worries. I’m fine. Besides”—he put on a big grin—“he’s cute. What is he, like, twelve?”

Brent chuckled. “Try twenty-two.”

“What? No way.” Twelve was a stretch, but Rabin hadn’t pegged him for more than eighteen.

“I know. He looks young for his age.”

“I could see how that could be a problem.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know he’d be staying with us until a few weeks ago, but when my aunt called… Who knows—maybe we can help him.”

“Hey, really, no worries. I understand about family. Got a few cousins of my own who I’d go out of my way for.”

“Cool. Thanks. Let’s go get the rest of your stuff. You’re gonna love Izzy’s cooking. He’s going to school to be a chef.”

“Really? Brilliant.”

The summer was looking even better.

Chapter Two

“So, are you English?”

Rabin suppressed a grin, badly. “What gave me away?”

Izzy set the casserole dish on the kitchen table, then took his seat across from Rabin and Brent, who sat on the bench with their backs to the bay window. The youngest man propped an elbow on the table, chin on his palm, and gazed adoringly at Rabin. “You have that überlovely accent.”

Hell, sitting beside Izzy, raised an eyebrow. “And I do not?”

Izzy grimaced at Hell. “Different! Besides, you’re taken.”

Brent caught Izzy’s eye as the younger man turned back toward Rabin. “And Rabin’s off-limits.”

Izzy sat back, spreading both palms on the table to either side of his empty plate. “I wasn’t suggesting anything.”

“You most definitely were, and I’m telling you to lay off. Rabin’s straight.”

Izzy made a moue at his cousin. “He said on the Wade Jenkins show in January that he was undecided.”

Rabin sat back, laughing aloud, delighted that anyone would remember that.

Brent answered for him. “That was just kidding around. He was playing a gig with us.”

As Rabin calmed, Izzy playfully pouted. “No fair.” He gave Rabin a coy glance. “Are you sure you’re not just a bit curious?”

Hell tweaked Izzy’s ear. “Behave.”

Izzy yipped and turned the pout on Hell, who blithely concentrated on dishing casserole onto his plate.

Amused, Rabin spread out a napkin on his lap. “I will admit to being a bit curious, sure.”

“Nyah.” Izzy stuck his tongue out at Brent, then Hell. “See?”

Brent shook his head, accepting the spoon from Hell and leaning toward the deep dish in the center of the table. “All right, dude. I tried to help you. You’re on your own.”

“Oh poo on you.” Izzy spooned corn colored with what looked like green and red peppers onto his plate. “I’m not that bad.”

Both Brent and Hell snorted, which made Rabin laugh and Izzy growl.

But Izzy wasn’t one to hold a grudge long. By the time their plates were filled and after a few compliments on the mouthwatering casserole, he was all smiles again.

“So, Rabin, since I never got my answer, are you English?”

“Half. My mother is from Brighton. My father is from Virginia.”

“How did they meet?”

Rabin glanced at Hell and Brent, but they both showed moderate interest, so he continued. “Dad’s an astronomer. He spent some time at Nottingham, teaching, and met my mother there.”

“Did you grow up here or there?”

“Both, but mainly there. They never married, just sort of shared me.”

Like most people, Izzy hooked on to the never-married bit. “They never married? Oh man, what was that like growing up?”

“Tedious. I spent a lot of time on airplanes. Mostly with Mum for the school year and Dad for the summer. To their credit, they both tried their best by me and each other. It was all very fair.”

“Where are they now?”

“Dad’s transferred to Montana and works for NASA now. Mum’s back to Brighton. She’s married with two other kids.”

“Oh, how…melancholy.”

Rabin chuckled, amused by Izzy’s word choice. “It could have been worse. I get to enjoy dual citizenship, which is fun sometimes.”

Izzy cocked his head to the side, toying with his food but most of his attention on Rabin. “Have you traveled much?”

“Not really, to be honest. I went back and forth from home to home, but we never traveled much else.” He shrugged. “I saw more of the States last year when the record label sent us on the tour of the west. Not that I got out much.”

Brent chewed thoughtfully. “That was a pretty big tour, wasn’t it?”

“Good-sized. We covered California, Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado. And Vegas. Vegas was the only town I really got to see any of.”

Hell raised his glass. “One must see Vegas.”

Brent and Rabin toasted with him.

Izzy frowned. “I don’t get it. You went all those places and didn’t get to see anything?”

Brent pointed his fork at Izzy. “If you’re on tour, you have to make time to see anything.”

“And time is not always available,” Hell added.

Brent gave Rabin a sidelong glance. “You guys were on a pretty tight schedule, weren’t you?”

“Really tight. But that was the best month of my life.”

“Month?” Izzy’s jaw dropped. “How many concerts is that?”

“Twenty-four, I think.”

“In one month? That’s insane.”

“That’s rock ’n’ roll,” Brent drawled.

Izzy glanced between Brent and Rabin, then at Hell. “You’re all insane.”

“No doubt,” Hell agreed.

Izzy sat back. “All that to play music?”

Rabin grinned. “It’s the best high there is. When you’ve got a huge audience all dancing to your tunes and following your vibe, there’s nothing like it. Better than sex.”

Izzy’s grin twisted, his eyes narrowing. “Nothing’s better than sex.”

Brent bumped Rabin’s shoulder. “Watch it.”

Izzy sighed, sitting forward to commence his meal. “I just don’t think I could stand going to all those different places and not see anything.” He glanced at his cousin. “You got to see a lot the last time you were on tour, didn’t you? You told me all those stories about Japan.”

“My situation with Heaven Sent is different now. We schedule in some free time. But when we were struggling, it was pretty awful.”

“Please. You guys were never struggling.”

Brent rolled his eyes. “Okay, sure. I’ll just forget those first few years living in vans and playing nightclubs.”

“Okay, okay. But it’s hard to believe that when you’ve got what you have now.” Izzy waved his fork up to indicate the house.

“If you think we don’t work for what we have,” Hell told him mildly, “you’re sadly mistaken.”

“All right, I’m sorry. No offense.”

“None taken.”

There was a moment of awkward silence as they all continued to eat. Then Izzy’s attention snagged on Rabin again. “I know you probably hear this a lot, but I love ‘Simplicity.’”

Rabin smiled. “Thanks.” “Simplicity” was the Indigo Knights’ hit single. The one song that had hit any chart. The song that had landed them the opening spot on Jade Cruiz’s comeback tour. The song that had gotten them the record deal. But the record company had kept the option for a second album, and when the second and third singles from the first album tanked, they’d let the Knights go. One month, they’d been on their way, opening for a well-known band, and two months later, they were on their own, back to square one. Despite that, he was proud of “Simplicity,” a devilishly catchy tune.

“Is it the Knights you guys are going to work with?” Izzy asked, looking to Rabin and Brent.

“Yep,” Brent answered, setting his fork down on an empty plate. “Rabin and I have some ideas.”

Rabin grinned so big his jaw hurt. “Yep.”

This was it. With Brent’s help and some changes within the Knights, Rabin and his band were going places. He could feel it.

Chapter Three

“Oh man, this is great!”

Rabin turned a three-sixty in the middle of the largest of three studio spaces in the place Brent and Hell now owned. One wall was still unfinished, a mess of insulation, wires, and equipment, but Rabin could see how slick it’d be when it was done. Hardwood floors, recessed lighting, plenty of hookups for mics, amps, and instruments. If you didn’t mind the massive board mounted underneath the window, the console room felt like a living room, complete with dark blue carpet and wood paneling.

“Nice, huh?” Brent leaned in the doorway between the studio and the console room, a satisfied grin on his face as his dark gaze took everything in. “Ever since I saw my first real studio, I wanted one of these.”

Rabin grinned. “So is this one of those promises you made to yourself before you got famous?”

Brent nodded slowly, quiet pride showing. “Yeah. It is.”

Rabin took a few steps closer. “Well, I’m happy to help your dreams come true.”

That got Brent’s attention. When he saw Rabin was joking, he laughed. “Whatever you say, man.” He turned back inside. “C’mon, we should be getting back home. If we’re lucky, we’ll get some time to work before dinner.”

“Oh man.” Rabin followed Brent through the carpeted room and beyond to the hallway. “Between your personal studio and Izzy’s cooking, I’m kind of disappointed I found that flat.”

Brent laughed as they passed by the open doors that led to two more console rooms with smaller studios beyond. “Did you sign the lease?”

“Yeah, it’s a done deal. That Realtor you hooked me up with was great.”

Nodding, Brent held the door open at the end of the hall. “I’m glad she could help.”

“She did. And with all the help you’ve given me already, I’m quite spoilt.” He stopped to face Brent in the middle of the small, carpeted reception area. “How can I pay you back?”

Brent patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it.”

“No, I owe you.”

“Fine. Pay me back by making the Indigo Knights’ next album a success.”

Rabin rolled his eyes as he followed Brent out the front door. “That’s not enough.”

“That’s plenty. Remember, I get a part of that success.”

They hurried down a flight of stairs. “There’s got to be something I can do.”

Brent stopped at street level to unhook black sunglasses from the neck of his T-shirt and put them on. “You haven’t been any trouble, really. We’ve enjoyed having you at the house, and you and I have gotten a shitload of work done.”

That was for sure. Rabin’s heart surged with pride to think of the five songs the two of them had written in just the two weeks Rabin had been staying at the house. A few of the songs were in better shape than others, but three of them were good enough that he’d sent the tracks to Zane for a listen, giving him a head start on coming up with lyrics before he got to Chicago. “Well, that’s just been fun.”

Depressing the handle of the outside door, Brent gave him a grin. “My point exactly.”

“Okay.” Rabin followed Brent down a short flight of cement steps, then headed for the passenger door of Brent’s Corvette. He opened the door and stopped, catching his friend’s gaze over the roof of the car. “But as soon as we make gold, I’m buying you that slide guitar.”

Laughing loudly, Brent descended into the driver’s seat. “Deal.”

Satisfied, Rabin settled himself into the passenger seat, and they were off. Brent made a call home to tell Izzy they were on their way and found out that Hell was back in town—having gone to Miami for a few days—and would be joining them for dinner as well.

“So, this weekend,” Brent started after shutting down the car’s Bluetooth receiver, “Hell and I were thinking of heading to New York. There’s a band there he wants to see.”

“Nice. Who?”

“I don’t remember their name. They’re new.” He glanced at Rabin, but his eyes were hidden by the sunglasses. “Will you be okay without us?”

“With moving? Sure. Zane’ll be here Monday. I just need to go out and find a bed.”

Eyes on the road, Brent shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. Will you be okay in the house alone with Izzy this weekend?”

Startled, Rabin stared at Brent’s profile. Then he laughed. “I’m okay if he is.”

Brent sighed. “You know what I mean. You can’t have missed that he has a thing for you.”

Rabin smiled, facing forward. “You think?”

“Please. It’s not like he tries to hide it.”

No, he didn’t. It wasn’t that Izzy ever did anything to make Rabin uncomfortable, but he had made his admiration obvious. “Sorry about that.”

“Not your fault. I should have known better. And you’ve been great about it.”

“No trouble at all. Doesn’t upset me.” He thought it was cute, actually.

“Good. But will you be okay with him? If not, I can send him out of town, or we can take him with us.”

“No way. That’s ridiculous. If anything, I should vacate if you think there’ll be a problem.”

Brent stopped at a light. “I’m not going to ask you to get a hotel the last weekend before you move into your new place.”

“Thanks for that. But no, I’m good if he’s good.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine with it. You just watch yourself.”

Rabin chuckled. “You think he’ll jump me?”

“Seriously? I wouldn’t put it past him to try.”

“You worry too much.”

“If you say so.” Brent’s tone said he wasn’t convinced. But he dropped the subject and cranked up the satellite radio.

Amused, Rabin was quiet for a while, wondering why it didn’t bother him about Izzy. Aside from passing curiosity, he’d never been that attracted to men. Izzy was certainly cuter than most. If he was going to do a guy, it’d be a guy like Izzy or Hell. He had no desire to hook up with someone like Brent, for instance, or any of his other bandmates. But he wasn’t going to hook up with anyone. Izzy was Brent’s cousin and under his care. It wouldn’t be right. Besides, Rabin did just fine with women.

Thinking of… If he was contemplating doing it with a guy, he needed to hook up with a member of the opposite sex and get himself laid. It’d been three months since he’d had sex, and that was way too long. A night with a willing body would be just the thing to celebrate right before he went back into the studio.

Chapter Four

“Are you going out?”

Rabin glanced aside from his reflection in the dresser mirror to see Izzy leaning in the open doorway behind him. The waist of his snug jeans was covered by an untucked blue button-down, and his black hair was loose and curling around his shoulders.

Rabin looked back at himself, running fingers through the longer hair atop his head. “I thought I might check out a club, yeah.”

“Can I go?” Before Rabin could think up a response, Izzy was a few steps into the room. “Please? I don’t want to be in this big house all by myself.”

Rabin wouldn’t admit to himself that part of the reason for going out was to get away from Izzy. Wasn’t true. Why did he need distance when Izzy had been perfectly well behaved all day? Rabin wasn’t at all uneasy at the prospect of spending the night alone with him in the house. “I don’t know if it’d be your kind of club.”

“My kind?” The open cuffs of Izzy’s shirt fell back from his forearms just before he folded them across his chest. “What? You mean a gay club?”

“Yeah.” Done spiking his hair, Rabin turned around. He pretended to ignore Izzy’s dark gaze checking him out from head to foot and back again, but did wonder if Izzy liked the leather pants and red silk T-shirt. “I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“Why would I think you were going to a gay club?”

Rabin shrugged.

“Oh, I get it. You’re looking to get laid.” It wasn’t a question.

No sense denying. “I am.”

To his surprise, Izzy smiled. “That’s okay. I know how to call a cab for a ride home.” He stepped closer, opening his eyes big like a puppy dog. He folded his hands under his chin. Scratch the puppy dog—make that a five-year-old determined to get what he wants. “Please? It doesn’t matter to me if it’s a gay club or not. I promise I won’t embarrass you. I just want to go dancing. It’s been a long time since I got to get out and let loose.” With an impish smile, he raised his arms in the air and did a little dance in a circle to demonstrate. Not bad, in Rabin’s opinion.

“Are you sure?”

Like a kid on Christmas who just got permission to open his first present, Izzy clapped his hands and jumped up and down. “You’ll take me with you?”

“Yes. But you make sure you’ve got cab fare. Just in case.”

Izzy was already rushing out the door. “Of course. Wouldn’t want to cock block you.”

Cock block? Strange to think of another guy as an impediment to getting a girl. Wouldn’t be an issue with any of his other friends. Isn’t an issue with this one. They were going to be fine. And hey, if he didn’t get laid tonight, that wasn’t a big deal. Zane was due in on Monday, and they were going into the studio middle of the week. That would be his prime focus for the foreseeable future. He’d gone long stretches without sex before.

He thought he was going to have to wait forever for Izzy to get ready, but the younger man was actually waiting for him when he gathered the rest of his things and stepped into the hall. The button-down was gone, replaced with a snug gray shirt that stretched very nicely across his chest and abs. The jeans were the same he’d been wearing, and he had low leather boots and socks in hand, ready to don.

Izzy beamed at him. “Ready to go!”

“Wow.”

“What?”

“You don’t have to take an hour to get ready?”

Izzy’s arms fell to his sides. “I thought you were ready to go?”

“I am.”

“Oh, I see.” Rolling his eyes, he turned toward the stairs. “Because I’m gay, I take a million years to get ready?”

“Well…” Rabin laughed. “Yeah.”

“Not all gay men are obsessed with their looks.”

“You are.”

Halfway down the stairs, Izzy stopped to round on Rabin. “I’m not!”

For safety’s sake, Rabin backed up two steps out of Izzy’s arm range. He grinned. “You are.”

“Hmmm. And which one of us is wearing eyeliner, hmmm?”

Rabin’s eyes narrowed. “Hey, I’m a rock star. It’s part of my look.”

“A rock star.” Another eye roll. Then Izzy was headed down the stairs again. “A rock star without a band and one hit single.”

Bristling, Rabin followed. “All right. Almost a rock star.”

At the front door, Izzy opened it and motioned him through. “A rock-star-in-training?” The harsh porch light threw crazy shadows onto Izzy’s profile, and for a moment, the soft lines of his jaw and brow looked just like a girl’s. A really pretty girl.

Shaking the thought, Rabin puffed up his chest and thumped it as he passed by Izzy into the night air. “A rock-star-to-be.”

Behind him, Izzy laughed. “All right.”

Rabin turned and walked backward toward the car. “All the doors are locked?”

“Locked.” Both shoes in one hand, Izzy raised the other to rattle his keys. “Keys in hand.”

Rabin nodded, his own spare keys in his pocket with his wallet. “Let’s go, then. I’ll show you how a rock star parties.”

“Oh.” Izzy followed after shutting and locking the front door. “I can hardly wait.”

* * * *

Rabin had never had a particular problem picking up girls. He was reasonably good-looking, fairly charming, and the English accent usually cinched the deal—the main reason he’d never tried to lose it. He wasn’t terribly good at long-term relationships, but he excelled at short-term and usually managed to stay friends with a good number of his one-night stands. Good enough that some of them became regular one-night flings. Unfortunately, all of them were back in Virginia or New York, so they couldn’t help him out tonight.

The club was hopping. After he purchased drinks for himself and Izzy, Rabin gravitated toward the band. They weren’t bad, although their arrangements were a little slow for his tastes. He lost Izzy after a song, then spied him a little later on the dance floor, bouncing with the crowd in front of the stage. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say Izzy was all of eighteen, maybe twenty, especially with his long hair tumbling about his shoulders. Strangely, it turned out that Izzy was a chick magnet. Rabin gradually lost interest in the band in favor of watching Izzy draw them in, bumping into them, smiling, then dancing side by side. By the time the band took a break and a DJ took over, Izzy had at least five girls giggling and fluttering around him. The gaggle of them made their way to one of the small booths that lined the wall beside the dance floor.

“Time to find someone,” Rabin told himself, abandoning his long-finished drink on a side table and wading into the crowd.

But he wasn’t up for it. The urge for sex wasn’t gnawing at him, and without that, he wasn’t much in the mood. He made eye contact and smiled at a number of lovely girls but never found himself gearing up to talk to any.

“Well, bugger me.” His lack of interest stranded him near one end of the bar, staring at the empty stage. His mind wandered as he listened to the music that surrounded him, mentally rearranging the chords how he might have worked them.

A hand closed around his upper arm, startling him. He turned toward it and down and felt his heartbeat kick up to see Izzy’s dark gaze through the lacy filter of shiny black fringe. The lighting wasn’t great in Rabin’s corner, but he could see the telltale flush of exertion over Izzy’s cheeks and neck and a dark patch at the collar of his T-shirt indicating he’d worked up a sweat.

Izzy tugged, and Rabin obediently bent his ear nearer so Izzy could be heard over the music. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

“I see that. Why?”

Rabin shrugged. Why indeed? He hadn’t been able to answer that one himself. Judging by the way he was hungrily staring at Izzy, his priorities of the night seemed to be off. “I think I’m going to take off.”

Izzy’s jaw dropped, and Rabin knew he had to clear his head when he caught himself trying to catch a glimpse of Izzy’s tongue. Shadows only let him see the darkness of Izzy’s mouth surrounded by soft pink lips. Okay, the pink he recalled—vividly—from memory, since the lighting currently made them dark gray.

“Really?” Izzy was evidently unaware of Rabin’s scrutiny—thank Christ. He cast a glance over his shoulder. “Okay. Let me say good-bye, and I’ll come with.”

“No no. You’re having fun. You should stay.”

“What, the girls? No. It’s fine. They’re on the prowl anyway.” He hesitated, giving Rabin a look. “You want me to introduce you? They’d love you.”

Although the girls Izzy had been with were all perfectly lovely, Rabin recognized that he’d now completely lost interest in hooking up. Best to leave. “Nah.”

“You sure? I’m positive any one of them would be a sure thing for you. They’re really nice.”

“Nah. Thanks, though.” He was not going to let a gay friend set him up with a girl. That was just wrong.

“Okay, give me a few.”

Rabin held up his valet ticket. “I’m gonna get the car. Meet me outside if you really want to go home.”

Izzy nodded, then was gone. Only when he stepped away did Rabin realize Izzy had held his arm the entire time. He missed the warmth. “You’ve lost it, old man,” he told himself, wading through the crowd to the main entrance.

The night air felt good after the cloying heat from inside. Rabin was surprised when a glance at his cell phone told him it was only midnight, much earlier than he’d thought. The valet was just stopping his truck at the curb when Izzy appeared with a girl in tow. She was slightly taller than him—probably the heels—with curly brunette hair. From a distance, they’d look like brother and sister. Close up, not so much. She was quite a bit darker of skin and not as young-looking. But she did have big brown eyes, now slightly glazed from alcohol. By that and the way she wove as she walked, he knew she was drunk.

Izzy gave him a sheepish grin. “You mind if we drive Tina home? She says it’s not far.”

The girl gave Rabin a weak, watery smile. Then she squinted, and her smile grew as she really saw him. “Hi.”

Rabin shrugged. “Sure. Hop in.”

It took Izzy’s help to boost the girl up into the passenger seat. Luckily, they were both small enough to fit in the one seat, although Izzy had to hug her close to keep her from pitching forward. Tina was aware enough to give Rabin good directions, though, and she was true to her word about it not being far. Ten minutes later, she had Rabin stop in front of a brick apartment building.

“You guys wanna come up?” she asked, doing her best to focus on Rabin’s face. She’d tried to talk more during the ride, but giving directions had maxed out her ability to concentrate.

He smiled and reached up to brush the back of one finger down her cheek. “No, thanks, love. Will you get upstairs okay?”

She just stared hungrily at him.

“I should probably walk her up,” Izzy suggested from behind her.

“Good idea. I might have to drive around the block”—there was nowhere to park on the street—“but I’ll meet you back here.”

He did indeed have to drive around the block once, but Izzy was waiting for him on the curb when he reached the building again.

“I’m sorry about that.” Izzy climbed into the passenger seat. “I couldn’t let her stay there, and her friends weren’t going to help her out anytime soon.”

“No problem. Glad we could help.”

Chuckling, Izzy held up a small slip of paper. “She wanted me to tell you that you’re ‘fucking fine’ and are welcome to call her anytime.”

Surprised, Rabin glanced over to watch Izzy tuck the paper into one of the cup holders. “You’re joking.”

“Nope. In fact, I have the number of another one of her friends on my phone, and I was told to let you know she’s available. She’s cute too. If you like blondes.”

That made Rabin laugh. “I never even met her.”

“Didn’t matter. I pointed you out. They were all gaga over you. I was coming to get you for them when you said you wanted to leave.” Big eyes met his over the truck’s console. “Sorry. Should I have mentioned that back at the club?”

He didn’t really seem sorry, but Rabin let that pass. “No. I wasn’t into it.”

“That’s what I thought. What happened? I thought you were all set to get laid tonight?”

“I was. Just…” He shrugged. Maybe it was because Zane wasn’t around. Usually the two of them went out together, even if they rarely came home together. “But what about you? No interesting lads?”

Izzy sighed happily, settling down in his seat. “I do love when you turn up the accent. Is it conscious or just this time of the night?”

“You can’t have missed that he has a thing for you,” Brent had said.

“Both.” Rabin kept his eyes on the road, wondering if he was giving off the wrong signals.

“I’ll bet it works like a charm on girls.”

I bet it’d work on you. That was if Rabin was interested. He cleared his throat. “But what about you and the lads?”

Izzy gave a wistful sigh. “Didn’t meet any tonight.”

“Could be that you were surrounded by girls.”

“Could be. But I wasn’t looking for anyone.” There was a hollow note to his words.

Just like that, the mood in the truck changed. “Have you dated since you got to Chicago?”

“Me? No.”

“Why not? School doesn’t keep you that busy.” Izzy’s classes were only a few hours during the day, and he spent a lot of time at the school with his new friends. He also did some work around the house, mostly in the kitchen, despite Brent and Hell’s protests. But they let him do it so he felt he was paying them back for staying with them. In the time Rabin had been at the house, he could only remember Izzy going out at night with his friends twice, and he hadn’t stayed out that late.

“That’s not it.” His voice trailed off, and Rabin glanced over to see him turned toward his window. “Did Brent tell you why I’m here? Why I left home?”

Oh. “No. Just that you had some trouble, and your mom thought spending some time with Brent and Hell would be good for you.”

“I guess that’s one way of putting it.” He sighed, adjusting in his seat to lean a shoulder against the door. “It’s so cliché. I slept with one of my teachers.”

“Wow.”

“That’s not all. He was also married, so he was very much in the closet. And he’s really well known in my town.”

“I take it it was a small college?”

“Tiny community college. Tiny little town. Practically everyone knows everyone.” Izzy folded his arms over his chest, drawing into himself. “We dated for three years. But we finally got caught by another teacher.”

“Ouch.” Rabin did some mental calculations. If Izzy was twenty-two, then the affair started when he was nineteen?

“Yeah. The other teacher told, and it was all over the school in no time flat. I got suspended; he got fired. Last I heard, his wife had left him and took the kids.” He sighed. The words were said by rote, like they were engraved in his brain. “My mom tried to be supportive of me, but my dad, not so much. He works for the school board and has a lot of ties to the college.”

Rabin raised his brows and nodded. “I can see how that would be awkward. He didn’t know you were gay?”

“I wasn’t out. Some of my friends knew, but…” He shrugged.

Rabin wondered how much Izzy had changed that no one had known he was gay. Maybe they’d suspected but never talked to Izzy about it. “Damn. That’s harsh.”

Izzy propped an elbow on the door, watching the sights whiz by. “Awful part is that if it hadn’t been for all that, he’d have been fine with me being gay. He told me so.” Izzy shook his head. “I didn’t expect that.”

Rabin’s heart bled a little. He could only imagine what it was like to land that big of an announcement on your friends and family.

“Anyway, Mom got in touch with Brent, and here I am. But Greggory…” He shrugged again. “I haven’t been much interested in anyone else.”

“Understandable.” What else could he say? At a guess, the bright T-shirts with gay slogans were part of Izzy’s reaction to a bad experience. Rabin couldn’t say he blamed him.

“What about you?” Rabin could hear in Izzy’s voice that he was pulling himself from melancholy. “Any heartache in your past?”

“Not really. I’ve never had a lasting relationship.”

“Never? Is it because of your music?”

“Mostly, yeah. Zane and I have been pushing the Knights since we were in college. That’s over six years now.”

Izzy twisted to watch Rabin’s profile, leaning his head sideways against the headrest. “So the Knights is your first love?”

His small, romantic sigh made Rabin smile. “Music, yeah. Through the Knights.”

“You must be good if Brent’s impressed. Everyone tells me he’s a genius.”

Rabin chuckled. “He is.”

“Yeah, I believe it. I don’t know much about music; I’m sure you can tell.” A giggle, almost back to his normal level. “I just know what kind of songs that I like. I can’t even stick to one genre.”

“That’s not so bad. I’m the same way. I just like music.”

“Yeah?” Izzy pulled one knee up and hugged it, continuing to face Rabin. “That’s what I think. Music is just music, some good, some bad, but just because they’re the same kind doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

* * * *

They had a good talk about music for most of the ride home. Rabin even amused Izzy by admitting he had a few polka records loaded on his laptop. Izzy hooted with glee, but he made Rabin promise to let him listen sometime soon. They’d fallen silent by the time they reached the house. It wasn’t an awkward silence, but Rabin could practically hear the buzz of Izzy’s thoughts. He couldn’t tell what they were, though, and he didn’t think it was his business.

He followed Izzy up the porch and into the darkened house but felt oddly reluctant to head to his room. He’d been having a good time with Izzy.

“Want a snack?” Izzy stood, just a silhouette in the entrance to the kitchen, backlit by the moonlight from the bay window.

Given an excuse, Rabin decided it was just that. “Nah. I think I’m just going to head on up to bed.” Bed. The word had a charge to it that made him look away. Even if he was feeling attraction—and that’s probably what it was, strangely enough—he wasn’t going to do anything about it. It was a weird night. One that should end before anything happened. “’Night.”

“’Night.”

Izzy didn’t move as Rabin headed up the stairs. It was a relief to walk into the darkness of the hallway. Rabin walked into his room, closed the door, and didn’t bother with a light. There was enough moonlight coming through the open window to see just fine. Besides, the chancy dark went with the feeling that he was missing something. It wasn’t even sex. It was… He shook his head, unable to come up with anything. Maybe he should head down to Brent’s studio and play for a while. Brent had told him he was welcome, and the guitar often helped him to make sense of his thoughts—or at least calm them. Yeah, do that.

But first, he needed to change. The leather pants and boots were stylish but not all that comfortable. His shirt was off, and he was sitting on the edge of the bed to remove his shoes and socks when the knock sounded at the door. He froze.

“Rabin?”

Don’t answer. Stupid. Izzy knew he was there. “Yeah?”

Without waiting permission, Izzy opened the door, a ghostly blue figure draped in the shadows that were his loose hair and dark jeans. His shoes were gone. He stared at Rabin, expression blank, unreadable.

“What’s up?”

Izzy approached, and Rabin had to force himself to remain seated, torn between equally strong desires to stand up and flee, or stand up and reach for the smaller man.

Izzy stopped at his knees and tried a smile. Long, thick fringe mostly hid his eyes. “Thank you for tonight.”

Rabin summoned a smile back for him. Nothing out of the ordinary here, nope. “You’re welcome.”

Izzy searched his face—for what, Rabin tried not to know. “Rabin, I…”

Rabin frowned, forcing his gaze from Izzy’s. “Look, Iz, we should call it a night.” He’d stay in his room; he’d go to sleep and not go downstairs. He’d do that as soon as Izzy left.

“You’re right.” A palm cupped Rabin’s jaw. “You’re right.”

Startled by the touch, Rabin tilted his face back up. Izzy was right there, swooping down like a falcon catching a meal. Lips. Soft lips. Eager lips. Pressed against his own. At first, Rabin’s eyes stayed open in shock, but the blurred sight of Izzy’s long eyelashes caressing the soft ridges of his cheeks was too much to focus on when sensation ruled. He opened instinctively, his tongue seeking more. With a soft, happy moan, Izzy invited him in, tongue caressing tongue to coax Rabin to explore. So sweet. Rabin forgot he was kissing a guy and just concentrated on the mouth that easily melded with his. When Izzy straddled his lap, it was only natural to take hold of slim hips to pull that warm, solid body close. He fit so well, his slight weight perfect. Rabin slid one hand around back, teasing up the shirt hem to caress soft skin, encouraging gorgeous little moans he could barely hear. Fingers tightened in his hair, that little bit of pain egging him on to tilt his head and open wider. His blood heated with a fine tremor of pleasure.

Slowly, as the kiss calmed, proper brainwave function reasserted itself. Rabin opened his eyes and tilted his head back, but not far enough to lose the little nips and licks Izzy gave his lips. Rabin’s cock was rock hard and uncomfortable in his leather pants, and Izzy’s body pressed warm and willing against him didn’t help matters any. “Wait.”

Izzy didn’t stop, his fingers warm against either side of Rabin’s neck. His hips rocked forward.

Rabin dug his fingers into Izzy’s waist and turned his head. “Wait.”

“No no no.” Izzy’s breath caressed his lips, fingers tight on his skull behind his ears. “Don’t think. Please…just…” They were kissing again. God, it was fantastic. How could Izzy taste so good?

Wait. “Izzy, no. This is—”

“This is fine.” Tender kisses along his jaw. “It’s okay.”

“No. I’m not—”

“It’s fine. I promise. Just this—no promises, no expectations, I swear.” Finally dark eyes focused on his from inches away, pleading. Izzy was trembling—not a lot, but when he was pressed this close, Rabin could feel it. “I need to be close to…someone tonight. And I think you do too.”

Rabin smoothed his hands over Izzy’s back, trying to still the shaking. “But I’m not—”

“Gay. I know. It’s okay.” Another kiss, a tongue tip dragging his lip. “But this is nice, isn’t it?” Teeth bit gently into his bottom lip.

Oh man, he did love that. “Yes.” The admission bled from him without his permission.

“I can make it good. I swear.” More kissing. Intense. Like Izzy was sipping slowly from his heart. “Please?”

He knew it was wrong. It couldn’t be right. Not given what he wasn’t, what he knew, and what Izzy had told him tonight. But that all seemed so far away, and the bundle in his arms was so desperate, so needy. For the first time in a long time, Rabin felt certain that he had exactly what someone else needed. He let Izzy keep kissing him, let his hands roam up Izzy’s back. He could provide comfort. He could accept pleasure. Yeah.

When Izzy’s palm pressed his cock through the leather, he had to admit defeat. Comfort or lust, whatever it was, he was lost. He wanted this. His groan announced it for him, and Izzy’s groan confirmed that the information had been passed on. Trembling subsided as eager hands yanked open his fly and rummaged inside to fish out Rabin’s cock. Rabin sucked in Izzy’s tongue when a fist closed around his shaft. Izzy swallowed Rabin’s curse as the fist stroked up to squeeze the head. Fuck. Izzy knew what he was doing, finding the right places to rub and squeezing with just the right pressure.

They kissed while Izzy worked Rabin’s cock. But then, in a flurry of movement, Izzy shoved out of Rabin’s lap to sink to the floor between his knees. Stop him. Rabin fell back on his elbows, staring blearily at the ceiling, amazed by the heat surging through his veins. Stopping Izzy just wasn’t going to happen. His body was completely in tune with the other man, who now had the leather pants all the way open and was pressing one cheek to the length of Rabin’s erection. “Oh fuck.”

“Yes.” Izzy growled, now kissing up the shaft as his hands yanked Rabin’s pants down his hips as far as they would go.

Rabin had to clutch the bedding, stifling a shout when Izzy’s warm, wet mouth closed over the tip of him. Obviously it’d been too long since he’d had sex. That was the only possible explanation for how damn good it felt. His hips thrust up, hindered by the palms Izzy pressed to Rabin’s thighs to support himself as he slowly took in most of Rabin’s cock.

“Fu-uck.” Rabin groaned, going cross-eyed from the gorgeous sensation.

He glanced down, and the look of pure bliss on Izzy’s face as he tilted his head was almost Rabin’s undoing. Black hair fell in loose curls to either side of his face and over Rabin’s hips, darker shadows in the surreal light. Groaning, Rabin let his head fall back again, lost to Izzy’s expertise. Izzy wrapped one hand firmly around the base of Rabin’s cock to hold it while he bobbed his head up and down. Lips met fist, then dragged back up, coating Rabin’s cock with saliva so that both lips and fist could work together on the next stroke.

“Christ, you’re gonna kill me.” He fucking near whimpered, then gritted his teeth as Izzy worked his cock like a pro. He was trying to last as long as he could, but it just wasn’t possible. That tingle was in his balls and was only going to keep going until he blew. “I’m gonna go.”

With a wet slurp, Izzy’s mouth released him, and his fist throttled the base of Rabin’s shaft. “Not yet.”

Rabin uncrossed his eyes and popped his head up to see Izzy draw away to stand by the side of the bed. Wet, swollen lips smiled at him before Izzy ripped off his shirt, then started on his pants.

Shit, this is happening.

“Just relax,” Izzy crooned softly, pushing jeans down his slim hips. If there was any underwear, Rabin didn’t see it. Izzy’s cock sprang free and full from a dark nest of curls at its base. Damn it all if Rabin wasn’t of the opinion that even Izzy’s cock was pretty. “You don’t have to do anything.” Naked, Izzy knelt on the bed, reaching for Rabin’s waistband. “I’ll take care of everything.”

Rabin fell back on the bed to lift his hips so Izzy could get his pants off. He was beyond stopping now, but that didn’t mean he had to cop out and let Izzy run the show. Izzy dropped the leather, then knelt over his own jeans, pawing through the pockets. Sex was a two-person activity, or at least it always had been in Rabin’s philosophy. Just because it was with a guy this time didn’t mean that had to stop. Decided, Rabin sat up abruptly, grabbing Izzy’s hand when he stood. Izzy’s dark eyes widened in surprise.

“Who says I don’t want to do anything?”

Before Izzy could protest, Rabin hauled him by the wrist onto the mattress and flipped him onto his back. A small tube fell from Izzy’s hand, and Rabin recognized that he’d pulled lube from his jeans.

He rolled to kneel over the smaller man. “You came prepared?”

With his hair fanned across the pillows, Izzy looked like a fallen angel, spread out and naked underneath Rabin. His arms had landed above him, exposing pale forearms and stretching the sides of his torso. He wasn’t sculpted, but he wasn’t without tone, his muscles smooth with gentle curves. Tiny nipples peaked in the heated air between them, and his cock lay like a dark snake across his lower belly.

Izzy grinned, eyes still wide with delighted surprise. “I was hopeful.”

Fuck it. Rabin’s cock told him he wanted the body beneath him, whether it be male or female. It was inviting, and it was willing. Braced on one elbow, Rabin brought his free hand up to cup Izzy’s jaw, watching the grin fade to an optimistic parting of lips. He kissed those lips, coaxing them farther open with his tongue so he could get a proper taste. With his sigh, Izzy’s arms came down and wrapped around Rabin’s neck, pulling them flush together as they kissed. Rabin let his hand wander down Izzy’s neck, across his chest, and down his side until he found the sharp bone to one side of Izzy’s hip. No swell, no cushion like on a girl, just that thrust of bone beneath silky-soft skin. Not to mention that something decidedly not female pressed eagerly against Rabin’s belly. Rather than be turned off, it intrigued him, an obvious and somewhat familiar sign of Izzy’s arousal. At first, Izzy’s bent knee blocked Rabin from reaching between them, but Rabin firmly pushed it aside.

Izzy pulled from the kiss, anxious. “You don’t have to.”

Rabin grunted and recaptured Izzy’s lips while he wormed his hand between them to wrap his fingers around Izzy’s cock. That should let him know that Rabin was all the way into this. Izzy moaned, the eager sound goading Rabin on. He might have never done it from this angle, but he knew how to yank cock well enough, and the pleading that oozed from Izzy’s throat told him what felt best. Intrigued and more turned on than he ever recalled being, he commandeered Izzy’s mouth and jacked his cock as the man underneath him came apart.

“Wait—” Izzy tried to stop him, pushing at his shoulders.

Rabin growled, unaware of what came over him. He wasn’t usually this demanding. “Come for me.”

Izzy’s eyes rolled up into his head, and his mouth went wide. Dark hair stuck in clumps to the sweat on his forehead and cheeks. Just a few more pumps and Izzy cried out, fingers digging into the meat of Rabin’s shoulders while wet warmth spurted all over Rabin’s hand and their bellies. Well, that’s different. Yes, but then again, no. Exciting, just like sex should be.

“Damn.” Izzy closed his eyes and dug the heel of one palm into the bridge of his nose.

Absurdly proud of himself, Rabin propped up on one elbow to watch Izzy’s panting recovery. Quite deliberately, he smoothed his wet hand up Izzy’s chest to dry it.

Swallowing, Izzy brought down his hand and finally focused on Rabin. His little smile was adorable. “That was awesome.”

“Thank you.”

Sated eyes narrowed, and Izzy’s short nails raked down Rabin’s chest. “Now you.”

Rabin tilted his head back, sighing as both of Izzy’s hands wrapped around his cock.

“What do you want?” Izzy murmured, nibbling at Rabin’s jaw as his grip slowly dragged upward. “My mouth or my hands?”

Startled, Rabin blinked, then looked down at Izzy. “I thought we were…”

What he couldn’t say must have shown in his eyes, because Izzy blinked back, showing similar surprise. “You want that.”

Rabin swallowed, the grip on his cock making it hard to concentrate. As good as it felt, as heavenly as Izzy’s mouth was, instinct told him that burying deep in Izzy’s ass would be mind-blowing. Still… “No. Not if you don’t.”

“Oh God, I do, but I didn’t think…” One thumbnail gently teased at the tip of Rabin’s cock, thoroughly scrambling his brain. Lips brushed the pulse at his throat. “Roll over, and I’ll ride you.”

“No.” Rabin didn’t know what had gotten into him and, at the moment, couldn’t care. “You roll over.”

Hesitation. “You sure?”

“Yes.”

Hands were gone, and Rabin had to push back onto his knees to give Izzy room to roll over. He took the time to grab the lube. It’s not like I haven’t done this before, he told himself. Anal sex, that is. He’d been with girls who went wild over it. It couldn’t be that different, could it? But then he took a good look at the perfect twin globes of Izzy’s ass, topped by two adorable divots, and he knew that it wouldn’t be the same.

No turning back.

He unscrewed the top of the tube and squirted some of the cool liquid onto his fingers. Aware that dark eyes were watching him over Izzy’s shoulder, he leaned down to brush his lips over one side of Izzy’s back while his fingers traced the crack of Izzy’s ass. Sighing, Izzy relaxed, drawing one of his knees almost up to his side, opening himself, making it easier for Rabin to tease him open and find that tight little hole. Rubbing slowly, Rabin thoroughly wet the outside and took time for another squirt of lube before returning to ease the tip of one finger inside.

Izzy let out a little squeal, hugging a pillow to his chest. “You don’t have to be so careful,” he whispered.

Rabin smiled against the skin of his back. “I like it this way.” Encouraged, he let his entire finger slide slowly in before drawing it out.

“Okay by me.” Izzy sighed. “I’m just saying.”

Slipping the finger in again, he slid his nose up Izzy’s spine until he could whisper in Izzy’s ear. “Stop talking.”

Even though there was a veil of hair covering Izzy’s face, Rabin saw the grin. He rewarded it by pushing two fingers inside Izzy’s ass.

“Ah!”

Rabin froze, afraid he’d gone too fast. But then Izzy bit his lip and pushed his ass back into Rabin’s hand, rolling his hips a little. Rabin smiled and twisted his hand, this time reading the squeak as one of pleasure. Suppressing his own urgency underneath the fun of finding a lover’s hot spots, he took the time he could to prod and rub. But he could only put off his cock for so long. The three fingers buried tightly inside, together with the push of Izzy’s hips and the gorgeous, wordless pleas that pushed from his throat, convinced Rabin it was time to move on.

“Don’t move,” he whispered into Izzy’s nape, pulling back.

Anxious eyes found him over Izzy’s shoulder. “Where are you going?”

“You forgot a condom.”

“Oh. Right.”

Rabin went to the dresser to open his wallet and pull out the strip of two that he’d been carrying for the night. He returned to the bed, aware Izzy was still watching him through that veil of hair. Did he think it hid the twinkle of his eyes or the curve of his chin? If so, he was badly mistaken, but Rabin wasn’t going to correct him. Rabin ripped open a condom and dropped the second on the mattress before rolling lubed latex onto his erection. Izzy had been obedient enough about not moving, one knee still bent near his side, the other stretched out at an angle. Rabin could just see the curve of his balls underneath the winking pucker of his hole. Balls. Strange. But they didn’t bother him. Rather, he thought they were cute, all dark and drawn up.

He knelt on the bed and put his hands to Izzy’s ass, taking a moment to squeeze both sides. Izzy squeaked again, and then Rabin was done stalling. Kneeling over Izzy’s back, he braced one hand on the mattress and used the other to aim his cock at Izzy’s opening. He pushed, Izzy arched to roll his hips, and then Rabin was sinking into tight, hot heaven.

“Oh fuck.” Izzy breathed it for him.

Rabin’s forehead pressed the back of Izzy’s shoulder as he used his hands to pull the smaller man up a little to ease the angle of their union. It felt too good. “I’m sorry,” he rasped. “I’m not going to last long.”

“’S okay.” Strong fingers reached back to twine around his neck. “Fuck me.”

Groaning, Rabin lifted his face enough to bury it in the back of Izzy’s neck. Smothered in damp, floral-scented curls, he bit down at the join of neck to shoulder and shoved his cock in to the hilt.

“Oh God, yes!”

Relieved by Izzy’s shout, Rabin pulled out and shoved in hard. Once inside, he lost his finesse and couldn’t find control to go slow. He could only hope that Izzy could take it as he slammed in hard enough to hear the slap of Izzy’s ass against his hips.

Izzy writhed beneath him, pushing up, arching, crying wordlessly as his body sucked Rabin in. Rabin grunted and dropped down flush atop him, not so much thrusting as rolling his hips hard into Izzy’s. He hooked an arm around Izzy’s chest and pulled them both partially onto their sides. Izzy kept his knee bent and grappled with the bedspread in his desperation. Through a haze, Rabin realized that part of that grappling was Izzy’s hand furiously pumping his own cock. Christ, he was hard again?

That was it. Rabin lost his rhythm and his control at once. Release exploded at the base of his spine and flooded over his senses. He pressed his cheek against the back of Izzy’s skull and held on to his chest for dear life. Coherent thought was almost back when Izzy cried out. His arm stopped pumping, and the grip on Rabin’s still-hard cock pulsed, making him groan in painful pleasure.

Izzy wilted in his arms, but Rabin was unwilling to let him go. They stayed, interlocked like pieces of a puzzle, for long moments as a square of moonlight inched off the bed.

With a groan, Rabin slowly unwound his arm from Izzy’s chest. “You okay?”

“Mmm.” Izzy slumped forward, face in the pillows. “’M great.”

Smiling, Rabin rolled away, letting his cock ease out of Izzy’s ass. He smoothed a hand down the long curve of Izzy’s spine until he could lightly smack one swell of his ass. Beautiful. He groaned again, arm coming up over his head as he swayed onto his back.

After a quiet moment, Izzy stirred, pushing up onto his elbows and turning to face Rabin. He had to scrabble with the mess of his hair to clear it from his face. Then he studied Rabin carefully. “You okay?”

Rabin gave him a smile. “I’m great.”

“Really?” One palm hesitantly rested on the near side of Rabin’s chest. “You’re not freaked or anything?”

Rabin pretended to think about it, then shook his head, resuming his smile. “Nope.” Which, in itself, was kind of freaky, but he was too worn out to worry about it.

“Oh good.” Izzy slumped toward him and hid his face against Rabin’s side for a moment. Then he peeked up again, this time with a smile. “I’m hungry, though.”

Rabin barked a laugh. “Hungry?”

With the boundless energy of the teenager he resembled—but isn’t, Rabin assured himself—Izzy scrambled up onto his knees. “Starving.” He pushed forward to press his lips briefly to Rabin’s. “You took a lot out of me, old man.”

“Old man!” Rabin grabbed for him, but Izzy scampered from the bed with a laugh.

“C’mon downstairs. I’ll make you something to eat.”

Smiling, Rabin watched Izzy’s very naked ass disappear through the bedroom door. Izzy didn’t seem the worse for wear, and he was pretty sure they’d both enjoyed what they’d just done. He’d been in this position before with girls and hoped he could keep things on a friendly basis. And if it happened again…?

He had to think about it, staring at the ceiling. Did he want it to happen again? Truth? Yeah. Might just be the afterglow, but fucking Izzy had been mind-altering. He hadn’t come so hard in years. Maybe he had been missing something with guys all this time. Did that mean he was gay? Bisexual? He had to think about that one too, about Brent and Hell, about Brent’s band members. Most of them had been with women before and settled on a man, and they were some of the happiest couples Rabin had ever met. Was he gay? Maybe, maybe not, but it was certainly not something to dread.

Chapter Five

Come for me. God, he’d actually said that. In context. And meant it. Most surprising of all, Izzy had.

Rabin was thinking too much. He acknowledged that to himself as he grabbed a pair of shorts from his suitcase, but he had to get his head on straight before he went downstairs. He’d heard Izzy leave his room already, presumably hosed off and dressed in something. Rabin hoped he wasn’t naked. Although… The thought made his balls tingle. Damn, what was wrong with him? He could only wonder as he stepped into the bathroom and grabbed a cloth. He watched the water soak it, then glanced up at his reflection. He looked fucked. His pale skin was flushed, his chestnut hair was more of a mess than usual, and lube shone all over his lower belly. But it was his eyes, he decided, that gave away the level of his excitement. They only got that particular shade of deep blue when he had really good sex. He shook his head, using the wet cloth to swipe at his chest and groin. It was because the sex was new. That was it. Sex was always exciting when it was new. New person, new position, new places. Tonight he’d had all that plus a new gender. That made him laugh, and he heard the edge to it. I’m losing it.

Wiped down, he rinsed the cloth and draped it over the side of the sink, stepped into his shorts, ran his hands through his hair, and left the room. He headed straight for the hall, then the stairs. He wasn’t going to hide. There was no reason to hide.

The sharp snap of a knife hitting a chopping board sounded from the brightly lit kitchen. Izzy was at the island, a bowl in front of him and at least five different kinds of fruit assembled on the tile around the board. Rabin was relieved to see that he was dressed, wearing lightweight blue-and-white-striped drawstring pants that hung low on his hips. He gave Rabin a grin, then concentrated on his chopping. “I can make more than this, if you want. A sandwich or an omelet? Or”—he brandished the huge knife toward the refrigerator—“I can reheat some of the pasta from last night.”

“Whoa.” Rabin froze well beyond the knifepoint, hands up, palms out. “No, fruit’s fine.”

Seeing his reaction to the knife, Izzy grimaced mildly, rolled his eyes, and went back to his chopping.

Rather than give in to his instinct to go to Izzy’s side and snag something from the bowl, Rabin went to the table to wait. Being right next to Izzy just yet might not be a good idea. There were a few moments of awkward silence while Izzy chopped and Rabin stared at the table, unsure what to say. This was that same after-sex moment that he had with girls. Where it was important to point out that what they did was fun, but it didn’t mean they were a couple. Could he handle it the same way with a guy?

Izzy broke the silence. “So what time does Zane come in Monday?”

Startled by the subject, Rabin decided that was safe enough. “Late morning, probably. He’s staying in Cleveland Sunday night. It’s only five or six hours from there.”

“He’s got both your stuff in one truck?”

“There’s not much. His bed, a couch, and some chairs. Our TV. He might salvage his dresser and a couple of tables. That’s about it except for dishes and stuff. Not even sure he didn’t toss all that crap.”

“What about your stuff?” Izzy set the bowl of sliced fruit on the table and sat on the edge of one bench, catty-corner to Rabin. “From your bedroom?”

Rabin plucked a slice of peach from the top. “I didn’t have much of anything. I’ve got the stuff with me that really matters. The furniture wouldn’t survive the move. I told him to toss it all. I’m going to shop for a bed tomorrow.”

“Everything you have is in those three suitcases upstairs?”

“And the guitar case, yeah. Everything I care about. I sent some stuff to my dad to keep for me, but that’s about it. We never made enough to buy a hell of a lot.” He laughed at Izzy’s half-appalled look. “What? I’ve never had a ton of stuff like you do.”

“I don’t have a ton of stuff. Okay, yeah, I do. There’s even more at home. At my parents’.” He bit into an apple wedge, frowning at Rabin. “Why couldn’t you afford to buy stuff? What about the royalties from ‘Simplicity’? That was, like, a huge hit.”

Rabin tossed a few grapes into his mouth. “We’ve probably seen all the money we’re going to get from ‘Simplicity,’ and that’s almost spent.”

“But that’s a relatively new song. It just came out year before last.”

“That’s a lifetime in rock ’n’ roll. We got a pretty good advance off the album, but that’s it.”

Both elbows on the table, Izzy held a section of orange before him, dissecting it slowly. “I don’t understand. What about royalties?”

“We might not ever see any.” Rabin tried not to watch the orange juice dribbling down Izzy’s wrists.

Or the juice on his lips as he licked them.

“What?”

“It’s tricky.” Rabin leaned forward on one forearm, picking at the fruit in the bowl with his other hand. “See, the record company signed us, gave us some money to do an album and live and such. We did that and released ‘Simplicity.’ That did really well. Our next single, ‘Don’t Believe,’ tanked. Even so, they took a chance on us and put us on tour opening for Jade Cruiz. We finished the tour, and it didn’t do well enough for them to extend it beyond the Southwest. We released the last single, ‘Ginger Lee,’ right after that, and it did worse than ‘Don’t Believe.’ So they decided to option out of a second album—even though we’d already started writing—and released us from our contract.”

“But didn’t you get paid for the tour?”

He peeked up, glad to see Izzy had finished the orange, distressed when Izzy poked a finger in his mouth to suck it clean. “No. All that was covered by an advance too.”

“That’s crazy.”

“Yep, but pretty typical. But it lasted Zane and me until now.”

“That’s something, I guess.” Izzy plucked up a strawberry and held it to his lips. “And now?”

Rabin looked away before the strawberry passed Izzy’s teeth. “We’re both okay for a few months. But we’re going to need real jobs or another album advance soon.”

Izzy grimaced. “Why the hell would you want to get involved in a crazy business like that?”

Rabin laughed. “I wouldn’t do it without the music. And the performing. There’s nothing like it.”

“So, this thing with Brent…? He’s not a record company.”

“No. He’s agreed to help us finish recording our master tracks. If we’ve got the tracks for a whole album ready to go, a record company is more likely to sign us.”

“Why?”

“Because we’ve done most of the work. They get to listen to a finished product and decide they like it. Brent’s name on it as producer makes the deal sweeter.” At least, that was the plan. He sent up a quick prayer to the gods of music that it would work.

Izzy shook his head, sucking the pad of his thumb. “I guess all that makes sense to you.”

“Kinda.”

Izzy pushed to his feet. “Want some juice?”

Juice? Not after eating half a bowl of fruit. “Nah. Water?”

“Sure.” Izzy waited until he’d opened the refrigerator before asking his next question. “Is your friend Zane as crazy as you? About music?”

“Pretty much. It’s all we’ve ever wanted.”

“Does he write the lyrics?”

“Most of ’em. I’ve written some.”

Glass on the counter, Izzy poured. “Does he play an instrument?”

“A little rhythm guitar, a little piano, but he really likes to be the front man.”

Izzy considered that while putting the juice bottle away. “What about the rest of the band?” He stuck a second glass into the door of the refrigerator for water. “What happened to them?”

Realizing he was watching Izzy too closely, Rabin scooped up the grapes that were at the bottom of the bowl and finished them off. “After the record company let us go, we decided it was a good idea to go our separate ways.” That was a nice way to put it. Markus and Sam had left with bad blood between all of them, most of it laying blame for their failures.

“But you and Zane stayed together.”

“We’ve been friends a long time, and we started the Knights. It’ll take more than that to break us apart.”

Izzy set the glass of water in front of Rabin, then resumed his seat with his juice. “So. What would your friend say to what we just did upstairs?”

Rabin froze, the glass at the level of his lips. He stared at Izzy over the rim for a few seconds before lowering the glass. “Truth? He’d freak.”

Izzy swallowed calmly and set his own glass down. They might have been discussing the weather for all the emotion he showed. “Homophobic?”

“Not so much. He’s okay with gay men as long as they don’t get too close.”

“Will he be okay working with Brent?”

“He says he will.” Rabin wouldn’t dwell on his own misgivings about that. What would be would be. As far as he could tell, the fact that Brent was in a successful rock band outweighed the fact of his sexual orientation, in Zane’s eyes. Besides, Zane had been a fan before Hell had joined the band, long before Brent came out publicly. Back in the days before the members of Heaven Sent had all settled down with other men.

Izzy sipped his juice. “But he’d freak because you’re his best friend.”

“Pretty much.” Rabin cast his glance aside so he wasn’t looking at the sweet oval of Izzy’s face or how those mussed black curls caressed his pale shoulders and teased the sharp line of his collarbone. Such soft skin.

“He’d wonder how often you’d been checking him out or fantasizing about fucking him.”

Startled, Rabin laughed. “Like that’d happen. But yeah.”

Izzy smiled with him. “All the more reason to keep what we did a secret. Don’t you think?”

Rabin just looked at him. Had Izzy just given him what he’d been working up to ask for?

“From Zane and from Brent and Hell.” Izzy picked up his juice. “I don’t think anyone needs to know about it.”

Rabin found himself nodding. “That’s…probably a good idea.”

“I mean, I hate to keep something from Brent, but it’s probably best. Given the reason I’m here…”

Oh man, Rabin hadn’t even thought of that. The broken relationship that had brought him here was because of secrets. “About that…”

Izzy shook his head. “It’s nothing. Totally different. I thought I loved Greggory. We’re just having fun.” He grinned at Rabin. “Besides, you’re not even gay.”

Rabin had to laugh. “That might be debatable after what just happened.”

With confidence, Izzy shook his head. “Sex doesn’t make you gay. Gay is a way of life, an acceptance of who you are and what you like. What we just did was fabulous—amazing, stupendous—but it was just sex.” He spread his palm on the table and stared into Rabin’s eyes. “And we should keep it that way.” He shrugged, relaxing a little. “Besides, you didn’t do anything with me that you couldn’t do with a girl.”

A strange lump thudded at the base of Rabin’s throat. Izzy was saying all the right things. He agreed wholeheartedly. So why…? “Except for jerking you off,” he said with a try at a smile.

Izzy laughed. “Okay, there’s that. But you’ve done that with yourself.”

“True.”

“So, good, we’re agreed. There’s no reason to involve anyone else. And good reason for your friend not to know.”

He was right, but Rabin had to wonder at Izzy’s conviction. Such a strange mix of confidence now when he’d been trembling when he’d first approached Rabin. Was there more behind it, or should he just take it all at face value?

Izzy shrugged. “It makes sense. Besides, you need to concentrate on your music, not on the trouble telling anyone would cause. It’s not like we’re dating or anything.”

Rabin decided to give Izzy the benefit of the doubt and believe he meant what he said. Rabin had given similar speeches to women in the past. Maybe it was just easier with a guy. Or at least this guy. “My thoughts exactly.”

Izzy nodded, standing. “So…” He left his glass on the table and took the step that brought him to Rabin’s side. His open palm smoothed over the curve of Rabin’s shoulder, then down to the center of his chest, leaving goose bumps in its wake. “While we’re having fun…”

Eyes straight ahead as Izzy stepped behind him, Rabin curled his fingers around Izzy’s slim wrist. “Yeah?”

Behind him now, Izzy leaned in to brush lips along the back of his neck. “Up for another go?”

He should just say no. Once could be an experiment. Twice? But Izzy’s lips on his skin sent a sizzle down his spine to his balls and woke his cock up. The fingers of the hand he held curled in to scrape the skin right above Rabin’s left nipple, and he didn’t know the moan was coming until it bled from his throat.

“Come upstairs, and let me suck your cock.”

What man in his right mind could turn that down? He let himself be pulled from the chair and led upstairs. Izzy held his hand and didn’t look back all the way up the stairs and down the hall. He gave Rabin one brief glance when he reached their opposite open doors, then turned right into his room.

His room was far more lived in than Rabin’s. Izzy had actually filled the dressers—and some of the floor—with his clothing and personal items. Tons of personal items. The top of one of the dressers was covered with more hair products and cosmetics than Rabin had ever owned, interspersed with a few odd and colorful toys. A line of stuffed animals occupied the top of the taller dresser. He kicked aside a wayward pair of jeans as he led Rabin to the unmade bed. The darkness was banished when he switched on the lamp mounted beside the bed.

Smiling, he turned in to Rabin, bumping chests as he lifted his arms over Rabin’s shoulders. Their lips met in a slow, wet kiss as Rabin’s hands slid around to span Izzy’s back. Izzy melted into him nicely, tall enough that Rabin didn’t have to crane his neck too far to reach his lips but short enough that Rabin could fold him close. The ridge of Izzy’s erection pressed Rabin’s thigh, and he lowered his hand to cup one side of Izzy’s ass so he could grind it harder.

“Mmmm,” Izzy pulled away just enough to murmur against his lips. “You’re a quick learner.”

Rabin smiled. “You make it easy.”

One of Izzy’s brows rose. “Oh?”

Rabin squeezed his ass, watching Izzy’s eyelid’s flutter a little. “Not hard to tell what you like.”

“Mmmm. That’s because I like it all.”

Izzy folded his arms between them to get leverage to push Rabin back. With nowhere else to go, Rabin tumbled into the tangled mess of sheets and bedspread on the mattress. Which was exactly where Izzy wanted him, it turned out, because he reached for the waistband of Rabin’s shorts and made quick work of pulling them down and off. He lingered over his drawstring pants, letting his gaze roam slowly over Rabin’s naked body. Rabin lay quietly, hoping Izzy liked what he saw. Rabin thought he was on the skinny side, but he did jog and sometimes lift weights to stay fit. Maybe his stomach could have been more toned, but at least it was flat. The hair over his chest was nothing to speak of and quite a bit darker than the hair on his head. Even the curls at the base of his cock were rather sparse. Izzy didn’t seem to mind, grinning big when he finally let his pants fall to the floor.

“Oh.” He held up one finger that, to Rabin, was an insane parody of the cock that stood straight up from his crotch. “Lube’s in the other room.”

Rabin chuckled and stared at the ceiling. The quiet of the house descended on him with Izzy gone, and the light scent of another man surrounded him, infused in the bedding around him. What are you doing? Yes, he’d wanted to get laid tonight, but they’d already done that. Now? This was because he liked it and wanted to do it again. Did he buy Izzy’s conclusion that this was just sex and he wasn’t gay? He certainly couldn’t imagine only seeing guys for the rest of his life. This was great, but no women? No way. Right?

Izzy was back, cock bobbing as he hurried. “Oh good, you’re still here.”

Rabin glanced at the lube and the single condom packet that landed on the blue sheet beside him. “Where would I go?”

“I don’t know.” Izzy giggled. “I’m being silly.” He flapped his hands, shooing Rabin up the bed. “Sit up against the headboard.”

Obediently Rabin scooted back, then farther, arranging himself with Izzy’s help until he lay half spread-eagled in the center of the bed with the backs of his shoulders pressed against the headboard, propped up by two thick, firm pillows.

“Mmmm.” Izzy knelt between his legs, sliding warm hands and moist lips over his chest. Rabin closed his eyes and let it happen, enjoying the way Izzy lingered around his nipple before he sucked it in and took a bite, shuddering when Izzy nipped at the dip of skin just under his rib cage. He gave in to the temptation to thread his fingers through the soft curls of Izzy’s hair as that head slipped lower to tongue his navel. If he wanted, he could pretend Izzy was a girl. Even with his eyes open, there wasn’t much difference at this angle. But it wasn’t possible. Izzy was Izzy and definitely male, even pretty as he was. And nothing about his being male made Rabin enjoy the attention any less, especially not when hot breath, then wet tongue, found the head of his cock.

“Fuck.”

He had to close his eyes to appreciate Izzy’s skill. No doubt Izzy enjoyed his task as his lips slid down Rabin’s shaft until the tip hit the back of his throat. After some moments of smooth up and down, Izzy shifted to a slightly new position, and still taking it slow, Rabin found out exactly how deep his cock could go down that throat.

“Ah man.”

Too fucking good. Warm, wet, strong muscles closing in on him. Time shifted, and little panting moans drifted from him as he watched Izzy pull up until just his lips were around the tip. Dark eyes peeped up at him from underneath a fall of darker hair.

“Shit.”

Chuckling, Izzy closed a fist around Rabin’s cock, then lovingly worked with his teeth and tongue. Rabin normally didn’t like teeth at all, but he was too mesmerized to care. Besides, Izzy knew exactly what he was doing, just enough threat of teeth to make the sucking and licking that much sweeter.

“Fuck.” Rabin sank his fingers into the mattress, knowing his control was ebbing. “Not gonna last.”

With one last pop and squeeze, Izzy released him. Rabin’s head whirled at the loss of sensation, and he watched through a haze as Izzy ripped open the condom packet and rolled it onto him.

He started to move, to shift, but Izzy pushed up to his knees and put a hand to Rabin’s chest to stop him. “Don’t move.”

Dazed, he watched Izzy scramble until he faced the footboard. Rabin was confused at first but caught on quick when Izzy edged back until his ass was in Rabin’s lap. He reached back and found Rabin’s cock, lifting it so the shaft slid between the cheeks of his ass.

“Lube?” Rabin managed to mutter.

“Don’t need it.”

Izzy rolled his hips to let the lube on the condom wet him—and he seemed to enjoy it. After only a minute, he carefully shifted to guide Rabin’s cock to where he needed to be. Rabin stayed very still as Izzy pushed slowly back, fascinated by Izzy’s hole stretching to swallow his dick all the way in. Izzy tossed his head back with a low sigh. His hair fell down his back, nearly brushing the top curves of his ass as he arched. Rabin took hold of his waist, steadying him as he lifted himself up with just the strength of his thighs. The tight muscle clutching Rabin’s cock pulled and stretched as Izzy rose and sank in smooth, slow glides. Now and then, Izzy would sway his hips side to side, just to give a little different feel, a slightly different angle.

Mind-blowing as it was, it was too slow. Rabin lost patience. He sat up, wrapping his arms around Izzy’s chest to gather him close. Surprised at first, Izzy quickly adjusted and worked with Rabin to shift them both so that Rabin’s back was braced against the headboard. Izzy continued to work his hips, but now Rabin could nuzzle his neck, could feel the soft tickle of curls over his shoulder. “Faster,” he muttered, using his hold to help encourage Izzy.

“Yeah.” Izzy gripped Rabin’s wrist with one hand and reached the other back to grab the headboard. With Rabin to balance him, he was able to lift up and drop down with precision, hitting something inside himself that made his slim body shudder. “Oh fuck yeah.”

Rabin bit into Izzy’s neck and kept an arm around him. He muttered encouragement into Izzy’s ear while he licked the shell of it, then sucked in the lobe with its single hoop. As Izzy grew frantic, Rabin slipped his hand down to find Izzy’s dick.

With a squeal, Izzy arched into his hand, nearly dragging his ass off Rabin’s cock. “Oh fuck. Rabin!”

Rabin shoved him back down, securing him with one arm while pulling on his dick with the other. Seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

“Rabin.” Izzy struggled, moving his hips as best he could. Rabin let up to give Izzy a little more freedom, rewarded when Izzy found a gorgeous rocking motion that worked his ass on Rabin’s cock and worked his cock through Rabin’s fist.

“Oh. Ah!”

Rabin hardly realized when his free hand came up to curl around Izzy’s throat, but he saw the result. His hold pinned Izzy’s skull to Rabin’s shoulder, Izzy’s temple pressed to Rabin’s throat. The arch of his body gave Rabin a clear sight of the curve of his flat chest, smooth skin sheened with sweat. Even pinned, Izzy continued to rock his hips, frantically seeking release. Rabin even found his own hips trying to help, trying to shove his cock even deeper into Izzy’s body.

Then Izzy shattered. A sharp cry deafened Rabin as the body in his hold jerked and shuddered. Spurt after spurt of thick, hot wetness coated Rabin’s hand. Most importantly, the sheath around Rabin’s cock clutched and gripped him, blinding him with sensation.

Izzy collapsed back into him, breathing hard, skin hot and flushed. Rabin held him as he calmed, loving the rhythmic squeeze of Izzy’s ass on his cock. Rabin eased the hold on Izzy’s neck to let him move his head, which he did, rolling his skull so he could nuzzle underneath Rabin’s jaw. When Izzy noted the tension, he stopped. “You didn’t come.”

Rabin gave one curt shake of his head, caught with an orgasm that wanted to explode but couldn’t. “Don’t think I can like this.” It felt great, right on the brink of coming, but it was also torture. He knew he had to move but oddly didn’t want to.

“Good to know,” Izzy murmured. Then, without warning, he pushed forward, breaking Rabin’s grip. Rabin yelped and grabbed for him, but his sweaty skin proved slippery, and he scrambled free.

Rabin’s hips rose, free of the weight that had held them down. His being protested the loss of warmth. “Hey.”

Ignoring Rabin’s protest, Izzy spun around and proved stronger than he looked by grabbing Rabin’s legs and yanking him down so that he was half lying in the pillows. Rabin hadn’t accustomed himself to the new position before Izzy was on him, hovering over his cock. The condom was quickly removed and tossed, and then Izzy’s mouth sucked him down.

“Christ! Fuck!”

Izzy’s touch lit the short fuse on Rabin’s orgasm. Shouting, Rabin arched, sensation rocketing through and out of him. Izzy swallowed it all down.

“Fuck.” Eyes closed, panting, Rabin tried to catch his breath, flinging an arm over his eyes. “Fuck.”

The bed jostled, but Rabin couldn’t tell what Izzy was doing. “Good?”

“Oh man.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

A sheet and the light cover settled over Rabin’s hips and legs mere seconds before they lifted once more to allow a warm body to wiggle in next to him. Rabin managed to drop his head to the side and open his eyes to see Izzy on his belly, tucking a pillow under his head. Dark eyes shone with joy as they focused on him. Rabin smiled. Izzy smiled.

Rabin must have fallen asleep then, because he couldn’t remember any more.

Chapter Six

Beer bottles clinked together in a toast.

“You done well, my brutha,” Zane complimented before taking a sip.

Rabin nodded, glancing around the living room that now had furniture. True, a lot of it was old and ratty, but it was familiar. “Yep. It’s a nice place. There’s a great bar down the street too.”

“Music? Women?”

“Yes and yes. They’ve got a stage but don’t use it much. The owner seemed open to it, though.” He laughed as he dropped onto the couch. “She’s pretty too.”

“Oh?” Zane perched on the couch’s arm. “Do tell.”

“Just your type: blonde, busty, and been around the block.”

“Sounds perfect. We should go tonight.”

Rabin sighed. “Tonight? Oh man, I’m beat. Don’t you have to turn in the van tomorrow morning?”

“Not due until noon.” Zane slid from the arm to the seat, one knee bent so he could face Rabin. “C’mon, this is my first night in Chicago.”

Rabin grinned at his friend. Zane had hardly changed in all the time Rabin had known him. Dirty-blond hair, thick with an insane kink that made it stick out from his head in tight curls. Even long as it was now, the ringlets kept it around shoulder length, with the sheer weight of hair making it straight around the part at the top of his head. Zane thought it made him look like Robert Plant; Rabin privately thought he looked like a poodle. But Zane had a good face and a big mouth that smiled a lot. He currently sported a rugged look with a perpetual shadow over his square chin. Today his blue eyes were bright and cheerful, a far cry from the dark and depressed they’d been toward the end of last year.

“All right. We’ll go.” Again they toasted with their beers. “But we both need to shower.”

Zane plucked at his open flannel shirt. “Yeah, I’m rank. Mind if I go first? Driving all day…”

“Have at. Then we can go get something to eat.”

“It’s a plan.” Zane used his bottle to point at Rabin as he stood, then took the bottle with him down the short hall to the bathroom at the end.

Rabin stayed where he was, content to rest after a day of hauling furniture up three flights of stairs. Not that either he or Zane had much. Zane’s futon, the couch, and the matching chairs were the big-ticket items. Rabin’s bed wouldn’t arrive until the next day. Feeling the springs of the old couch, he suddenly missed the bed he’d had at Brent’s.

That wasn’t the only thing he’d miss. Rabin stared at his beer bottle as he picked at the label. He’d miss Izzy. He couldn’t believe how rough it had been to pack the night before, after they’d spent a surreal weekend in and out of bed. Izzy had even gone shopping with him for a new mattress. He still couldn’t quite believe he’d slept with a guy. Had a harder time realizing that he really wanted to do it again. Really. He grinned. He might not believe it, but he certainly liked it. He glanced toward the bathroom, just able to spy it as Zane closed the door. “And what would you say to that, buddy?” he asked in a low tone. He shook his head. They’d deal with that later. Or never.

A knock sounded at the front door. Thinking it was the friendly guy down the hall they’d met earlier, Rabin answered without checking through the peephole. Because of that, he was surprised to see Izzy standing in the hall. He must have just come from school, because he wasn’t wearing anything loud or tight. Rather, he looked almost sedate in a simple dark green T-shirt and jeans, with his dark hair pulled back in a tail.

Rabin’s grin was instantaneous, his heart thumping up in his throat. “Hey.”

Izzy grinned too, holding up a long dish covered in tinfoil. “I brought you dinner.”

“What?” Rabin stepped back as Izzy pushed past him.

“I figured you guys were working hard all day, and I was off today, so I made you food. Since you wouldn’t let me come and help”—he threw a glare over his shoulder as he rounded the counter that separated the kitchen from the living area—“this was the best I could do.” He looked out over the spacious living room. “Oh hey, nice place.”

“Thanks.” Rabin glanced toward the bathroom as he approached the counter. Was he ready for Zane to meet Izzy? Not really, but looked like he wasn’t going to have the choice. “You shouldn’t have done this.”

Izzy tucked a wayward wisp of hair behind his ear. “Did you eat?”

“We were going to go out.”

“Now you can save some money.”

Rabin narrowed his eyes and couldn’t help another glance toward the bathroom.

“Where’s Zane?”

“In the shower.”

Izzy laughed. “Relax. I’m not here to out you. Just the opposite.” His grin turned wicked. “I want to make sure Zane knows me as a friend.”

“Why?”

Izzy’s eyes went seductive, and the tip of his tongue peeked between his teeth. “Because then it’s not out of the ordinary if we disappear together.”

Rabin flushed but had to smile. “You’re naughty.”

“I am. I know it.”

On impulse, Rabin finished his way around the corner and reached up to hook Izzy’s neck. “Come here, you.”

Purring, Izzy melted into a sweet kiss that heated up pretty fast. They’d left things open at the end of the weekend. Rabin knew he probably should have put an end to it and said as much, but he was reluctant to do so. All morning, he’d rationalized that he’d had plenty of female fuck buddies in his life, so why not one male?

Something banged in the bathroom, and Rabin jumped back. “Shit.”

It wasn’t the door. Zane must have dropped something.

Izzy laughed, wiping his lips. “Careful.” He twisted to turn on the oven. “Are you sure you haven’t been gay all along?”

“Who knows? It’s never bothered me.” Feeling bold, he pressed up against Izzy’s back. “Just never had a golden opportunity with a hot guy like you before.”

“Mmm, you probably were oblivious.” He patted Rabin’s hip. “Not that I mind. Now go into the other room before we ruin everything.”

It was surprisingly hard for Rabin to make himself retreat into the next room, but Izzy was right. “Why no school?”

“One of my instructors had an emergency.” He sighed dramatically. “I’m going to practice pastas in that big, empty house all by myself tonight.”

Rabin sat on the couch to keep himself from returning to Izzy’s side. “You’ll be fine. Brent and Hell will be back tomorrow.”

“Yeah. But I kind of enjoyed this weekend.” Izzy opened the refrigerator. “Oh man, you need to go food shopping. Promise me you’re not going to buy all frozen dinners. I will die.”

Rabin laughed. “I’ll do what I can, but no promises. Zane loves frozen pizza.”

In the bathroom, the water shut off. Rabin sat forward and watched the door.

“Relax.”

This was too weird. Shouldn’t it be him who was telling Izzy to relax? Still, he sat back and waited while Izzy put the food in the oven. A minute later, Zane opened the door, dripping naked and rubbing a towel over his abundance of hair.

Rabin coughed to cover up a bout of hysterical laughter. “Uh, Zane, we’ve got company.”

“Huh?” The towel came down, covering his groin as Zane blinked around the apartment. His gaze snagged on Izzy.

“Zane.” Rabin sat forward, elbows on knees, as Izzy came into the room. “This is Izzy, a friend of mine. He’s Brent’s cousin.”

“Hey, glad to meet you.” Rabin had to smile at the way Izzy tamped down his normal sunny inflection and didn’t flirt a bit.

Holding the towel at his waist, Zane extended a hand and tried a tentative smile. “Hey.”

“Sorry to barge in. I made some food and brought it over. Figured you guys would be hungry after moving stuff around all day.”

Zane’s head jerked up a little. “Food?”

“I’m a culinary student.” Izzy glanced at Rabin. “School’s not all that far away, in fact.”

Rabin saw the wicked glint in Izzy’s eyes, but Zane couldn’t.

The mention of food did break through Zane’s hesitation. “Yeah?”

Rabin sank back on the couch, trying to relax. “Oh yeah, Zane, you’re in for a treat. He’s good.” And not just at cooking.

Izzy grinned. “I hope you like manicotti.”

“Are you shitting me?” Zane was all smiles now. “I’m starved. Let me go get some clothes on.”

Once Zane disappeared into his room, Izzy smiled at Rabin. “The way to a man’s heart…”

* * * *

Izzy stayed with them for dinner, and Rabin marveled at this person he hardly knew. It looked like Izzy and sounded like Izzy, but most of his customary mannerisms were gone. No flapping, expressive hands, no batted eyelashes, no swaying in his chair or curling fingers in his hair. He talked and laughed, quizzing Zane about himself and the drive up from Virginia, and seemed to be having a good time, but it was like a different person. Or at least a different side of the same person.

Rabin kind of liked this side too. Seemed natural and less contrived. Rabin had to wonder if either face was a mask. Or both.

“Just keep the dish,” Izzy told Rabin as they dumped their paper plates into one of the giant black sacks that’d been stuffed with rubbish during the day. “I’ll come back and get it.” Since Zane was preoccupied with the trash bag, Izzy gave Rabin a knowing smile.

“You sure you don’t want to come with us?” Zane asked, coming to lean on the kitchen counter. “Rabin says this place down the street is worth it.”

“No, thanks. It’s a long drive back to the house, and I’m beat. And I’ve got school tomorrow.”

“Well, hey, you deserve an A-plus for that meal tonight.” Zane patted his stomach.

“Thanks. I wish my instructors were as positive as you.” They all laughed. “All right, I’m gone.” He held out his hand to Zane. “Nice to meet you.”

“Same here. Anytime you want to bring over food…”

“You bet.” He waved innocently at Rabin, who had remained in the kitchen. “See ya, Rabin.”

“’Night. Thanks, Iz.”

Then he was gone. Just like that. Rabin rubbed at his chest, feeling a bit odd. The visit felt…unfinished. What did he expect? A kiss good-bye?

“He’s a little light in the loafers too, isn’t he?”

Rabin startled and looked up at Zane, who now leaned on the other side of the counter. “Huh?”

Zane jerked his head toward the door, wild hair bouncing with the move. “Izzy. He’s gay, isn’t he?”

“Uh, yeah. How’d you know?”

“Oh please, I can spot ’em a mile away. Nice guy, though, even if he looks like a girl.”

“Hey.”

Zane shrugged. “I call ’em like I see ’em. Besides, he can look however he wants if he cooks like that. Oh man.” Again he patted his belly, adding a smack of his lips to it. “You gonna get showered?”

“Yeah.”

Rabin went to his room to gather clothing. The visit had gone well and done exactly what Izzy had intended. Now Zane knew Izzy as a friend. School and food gave Izzy a reason to drop by unannounced. In one smooth move, Izzy had made it easier for him and Rabin to occasionally see each other with Zane none the wiser, as long as they were still careful. It was masterful, really.

So why did Rabin feel slightly…disappointed?

Chapter Seven

For the second time in less than a week, Rabin found himself out in public at a pretty rocking place with no desire to meet someone new. No, not true. He always liked meeting new people, and he’d met those here at Addie’s. But he had no desire to take any of the lovely ladies he’d met home with him, and it wasn’t just because he was tired from moving furniture for most of the day.

He sat at the table he and Zane had landed a few hours ago, alone with his third scotch and soda. His latest new friend had left him to join her friends on the dance floor and had probably given up on him. He didn’t blame her. Although he’d read all of her very obvious signals, he hadn’t responded to one. After a pleasant conversation and a drink—on him—she’d excused herself. Now he had only the dim bowl of light dangling over his head and a view of the minuscule dance floor for company. He watched the dancers and contemplated the small stage beyond them. Yes, he decided, they could play up there and fill the place with rock. The sound system was good, and the lights weren’t too bad, not for a place of its size.

“All right.” Zane dropped heavily into the padded bench across from Rabin, somehow managing not to spill his drink. It might have started out as a rusty nail—Zane’s favorite celebratory drink—but by the look of it, the Drambuie was long gone and only watery Scotch remained. Zane took a moment to right himself and fold his arms carefully on the painted black tabletop, then blinked a few times to bring Rabin into focus. “What’s up with you, man?”

Rabin shot back the last of his own drink and considered the glass, wondering if he wanted another. It was only walking distance back home, after all, no driving involved. “Wha’dya mean?”

“You should be cock-deep in pussy right now. I thought you’d leave hours ago.” Not an unusual occurrence.

Rabin shrugged. “Not in the mood.”

“Not in the…?” Zane sat back, fingers of both hands up to dig into his considerable mop of hair. “I fucking hate you sometimes. There are at least seven girls here who’re dying to have you.” His hands slapped down on his thighs.

Rabin chuckled. “And you know this because…?”

“Because they asked me about you.”

“Ah. Sorry.”

Zane glared. “I haven’t skimmed your sloppy seconds in a long time, man.”

Rabin swallowed, twirling his glass. True. Zane used to call Rabin his lure. It wasn’t that Zane was bad-looking; he just wasn’t that good at starting things off. Once he got a girl who was interested, he was fine. After the Knights had their fifteen minutes of fame, Zane had found his own girls. It had lasted a long time in Virginia at their old haunts and in New York at the few bars where they tended to hang out. But it was all new here, and evidently Zane was striking out. Rabin knew from experience that the Knights were pretty much nonexistent in the local lexicon. “You want to just head home, then?”

“Fuck no.” Zane glanced toward the bar and the blonde behind it. “I got a definite shot with Addie, and she’s not off until two a.m.”

Rabin tilted his phone up to check the time. It wasn’t even midnight. “Fine. I’m headed home.”

Zane’s hand shot out to grab his wrist. “What for?”

“I’m beat.”

Zane clearly didn’t believe him.

“Aren’t you?”

“Well, yeah, but…” Zane let it trail, but he didn’t need to finish. Rabin knew. Zane hadn’t gotten laid for weeks. He’d said so himself earlier.

“Look, tonight’s not the night. Besides, we should take a look at those songs before we go into the studio on Wednesday. We don’t need to be shit-faced tomorrow when we do it.”

Zane’s blue eyes shuttered, watching his hand as he dragged it back to wrap around his glass. “Yeah. Right.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Fuck you.”

Zane shook his head, still hunched over his glass. “Those songs, man. I don’t know.”

Rabin leaned back against the battered leather seat. “What?”

“I’m not…comfortable with them.”

“Now you tell me this?” He tapped the table with the tips of two fingers. “What aren’t you comfortable with?”

Zane sipped his drink, buying time. “It’s not our style, man. It’s not the Knights.”

Rabin snorted. “It’s not our old style, sure. That’s the point. The old stuff wasn’t working.”

“Nah, you’re wrong. The old stuff works. The stupid record company didn’t have a clue what to do with it.”

Rabin was talking before Zane finished the word stuff. “We’re not doing this again, Zane. The old stuff didn’t work because it didn’t—”

“That’s what they said—”

“—work, and we need something new. That’s the whole point—”

“—and you’re right we need a new twist, but some of that new stuff we were working on before—”

“—of moving out here, of working with Brent—”

At the mention of Brent’s name, Zane’s lips snapped shut, and he glared at the fake wood paneling on the wall beside them.

“What?”

One side of Zane’s upper lip lifted. “What is it with you all of a sudden? When did he become God?”

Rabin blinked. Okay, this was new. “What?”

Zane downed the last of his drink. “Ever since New Year’s, it’s been Brent this and Brent that. Jesus, if I didn’t know you were straight, I’d think you were hot for the guy.”

Rabin slammed his fist on the table, making the empty glasses jump. “Fuck you.”

“Fuck you.” Now Zane looked at him, eyes full of drunken fire. “When did you decide he was all that?”

Rabin’s heart raced. He stabbed one finger into the table. “We talked about this. You agreed to this. We moved, for Chrissakes. What’s this crap about Brent all of a sudden?”

“I know I agreed. Christ, what was I supposed to do? We weren’t going nowhere, and this was something. But you need to shut up about Brent-fucking-Rose and concentrate on the Knights.”

“Bugger me, I thought I was. I got us a studio. I’ve been composing.” What have you done? But he didn’t ask that. That question only ever started a bigger fight.

Zane shook his head. “Those songs, man, those weren’t Knights songs. Those were Heaven Sent songs.”

“Bullshit. Brent and I worked on those together.”

“Yeah, sure. Can’t hear much of you in ’em. Was that even you playing?”

“Of course it was. Fuck you.”

Zane leaned forward, gripping the edge of the table. “I know you wanted to try something new, but that crap’s too radical. Too different. We need to work on some real stuff. Get the right guys and do some real music.”

Rabin stared at Zane, unable to believe what he was hearing. Here he’d been excited. He thought the stuff he and Brent had worked on had great potential. He drew in his anger, not exactly easy with a few drinks in his system. “I wish you’d said something before.”

“Wasn’t time. Figured it was better to talk to you in person.” Zane wiped a hand over his face with a sigh. “Didn’t mean to do it like this.”

“Whatever.” Rabin scooted to the edge of his bench. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

Without another word, he stood and walked to the door, leaving Zane behind. Outside, the early summer air was mild and pleasant, at odds with his mood. He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and took his time walking back, needing to think. The crap about the music pissed him off, but he was letting that go already. He and Zane didn’t always see eye to eye about their craft, and plenty of arguments peppered their past. They’d work it out like they always did. But his accusation about Rabin being hot for Brent hit a little too close to home. He was just being an asshole. Making his point, jabbing at Rabin. Rabin tried to tell himself that. But Zane would freak if he knew the truth. He’d freak if he knew that Rabin had stopped himself from calling Izzy at least a half dozen times since they’d left the apartment, just to say hi. Even he didn’t know what that was about.

Back at the apartment, he holed up in his room with the windows open to the night air. His beloved Stratocaster was out of her case and in his arms before long, and he tried to lose himself in finger work to distract himself and calm down. It worked, somewhat, at least distracting his brain from physical needs. But it brought up another gnawing ache. He hadn’t been up on a stage playing music since New Year’s with Heaven Sent. He hadn’t played his own music for other people for much longer. Other than the bits and pieces he’d worked on with Brent, he hadn’t written anything in far too long to even think about.

And Zane was wrong—those songs were mostly his. Brent had been really good about not pushing the style. What Zane had heard was stuff Rabin had wanted to do for years but had known Zane wouldn’t like. Punk and hard rock were Zane’s thing and the veil over the Indigo Knights. Funny how Zane refused to realize that “Simplicity,” their one hit, was far more of a pop tune than rock. That’s why it’d succeeded. The style was much better for them, better for Zane’s vocals even. Rabin had discussed this for hours on end with Brent and Hell. But he hadn’t figured out how to tell Zane that. He’d so hoped that Zane would just go with the new songs and accept the transition.

Lights off, he was sitting at a chair in front of his one window, staring at the building across the street, when he heard the apartment’s front door open. Fingers on the strings to still them, he listened. Zane wasn’t alone. Whispering and a high-pitched voice along with his gave that away. Rabin waited until Zane’s door closed. Waited and wondered if he’d hear anything. Then Zane’s futon frame started creaking. Not so bad, then. If it weren’t so quiet and Rabin hadn’t been listening, he could’ve ignored it.

Good. He was glad Zane had hooked up with someone. Meant he’d be in a better frame of mind in the morning. They’d hash out their differences, come to a compromise, and be ready for Wednesday.

As his fingers trailed over the strings, Rabin’s mind wandered to his own sexual pursuits. Immediately his mind filled with the image of a smooth back draped with shining black hair, of a gorgeous profile peeking at him over a shoulder, of dark eyes melting with desire. Rabin closed his eyes and could taste Izzy’s lips on his, could feel the weight of that slight body in his lap. Lifting his right hand from the strings, Rabin clutched it in a fist that he could easily imagine gripping Izzy’s cock.

Fuck it.

Carefully he set the guitar down on the floor beside him, then worked open the fly of his jeans. His cock popped out, already hard. Under cover of darkness, with just his own saliva for lube, Rabin fisted his shaft and closed his eyes, letting his mind fill with the honeyed tones of Izzy’s moans and the sharp scent of his sweating skin. He lingered over his fantasy, making it last, but the orgasm wouldn’t be denied. With a strangled grunt, he came in spurts over his T-shirt, despite having pulled it most of the way up his chest.

He leaned back in the chair, fly open, belly and chest striped with cum, and tried not to wonder what was going to happen next.

Chapter Eight

Rabin snapped his guitar case shut but kept his head down, not quite ready to show his eyes. He heard Zane ruffling papers about ten feet away, the nearer sound louder than the murmured voices in the console room. He contemplated the scuffed state of his boots and reached down to retie one of them. Once done, he thought he might have his expression under control.

He sat up. Zane looked to be engrossed in the pages of his notebook, but Rabin doubted that was the case. He’d know Rabin was pissed. When Rabin stood, Zane finally looked his way, stabbing a pencil into his hair right over his ear.

“Ready to go?” Zane asked, face as pleasant as ever. A mask Rabin wished he could see through.

“Sure.” Wearing his own mask, he led the way into the console room.

Dylan was gone, and for that Rabin was grateful. Only Brent and Todd were left. Todd twirled one of his drumsticks around his fingers as he talked, but he shut up as Rabin came into the room.

Rabin set his guitar down in the corner. “Okay if I leave this here?”

Brent raised a brow. “Sure. It’ll be all locked up.”

“Cool.” He dug his hands into his jeans pockets. “We’re off.”

Rabin looked at Brent, and Brent stared steadily back. Since Zane was at his back and couldn’t see, Rabin blinked and lowered his eyes, as much of a nod as he’d allow himself.

“Right, then. See you tomorrow.” That was it. Brent said nothing of what Rabin thought he must want to say.

Zane said nothing either, not even good-bye, as he followed Rabin down the hall and out the front door of the studio. The silence persisted until they were halfway to the train station two blocks away from the studio.

“You’re pissed,” Zane said, keeping his eyes forward.

“You think?”

“He wasn’t right, man.”

“How would you know? You barely listened to him.”

Zane shook his head. “He wasn’t right.”

Rabin bit his tongue rather than spout any number of angry remarks that leaped into his mouth. Dylan had done them a favor, coming in to play bass with them today. After a week and a half, they’d had very little luck in finding anyone. Rabin knew Dylan’s name from a short-lived pop band. He was pretty good, and he played well with Todd. Since Todd looked to be panning out as a good drummer for them, Rabin had felt a spark of hope that they could finally get some real work done. Until Zane shot it down.

“Whatever, man. He’s the third guy you’ve said wasn’t right.”

“It takes time to find someone.”

“We don’t have time!” Rabin fisted his hands and sucked a deep breath in through his nostrils.

They crossed the street before Zane continued. “We can’t just take anyone in. We tried Markus out for a few weeks and two gigs before we said he was part of the band.”

Rabin bit the inside of his lip, hearing the accusation. That time, it’d been his fault. He hadn’t liked Markus, and he hadn’t been willing to let the asshole into the band. To this day, he still thought it’d been a mistake on some level. Their former bass player was poison.

He stopped, staring up the metal stairs leading to the train platform. “Whatever. We’re gonna run out of money soon enough, and Brent’s gonna run out of patience.” He heard Zane’s little sniff and ignored it. “We need to find someone to at least fill in while we write some material.”

Zane hung on to the railing, staring in the opposite direction from Rabin. “I know.”

Rabin nodded. He discarded at least five parting shots before he finally gave up. He stepped back from the stairs. “I need to take a walk. I’ll see you at home tonight.”

“Christ, Rabin, don’t put this all on me.”

For the first time in the last hour, Rabin turned fully on his friend and let all of his anger show in his face. “I can’t talk to you now.” He held up a hand, then snatched it aside, like he was throwing something away. “Not. Now.”

Zane searched his face, then shut his own angry expression down. He nodded. “Fine.” He started up the stairs. “I may not be there when you get home.”

Was it bad that Rabin hoped like hell he wasn’t? Yeah. It meant he was way too angry. He turned on his heel and started walking. It was insanely early in the evening, afternoon really. Once Zane had discarded Dylan, it had been obvious they weren’t going to get any work done. Rabin’s dream shot at studio time was whittling away, and they hardly had anything accomplished. Zane only made halfhearted attempts at any lyrics and was quietly disdainful of the melodies Rabin and Brent came up with. Zane outright refused to sing when Brent was around. Rabin and Zane had already argued about it nightly for the past few days.

After a number of blocks, Rabin came up to another train station. He hadn’t learned all the streets yet, but he was smart enough to keep the tracks in sight. He stopped, watching a train whiz by. He needed something to do tonight. He needed to turn off and feel good.

Smiling, he dug into his pocket and drew out his cell phone.

Izzy answered on the second ring. “Hey, stranger.”

“Hey. You at school?”

“Yeah, just finished. What’s up?”

“You up for an early dinner?”

“With you?”

Rabin chuckled. “Yeah.”

“And Zane?”

He frowned. “No. Just me.”

“You okay?”

“Truth? Not really. I could use your smile right now.” He blinked into the breeze, wondering where the hell that had come from. Not that it wasn’t true, but why had he said it?

“Oh. How sweet.”

He hung his head, sheepish. “Thanks.”

“I’d love to go to dinner. What are you in the mood for?”

* * * *

The pizzeria hostess smiled brightly at him. “You must be Rabin.”

He blinked and gave her wide eyes. “Um, yeah?”

She giggled and waved a hand. “Come with me.”

Perplexed, he followed as instructed. He saw Izzy right when they turned the corner, but that wasn’t hard to do. Once past the enclosed entryway, the small restaurant was an open space with about two dozen tables arranged artfully among huge potted plants and mounted wooden trellises. Izzy sat at what looked like a picnic bench, complete with red-and-white-checked tablecloth, picking apart a roll over a basket of more as he talked to a slim man in a dark dress shirt wearing an apron over his jeans. Izzy’s smile shone bright even in the muted light of the hanging globe over the table, and his pink T-shirt stood out against the dark wood surrounding him.

When he saw Rabin, he waved, spraying breadcrumbs all over the table. The guy standing by the table talking to him turned with a smile. Whoa, he was good-looking. Shiny dark hair like Izzy’s but with more curls and mysterious dark eyes.

“You must be Rabin,” he said, holding out his hand to shake. Then laughed at the look on Rabin’s face. “Izzy’s been talking about you.”

“Oh please, I haven’t talked him up that much.” Izzy waved his roll at the bench opposite him. “Sit, sit. Rabin. This is Oliver and Amanda. Their dad owns this place. Sit.”

Oliver patted Rabin’s shoulder and used the hand to guide Rabin onto the bench across from Izzy. “We’re also classmates.”

“Yeah, that too.” Izzy shifted, getting comfortable on his seat. “And I do not think it’s fair that you’ve got a real restaurant to practice in.”

Oliver laughed. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.” He winked at Rabin. “Dad only lets me into the kitchen after hours. Says I’m not allowed until after I graduate.”

Rabin smiled at the easy camaraderie. This wasn’t what he’d had in mind when he called, but maybe it was better. He’d not been surrounded with many smiles in the last few days.

Oliver set a laminated single-sheet menu in front of him. “Here you go. Can I get you something to drink?”

“A beer?”

“Any particular? We’ve got Miller on draft.”

“Sounds good.”

“Coming right up.”

Oliver left, and Rabin watched Izzy’s lips curl around the straw sticking out of his soda.

Izzy caught him at it and grinned. “So…” He leaned over the table to point at the menu. “I can certainly recommend the pizza. They serve both thin crust and Chicago style.” He rolled his eyes and groaned. “The Chicago style is to die for.”

Rabin pushed the menu away. “Sounds good to me.”

Izzy stuck out his bottom lip, grabbing the menu. “You sure? There’s lots of other stuff.”

“Nope. Pizza sounds good. The works.”

“You have had Chicago style, right?”

Rabin grinned. “I have.”

“Oh good. We brought my mom here when she came to visit the week after I started school, and she just hated it.” He shook his head, placing the menu at the end of the table. “She’s the pickiest eater, I swear. That’s part of the reason I got good at cooking, because I had to figure out a hundred different ways to make chicken good.”

Rabin laughed, then settled in for throwing questions at Izzy to keep him talking. Didn’t matter what they talked about; Rabin just wanted to soak him in. He was so up and positive, nothing at all like any of the people Rabin had been in the studio with. By the time Oliver brought them their pie, Rabin was learning the many and myriad ways to make pizza according to what Izzy had learned at school.

“So.” Izzy washed down his second slice with the last of his soda and set the ice-filled glass at the end of the table. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

Rabin wiped his mouth with the red cloth napkin, stalling a little. “What?”

Izzy toyed with the spatula sticking out of the deep-dish pan between them, clearly contemplating another slice. “You sounded really down when you called.”

“Oh. That.”

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Izzy hastened to say. “But…if you did…want to talk, I’m happy to listen.”

The space around Rabin’s heart warmed. He shook his head. “Just having trouble with the band. We’re not finding the right vibe.”

The spatula rose, laden with another slice that Izzy brought to his plate. “Something wrong with the music?” He smiled and nodded at Oliver, who came to whisk away the empty glass.

Rabin sipped his beer, deciding how deep he wanted to get into this. “No.” He set the beer down. “Not really. We haven’t gotten that far.”

“Huh? You guys have been at it every day for a week and a half.”

“Yep. And something’s gone wrong every day.”

“Ouch. No wonder Brent hasn’t looked happy.”

Rabin winced.

“For the record, he doesn’t say anything bad about you.” Izzy’s eyes were on the knife and fork he used to cut into his slice. “He’s just frustrated that things aren’t moving faster.”

Rabin wanted to ask if Brent had said anything about Zane, but decided he didn’t want to know. “It’s hard. Especially since we haven’t found a bass player that fits in.”

“That could be tough, I guess. You’ve had some guys come in, though.”

So he has heard some details from Brent. “A few. Zane didn’t like them.”

“Zane.”

Rabin nodded, having deliberately used his friend’s name. “Zane.”

“Why not?”

“Don’t have a fucking clue, to be honest.” He raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “He’s being an asshole. Nothing new.”

Izzy considered that, chewing slowly. “Nothing new?”

Rabin took a bite and waited until he chewed and swallowed to answer. “Zane took it hard when the original Knights broke up. He was really attached to the lineup, and he misses the other guys. I didn’t realize that he’s not ready to move on.”

“Will he be?”

“Who knows? If not, there won’t be an album. If Brent gets sick of us and kicks us out, that’s pretty much it. And please don’t say any of this to him.”

Dark curls bounced as Izzy shook his head. “No, no. I won’t.”

“It’s just depressing, y’know?” Rabin watched his fork cut into the delicious red goop on his plate. “I don’t know what I’ll do if this doesn’t work out.”

“It will work out. It has to.”

Rabin gave him a halfhearted smile. “Can we talk about something else?”

Big eyes studied him a moment. Then Izzy smiled. “Sure. I’m going to Taste of Chicago next week. Ever heard of it?”

“No.”

Again Izzy’s face lit up with a wide grin. “Oh man, it’s the best! My mom used to bring me to the city to go every year. So much food!”

Chapter Nine

A warm breeze caressed them as they bid good-bye to Oliver and Amanda and left the pizzeria. Rabin stuck his hands in his pockets, a little depressed that the dinner was over. But no more bread or dessert could keep them at the table.

“You headed home?” Rabin asked as they walked down the block toward the train station.

Izzy didn’t immediately answer, gazing up at the faded blue sky. “I could.” He twisted to meet Rabin’s eyes, then quickly glanced away. “Or we could…stay…together.”

Rabin felt his neck flush and dropped his gaze to the sidewalk. “We can’t go to my place.”

“Right. Zane. Well…” Izzy’s shoulder bumped Rabin’s arm. “There’s a motel down the street. It’s nice. Families of students at the school stay there all the time.”

Part of him thought he should say no. He wasn’t gay—really—so he shouldn’t be doing stuff with Izzy. No matter what Izzy said, he’d probably get the wrong idea. But he so very much did not want this pleasant time with Izzy to end. Not yet. “You sure?”

“About the hotel?” Izzy smiled, proving he was teasing. “Yeah.” He bumped Rabin’s arm again. “About tonight? Oh yeah. If you are.”

Inside his pockets, Rabin’s hands curled to fists. Then he felt himself nodding. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Izzy grabbed his arm and forced him to turn. “We need to go in here.”

Surprised, Rabin looked up at the LIQUOR sign above them just before they crossed through the double glass doors. His suspicions of why they were there were confirmed when Izzy walked boldly up to the counter and leaned on it, pointing out the condoms and lube behind the clerk. Amused but a little horrified at Izzy’s boldness, Rabin hung back, pretending to be distracted by the magazine rack. He flipped through the latest edition of Guitar World and even gave a thought to buying it, but when he heard Izzy’s chipper thank-you, he shoved the magazine back. Izzy joined him, gave one glance at the magazines, smiled, then led the way out of the shop.

When they got to the motel desk, Rabin got his wallet out before Izzy could.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” Rabin gave the clerk a credit card that should have plenty for the night.

“Okay.” Izzy didn’t sound convinced, but he didn’t argue further.

Rabin was glad, because he was busy staring down the man behind the counter who took note that they had no luggage. But he made no comment and was otherwise perfectly nice as he handed Rabin’s card back with their key card. Izzy was humming slightly as they left the tiny office and approached the stairs. Rabin couldn’t help but watch Izzy’s pert little ass as he led the way up. Their room was three doors down on the left. Rabin opened the door and let Izzy precede him inside.

He got a brief impression of a bright orange wall and the orange-and-gray-striped bedding on the queen-size bed, but it was only brief. Izzy tossed his plastic bag onto the bed, rounded on Rabin, and slammed him against the wall near the opening for the bathroom.

Lithe arms wrapped around Rabin’s neck, forcing him to bend. “I’ve been wanting to do this all night.”

Then Izzy was kissing him—devouring him, really. Rabin had no choice but to open his mouth and wrap his arms around the eager body pressed against him. Not that it was a hardship. He was more than happy to do his own share of devouring, tongue wrestling with Izzy’s as one of his hands found rich, soft hair to sink into. He slipped a little on the wall, legs sliding from under him to put his mouth on level with Izzy’s. The new position allowed Izzy to straddle one of his thighs, pressing eager hardness into his muscle.

Making adorable little whining noises, Izzy unwrapped his arms so he could paw at Rabin’s shirt. “Off.”

Rabin yanked Izzy’s shirt up. “You too.”

“Yeah.” They were having trouble separating their mouths, though, so it took a few more minutes before Izzy finally tore himself away, even taking two steps back. “Enough.” He stood there panting, dark eyes gleaming over a swollen-lipped smile. “You need to get naked.” He grabbed the hem of his pink shirt. “Now.”

Rabin’s lips grinned all by themselves as he pushed himself off the wall. Izzy backed farther away from him, unbuttoning his jeans, as Rabin tore his own shirt off. Izzy managed his slip-ons while still standing, but Rabin had to sit on the edge of the bed to untie his boots. Izzy used the time to shimmy out of his jeans, leaving him in just some bright blue briefs.

Rabin tossed aside his second boot. “Come here.”

Izzy hesitated by the desk. “You need to get out of those jeans.”

“In a minute.” He kept his voice soft and beckoned. “Come here.”

Izzy blinked, then stepped toward him. Rabin gathered him closer with arms around Izzy’s waist and shoved his nose into the soft dip right under Izzy’s rib cage. He shut his eyes and just breathed for a second.

Hands stroked his hair. “Hey?”

Rabin stuck his tongue out to taste Izzy’s skin, then tilted his head to lay on a wet kiss. Izzy shuddered as Rabin kept kissing soft skin, smoothing his hands over Izzy’s back and sides as he kissed his way down. He tucked his hands into the back of Izzy’s briefs, better to get two good handfuls of tight buttocks. Izzy sighed as Rabin eased the briefs down while sipping at Izzy’s navel. He carefully eased the briefs over Izzy’s rigid cock, then let them drop down his legs while caressing his thighs.

Izzy jumped when Rabin kissed the tip of his cock. “Hey, wait—”

“Shhh.” Rabin reached around to regain his handfuls of ass.

“But…?”

“’S okay.” He lapped at the tip again, tentative about the taste. Of all they’d done, putting his lips to Izzy’s cock seemed like a big step. But he wanted to do it more than he was willing to admit to himself. With Izzy fidgeting under his hands, Rabin opened his lips and slipped them over the smooth head.

“Oh.” Fidgeting shuddered to a stop, and Izzy’s fingers tightened in Rabin’s hair as he slowly slid his tongue around the head. Knowing how good it felt on his own cock, Rabin pointed his tongue and rubbed underneath the ridge.

“Okay, wait.” But Izzy’s sigh and the run of fingers through Rabin’s hair were at odds with his breathy request, so Rabin ignored it. He played a little more around the head, then slowly slid his lips down the shaft, letting velvety skin rub his tongue. The tip pushed at the back of his mouth, and he carefully stopped when he felt himself start to gag. Even so, he could get most of Izzy’s cock into his mouth, his nose just touching the curly dark hair at the base.

“Rabin, God.”

He experimented with ways to squeeze with his tongue and suction, loving the impatient groans that spilled from Izzy and the way the ass cheeks in his grip tightened and relaxed. Christ, I’m sucking cock. He didn’t let the foreign concept deter him, however, as he wetly pulled his mouth back up to the tip. A whimper from Izzy sent him right back down, and he set up a slow rhythm of up and down that he decided should feel pretty good.

Izzy let him go on for a while, but then he dug his fingers into Rabin’s hair and pulled gently. “Rabin, please, stop.”

Pulling away slowly, Rabin rolled his eyes upward. Izzy’s hungry, dark gaze was fastened on his mouth.

Izzy licked his lips. “I want to come with you inside me.”

Who was he to argue with that? He tilted his head and let his tongue swirl the head for one last suck, then released Izzy’s cock. Hands cupped his jaw, angling his face for the desperate kiss that descended on his lips.

“I…” Izzy’s breath warmed Rabin’s lips, his brown eyes open and so close. Then he groaned, closing those eyes. “Oh God, stand up and get naked, would you?”

Chuckling softly, Rabin stood after quickly shedding his socks. While he dropped his jeans, Izzy knelt in the middle of the bed, rummaging through the plastic bag to take out the box of condoms and the lube. He had the little bottle of lube open and a condom unwrapped by the time Rabin joined him on the bed. Ignoring the paraphernalia, Rabin framed his face with both hands and kissed him. Loving the whimper, he used his greater size to coax Izzy onto his back so he could stretch out on top of him. Warm and slim and firm, Izzy’s body was both exciting and comforting, a mouthwatering dessert after a bleak and awful day. The push of his cock into Rabin’s belly was still new, but new like a delicious new icing on a cake.

“God, Rabin, please.” Izzy turned his head aside to avoid Rabin’s mouth. So Rabin traced the line of his jaw and sucked at the throbbing pulse underneath. Izzy whimpered, lightly punching Rabin’s side. “Please, Rabin. God, fuck me, please. Fuck me now.”

This time, Izzy’s request was not to be ignored. Rabin slowly pulled back on his knees to sit on Izzy’s thighs. As soon as there was room, the smaller man proved by holding it up that he’d held the opened condom the whole time they were kissing. Rabin plucked it from his fingers and rolled it on.

Izzy fidgeted underneath him, fingers digging into his thigh. “Let me turn over.”

“No.” Rabin didn’t know what came over him, but he went with it. Condom on, he braced his hands on Izzy’s hips to keep him there, then maneuvered in between his legs. He grabbed one of Izzy’s knees and pushed it up toward Izzy’s chest. Looking down, he let the tip of his cock nudge the tiny little opening under Izzy’s balls. The condom was lubed, but he didn’t want to take the chance, so he let go of Izzy’s leg to grab the bottle. “Hey!” he protested as Izzy scrambled onto his side.

“Want it this way,” Izzy rasped, finishing the roll onto his belly.

Rabin was disappointed, but he didn’t make a thing of it. What did he know about gay sex, really? Maybe it didn’t feel as good face-to-face, although he was pretty sure it was possible. Unwilling to dwell on it just now, he let Izzy rise up onto his hands and knees, then poured a good gush of lube at the top of Izzy’s crack. He caught the liquid with his fingers as it got to Izzy’s hole, and smeared the skin, the rim, and then inside the hole.

“Rabin!” Izzy had his cheek pressed to the pillows, hair splayed over his face, fingers digging into the stuffing. “God, now, please.”

Rabin fell forward, bracing on his arm over Izzy’s back. With his free hand, he rubbed his cock over Izzy’s entrance. “You beg so pretty, Iz.”

“Whatever. Now. Please.”

Rabin pushed in.

“God, yes!” Izzy thumped the mattress with his fist, burying his face in the pillow as Rabin slowly speared into him.

So hot. Rabin smoothed his palm over Izzy’s back as it arched, muscles straining while Izzy pushed back. He combed Izzy’s hair free of his neck and leaned in to kiss the warm curve.

“Fuck, Rabin.”

Rabin eased out, then pushed back in, taking his time, amazed by the hot squeeze around his dick. Izzy’s pleading encouraged him to a little more speed. Still braced on one arm, he wrapped the other around Izzy’s chest, using it to hold his writhing body close and almost still. The mild restraint drove Izzy crazy, making him rock and arch into Rabin. He moved so much, Rabin had to let go so he could lean on both arms, his thrusts picking up speed to match Izzy’s.

“Fuck, I’m gonna—”

“Yes!” Face in the pillows, braced on one elbow, Izzy reached between his legs to pull on his cock.

They strained together in perfect sync. It was gorgeous, amazing. Rabin’s lungs labored as he slammed into Izzy’s willing body, spurred on by pillow-muffled cries.

Then he remembered. He leaned in as close as he could to Izzy’s ear. “Come for me.”

Izzy’s neck arched, his temple rubbing against the side of Rabin’s jaw. “Aw, fuck!” His entire body froze, trembling. A high, strangled cry ripped from his open mouth as his body jerked in a spasm. Then another. And another.

Caught off guard by the intensity, Rabin groaned when an orgasm tore through him, his dick exploding deep inside Izzy’s shuddering body.

He collapsed onto Izzy’s sweating back, panting hard and unable to move a muscle. Beneath him, Izzy was in no better shape, so only the sound of their breathing filled the quiet room.

Fuck. When finally he could think, move, he rolled his head so he could press his lips to the meaty spot between Izzy’s neck and his shoulder blade. “Fuck.” Yes, that needed to be voiced.

“Fuck,” Izzy agreed, dragging one arm up to his face. “Oh man, fuck.” He pushed sweat-damp hair from his face.

Rabin pushed up onto his elbow and blew on Izzy’s face, trying to help cool him. He watched long lashes flutter as Izzy tried to open his eyes. Gorgeous. Overcome, Rabin leaned in to kiss the corner of his mouth. Izzy sighed, melted, and they managed to twist him enough onto his side so they could kiss full-on. Rabin’s cock had to leave Izzy’s warmth for it, but it was an okay trade-off since his cock was well and truly spent. Rabin pushed Izzy all the way onto his back and framed his face, determined to explore every last centimeter of Izzy’s mouth with his tongue.

It was he who eventually stopped, slowing his kisses and pulling back so it became a brushing of moist lips. When he did stop and open his eyes, it was in time to see Izzy slowly drag his own open. Chocolate brown surrounded by a lacework of shining black, framed by softly rounded cheeks and arched black brows. The face of an angel.

His angel.

Oh man.

He sighed and rolled to his side, still half draped over Izzy. “I’m worn out.”

Izzy chuckled, wiggling out from underneath him. They lay on their sides, facing each other. “Not surprising with the way you fuck. Not that I’m complaining.”

Rabin smiled, punching one of the pillows into place under his head. “I don’t think I can get up.”

Which made Izzy laugh aloud. He sat up, stretching. “You should at least get the condom off.”

“What? Oh, right.” As Izzy stood, he pulled the latex from his dick and tied it off, then dropped it into the plastic bag Izzy held up for him. “Thanks.”

Izzy smiled, left the bag on the table, and disappeared into the bathroom.

Rabin lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. They hadn’t even opened the bright orange curtains or pulled down the cover on the bed, too intent on fucking each other’s brains out. And boy, had they. He’d even sucked cock. And liked it. Maybe there really was something to this gay-sex thing.

He startled, eyes opening when the mattress jounced.

“Sorry.” Still naked, his wet hair finger-combed back from his face, Izzy held the remote. “Did I wake you?”

Rabin stretched. “Must have.”

“You need to sleep?”

His eyes closed. “Probably.”

“Mind the television?”

He shook his head, pulling the pillow free of the spread. “Nope.” Rolling mostly onto his belly, he hugged the pillow beneath his head. “I just need a little…”

Gentle fingers stroked his cheek. “No worries. I’ll keep the volume low.”

Rabin nodded. He intended to say thank you, but sleep claimed him before he got the chance.

Chapter Ten

The day dawned brighter. Even if that perception might have been his fancy, he did feel much better for the night with Izzy. Despite the fact that he wore the same clothes—or maybe because that fact reminded him of why, which warmed his heart as well as places a little lower—he felt pumped and ready to tackle the day.

Waking with Izzy had been a little weird but not too awkward. They’d had sex again during the night, but mostly they’d talked. The topics were varied and light, and Rabin was pretty sure Izzy had kept away from any hot topics on purpose. He had to admit that he appreciated it. They’d had breakfast at a coffee shop by the school, then parted ways with conspiratorial smiles.

Brent’s car was in the parking lot when Rabin got to the studio, and he found his friend alone in the console room, working on a raw recording Rabin had never heard before. Brent looked up when Rabin entered, and stopped the playback.

“Want me to come back?” Rabin thumbed over his shoulder out the door.

“Nah. Just listening to a demo tape.” Brent pushed out one of the chairs with rollers, eyeing Rabin up and down. “Those the same clothes you had on last night?”

Rabin ducked his head as he retrieved his guitar case from the corner. “Yeah.”

“Good night?”

He sat. “Yeah.” He felt a little guilty for not telling Brent that his cousin was the reason, but since Izzy himself had suggested the secrecy, Rabin respected his wishes.

“Good for you. Then I guess you don’t know when Zane’ll be here?”

“He’s not here yet?”

“Not yet.”

Scowling, Rabin pulled out his phone and speed-dialed Zane.

“Yo.”

“Where are you?”

“Could ask you the same.”

“I’m at the studio.”

Zane grunted. “I missed the first train.”

“But you’re on your way?”

“Yeah. Be there in thirty.”

“Okay. See you then.” He hung up and glanced at Brent. “He missed the train. He’ll be here in a half hour.”

Brent shrugged. “Todd’s gonna be late anyway.”

Now that Brent mentioned it, Rabin recalled that the drummer had mentioned he’d be late. Was it uncharitable of him to wonder if Zane had missed the train on purpose so as not to chance being alone with Brent? He decided yes. Bending over, he opened his guitar case. “Wanna jam?”

Brent stood. “Sure. Let’s go in there.”

Bringing the case, Rabin followed Brent into the studio. After setting the case by the wall, he took his accustomed stool while Brent took a seat next to the keyboard set.

“So”—Brent turned on the board and flipped a bunch of the switches—“is this going to work out?”

Distracted by warm-up exercises for his fingers, Rabin wasn’t sure he heard him. “Huh?”

Brent watched his own fingers playing over the keys. “Zane doesn’t want to work with me, does he?”

Rabin played a sour chord. “Uh…”

The volume was low, but Rabin recognized one of Heaven Sent’s songs, one Brent surely knew backward and forward and could play without thinking. “It’s true. Not sure what I did, but it’s obvious enough.”

“He’ll get over it.”

“Will he?”

He’d better. “Yes.”

Brent glanced at him. “Nothing’s ever gonna happen if he doesn’t let a bass player stay for the jam.”

“I know.”

“Maybe we should put things on hold. Give you guys a chance to shop around for someone Zane likes.”

Rabin sat up, gripping the neck of his guitar hard. “You’d do that?”

Brent laughed, eyes still on his fingers. No, the song wasn’t a Heaven Sent song; it was one of Hell’s melodies from his pre-Heaven Sent days. Brent played it with the same careless talent he always showed, keyboard or strings. “Doesn’t do me much good to force coming in here when we don’t get anything done. I could hire out the place. Already have offers.”

Rabin’s heart sank. “Yeah, I guess.” He pried his hand free and resumed his finger exercises. “Only problem is, if we stop, I need to get a job.”

“Advance almost up?”

“Yep.”

“I know of a few studio gigs coming up, if you’re interested.”

Rabin dropped his chin to his chest. “Damn, man, I feel guilty with you helping me so much.”

“This one’s no skin off my back. You’d be doing me a favor. There’s a singer I want to produce, and she doesn’t have a band. I’ve got Todd and Dylan interested already. And she’s got money to burn.”

Rabin stared at Brent’s profile, wondering if the other man realized what he was saying. He wanted to get the lineup he’d proposed for the Knights together with another singer? Should Rabin be offended? If so, he couldn’t manage it. “Thanks. Yeah, I’m interested.”

Brent nodded. “Good. I’ll set it up. Meantime, we’ll need to rearrange the schedule for the Knights.” All said without looking up, without stopping.

“Yeah.” Rabin looked down at his own fingers. “We’ll do that today.”

Without any more talking, they both finished their warm-ups, then just kind of slid into a quiet jam. One of the many reasons he loved playing with Brent was that it was so easy. They just kept playing, working around and with each other, like they were dancing. It was like that when he was fucking Izzy. He played a sour chord thanks to that off thought, but he recovered before Brent remarked on it. But now he couldn’t get Izzy out of his thoughts. Fucking him was like playing music—easy, exciting, and never got old. At least, not yet. He had no frame of reference regarding gay sex, but he knew enough about straight sex to know that it couldn’t be easy with just anyone. It was Izzy that made it special, Izzy’s willingness to give and take that was compatible with Rabin’s mood and actions.

Lost in his thoughts and the music, Rabin didn’t realize they had company until Brent’s playing tapered off. He glanced up to see Brent looking toward the doorway. Zane was there, standing quietly. Listening.

Zane waved his composition notebook toward the hall behind him. “Todd’s here. Stopped by the john first.” His voice was subdued, and his eyes strayed low of Rabin’s face.

Rabin glanced at Brent, but his friend had shut off the keyboard and was strolling toward the console room. “Cool. I’m gonna grab a smoke before we start.”

Zane watched him go and waited until the door from the console room to the hall opened and shut before he came into the studio. “So. You got lucky last night.”

Rabin tracked him across the hardwood floor to the couch. “Yeah.” He stood, guitar strap still slung over his shoulder, and joined his friend. “You?”

“Nah.” Zane tilted his head to rest his skull on the back of the couch. His tight, abundant curls pillowed his head. “I stayed home. Did some thinking.”

Rabin stilled his strings by placing a palm on them. He waited.

Zane took a deep breath. “You’re right. I haven’t given this a shot. I just… It doesn’t feel like ours. Y’know?”

“Honest? No.”

Zane combed hair from his forehead, staring blankly across the room. “Some of the stuff you and Brent wrote is pretty damn good. I guess I’m jealous.”

“You shouldn’t be. It’s for the Knights. I want you involved.”

“I know.” Zane’s hand fell back down and slapped his thigh. “I guess… I haven’t felt right since… Well, you know. I guess it’s just…big to be back, doing this, with all new people.”

“Yeah, okay. I get that. But the old way’s not coming back. You know that, right? Markus and Sam are gone.”

“Yeah. I know.” Finally Zane twisted his neck to look at Rabin. “I know.” He bit into his lower lip, a sign of emotion that Rabin knew well. “I came up with some lyrics last night that might work.”

That made Rabin smile, which prompted the same for Zane. “Cool.”

He’d fill Zane in about Brent’s offers later. Right now, this tentative truce and the promise of forward movement were too precious and fragile to jeopardize.

Chapter Eleven

For two weeks, things worked.

Zane cooperated and came up with lyrics and suggestions for three new songs. He even seemed excited. Brent played bass for them for the first few days, but then a guy named Oscar Trent—preferably known as OT—came in. He wasn’t perfect and didn’t contribute much to the creative process, but he played whatever bass line they asked of him and was patient when they changed it up. It was an exciting time.

Rabin enjoyed it even more because he and Izzy met every two or three days. Rabin went to see him after school, and they most often ended up at the same motel, but two nights they went to the movies, and one night Rabin spent a few hours hanging out with Izzy and his friends at the school while they were practicing for an upcoming exam. Rabin never told Zane who he was going to meet, just let his friend think there was a girl he’d hooked up with. He felt guilty for that—and for not confiding in Brent—but Izzy didn’t seem to have the same problem.

* * * *

“What have you been telling them?” Rabin asked one night as they lay facing each other under the bright orange bedspread.

Head pillowed a few inches in front of him, Izzy dragged his eyes open. “Brent and Hell?”

“Yeah.”

Izzy’s eyes closed. “That I’ve been kind of dating a friend from school, and that he’s got a place here in town.”

Rabin slid his hand down Izzy’s bare arm, his blood still simmering from the sex they’d just had. “They’re okay with that?”

Eyes opened again, mostly in shadow since the only lit lamp was on the nightstand behind him. “Why shouldn’t they be?”

Rabin fingered the sharp bone at Izzy’s hip. “We should tell them about us.”

Izzy frowned. “What for?”

“You shouldn’t have to lie. Besides, they should know.”

“No. They shouldn’t. It’s none of their business. And if they did know, that’d just make them all paranoid.”

“Paranoid?”

Izzy sat up, profile to Rabin, and pushed a riot of hair from his face. “If Brent finds out that I’m in another secret relationship, he’ll tell my mom, and she’ll pitch a fit.”

Rabin scowled, propping up on his elbow. “All the more reason to tell them.”

Izzy sighed. “Why?” He rounded on Rabin, dark eyes unusually bright and serious. “Are you gay now?”

Rabin’s jaw dropped. “I… Uh…”

“Uh-huh. You’re not. Let’s face it. We’re having fun, but you don’t want a real relationship. You don’t need—or want—all the crap that comes along with living gay, so why bother piling on the guilt?” He told this all to the silent television rather than to Rabin, his tone more forceful than usual. “The minute we tell Brent, he’ll give you pressure or, worse, tell you not to see me anymore for my own good.” His hands rose and spread, emphasizing his words. “Everyone will convince you that what we have is wrong. It’ll become a thing for absolutely no reason.”

Agitated, Izzy shoved out from underneath the sheets and spun around so he knelt facing Rabin. He resembled a wild boy, naked and still a little sweaty, the curls of his hair drying in wacky formations. He reached out to stroke Rabin’s jaw. “I like what we are. I’m fine with it. I don’t want to stop seeing you, and I don’t want other people to convince you that you need to stay away from me.”

Rabin blinked up at him, at a loss what to say. There was something wrong with what Izzy was saying, but it dangled just out of his reach, obscured by the bright distraction Izzy himself presented as he edged closer.

“Please?” Izzy wiggled back down to his side and snuggled up to Rabin. He kissed Rabin’s parted lips while sliding his hand down Rabin’s side. “Please, don’t ruin this. It’ll probably end on its own soon anyway. Let’s enjoy it while we’ve got it.”

End? Not that he wasn’t of the same opinion, but hearing Izzy say it with that faint note of desperation was out of tune. “Iz…”

“No no no.” Insistent lips took his, sharp little teeth biting away at the words he wanted to say. “We’re fine like we are.” Wonderful fingers wrapped around Rabin’s cock, waking it up. “I… Yes.”

He should stop this. He should make Izzy talk. But strangely, he didn’t feel like he had the right. Like Izzy said, he wasn’t ready to announce to the world that he was gay. Wasn’t even sure that what he did with Izzy made him gay. Was it just the sex that did it? Like Izzy said, there was so much more to it. So if he wasn’t prepared to come out, did he have a right to rouse the suspicion of those around Izzy? Given his past, Izzy’s family and friends would be justified in their concern. He let Izzy push him onto his back and accepted the smaller man’s weight atop him. All the while, they kept kissing. Rabin’s mind wouldn’t stop. Was what they were doing hurting Izzy, or should he trust that Izzy knew himself and knew what he was doing? Izzy, after all, was the one who kept pointing out that what they had was just fun and couldn’t be long-term. That shouldn’t bother Rabin, because it was true.

Frustrated with the rolling thoughts in his mind, Rabin growled and put all his attention into the physical act, pulling that darling body as close as he could and letting his hands roam the silken expanse of back. This was good. This couldn’t be bad. He lay there while sweet lips sampled his neck, his chest, his nipples, and he loved the way Izzy stroked his cock. He did have to stop Izzy to remind him about the condom when the other man reared up to impale himself, but Izzy just grumbled and scrambled for one of the little plastic packets on the nightstand. Rabin let the lapse pass while he sheathed himself, then put his hands on Izzy’s hips to steady his lover as he sank down on Rabin’s cock. He spurred Izzy on with words and a stroking hand on his cock, fascinated by Izzy’s gyrations over him. Dark hair fell back from the face that tilted toward the ceiling, pleasure pouring groans from his open mouth. This time, Rabin lost it first, groaning and gripping Izzy’s hips as the orgasm shook him. Izzy rode him through it, his own hand on his cock now to bring himself to come just moments after Rabin.

Rabin stared at the ceiling as Izzy collapsed into the bedding beside him. Worn out, he felt sleep coming on him fast. We need to talk. He thought it but didn’t say it. Izzy snuggled up to his side, breath soft over the right side of Rabin’s chest.

Nah, they were okay.

Chapter Twelve

Rabin was in his room on the phone with his mom when he heard Zane’s rejoicing whoop from the direction of his own room.

It was loud enough that she heard it too. “What was that?”

Lying on his bed, Rabin stared at the closed door. “I’m not sure.”

Rabin’s door opened, and Zane rushed in. “Dude, you’re not gonna believe—” He stopped at Rabin’s held-up hand.

“Mom, I gotta call you back.”

“I hope nothing’s wrong?”

Judging from the grin splitting Zane’s face, he doubted it. “I don’t think so. I’ll call you back.”

“Okay, dear. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

“Bye, Mrs. Guardia,” Zane called.

Rabin tossed the phone onto the milk crate that served as a nightstand. “What’s up?”

Zane spread his arms, palms out, fingers splayed. “Dude! The best news.”

Rabin had to smile. “Okay. What is it?”

“You remember Arthur Cardowski?”

“Worked A and R”—artists and repertoire—“for the record company, yeah.” The man who’d pumped them up and made them feel good so they’d make money for the record company. One of the ones who’d dropped them like a brick when things hadn’t soared. Prick.

Zane nodded. “Right. That’s who just called me. He’s with his own company now, and they bought the rights to our album.”

The album that never was and probably never would be, since their former record company owned part of it. But if someone else bought it… Rabin sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “And?”

Zane plopped down next to him, bouncing the bed. “They want us to finish it!”

The ground dropped out from under Rabin, or so it felt. “What?”

“I know! His new label’s called Cardamon Records, and they’re looking to start up by buying out albums like ours. Arthur got ours because he worked with us before.” Zane punched Rabin’s arm. “Dude, we’re back!”

Rabin scowled at the floor, thinking fast. “When do they want to do this?”

“Now.” Zane laughed.

“Where?”

“LA.”

“How are we supposed to get to LA?”

Some of Zane’s zeal deflated. “Dude, what the fuck?”

“What? I’m asking, how’re we supposed to get to LA?”

“I don’t know.”

Rabin pulled a knee up onto the mattress so he could face Zane. “You didn’t ask?”

“No, I didn’t ask. Christ.” Zane scowled, digging a finger into one of the holes in his jeans. “He said he’d call tomorrow with the details.”

“Who’s in on this deal?”

“All of us.”

“Who’s ‘all of us’?”

Zane sighed. “You’re a fucking piece of work. You know that? All of us. He’s already talked to Markus and Sam. They’re in.”

Rabin’s eyes went wide. “They’re in?”

“Yeah. Man.” Zane reached up to grab his arm, blue eyes sparkling. “This is it.”

Rabin heard the words but was reluctant to believe them. “But how do we get to LA?”

“I don’t know how. We’ll get there.”

“On what? We’ve barely got the rent here for another month or so. We don’t have the funds for another move.”

He saw some of his concern reluctantly dawn on Zane. “They’ll send us an advance.”

“Did he say that?”

“Well, no, but…”

“Listen. I’m not saying this isn’t good news.” Rabin stood and started pacing the relatively empty confines of his room. “It could be. But we’ve got to be smart about this. I’m not moving the hell across the country on the promise of some record company douche.”

“You sure that’s it?”

Rabin paused on his trip back toward his bed. Zane sat there scowling up at him, a lot of his enthusiasm behind a dark cloud.

“What?”

“Seems like you’ve gotten real cozy here in Chicago with your new friends.”

“Jesus Christ, are you gonna start this again?”

“I’m just sayin’. Maybe you’re not so happy to leave.”

“Would you give me a fucking break? I just uprooted my life two months ago to come here. Excuse the hell out of me if I’m a little cautious about doing it again so soon on the call out of the blue from a guy who worked for the company that dumped us last year.”

Zane’s gaze dropped down and to the side. “He says that wasn’t him.”

“And I’m sure he’d tell you the whole truth about it.” Rabin snorted and resumed his pacing. “Get a grip, Zane. We need to be smart about this.”

Pulling in a deep breath, Zane scraped hands into his hair to pull it back from his face. “Okay. Okay, yeah, you’re right. Sorry. It went to my head.”

Rabin smirked. “I know. But that is cool, if he’s on the up-and-up.”

Zane gripped his hair so hard that the corners of his eyes stretched to match the corners of his grin. “I think he is, man.”

Rabin nodded. “We’ll see.”

* * * *

The next day was Fourth of July, so they were off from the studio. Brent and Hell had plans of their own, and Izzy was out of town spending the holiday with his parents. Rabin had planned to take Zane to the Taste of Chicago. After hearing Izzy talk about it, Rabin was pretty sure both of them would enjoy it. But instead they spent the day discussing the new deal from every possible angle. They didn’t expect Arthur to call back on the holiday, but since they didn’t know, they wanted to be prepared.

Through it all, Rabin kept thinking of Izzy. And Brent. But mostly Izzy. What was he going to tell them? Surely, they’d both see what a great opportunity this was, but… He couldn’t dwell on it. Not until he knew some details.

Arthur called Rabin the next day, and they had a long, serious chat. Rabin remembered Arthur as a prick, but he thought most of the people he’d dealt with at the record company were all pricks on some level. Once Arthur realized that Rabin wanted hard-and-fast details, they got down to the nitty-gritty. Rabin dearly missed having a manager who dealt with this stuff, but he did his best. Cardamon Records had some money backing them, so Rabin and Arthur were able to tentatively agree on an advance that would cover Zane and Rabin’s transfer to LA and living expenses for a few months. It even allowed enough to keep paying rent on the place in Chicago for the same amount of time, which Rabin felt even better about. Before they got off the phone, Arthur agreed to draw up a proposal and e-mail it to Rabin and Zane for review.

“We can use the printer at the studio,” Rabin told Zane as he wrapped up relaying the details to his friend. Rabin still had his laptop even though they couldn’t afford Internet service at home. “As long as it’s on the up-and-up, we should be golden.”

He rejoiced with Zane, ignoring for the moment the sensation of tearing somewhere in the vicinity of his heart.

* * * *

Telling Brent the next day was easy. Shortly after they showed up at the studio, Zane took Todd on a food run to give Rabin a chance to break the news to Brent in private.

He took it well. “That’s terrific, man.” Brent even stood up to give him a back-slapping hug. “You feel good about what he said?”

Grinning as they both resumed their seats behind the massive console, Rabin nodded. “I do. Talked his ear off yesterday about anything I could think of. I got a chance to skim over the agreement, and it looks good.”

“You want me to ask someone to look at it? You need a legal eye.”

He opened his mouth to decline but heard himself accepting instead. He’d be a fool not to let a disinterested third party see the agreement. “That’d be awesome. Thanks.”

“Forward me the e-mail, and I’ll see if Chris or one of Gretchen’s people can give it a once-over. You should talk to her about managing, you know. Her people are good.”

Rabin perked up. “You think she’d be interested?”

Brent laughed. “You’ve already got a deal, and she knows I’ve been working with you. I think you’re good.”

“Wow. Again, thanks, man.”

“Don’t mention it.” Brent glanced at the closed door behind Rabin, then pursed his lips. “You tell Izzy yet?”

Rabin blinked, stunned. “Huh?”

Brent tossed silky black fringe from his face, then sat back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’ve been seeing Izzy for the past few weeks, haven’t you?”

Caught completely off guard, Rabin couldn’t think of how to dance around the subject. “You knew?”

Very little emotion showed on Brent’s face. “I suspected. Too many nights Izzy spent in town and you came in the next morning in the same clothes.”

Rabin winced. They hadn’t thought of that. “Right. Hey, listen—”

“I should kick your ass.” Brent held up a hand. “But, hey, you’re both adults. He probably told you not to tell me anyway, for fear I’d tell his mom.” Evidently Brent knew his cousin better than they’d expected.

“Did you?”

“Tell her? God no. It’s not her business. Not mine either.”

“Good. I mean, thanks.” Rabin’s heart raced. Brent had been so good to him, he didn’t want to get on his bad side. “It’s not a huge deal. We just…”

“Just?”

He took a breath, sitting forward to put his elbows on his knees. “I don’t know. I like him a lot.”

“You gay now?”

A breath exploded from Rabin’s mouth. “I don’t know. I guess?” He shook his head. “Or not. I like being with Izzy, but…”

“Not so much other guys?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve seen this before.”

“You have?”

“Sure. Darien got a taste of Chris and didn’t look back. Tyler with Johnnie too. Heck, I dated women for a little while.” He chuckled. “Liked it too.”

Rabin’s eyes went wide. Everyone Brent had just mentioned had ended up with lifelong commitments.

“Is it serious?”

He didn’t mistake Brent’s light tone. The other man was fishing for information and would kill him if Rabin answered wrong. “We’re just having fun.” He felt safe using Izzy’s own words, even if they sounded a little hollow.

“I hope you’re right about that.” His tone suggested Brent didn’t think so. “I don’t envy you telling him. I doubt he wants to find another playmate.”

Playmate. Rabin frowned. But that’s what he was. “I plan to tell him tonight.”

A pause while Brent studied his face. “Suggestion?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t tell him until you know for sure when you’re leaving.”

“Why?”

“Things are still up in the air now. Better to tell him when you’ve got some solid information.” He shrugged as he stood, picking up a pack of smokes and a lighter from the console. “But it’s up to you. Join me outside?”

Rabin nodded thoughtfully. “In a minute. I’m gonna check my e-mail.”

“Cool.” Brent patted his shoulder on the way out.

Rabin just sat there, staring at the floor. He’d worked himself into a lather the night before, thinking how to tell Brent and only superficially thinking of how to tell Izzy. Now that Brent knew, there was nothing to hold back the dread.

Izzy would be fine. They were just friends, having fun. Izzy was the one who kept telling Rabin that. He was even the one who’d mentioned things coming to an end. So, was Rabin’s dread even justified? Maybe he wasn’t so much worried over Izzy’s reaction as he was upset over his own?

Chapter Thirteen

Rabin took Brent’s advice and didn’t tell Izzy immediately. He felt bad, but Brent was right. You never knew what was going to happen from one minute to the next in the music business. It could easily turn out that the contract was bogus or the new record company changed their minds or things got delayed. Hell, it could even turn out that things moved to Chicago! You just never knew. It really was best to wait until everything was solid.

And if a part of Rabin hoped that things would fall through…? Well, he kept that to himself.

But the offer was solid. Brent couldn’t catch Chris Faith, because he was out of the country with Darien, but hooked Rabin and Zane up with a guy who worked out of Chicago for Gretchen, Heaven Sent’s manager. Gordon McCarty was a personable guy with black hair and icy blue eyes, who sat them down and gave them a good hour of straight talk. Rabin wasn’t sure he liked Gordon at first, but after the meeting, he regretted leaving Gordon behind. The man must make a fabulous manager. Gordon suggested they make one alteration to the contract—that of getting their advance in full, up front—and both Rabin and Zane had missed the fine print on that one. That alone made the meeting worthwhile. Arthur from Cardamon Records hemmed a few days on the timing of the advance, but then he gave in. Rabin thought maybe he sensed that Rabin was more than ready to walk away from the deal, even if Zane wasn’t. A second agreement was sent. Gordon was asked to read it and blessed it. Then Rabin found himself signing the damn thing Monday night and faxing it back.

The deal was done. He had an e-mail notice that his part of the advance would be electronically deposited in his account the next day. He and Zane had a week and a day to get their shit out to Los Angeles.

He couldn’t delay telling Izzy anymore.

* * * *

Tuesday night, Rabin met Izzy at their motel. He didn’t want to tell Izzy about this in public, and he didn’t think he could take the walk from school and dinner at the pizzeria before spilling the beans. So he was nervously pacing the narrow confines of the room when Izzy knocked.

Rabin opened the door, and Izzy grinned, breezing past him into the room. “Hey.”

Trying to still his nerves, Rabin paid undue attention to closing the door. “Hey.”

Izzy’s backpack thumped onto the rug, and Rabin turned into Izzy’s reaching arms. They met in a kiss that was now achingly familiar. He was going to miss this in LA.

“Mmm, I’m glad you suggested coming straight here,” Izzy murmured, tugging Rabin by his T-shirt as he walked backward toward the bed. “It’s been days since I’ve seen you.” Stopping at the bed, he slid a hand down to cup Rabin’s crotch. “I missed you.”

Rabin gave him a groan and a smile against his lips. “I missed you too.”

Izzy squeezed, and Rabin gave serious thought to having sex before he said anything about moving. But fairness won out. He grabbed Izzy’s wrist just before busy fingers could loosen his fly. “Wait.”

“What for?”

“Iz, stop. I’ve got something to tell you.”

Like a switch going off, Izzy froze, and half the warmth drained from the air around them. Wide dark eyes stared at Rabin’s throat. “Oh.” He licked his lips. “Can it…wait?”

“No.” Rabin ran his hands up Izzy’s arms to his shoulders. “Hey. Look at me.”

Izzy did, but only for a brief second. Then he shook Rabin’s hold and sidestepped away from him. “What is it? Tell me, and get it over with.”

Rabin scowled at his back, thrown off by the cold shoulder. “Iz…”

Taking a deep breath, Izzy turned and leaned back against the dresser that held the television. “What? It can’t be good news, not when you start like that.”

“It is good news.” Kind of. Mostly. “I…that is, we, the Indigo Knights, got an offer from a new record company to finish the second album that we never got to record.”

Dark brows crowded blinking eyes, showing Izzy’s confusion. “That…is good news. Congrats.”

Rabin put on a smile. “Thanks. We’re excited about it.” He was excited.

Izzy started to smile. “You should be. That’s great. When do you start? Does that put your work with Brent on hold? Have you told him?”

Now Rabin did smile, loving how inquisitive Izzy was. “Brent knows. And yeah, we’ll be putting that work on hold. We leave Friday.”

There went the switch again, and all emotion drained from Izzy’s face. “Leave?”

Rabin nodded. “That’s the part I really needed to tell you. We have to move to LA.”

“Los Angeles?”

“Yeah.”

Dark lashes dropped down to shield Izzy’s eyes. “Oh.”

“Hey.” Rabin went to him but stopped just a step away, halted by an invisible barrier that kept Izzy isolated from him. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Izzy shook himself and tried a laugh that failed just short of real. “Don’t be sorry, you doof. This is awesome news for you.”

Rabin made so bold as to reach up to stroke Izzy’s cheek. Eyes squeezed shut, Izzy reached up to capture his hand, turning into his palm.

“I’m happy for you.” The choked sob didn’t go with his words. “That’s great.”

“God, Iz.” Rabin stroked his other hand over Izzy’s hair, fighting a lump in his throat and a burn in his eyes.

Izzy pushed out a breath and shook himself. “Don’t mind me. I’m just—”

Rabin kissed him, unwilling to hear any brave talk. When another sob shook Izzy’s body, Rabin shoved his arms around him to gather him close. Izzy kissed him back, desperately sucking his tongue, fingers digging into the back of Rabin’s shoulders even as his body continued to shake. He moaned a little and tried unsuccessfully to hold back more sobbing. Finally Rabin had to let his lips go, afraid he couldn’t breathe. Izzy bent his face into Rabin’s neck and clung to his shirt.

“God, Iz.” He held on tight. “Please don’t cry.”

“I’m not,” Izzy lied on a sob. “I’m happy for you.”

Rabin laughed, threading his fingers in Izzy’s hair to keep his head tucked close. “Okay. Thanks for that.”

A high, hysterical laugh turned into more weeping, and Rabin couldn’t do anything but hold him.

“Fuck. I’m acting like such a queen.”

Rabin kissed his temple. “It’s okay.”

“No. It’s not.” Izzy pulled his arms between them and braced against Rabin’s chest. “I’m feeling sorry for myself.” He pushed.

Rabin wouldn’t release him.

“Let go.”

Reluctantly, he did. Keeping his head down, Izzy pulled away and dashed into the bathroom. Afraid he might close the door, Rabin followed, but Izzy was just standing at the sink, yanking tissue after tissue from a box on the counter. He shoved a great wad of white at his eyes, then used some of it to blow his nose, all of this with his back mostly to Rabin. It took him a few minutes, but he managed to collect himself—mostly—and turn toward the mirror.

“God.” His reflection showed red, puffy eyes, a redder nose, and a blotchy flush to his cheeks. Not his best look, although Rabin still thought he was adorable. Izzy glanced aside at Rabin, then raised more tissue to cover his face. “Don’t look.”

Without protesting, Rabin turned to prop his shoulder just outside the door frame. The water ran. A few minutes later, Izzy stood at the doorway. Some of the red flush was gone.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Rabin kept his arms crossed because he didn’t know what else to do with his hands. “I’m sorry.”

“No. You had great news, and all I could think of was that you were leaving me. Which is stupid because I knew this was coming.” He headed back toward the bedroom but stopped when Rabin grabbed his arm.

“What?”

Izzy kept his eyes averted. “We said from the beginning that this was just fun. Wasn’t right of me to make a big deal of your leaving.”

That’s it. With a growl, Rabin hauled Izzy around to face him fully and pushed him back against the wall. “Don’t fucking do that.”

Izzy’s eyes met his, wide, pink-edged, and still a little watery.

“Don’t make it into no big thing.” Rabin shook him. “I’m going to miss you too.”

Izzy swallowed, then summoned a little smile. He raised his hand to reach for Rabin’s cheek. “That’s sweet.”

“Damn it.” Not trusting himself, he snatched away from Izzy and stormed across the bedroom toward the drawn orange curtains. “Don’t you dare turn this into nothing.”

“Turn what into nothing?”

“Us,” he snapped, spinning around.

Izzy had his hands spread, palms out. “There is no us.”

Rabin stayed very still, battling an urgent need to punch something.

Izzy shook his head slowly. “We said it from the beginning. This was just fun. Now it ends.”

“Bloody hell. What am I supposed to say to that?”

“Nothing.” Izzy’s mouth worked, fighting what might have been a scowl. “You don’t have to say anything.”

“I care about you.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you?”

“Christ, Rabin, what do you want from me?” Anger started to show through as Izzy tore at his hair. “I’m trying to make this easy for you.”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t?” There was that ugly bark of hysterical laughter. “What do you want me to say? You want me to beg you to stay, beg you not to leave? Would it work?”

Rabin’s jaw ached from clenching. Even pissed as he was, not taking this chance in LA wasn’t an option.

“No. I didn’t think so. And it shouldn’t. You’ve got a dream, and this sounds like an awesome opportunity for you.” A tear spilled from one eye, but Izzy ignored it. “You wanted to experiment with me, and I let you. We had a good time. Now it’s over. Deal with it.”

“It doesn’t have to be over.”

“Oh yes. It does. I can’t… It’s better if it’s over.”

Rabin took a step toward him, but Izzy stumbled back.

“No! I mean it. This ends now.” He grabbed the strap of his backpack and backed another step toward the door. “Unless you…” He shook his head. “No. We’re done. Good luck in LA.”

“Izzy, wait. Don’t go.”

“Damn it, Rabin.” Izzy stopped him with a watery glare over his shoulder. “Please. Don’t.” He opened the door. “Bye.”

Chapter Fourteen

Rabin hated Los Angeles. He hadn’t particularly liked it when they were there on tour, but he absolutely loathed it now. He hated the hot, dry weather, hated the noise, hated the freeways, hated the dingy brown air. But it wasn’t just the city. He hated the tiny excuse of a two-bedroom apartment he and Zane had been put up in, even if it was about the same size as their place in Chicago. He hated that it was right next door to Markus and Sam. He hated the cockroach-infested building and the godforsaken, traffic-loud street. He hated that he’d sold his truck as part of the move. He hated the single minivan that had been loaned to all of them—one car for four grown men to use, in Los Angeles of all places.

Worst of all, he hated the music. It was his music. He’d been a big part of writing it. But now, a year later, it was so very wrong. It wasn’t what he wanted to do or wanted to be anymore. To make it worse, the time in the studio was trying, at best. Rabin and Markus were the outspoken ones, the two who did most of the composing. They had barely managed to work together before. Now? It was nearly impossible to get anything done. As it was, they only moved forward when Rabin gave in.

And he didn’t trust Arthur. A week into it, Rabin figured out that something wasn’t quite right. The man was pressuring them to finish—and finish fast—and always had a wild look in his eye when he realized how little progress they were making. That in and of itself wasn’t all that odd, since it was the A&R guy’s job to make sure things were moving smoothly. But Rabin couldn’t shake the feeling that something else was going on. He tried to keep his feelings under wraps. Kept reminding himself that this was a huge chance and a big opportunity. There were thousands of bands who’d give their nuts for the chance they’d been given. He tried to enjoy being able to live his craft.

After three weeks, it was almost impossible to try anymore.

* * * *

Rabin stood in the early twilight of a claustrophobic back-alley entrance to a seedy little nightclub, ignoring the reek of urine and refuse from the trash bins behind him as he stared at Arthur, dumbfounded. He wasn’t alone. Zane and Markus stood beside him, Sam loitering somewhere a few feet away.

Zane spoke for him, for all of them. “What?”

Arthur, a generically good-looking man in his early forties, with light blond hair that disguised the touch of gray, had the grace to look ashamed. He leaned on the door frame, playing up looking dejected. “I’m sorry, guys. I had no idea. The owner double booked for tonight.”

Disgusted, Rabin turned away, leaving Zane and Markus to talk to Arthur. The club behind him was supposed to be their venue for the night, a place to loosen up and start to get their name known again. It was one of the few things he’d looked forward to, because at least it was a chance to play in front of an audience instead of dealing with the frustration and isolation of the studio. But even that small thing had been yanked from him.

Sam appeared beside him and leaned on the dusty brick wall as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “Well, that bites, don’t it?”

Rabin didn’t look at him, afraid he couldn’t hide his disgust. Sam had been a junkie when they were on tour, but Rabin had thought—had been told—it was under control, so he’d overlooked it. How stupid of him to believe. Now Sam showed signs of his addiction. His brown hair was lank, his hazel eyes droopy and glassy. The corner of his mouth had a funny twitch, and his skin color just did not look good. Rabin didn’t know what Sam was on, but he would swear the man was dying from it. Sam could still play, thank God, but he wasn’t much for suggesting anything new. In the studio, he sat at his kit—when they could get him to focus—and played what he was told. At night… Well, Rabin had learned the first night that he didn’t want to be in Sam’s company when they weren’t in the studio.

Footsteps sounded behind him, and Rabin turned to face Zane and Markus—or Zane, at least. Rabin tried not to make eye contact with Markus. The bass player had been self-righteous before, but he was insufferable now. Once they’d arrived in LA, Rabin and Zane had discovered that it was Markus who’d gotten in touch with Arthur and who’d sealed the deal with Cardamon Records. So now Markus believed himself to be their savior. He thought that gave him the right to drive the music as well, which didn’t sit well with Rabin.

Zane was disgusted, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. He wore a black leather vest with chains dangling from all manner of fake pockets and seams. His wild hair was primped for performance, and he even wore a gleaming silver medallion that emphasized the sparse mat of dark blond hair on his bare chest. “Scheduling mix-up,” he told Rabin. “Owner’s sorry.”

Markus laughed. “Our drinks are on the house for the night if we want to stay.” He wasn’t a tall man, but he gave the impression of being big due to a torso and muscles that were just thick. With long, straight black hair and bushy black eyebrows over dark piercing eyes, he looked like he belonged in a ’70s hesher grunge band. Played like it too.

Rabin glanced toward the open door, not seeing Arthur. Beyond the door was the end of the alley, the last vestiges of sunlight streaming across the street beyond. Escape. But escape to where? That apartment? God, please no. He didn’t want to face that place tonight. “What’s Arthur say?”

Zane shrugged. “Nothing he can do. He says we might as well stay the night, see if we can talk to the owner about a gig some other time.”

Rabin grimaced. Do his job. “Fuck!” He spun around and kicked the wall. It didn’t help, so he kicked it again. And again. “Fuck!”

“Calm down, man.” Markus’s too-calm voice broke through his tantrum. “It’s just a gig.”

Rabin whirled, pulling back a fist, but Zane was there to catch him. Rabin struggled against his friend, glaring daggers over his shoulder at Markus. Right, the burly guy would probably kick his ass, but it might be worth it. He was angry enough that a little pain would be welcome. How sick was that?

“All right, all right.” Zane pushed Rabin back against the wall. “We’re all pissed.”

Rabin glared at him, and Zane’s blue eyes showed he knew Rabin wanted to rip Markus’s head off—and that he might want to join.

Sam pushed off from the wall, dropping his cigarette as casually as if the rest of them weren’t there. “Did you say something about free drinks? I’m all for that.”

“What about the truck?” Rabin asked, pining for his guitar even if there was no gig.

Markus turned to follow Sam inside. “We sent the truck back to the studio.”

Outraged, inarticulate bleats squeezed from Rabin’s throat at Markus’s retreating back. Zane leaned in to hold him propped against the wall.

“It’s okay,” Zane soothed, keeping his tone low. “It’s better’n keeping the equipment parked in an alleyway in this part of town.”

It was true, but Rabin was feeling obstinate enough to still be pissed about it.

Alone with Zane, Rabin shook off his friend and kicked the wall again. The rancid fumes from the trash bins were making him nauseated. “What the fuck, man? This is whacked.”

“I know.” Zane gazed off toward the end of the alley, thumbs hooked in the pockets of his jeans. “At least this place is better than the last one.”

Rabin shuddered. A few days previous, they’d played in an awful dump with a stage the size of a dime, no lighting, awful acoustics, and no audience to speak of. “You mean, would have been better.”

Zane slumped against the wall. “Yeah.”

Rabin braced both arms against the wall and leaned hard, hanging his head down between them. “We need to get a manager. It’s mad to think Arthur’s really looking out for us.”

“Yeah.” Zane sounded tired. “You’re right.”

But that didn’t help tonight, and none of this was Zane’s fault. Rabin was as much to blame for their being here. On silent agreement, they hadn’t talked about it. Rabin didn’t dare. If he started, he wouldn’t stop until he convinced himself to leave, and that probably wasn’t a good idea. At least, he told himself it wasn’t a good idea. The reasons why seemed less and less with each passing day.

Zane pushed from the wall and patted Rabin’s shoulder. “Let’s go inside. It’s a pretty nice club.”

Rabin stared at a smashed cigarette butt near his left boot. “Markus has the keys to the van?”

Zane hesitated, then sighed. “Yeah.”

“Fuck. Who the hell elected the alcoholic as our keymaster?” God, why couldn’t they be in New York or Chicago or any city with a decent public transit system?

“Van’s in his name.”

Rabin pushed from the wall so he could glare at his friend. “Don’t remind me.”

Zane avoided eye contact. “Look, you’re all wound up.”

Rabin heard himself snarl.

“I get it.” Zane shook his head, and Rabin knew from his expression that he was holding back some anger of his own. “Let’s go get drunk and find a girl and get laid, huh? There’s nothing else we can do tonight.”

Rabin considered being a hard ass. Then he sighed, letting the anger drain from him. Not that he liked the despair it left behind. “Yeah. All right. Fine.”

Zane patted his shoulder, then walked toward the door.

Rabin glanced up at what he could see of the darkening sky beyond the wires across the rooftops. Whatever. He followed Zane in.

It was early yet, so there wasn’t much of a crowd. The walls were standard painted black, with most of the color in the place around the big corner bar. Two bartenders in white stood behind their gleaming electric blue station, the neon lights behind them shifting the color of their shirts. About a dozen people were gathered around the high stools, and there was still plenty of room. Seven small booths lined one wall, and a few small tables were scattered around the periphery, but half the floor was empty, clear in front of the small stage. Not the best of venues, but not bad either.

Rabin ordered a beer, then claimed an empty booth, ignoring Markus and Sam where they stood at the bar. Zane followed. They didn’t talk at first, just watched the band setting up to play. Rabin was beyond even envying them. Then Zane started to comment on their equipment, and they dropped into a mild discussion that occupied them until the band was ready to play. By that time, a little bit more of a crowd had gathered, but the cleared part of the floor remained mostly empty.

When they started to play, Rabin forgot just about everything else. He sat forward and neglected his beer, fascinated. It wasn’t the music. The tunes were okay but nothing to rave over. The lead singer, however, was absolutely exquisite. He was gorgeous, to be sure. Tall and slim, with shining, wavy strawberry-blond hair that a woman would die for. His face was long, jaw squared, chin cleft. Rabin couldn’t tell the color of his eyes but thought they were a light color under dreamy eyelids and sculpted eyebrows. But it wasn’t his looks that captivated Rabin so much as his voice and his presence. There was no way to concentrate on any of the other three members of the band. Rabin realized three songs in that he didn’t even know what they looked like. The singer dominated and made mediocre tunes something special. It was almost enough for Rabin to forgive the absurd name of the band: Whispering Pole.

When the set ended, Rabin was a little surprised to see Sam seated at the edge of the booth, facing out, watching the crowd. He had not been aware of when Zane left or when Sam arrived. Still thinking about that singer—Danny, he’d said his name was when he introduced the band—Rabin surveyed the crowd. Markus sat two booths down with a bunch of other people, clearly well on his way to drunk. Zane was at the bar chatting up a brunette who, by her body language, seemed open to him.

Rabin scooted out the other end of the booth and, without a word to Sam, headed for the bar.

“Hi.”

About to take his first sip of his fresh Scotch and soda, he paused to glance down beside his left shoulder. A pretty girl stood there, her dark eyes heavily lined and her lush lips glossy pink. The cleavage presented by her tight green tank top was impressive. She smiled big, and his response in kind was automatic.

“Hi.” He waved his tumbler. “Buy you a drink?”

“Sure.”

Amused that he didn’t have to pay, he ordered her a drink. Her name was Mary, and she warmed even more when she heard he played guitar. He explained that his band had been supposed to play that night but that there had been a scheduling mix-up. She’d seen Whispering Pole before at another bar and really liked them. He admitted never having seen them before, and she started suggesting other bands he might like. It was a good opening talk, the two of them maintaining eye contact as they gauged each other. He played the game, wondering if he really wanted to spend the night with her. He hadn’t been out with anyone since arriving in LA.

While she was talking, a familiar face came to the bar behind her and ordered a beer. Rabin politely waited for Mary to pause before he caught the lead singer’s eye. “Hey, man, that was a terrific set.”

The blond turned and flashed a smile. “Thanks.”

Mary turned and gave him a smile too. “Oh yeah, that was great.”

Yes, the eyes were a light color, maybe hazel or a deep blue. Rabin could tell this because they were fastened on him, even as Danny gave Mary his thanks. “You were with the other band, yeah?”

Rabin grimaced. “Yeah.”

Danny stepped back so he could comfortably offer Rabin his hand. “Hey, I’m sorry about that. We didn’t even know.”

Rabin shook with him. “No sweat. Not your fault.” He nodded as they released each other. “I like your style. Especially…”

He didn’t mean to, really, but he and Danny started talking about songs and lyrics, and he kind of lost track of Mary. She faded off to the other end of the bar, and he and Danny adjusted closer so they could talk over the overhead music. Soon enough, they were both ordering second drinks, and they took them to one of the booths. Danny was easy to talk to and knew a lot about music and the local scene. He even remembered the Indigo Knights from when they’d played in LA before. It was nice to have a pleasant conversation about his passion without the tension that hovered over and around the Knights these days. Rabin even got to complain about LA, since Danny didn’t like it any more than he did.

Much later, Zane dropped into the seat next to Rabin. “Hey.”

“Hey.” There was enough alcohol in Rabin’s system that he easily found a warm smile. “Zane, Danny. Danny, Zane.”

They nodded at each other across the table.

Zane held up his hand and dangled keys. “We’re headed out. You coming?”

Rabin hesitated. “We?”

Zane jerked his head behind him, indicating Markus still in the same booth as earlier, although perhaps surrounded by a different crowd. “Markus is getting a ride from a friend of his. Sam’s coming with me and Mandy.”

“Mandy?”

Zane grinned. “Over at the bar.”

Rabin glanced and saw it was the brunette, waiting patiently a few steps away from a very out-of-it Sam. “Nice.”

“Thanks. So, let’s go.”

Rabin looked at Danny. Who grinned. “I’ve got my car. I can give you a ride home if you want to stay.” Unlike Rabin, Danny had switched to cola a few drinks back.

“Cool.” He smiled at Zane. “I’ll see you later.”

Zane hesitated, keys clacking on the tabletop. “Uh…”

“What?”

Chuckling, Danny slid out of the booth. “I’m gonna get a Coke. Need another beer?”

“Nah, I’m good.” Rabin waited until his new friend was gone, then frowned at Zane. “What?”

Zane leaned in for a conspiratorial hiss. “Dude, he’s gay.”

“He is?” Rabin wasn’t surprised. “How do you know, anyway?”

“You’ve been talking to him for hours, and you didn’t know?”

“We were talking music.”

Zane nodded, knowing Rabin well enough to realize that he really could talk music that long to the exclusion of all else. “But…you know.”

“What?”

“Dude, don’t be stupid.”

For a second, Rabin honestly didn’t see the problem. Then he saw things through Zane’s eyes, with Zane’s mind, and laughed. “What? You afraid for my virtue?” Little does he know.

Zane was clearly uncomfortable. “Dude, I know that doesn’t bother you, but he was hitting on you.”

“No, he wasn’t. Even if he was, so? I can handle myself.”

Zane scowled. “You serious?”

“Absolutely.” Even more so because of Zane’s hesitation.

His friend shook his head. “Fine. Fuck it. I tried to help you. Don’t call me if you need a ride.”

Rabin laughed as Zane stood. “I’ll be fine.”

He was still chuckling when Danny returned to the booth.

“Let me guess.” Danny set a beer in front of Rabin, despite Rabin’s earlier decline. “He was making sure you knew I’m gay.”

“You got it in one.”

“Yeah. It’s not much of a secret around here.” Danny sipped his bottle of Coke. “I completely understand if you want to go home with your friends.”

Rabin scoffed, sipping from his half-empty bottle. “Dude, I spent the better part of a month living with Brent Rose and Hell Witting from Heaven Sent this spring. Your being gay isn’t going to bother me.”

Danny sputtered, light brows soaring high. “Brent Rose? Are you shitting me? You know him?”

“Not only know him—I filled in for him once. Over New Year’s.”

“New Year’s. Oh. My. Fucking. God! You son of a bitch. I’m so jealous. I heard they had someone filling in, but… You lived with him?”

“At his place outside Chicago.”

“Oh man!” Danny sat forward, his blond hair spilling off his shoulders. “Tell me everything that you can.”

Chapter Fifteen

Danny opened the door and switched on the light. “Home sweet home. Sorry, it’s a mess.”

Rabin followed his new friend into the main room of a small but nice apartment. The walls were an odd peach color, but Danny seemed to feel that walls were meant to hang things on rather than be seen. Nearly every inch was covered with posters or pictures, mounted in a manner similar to a typical teenager’s bedroom. All of the pictures were stars from various times and genres. There were even a few country stars in there. A glossy oversize poster of Heaven Sent commanded a prime position over a faded walnut upright piano. Clothes were strewn here and there, mainly shirts and jackets.

“No worries. Better’n my place. Oh sweet!” He noticed a Roland keyboard taking up the coffee table and immediately dropped down on the couch in front of it. “I almost got one of these.”

Danny stood at the edge of the table, proudly smiling. “It’s old, but I’m happy with it.”

“Not that old.” Rabin’s hand hovered over the power switch. “May I?”

Laughing, Danny started to pick up assorted pieces of clothing. “Go for it. Just not too loud. It’s late, and the lady next door has surprisingly good ears.”

While Rabin doodled, Danny swiped up most of the clothes and took them down a short hall into what Rabin assumed was the bedroom. He declined Danny’s offer of a drink and kept doodling until Danny sat on the other end of the couch. His shoes were gone.

“You don’t have to stop.”

Rabin shrugged and flipped the keyboard off.

Danny brought one knee up on the couch, leaning sideways against the back. Rabin noted the flash of a silver toe ring on one of his long, bare feet. “Was that one of yours?”

Rabin sank into the lumpy cushions and leaned his head against the back of the couch. “Yeah. Part of one.”

“It was nice. Is it for your album?”

“Nah. Not the one I’m in LA for. It was one of the pieces we were working on in Chicago.” It was much quieter in this part of town—or were the walls in Danny’s building just thicker? Rabin could actually see sky beyond the window and not just the buildings across the street.

“You sound like you miss it. You live there long?”

“Chicago? No. Just moved there myself.” Rabin stared idly at the ceiling, noting the little glow-in-the-dark stars pasted up there. Seriously? “But I liked it.”

“You have a girlfriend there?”

Izzy’s smiling face came to mind, thumping Rabin’s heart. “No.”

He heard the soft shuffle of Danny moving closer. “A boyfriend?”

He paused. What the hell. “Sort of.”

“Aha. I knew it.”

Rabin smiled. He’d known this was coming. Once the gay thing had been pointed out, he wasn’t so blind not to see that Danny was attracted to him. To be honest, he was attracted right back. Danny was the first positive thing he’d encountered in LA.

Danny’s face came into his peripheral vision, peering at him as Danny rolled onto his knee, closer. “And this boyfriend, does he miss you?”

Blue. Danny’s eyes were definitely and beautifully blue, light teal that was just bordering on green. “I doubt it.”

A tilt of Danny’s head sent red-gold curls tumbling down his shoulder. “And why would you doubt it?”

“Things didn’t end so well.”

“Did it end?”

Rabin frowned. “Yeah. I think so.”

One arm slid past Rabin to brace on the couch by his shoulder, allowing Danny to hover right in front of him. “Good.”

Danny gave Rabin plenty of time to object as he leaned in for a kiss. Rabin didn’t. Why should he? Danny was gorgeous, friendly, shared the same passions in life, and was clearly interested. The kiss was nice, lips soft and gently persuading him to open up. He did, accepting Danny’s tongue, playing with it. He reached up to comb his fingers through Danny’s hair, cupping the side of Danny’s head. Soft, silky, almost familiar. But when he cracked open his eyes, the color was wrong. It should be black. And things were too quiet. Danny didn’t make those adorable little sub-noises that Izzy couldn’t seem to help.

Rabin dropped his hand to Danny’s shoulder, pushing gently. “Wait.”

“What’s wrong?”

Rabin looked into Danny’s eyes, saw the interest, knew he could have a good time with the man. But… “I can’t.”

Danny smiled, surprised. “What?”

Reluctantly, Rabin dropped his hand into his lap. There was a tingle in his balls. He could get hard if he wanted to, but it didn’t seem worth it if he had to make it so. With Izzy, that hadn’t been a problem. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” Danny only showed curiosity as he settled onto his heels at Rabin’s side.

“I…” How could he say it? He didn’t quite understand himself.

“Is it the boyfriend from Chicago?”

“Yeah.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“You said it was over.”

Rabin scowled at his knees. “I know.”

“Huh.” Danny spread his hands on his thighs. “Are you in love with him?”

Rabin had done a great job at avoiding the L word. But when someone else said it, it just seemed so obvious. He stared at his hands, fingers loosely woven in his lap. “I think…so, yeah.” A weird weight lifted from his lungs, allowing him to take a strangely refreshing breath.

“‘Think so.’ You never told him?”

How long had he been holding that in? Since the beginning? Since the first time? Izzy had become as much a part of his normal thought process as the music in his head. “It’s weird. He was the first guy I slept with.”

“Ah. Are you sure it’s love?”

Rabin sat forward, elbows on knees, and turned the thought over and over in his head. The vestiges of alcohol in his system made the process both harder and easier. Harder because his thoughts were a floating jumble, but easier because he could see they all reached the same conclusion. He couldn’t stop thinking about Izzy, and the mere existence of him and what they’d shared kept Rabin out of willing sex with someone else. It fell into place like a picture puzzle. “Pretty sure, yeah.”

“Hmmm.”

“I’m sorry.”

Danny laughed, rubbing Rabin’s back. “Don’t be. I think you’re absolutely adorable.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Which made Danny laugh harder. “You are. There aren’t many men—gay or straight—who’d pass up sex because of someone they’re no longer with. And I am offering sex, in case you didn’t get the picture.”

Rabin chuckled. “I know.” He felt like a fool. Would Izzy really care if he slept with Danny? Did Izzy even think about him?

Danny leaned closer, his fingers toying with the back of Rabin’s neck. “Are you sure?”

It felt good. Danny’s touch was sure and firm. He gave thought to leaning into it, trying it out. Shouldn’t he have sex with at least one other guy? To compare? But it wasn’t the same. With Izzy, he’d touched because he needed to. With Danny, he could, but he didn’t have to. “Yeah. I’m sure. Sorry. Want me to leave?”

“No, don’t worry about it.” The hand slid from his neck. “You’re still welcome to crash here.”

“You sure?”

“Well, my pride is crushed”—Danny laughed to show Rabin he was kidding—“but I understand. This appeals to my huge romantic streak. Just please tell me you’re going to call this man soon so he knows what he’s got.”

Calling Izzy. He’d thought about it, sure, but he’d let the trials in LA distract him. “Maybe.”

Danny punched his shoulder lightly. “No maybe—do. No healthy man gives up sex without a damn good reason.”

Rabin had to laugh at that.

“So tell me about him.”

It was weird at first, but Rabin found himself pouring out his feelings about Izzy. It didn’t occur to him until now, but he hadn’t had anyone to talk to. Brent and Hell were biased—and Izzy hadn’t wanted them to know anyway—and Rabin had kept the whole thing from Zane. He found himself talking about that too, about how all of a sudden he had this huge secret he was keeping from the one person he’d never kept secrets from. It hurt more than he was willing to admit.

It occurred to him that he shouldn’t spill all this to someone he’d just met that night, but Danny was so easy to talk to and completely understood. He even interjected with some of his own experiences, trying to give Rabin some perspective. Danny had come out when he was a teen, but he knew how devastating secrets could be.

By three a.m., they were all talked out. Nothing was resolved, but Rabin felt like a huge weight had been lifted from his chest.

“All right, sorry to say, but I’ve got to get some sleep.” Danny stood, stretching. “Couch is yours. Unless you want to share the bed with me.” He gave Rabin a lascivious grin. “I can’t say your virtue is safe in the bed, though.”

Rabin laughed. “I’ll take my chances with the couch.”

He sighed and turned on the lamp on the end table. “Suit yourself. That blanket’s there”—he pointed to the one draped over the back of the couch—“if you need it. My shift at the restaurant starts at noon, so we could get breakfast if you like.” He paused at the hall to the bedroom, yawning. “I can drop you by the studio after.”

“Sounds good.”

He switched off the overhead light. “’Night, Rabin.”

“’Night, Danny.”

Twenty minutes later, Rabin lay wide-awake in the dark, staring at the dingy charcoal sky through the window, listening to the air conditioning whir. He’d allowed himself to think of Izzy much more in the past few hours than he had in the past few weeks. God, he missed him. He really must love him.

So…now what?

Chapter Sixteen

Danny smiled at him from the driver’s seat of his Honda. “You’ve got my number. Call me.”

Rabin grinned. “Yes, dear.” On impulse, he leaned over and brushed a kiss on Danny’s lips. “Thanks.”

He was pleased to see the surprise on Danny’s face, quickly followed by a mock-threatening growl. “Don’t you tempt me.”

Rabin laughed and opened his door. “See ya later.”

“Good luck in there.”

Rabin paused in the doorway of Danny’s sedan, staring at the glass door that would lead him into the studio. Markus’s van was parked a few spaces away, so he knew at least some of the band was already there. Zane was. Rabin had only responded to the first, but Zane had sent a stream of texts all morning.

“You okay?”

Danny’s words startled Rabin, made him realize he’d been staring too long. He ducked his head down into the car and smiled. “Yeah, I’m good. Thanks again.”

“Anytime.”

With one more smile, Rabin closed the car door and stepped away. Turning to face the door to the studio was like facing his doom. Since when are you so dramatic? Steeling himself, he headed into the building, through the small reception area, down a dusty little hall, then into the console room. Larry, the engineer, glanced up and gave him a smile and a brief welcome as Rabin stepped up beside him. The swivel chair creaked beneath Larry’s considerable weight as he leaned back. He was bordering on fat, but a lot of it was muscle.

“What are we up to?”

Larry just pointed. Beyond the glass, Markus had headphones on, beating out a track on his bass. Sam was at his kit, also with headphones, playing along. Neither looked up, intent on playing.

“Where’s Zane?”

“Coffee.”

Rabin nodded. Unlike Brent, Larry wasn’t much of a producer. Nice enough guy, but he was more of a techie monitoring the equipment than a creative contributor. Another mistake of Arthur’s, in Rabin’s point of view, because that left way too much room for him and Markus to fight.

He listened to what they were doing. Wasn’t too bad. Needed some… Wait. “What’re they playing?”

Larry wouldn’t look at him. “Markus switched up the bass line for ‘How We Roll.’”

“Who the fuck told him…?” Rabin trailed off, listening intently. That asshole had changed the whole fucking thing! He’d gone back to something they’d discarded last week. “He tell you to crank him up too?”

“Yeah.”

“Bloody hell.”

The door opened behind him, and Zane walked in. He startled on seeing Rabin, then frowned. “There you are.”

Matching the frown, Rabin pointed at the big window. “What the fuck is this?”

“Where the hell were you?”

“What does that matter? Who said he could change up my song?”

“Your song?” Zane crossed the small room, getting into his face. “Hello, buddy, there are three other people in this band. And answer my question—where were you last night?”

“What the hell? I stayed at Danny’s.”

“Danny’s? Christ, you actually went home with him?”

“Yeah, I did. What’re you, my mother?”

The music behind him stopped, and Rabin abandoned Zane to storm through the door connecting the console room to the studio. Markus saw him and reached up to take off his headphones.

“What the fuck? Who said you could change my arrangement?”

The big man settled on his stool, sublimely calm, with one hand resting on the blue body of his bass. “I didn’t like it.”

“So the fuck what? We agreed on that one.”

“I changed my mind.” Markus narrowed his gaze. “Where were you last night?”

Coming from Markus, the question shocked some of the anger out of Rabin. “What the…?” It came right back in full force, though. “What the hell business is it of yours?”

Bushy brows lowered over Markus’s eyes as he slowly pulled the strap of his bass up and over his head. “It’s my business if you went home with that Wimpy Pole faggot last night.”

Rabin’s eyes went wide, his mouth dropping. “What?”

Markus stood, placing the bass in the stand beside his stool. “I can forget you spending time with those Heaven Sent queens.” He faced Rabin, disdain coloring his round face. “But there’s no way I’m playing in a band with a fag.”

It was too much. Without giving it a thought, Rabin rushed him. He caught Markus off guard, shoving both palms into the man’s chest. Markus stumbled back, knocking over his stool, but kept on his feet. Rabin started toward him, but Zane was there, holding him back.

“Rabin, man—”

“Say it again!” Rabin shouted, struggling against his friend. “I want to make sure I heard it right.”

“You heard it right. Faggot.” Markus had his balance back, and now Larry was at Markus’s side, watching him carefully. “Was it good when he reamed your ass? Did you swallow his dick?”

“Fuck yeah, it was good.” Rabin didn’t even know what he was saying, anger clouding his judgment. “And I’ll do it again. Wanna watch?”

Zane pushed him back toward the wall. “Rabin, chill.”

Markus roared, so red it looked like his face would explode. “Damn it, I knew it. I knew you’d gone soft.”

“Soft?” Rabin shouted back over Zane’s attempts to shush him. “Wasn’t anything soft about it. He was hard and better’n your stinkin’ arse could hope to be.”

“Rabin!” Zane snapped, gripping his arm.

Growling, Markus broke away from Larry and charged, arm swinging. Rabin tried to block but got tangled up with Zane, who didn’t see Markus coming. Rabin’s elbow clipped Zane’s jaw, tumbling him backward right before Markus’s fist smashed into the side of Rabin’s face. Rabin’s world exploded into a loud, crashing light as he flew sideways, plowing into a table and tumbling his guitar case to the floor. He barely heard the shouts around him as Markus’s meaty hand spun him around so he could land another solid punch to Rabin’s jaw. Rabin’s neck twisted with a snap. Blinded by pain, it was all he could do to hold on to the table as he tried to scrabble away. All bravado drained away, leaving behind a need to avoid further pain. He could only assume that someone caught and held Markus, because the bigger man fortunately didn’t come after him. Rabin fell to his knees, then forward onto his hands, struggling to keep from passing out as pain thudded through his skull. The studio filled with shouts that rang behind his eyes. He blinked and realized that one-half of his vision was blurred and red, strobing in time with the pulsing pain at the side of his jaw. Shit. A crash to his right had him twisting around. Too fast. He lost his balance and landed hard on his butt near the wall. It was a moment before he could focus on what he saw. Larry used brute forced to hold a raving, shouting Markus across the studio. Zane stood between Rabin and the bass player, fists up, shouting right back. A few feet away from Larry and Markus, Arthur stood in the doorway, shell-shocked and confused by the noise. Sam hadn’t moved from his drum kit, an avid—if slightly spaced-out—audience.

Finally Arthur stepped into the room, hands up, palms out. In a blue pin-striped dress shirt and red power tie, he strove to provide the voice of reason. “What’s going on here?”

“I won’t do it!” Markus roared, rounding on him, not at all impressed by his dress. “I won’t work with a fucking homo.”

Zane turned away from them to come kneel by Rabin’s side. He got a hold of Rabin’s shoulder and peered closely at his face. “Ah shit. You okay, man?”

Carefully Rabin braced the back of his skull against the wall and lifted his hand to prod at the two points of screaming pain. “I don’t know.” He winced over a swollen, split lip. “How do I look?”

He could tell by the expression on Zane’s face that it wasn’t good. “You look like shit.”

“Great.” It was easier to just close his left eye. Trying to see out of it wasn’t proving useful. He poked at the teeth on his left side with his tongue, but none of them seemed loose. He accepted Zane’s help in getting to his feet and tuned back in to the heated discussion across the room.

Markus was in Arthur’s face, cowing the other man back a few steps by poking a meaty finger at him. “I don’t care what fucking agreement we had. I won’t play with a fag.”

Rabin pulled away from Zane, testing his balance. Was good, even if the pain made his head spin. “Well, this fag won’t play with you either.”

At the sound of Rabin’s voice, Markus rounded, fist up. Both Zane and Larry rushed to block his path.

“Let it go, man,” Zane grumbled over his shoulder at Rabin.

“The fuck I will.” Rabin winced as the volume of his own shout clanged in his brain. His left eye had swelled completely shut. The copper taste in his mouth was blood from his lip. He didn’t know what he’d do if Markus charged him again, but the asshole had messed him up!

“Okay, okay.” Arthur stepped farther into the room, positioning himself between them. “Let’s all calm down and work this out.”

“We need to take Rabin to a doctor,” Zane piped in.

“Nothing to work out.” On shaky legs, Rabin turned toward the guitar case that had spilled to the floor. “I’m out of here.”

“Right.” Arthur came and took the guitar case from Rabin. “Let’s get you to someone to look at that eye.”

“Good riddance, fairy boy,” Markus snapped as Arthur and Zane led Rabin from the studio.

“Eat shit, asshole,” Rabin threw back, adding a middle-finger salute to it.

ARTHUR DROVE RABIN and Zane to an urgent-care facility and managed to get them through relatively quickly. Rabin argued against going on the drive over, but Arthur quieted him by offering to pay. Rabin wasn’t fooled, sure Arthur would get the money out of them somehow, but the swelling of his eye worried him enough that he gave up the fight.

He needn’t have worried. The doctor proclaimed that it looked bad and it’d hurt like hell, but nothing was wrong. She told him the swelling might be worse the next day and he should ice it, but that he’d be healed up in a week or two.

The three of them were very quiet on the drive back to Rabin and Zane’s apartment. Rabin didn’t know what had been said between Zane and Arthur while he was seeing the doctor, but he got the feeling words had been exchanged. Zane was practically radiating resentment in the backseat. Rabin put his head back and closed his eyes to enjoy the pain meds the doctor had let him have.

Arthur came up to their apartment with them and set Rabin’s guitar down just inside his room as Rabin dropped onto the bed. “Zane? Could you give me a moment to talk to Rabin?”

Zane, who was hovering ineffectually in the doorway of the bedroom, looked to Rabin.

Rabin could only nod as he pulled off his shoes.

Clearly unhappy, Zane nodded. “I’ll order us some pizza for dinner?”

Sighing, Rabin sank back onto his pillow. “Sure.”

“I’ll get you that ice pack too.”

“Thanks, man.”

Arthur watched him go, then shut the door softly behind him.

Uh-oh. “Look.” Rabin pushed up onto his elbows. “I know you’re going to try and talk me into making up with Markus, but there’s a long hist—”

Arthur held up his hand. “I’m not going to do that at all.” Determined, he crossed the room and sat on the side of the bed by Rabin’s feet. He looked so out of place in Rabin’s run-down room with his dress shirt and tie. “I have to remind you, though, if you leave, you’re in breach of contract.”

“Dude, look at my face. I. Don’t. Care.” Rabin took a deep breath, raising an arm up to his forehead. “Breach says I lose rights to the songs we recorded so far. Fine, they’re all yours.” Thank God he’d let Gordon read over that agreement and explain the finer points before he’d signed it. At least he knew exactly what he’d given up.

Arthur nodded. “I thought you might feel that way. I don’t blame you. But here’s the deal.” His blue gaze speared Rabin. “We could give a shit about the Knights in general. Cardamon wants you. We know you’re worth more alone than any of the other guys.”

With his one good eye, Rabin peered at Arthur from under his arm. Yes, he was flattered. But he couldn’t silence the sneering voice that labeled Arthur and his company slimy sons of bitches. Of course, they ran a record label, so that went with the job.

Arthur wasn’t finished. “Tell me what we need to do to make this work. We can get a new bass player, your choice. We can replace the whole damn band.”

Rabin thought of Zane and immediately felt guilty. “I don’t know.”

“What do you need? Some time? Different venue?”

Chicago. Brent. Izzy. “Some time. Yeah. I can’t think right now.”

Arthur patted his knee. “Of course. You take a few days. Then we’ll talk. Okay?”

“Sure.”

Arthur stood.

Rabin stopped him at the door. “Thanks.”

Arthur gave him a smile. “Don’t mention it.”

Zane came into the room with some ice in a towel a few minutes after Rabin heard the apartment’s front door close. “What did he want?”

Rabin took the ice and lay back with a sigh. “Just reminding me that if I leave, it’s a breach of contract.” He kept the rest to himself for now.

“That was rough, man. You and Markus never got that bad before.”

“Yeah, well, he’s a raging homophobe, isn’t he?”

In the uncomfortable silence that followed, Rabin realized what he’d said. He kept his eyes closed and let Zane chew on it, wondering if he’d ask.

“Yeah. Well, pizza will be here in twenty.” The mattress swayed as Zane’s weight left it. “We’re out of Coke, so I’m gonna walk to the corner. You want anything else?”

“Nope.”

The apartment was surprisingly quiet after Zane left. Rabin tried not to move, letting the meds shut him off from the throbbing pain in his skull. Zane hadn’t said it, but Rabin knew his friend too well—he thought Rabin had slept with Danny. He bought the nonsense Rabin had spouted at Markus. It was only a matter of time before he made Rabin confirm it. Rabin could hold back, admit that he hadn’t slept with Danny. That’d make Zane feel better. He didn’t have to tell his friend about Izzy. But the events of the past day had broken new ground for Rabin. He felt too big for his skin. His life had changed, and the things that used to satisfy him just didn’t cut it anymore.

As he drifted to sleep, he wondered if his friend could understand that.

Chapter Seventeen

By mutual agreement, Rabin and Zane didn’t talk about it that night. Pizza and TV, then Rabin crashed early. In the morning, Zane’s bedroom door was shut when Rabin scrounged for breakfast. He wasn’t all that hungry anyway. The swelling was worse in his eye, and his jaw ached. He managed some toast and coffee, then crawled back into bed.

Despite the pain medication, he couldn’t sleep. His thoughts simply wouldn’t settle. Within the hour, he was back up and on the phone.

His first call was to Gordon McCarty. A brief rundown of what was happening with Arthur and Cardamon Records, and Gordon agreed to represent him. Rabin gave him all the details he knew and Arthur’s contact information. That done, he was as taken care of legally as he could be. Then he was on his laptop—at least the awful little apartment came with cable and high-speed Internet access—finding a flight back to Chicago. He didn’t really have a plan, just knew that he had to get the fuck out of LA, and Chicago had the most appeal as well as an apartment for him to return to.

Zane still hadn’t surfaced by early afternoon when Rabin took a bathroom break. Rabin had found a flight the next day that he could just afford with what he had left in the bank. He needed to check with his friend to see if he should make two reservations.

Rabin’s second call of the day was to Danny. It went straight to voice mail, and he had to assume Danny was on shift, waiting tables. So he left a message for his new friend to call him. He wanted Danny to know he was leaving. He also had a vague notion of asking him to join them in Chicago. He’d have to see how that went.

Next he should call Brent—if he was going to make anything happen musically, he was damned determined that Brent would be involved. But he couldn’t decide how to approach the conversation. He could keep it just business, but he was dying to hear news of Izzy.

Undecided and with nothing better to do, Rabin started packing. One way or the other, he was leaving the next day. He’d just finished sorting out what of his meager wardrobe needed to be washed when he finally heard Zane’s door open. Well acquainted with his friend, he knew he had at least a half hour before Zane would be human enough to talk, so he went ahead and bundled up his clothes and headed for the building’s laundry room. He met their friendly neighbor down there and told the story of his bruised and swollen face. A few hours and a few beers later, he returned to the apartment with clean clothing.

Zane sat on the couch in his shorts, watching television. “Yo. How you feel?”

“Like shit.” Rabin passed him by to take his clothes into his bedroom.

Zane followed him, scratching his bare belly. “What the…?”

Rabin dumped his clothes on the bed and started folding.

Zane came to the foot of the bed, scowling at the bags that lay on the floor nearby. “What’s with the packing?”

“I’m leaving.”

“You talked to Arthur?”

“No. Gordon’s talking to Arthur. But I’m leaving anyway.”

“Well, thanks for telling me.”

Rabin dropped clean jeans back on the mattress. “I’ve been waiting all morning to talk to you.”

Zane frowned at the wall. “I went out last night after you went to bed.”

“All right. Let’s talk.” Rabin resumed folding clothes. “I can’t work with Markus anymore.”

Zane folded his arms across his chest. “Yeah. I get that.”

“And I hate LA.”

“You’re going back to Chicago.” It wasn’t a question.

“That’s the plan.”

“You’re hooking back up with Brent?”

“I hope so.” He paused, wanting to see Zane’s reaction to his next request.

Nothing. He just stood there with his hands deep in his pockets.

“Come with me.” Rabin sat on the bed and leaned forward so he could peer up into his friend’s face. “Seriously. Let’s get on a plane tomorrow and go back.”

“What about the Knights?”

“Arthur wants to make a deal with me. He wants me more than Markus.”

That widened Zane’s eyes. “He told you that?”

“Basically.”

“He’s behind you going back to Chicago?”

“He asked me what it would take.”

He had to wonder if Zane really heard him. Zane just stared at the mattress with the whites showing around his irises, nostrils flaring. “Dude. Did you really sleep with that guy?”

So that’s it. Rabin sat back. “No.”

Some of the tension melted from Zane’s shoulders. “Why’d you say all that shit to Markus, then?”

“He pissed me off.”

“Okay, he’s an asshole. But what the fuck? Don’t joke about things like that.”

Rabin saw that he could leave it there. Zane wouldn’t dig any further. But he was sick of hiding what he was realizing he was. “It’s no joke. I didn’t sleep with Danny. But I did sleep with Izzy.”

Tension snapped Zane’s shoulders right back up. “What?”

“You remember Izzy, Brent’s cousin? Yeah, well, the person I was seeing while we were in Chicago? That was him.”

Realization stretched Zane’s face, dropping his jaw and raising his brows. “What?”

Rabin nodded, relief and panic a strange mixture in his belly. “Yeah. In fact, I think I’m in love with him.”

Zane grimaced, fists clenching and releasing. “Quit it, man. You’re not funny.”

Damn, was he about to get into another fight? Rabin stood slowly. “I’m not joking.”

“You can’t be gay.”

“I think I am.”

“You’ve slept with plenty of women.”

“All right, I’m bi. But I’m pretty sure I’m in love with a guy.”

“Fuck you. This isn’t funny.”

“No. It isn’t.” Rabin shook his head. “I’m sick of hiding it.”

“Hiding it? No fucking way.” Zane’s hand sliced through the air between them. “You’re not gay.”

“Deny it if you want. Doesn’t make it any less true.”

“Fuck. Man.”

He stayed where he was, watching Zane back toward the doorway. “Doesn’t change anything between us.”

He wasn’t any closer, but Zane backed up like Rabin was right on top of him. “You bet it does! You slept with a guy! I mean, did you do…all…?”

Rabin’s heart sank, but he felt the need to be clear about this so Zane couldn’t excuse it away. “Yeah, the whole deal. And loved every minute of it.”

Zane shuddered, stumbling against the door frame when he missed the opening. “Shit.”

“Oh Christ, man, stop it. What difference does it make?”

“It makes a lot of difference. I don’t even know who you are.”

Rabin stared sadly at his friend of so many years. “Yeah. Well, maybe I’m finally becoming who I should be.”

Zane’s head snapped side to side, either a negation or a shaking of his brain in an attempt to dislodge nasty thoughts. “Fine. Go back to Chicago. Do whatever you want. Leave me out of it.” With that, he turned and fled into his room. A few minutes later, he dashed past Rabin’s door in jeans and a shirt. The front door slammed after him.

Rabin sank back down onto the bed, staring at his reflection in the big mirror over the bureau. The two bruised areas of his face practically glowed in the afternoon sun. “That’s it, then,” he told himself, oddly calm about having lost his band and his best friend all in the space of a day. He nodded, hoping the empty feeling in his chest would ease with time. “That’s it.”

Chapter Eighteen

At four o’clock, Rabin stood on the moderately crowded sidewalk outside Izzy’s school. The air was thick with moisture from the thunderstorms that had hit the Chicago area in the last week, but today looked to be rain free. The people on the street hurried by, oblivious to the nervous pounding of his heart. He held a single, long-stemmed red rosebud that he’d bought on the way from the train stop. Maybe hokey, but it was the first time he’d ever wanted to buy flowers for anyone, so he’d gone with it.

Three days back in town. Three days to get situated in his mostly empty apartment. His eye was open again, and neither it nor the bruise on his jaw hurt much anymore, but both still looked pretty bad. The purple of the fresh wounds had developed that greenish healing cast. He looked awful, had no job, no band, and hardly any prospects, just a drive to make music and see the one face that brightened his life.

A stream of students started out of the front doors, and trailing the group with a backpack slung over his shoulder was Izzy. Rabin watched him clear the doors, eyes down, black hair loose in front to shadow his face. The rest of his hair was pulled into a wavy tail down the back of his black T-shirt. To Rabin, he looked odd in black with dark blue jeans that were on the baggy side. Where was the pink or blue that he was used to? Rabin waited, heart in his throat, for Izzy to look up. To see him.

He did. Stopped. Some of his classmates shuffled around him. Then Izzy took a visible breath and slowly approached Rabin. His mouth fell open a little as he studied Rabin’s face. “What happened to you?”

“I got in a fight.”

Izzy nodded slowly. “What does the other guy look like?”

Rabin had to laugh, a short, harsh bark. “Not a scratch on him.”

Izzy didn’t laugh. Because Rabin’s eyes were downcast, he saw Izzy’s hand start to lift before he stopped himself, curling his fingers into his palm.

“I look like shit, I know.” Meeting Izzy’s gaze, he tried a smile and held up the rose. “But I couldn’t wait to see you any longer.”

Izzy blinked, dropping his focus to the flower held toward him. “For me?”

“For you.”

Izzy glanced both ways on the street, silently pointing out the strangers around them. When Rabin didn’t lower the rose, Izzy reached for it, tentatively grasping the stem well below Rabin’s hand. “Brent told me you were back.” His voice was low, his attention on the flower he drew to his nose.

Rabin was momentarily distracted by the sight of velvety red rose petals caressing the rounded tip of Izzy’s nose. He wanted his lips to take their place.

His distraction lasted long enough that Izzy looked back up at him. “I’m sorry things didn’t go well in LA.”

Rabin’s head was shaking. “I’m not. I should have never left.”

“You can’t mean that.”

“But I do.” Rabin took a step forward, but Izzy instantly fell a step back, nearly colliding with a passerby. Even so, Rabin took heart that Izzy cradled the rose close to his chest. “Iz, can we go somewhere and talk? Please?”

Long lashes shielded Izzy’s eyes from him. “The motel?”

“There. The pizzeria. Anyplace but the street.”

“No.”

“No?”

Izzy took a deep breath and used it to find the courage to look up at Rabin again. The muggy air plastered a few stray curls of black to his forehead and neck. “Rabin, I can’t do this again.”

“Izzy, I—”

“No.” Izzy stared at the rose with a strange look of longing. Then he drew himself up. “I can’t. When you left, I was devastated. At first, I couldn’t tell anyone. Then… Well, without Brent and Hell, I don’t think I’d have made it. I… It was worse than when Greggory left. So much worse.” He shook his head. “They helped me to realize I was cheating myself. I won’t be a secret anymore. Not for you, not for anyone.” He held the rose toward Rabin, offering it.

Evidently Brent hadn’t told Rabin everything. Just the day before, Rabin had poured his heart out to Brent, trying to convince Izzy’s cousin that he really was in love. He hadn’t intended to do so, but he hadn’t fought the words once they started. In the end, Brent had insisted Rabin needed to say the words to Izzy himself, thus today’s meeting. Rabin kept his gaze on Izzy’s face, even though those beloved eyes wouldn’t look at him. “I couldn’t agree more.”

Long lashes fluttered. Then blinked open. “What?”

“I don’t want you to be a secret. I don’t want us to be a secret.”

“But Zane… Your career…?”

“Brent didn’t tell you everything, did he?”

“No. Just that you had a falling-out in LA and you were back in town now. And”—he hesitated, eyes averted—“that I needed to talk to you.”

Before Izzy could protest, Rabin grabbed his arm. He used it to draw Izzy closer to the building, out of the main traffic on the sidewalk. Once there, he slid his hand down to twine his fingers with Izzy’s. “Do you see my face?”

“Yes.” The breathlessness in Izzy’s voice went straight to Rabin’s crotch, making his balls tingle, but he ignored that for now.

“I got this because my bass player wouldn’t be in a band with a fag.”

Izzy’s eyes stretched open to match the fall of his jaw.

Rabin nodded. “He found out I’d slept with a guy, and went ballistic.” Not exactly true, but close enough. He’d tell Izzy about Danny later, after he’d made his point.

The hand with the rose finally made its way to Rabin’s face, fingers lightly trailing his jaw just underneath the bruise. “Oh, Rabin, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m glad it happened.” He laughed. “Okay, I kind of wish I didn’t get beat up, but the end result’s the same.”

“What happened with Zane?”

That one still kind of hurt. He hadn’t seen Zane since his friend had stormed out of the apartment. Zane had stayed elsewhere that night, and Rabin had escaped the City of Angels the next day. Since then, no calls, no nothing. “He knows. He’s not talking to me.”

Izzy screwed his eyes shut. “Oh God, Rabin, I’m so sorry. I never meant for this to happen.”

Rabin caught Izzy’s hand before it could fall away. He made sure to press that palm to his injury, welcoming the little throb of pain. The stem of the rose dug into his skin and bumped his ear, but he ignored it. “But it did. And I wouldn’t take it back.”

Izzy stared into Rabin’s eyes, both hands caught. “What…are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I missed you and I don’t want to be without you. I’m saying I love you.” God! That felt good.

Breath caught, and finally dark chocolate eyes searched his face. “What?”

“I love you so much, I can’t think about anyone else.”

Izzy’s nostrils flared, and a bit of moisture pooled in the corners of his eyes. His quivering bottom lip worked twice before words could pass it. “What?”

Smiling, Rabin released one of Izzy’s hands so he could reach forward to cup that beautiful face. He used a gentle hold to guide Izzy’s lips to his. “I love you.”

A sweet, soft whimper bled from Izzy’s throat. The fingers of his free hand reached up to curl around Rabin’s upper arm, right under the hem of his T-shirt. “God, Rabin.” Izzy breathed when Rabin pulled back just a little. “Are you serious?”

“I couldn’t be more serious.” He brushed their lips together again. “What can I do to prove it to you?”

“I… I don’t know. I…”

“I can take you to dinner.” He kissed the upper curve of Izzy’s cheek. “Or take you home so we can tell Brent and Hell.” Once started, he found it hard to stop brushing his lips over Izzy’s soft skin. “I’ll do anything you want.”

Izzy’s fingers dug into the fabric of his T-shirt and yanked him close. “Take me to your place,” came the demand, breathed into Rabin’s open mouth. Then Izzy took a kiss with all the fierce pleasure Rabin could hope for while they still stood on a public street.

But they could only do so much, so Rabin did pull back. But he stayed close, cradling Izzy’s neck with both hands. “With. Pleasure.” One last kiss, then he drew back, sliding one hand down Izzy’s neck, shoulder, and arm until he could twine their fingers together. Izzy watched his face with gentle astonishment, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Let’s go.”

Izzy giggled as they walked, poking the tip of his nose with the rose. “You’re really here.”

Rabin squeezed Izzy’s hand. “I’m really here.”

“Does it still hurt? Your face?”

He smiled, only now realizing that Izzy was on his left side. “Yeah, but it’s better’n it was.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shook his head and pulled Izzy out of the way of an oncoming group of women. “It had to happen. Markus and I never really got on. I’m surprised we lasted as long as we did.” He smiled when he heard the women whispering furiously as they passed.

Izzy didn’t even notice. “And Zane’s not talking to you?”

“Nope.”

“Because of me.”

“No. Because of me.” Rabin shook Izzy’s hand so he’d look up. “I don’t regret this, Iz.”

A wistful sigh. “Okay.”

Rabin pulled Izzy between two buildings, just out of the foot traffic. “Listen to me. If Zane can’t accept who I am now, I don’t need him.”

“He’s your best friend.”

“Then he should understand.”

Izzy nodded, but Rabin could tell that he still had his reservations.

“Fine.” He drew Izzy back into the street, determined to make it home quickly so they could be alone. “I’ll just have to spend the rest of my life convincing you.”

“The rest of your…?” Izzy laughed as Rabin tugged him along in his wake. “Rabin, you’re getting ahead of yourself.”

“Am I?” Was he? It certainly didn’t feel like it. He couldn’t stand the thought of being without Izzy again.

They didn’t speak for another block, each alone with their thoughts, connected by the press of their palms and the emotions ricocheting between them.

It was Izzy who broke the silence. “What happens with the Knights now?”

They’d reached the stairs leading up to a train platform. “I’m going to put together another band. The new Knights. And we’re going to do the music Brent and I were working on.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. Writing music and performing it in front of a crowd is all I ever wanted to do. Studio work is great, but it’s not the same.”

Izzy was quiet as they passed through the turnstiles and reached the platform to wait for the train.

Rabin caught up his hand again to turn them face-to-face. “What?”

Izzy blinked over the flower he held to his nose. “What?”

“What are you thinking so hard about?”

Perfect plump lips thinned in a grimace. “Nothing.”

“Tell me.”

Izzy sighed. He tried to slip his hand from Rabin’s, but Rabin wouldn’t let him. “Is it smart to do this when you’re thinking of a public career?”

He knew what Izzy meant, but he wanted it said, so he played dumb. “Do what?”

Izzy raised their linked hands. “This. Even Brent and his friends didn’t come out until they were already famous.”

“Stop trying to push me away.”

Gaze down and away, Izzy shrugged. “I’m just trying to be sensible.”

Rabin wrapped his free hand around the back of Izzy’s neck and used it to draw him close. “Listen to me. I could give a shit what anyone else thinks. Keeping you and me a secret is just wrong, and I won’t do it. I want us to be open and out.”

Izzy licked his lips. “You’re taking this coming-out thing rather well.”

Rabin rubbed the back of Izzy’s neck. “You make it easy.”

“Oh man.” Izzy tucked his head forward under Rabin’s chin, on the right side away from the bruise. “You say the sweetest things.”

He held Izzy close until the train came. Then they boarded and sat beside each other, holding hands. He asked about school and listened with interest even as he was aware of the looks they got from other passengers. He counted. Of the two dozen people on the car with them, only five took notice, and four of the five smiled. It made it easy to totally disregard the one woman who scowled and sniffed in their direction.

Izzy called Brent after they’d left the train and were walking to Rabin’s place. “Hey, it’s me. I’m with Rabin. Yeah.” He glanced shyly at Rabin, grinning a little. “I think so. Yeah.” He laughed. “Okay, I’ll tell him.” Still chuckling, he shut his phone off.

“What was that?”

“Brent says this is your only chance. Don’t fuck it up.”

Rabin laughed, sliding his arm around Izzy to pull him close. “I don’t plan to.” At the bottom of the stairs leading up to his building, he stopped, turning Izzy so he could kiss him again. “I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

Izzy smoothed a hand down the injured side of his face. “I know you didn’t. I knew that before.” He giggled again and waggled his eyebrows. “We’re not getting upstairs fast enough.”

Laughing, Rabin unwrapped his arms, then pushed Izzy up the stairs ahead of him. He took advantage of his position to keep pinching the delectable ass before him, despite protests. Izzy paid him back, tickling and poking him while he unlocked the building’s front door. The light mood stayed with them up three flights of stairs to Rabin’s door.

“Wow.” Izzy stumbled into the apartment and turned, taking a look at the barren surroundings. “This doesn’t look any different from the first day you moved in.”

“No. Still can’t afford much.” He only had the basic utilities—this time with Internet—hooked back up so far, saving the purchase of furniture and a new television for a later date. Rabin had left the air unit running low when he left, so at least the temperature was bearable. He crooked his finger at Izzy, smiling as he backed down the short hall and into his bedroom. “Come with me.”

“Oh, now this is much better.” Izzy stepped into the room that wasn’t anywhere near fully furnished, but Rabin had taken special care with his bed in the last few days. Still no headboard or footboard yet, but he’d taken pains to pick nice sheets, a smart-looking cover, and twice as many pillows as he needed. Izzy dropped his backpack just inside the door. “I like.”

“Thanks.” Rabin drew the light-blocking curtains almost all the way shut, dimming the room. There was another building just across the street, and he wasn’t in the mood to give anyone a free show. “One of these days, I’ll get a nightstand.”

Izzy laid his rose on top of the blue milk crate. “There’s time for that.”

Rabin faced Izzy from the window. “Will you help me?”

That made Izzy shy. He ducked his head. If his hair had been loose, it would have shielded his face. As it was, only a few loose tendrils fell forward. “If you want me to.”

“I want you to.” He rounded the bed and plucked at Izzy’s shirt. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in black.”

Izzy’s eyes were still downcast, but Rabin could see a shy smile. “I’ve been kind of gloomy lately.”

Rabin slid a hand up Izzy’s side. “Can’t have that.” He leaned in to kiss Izzy’s neck. “Leave the black to me from now on.” He made Izzy laugh, so it was worth it. He nuzzled the soft spot underneath one ear, letting his hands roam down to Izzy’s waist. “I love you.”

Lithe arms wrapped around his neck. “God, Rabin.”

“I do.” He teased the hem of Izzy’s shirt up. “Couldn’t think about anyone but you.”

“There was no one else in LA?”

A fleeting thought of Danny that quickly dispersed. If anything, that interlude had convinced him that there was no one for him but Izzy. “No. There’s no one else.”

“Me neither.”

He found warm, satiny skin and caressed all that he could reach as he turned his lover and gently urged him to lie on the bed. Izzy loosened his ponytail and finger-combed his hair, while Rabin quickly pulled off his boots and socks, then crawled onto the mattress to straddle Izzy. So beautiful. He looked his fill, brushing black silk from Izzy’s face to let it fan the pillow beneath him. Soft lips, wide, dreamy eyes, just a hint of stubble on soft, rounded cheeks and jaw. They kissed, but Rabin’s hands kept wandering, pushing up Izzy’s shirt to bare his chest. He shifted to lick the line of Izzy’s neck, then skipped down to taste one hard nipple, loving the way Izzy’s back arched, pushing into him. He laved attention on that nipple, letting Izzy take care of the T-shirt that remained rucked up to his armpits. Rabin kissed his way down the ridges of Izzy’s ribs until he reached the softer landscape of belly. He kissed around the dip of navel, then pushed his tongue inside to make his lover giggle. He unbuttoned Izzy’s fly and nuzzled the sharp crease of his hip as he reached inside jeans and briefs to find the evidence of arousal.

“Rabin.”

He glanced up to find glittering dark eyes watching him. Tender fingers traced the bruises on the left side of his face. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” He kissed the tip of Izzy’s cock. “More than fine.” He smiled, then opened his mouth and took the tip between his lips, letting Izzy watch. Those eyes narrowed but didn’t close, zeroed in on Rabin’s mouth even if he couldn’t see Rabin’s tongue rubbing underneath the head. He sure felt it, because the belly under Rabin’s palm shuddered, and Izzy’s grip on the bed cover brought it into a bunch at his sides. Wanting to concentrate, Rabin closed his eyes and let his mouth sink over Izzy’s erection, swallowing the sweet, salty tang that dribbled from the tip over his tongue. A brief cry, and Rabin glanced up to see Izzy had given up the effort to watch and let his head fall back. His bare torso twisted, a pale, gorgeous line of muscle and skin that writhed because of Rabin. Without removing his mouth, Rabin managed to yank pants and underwear from under Izzy’s ass and push them down his legs past his knees. It freed access to trim balls tucked up under Izzy’s cock, the only lure that could get Rabin’s mouth from the shaft. He wrapped a fist around Izzy’s wet cock as he drew a testicle into his mouth and rolled it over his tongue. Izzy groaned, legs pulling at the restraint of his pants, but he couldn’t get out because he still wore his shoes. Rabin made a mental note to take care of that…in a bit. Now, he was far too interested in licking and sucking Izzy’s sac to drive him crazy. When he slipped Izzy’s cock back into his mouth, Izzy cried out again and curled forward, gripping at Rabin’s back, pulling his shirt up to expose enough skin to scratch.

“Rabin, please, God, Rabin…” Panted syllables spilled from that precious mouth, not begging for anything specific, just begging.

Rabin wet two of his fingers and wiggled them down under Izzy’s sac until he found that tight, gripping little hole. He pushed in, and Izzy’s body accepted him easily, hips bearing down on his hand. He curled his fingers up, searching, finding that spot that gave Izzy so much pleasure.

“Fuck! Rabin, God…”

He kept sucking and pumping, two fingers now inside a grip so tight, it almost hurt. Half sitting up, Izzy rocked his hips between Rabin’s mouth and fingers, his grip on the back of Rabin’s head keeping his shaft deep in Rabin’s mouth.

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck.”

Rabin knew that tone. He wrapped his free hand around Izzy’s shaft and pulled his mouth up until his lips and tongue just tormented the tip. Jacking, pumping, and sucking, he played to the urgent rhythm of Izzy’s groans until Izzy’s dance beneath him froze for one suspended moment before rich, salty cream spurted up and into Rabin’s mouth.

With one last whimpering sigh, Izzy slumped onto his back while Rabin lapped him clean. Absurdly proud of himself for bringing his partner to bliss, Rabin quietly pulled his hands free and knelt by the side of the bed to remove first Izzy’s shoes and socks, then the rest of his clothing.

Once his legs were free, Izzy drew his knees up and spread them, exposing his crotch. Seductive eyes watched as Rabin stood. “You’re getting the lube now, right?”

Chuckling, Rabin ripped his shirt up and over his head as he headed for the crate. “Got it right here.”

“Good.”

Rabin tossed lube and condom onto the mattress. As he shucked his remaining clothing, Izzy rolled onto his belly and tucked a pillow under his shoulders. He giggled at the size of the bottle. “Went for extra large, did we?”

“Hey.” Rabin tossed aside jeans and briefs. “I plan on using a lot of it in the near future.”

Happily, Izzy tore the plastic off the top. “Works for me.”

As Izzy wrestled with the two safety seals on the bottle, Rabin ripped open the condom and rolled it on. He knelt on the bed and accepted the open bottle from Izzy, but paused. Lovely as Izzy’s slim back and trim little ass were, that wasn’t the position he wanted. “Turn over.”

“Huh?”

“Turn over. On your back.”

Izzy kept his eyes open wide and innocent, but Rabin saw him clutch the pillow beneath him. “Why?”

He nudged Izzy. “I want to see you.”

“Rabin, come on.” He swished his butt to draw attention to it. “Fuck me.”

“I plan to.” Using his greater size and the element of surprise to his advantage, Rabin shoved a hand under Izzy’s side and flipped him. Before Izzy could much more than yelp, Rabin was straddling the smaller man’s thighs. “But I want to do it face-to-face.”

Discomfort showed on Izzy’s face as Rabin caught his wrists and pinned them to the mattress.

“What’s wrong with doing it this way?”

Izzy licked his lips, gaze darting to the side. “Nothing.”

“Iz, talk to me.”

He grimaced. “Don’t want to talk.”

Rabin lowered himself until he could press his forehead to Izzy’s temple. His cock pressed Izzy’s thigh. Truthfully, he didn’t want to talk either, but this felt important. “Please. Tell me why.”

Izzy shivered, licked his lips. “It’s just… It’s embarrassing. I can’t…”

“Can’t?”

“I…” He huffed out a breath. “I’ve never done it this way.”

“Never?”

“No. Gre—” He hesitated but then barreled on. “Greggory always took me from behind.”

“What about your other lovers?”

Izzy shook his head, flushing from more than his recent orgasm. “I’ve never been with anyone else.”

That took a second to sink in. “No one?”

“No one.”

He released Izzy’s wrists and propped himself on his elbows, freeing a hand to trace Izzy’s jaw. “You didn’t want me to know?”

“Not before. You’d never have slept with me.”

They shared a warm chuckle. “And now?”

“I don’t know. I just…” He shrugged, eyes still averted.

Rabin could barely stand how adorable Izzy was. So cocky and sure most of the time, but then he exposed an incredibly vulnerable side. Rabin vowed, right then and there, to make it his duty to shelter that softer side. “Hey.” He licked the curve of Izzy’s jaw. “Can we do it this way? I want to see you. All of you.”

A sigh shuddered through Izzy. “O-kay.”

Carefully Rabin lifted one knee, encouraged when Izzy’s thigh slid sideways to give Rabin room to come down inside. They did the same with the other side, positioning Rabin between Izzy’s legs where he wanted to be. He lapped at Izzy’s neck as Izzy bent his knees. Rabin sat up, letting his hands slide down Izzy’s sides before he picked up the bottle of lube again. Izzy lay quiet in front of him, watching him pour liquid on his palm, then taking the bottle from him so Izzy could coat his own cock with it too. Izzy caught up his knee and pulled it to his chest, spreading his groin open to make it easier for Rabin to find his entrance. It was like coming home. Aim, push. Rabin watched Izzy’s eyes flutter shut as that tight opening adjusted around his cock. He grabbed Izzy’s shoulder, leaned on it, used it as leverage as he pushed steadily into Izzy’s body. A gorgeous flush colored softly curved cheeks, and sweat glistened on his brow, plastering little tendrils of black hair to his skin. Rabin leaned forward as his cock reached its limit, embedded inside Izzy’s body. He braced his hands on the mattress to either side of Izzy’s head and just looked his fill. White teeth bit a plump lower lip to a gorgeous red, raven brows crowded down over tightly shut eyelids. But gradually Izzy’s eyes blinked open. He sought and found Rabin’s gaze.

Rabin smiled. “I love you.”

The sigh swept through Izzy like the wind through a secret passage. He lifted his hands to wrap around the back of Rabin’s neck. “God. I love you too.”

The words he’d been waiting for. The words he’d known hadn’t been spoken yet but he’d been willing to wait for. Sooner than he thought. Caught him off guard. Actually made his body buck, a quick jerk of his cock out, then back into Izzy’s body. They both hissed at the intense surge of pleasure.

Rabin lowered to his elbows, close enough to kiss the mouth that had said the words, the only mouth he ever wanted to kiss again. Sliding his arms under Izzy’s back to hold him secure, Rabin thrust steady and slow, wanting Izzy to feel every inch of him. Eager lips sucked at his, a willing tongue twining with his. Izzy’s legs lifted and nimbly wrapped around Rabin’s waist, his hands alternately grasping Rabin’s hair, then his back, then hair again.

“Harder,” Izzy finally demanded.

Rabin obeyed gladly, shifting his knees to a better angle. Back up to his elbows, curled over Izzy, he blinked sweat from his eyes so he could watch Izzy’s face. More of a flush, mouth open now to help him breathe.

“God, Rabin, harder.”

He reached down, intending to grip Izzy’s cock, but Izzy stopped him, brought his arm back to where it had been. Brown eyes glittered feverishly. “Just fuck me. That’s all I want.” Exposed completely, eyes filled with love, Izzy kept his gaze steady under eyelashes that tried to flutter closed.

“God.” Rabin was going to lose it. It was too much. The velvet squeeze around his cock, the tight wrap of legs around his waist, the hot, writhing body beneath him, and the look of love flooded his senses, took his control away. Growling, he thrust hard into Izzy’s body, doing all he could to keep his eyes trained with Izzy’s as the explosion started at the base of his spine. He cried out, lunging now, and it was Izzy this time who braced him, held him, spurred him on with words he only heard as driving, undeniable notes at the crescendo of a symphony.

He might have blacked out a little. He found himself with his face tucked into the curve of Izzy’s throat, with his lover’s arms and legs still wrapped securely around him, although now a little more loosely, more comfort than clutch. Rabin’s breath labored in and out of his lungs, the sweat on his chest mingling with the heated moisture on Izzy’s. Even as his breath calmed, Rabin didn’t feel the need to move. Well, except for a small shift that straightened the arch of his back. It had the unfortunate side effect of sliding his cock out of Izzy’s body, but he couldn’t have denied the protest in his lower spine.

It wasn’t until he heard the soft sniff that he realized Izzy was crying.

“Hey.” He tried to pull away so he could look at Izzy’s face, but the smaller man was wrapped so tightly that Rabin couldn’t get free. He had to settle for nuzzling just under Izzy’s chin. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” came the watery protest.

“Iz.”

“Nothing, I swear. It’s just…”

“Just?”

“You’re serious about all you’ve said? All of it?”

This time he used a little muscle to free himself, needing to see Izzy’s eyes. A few tears trickled from the corners of those chocolaty depths.

“I’m serious. About all of it. I swear.”

“Even if it ruins your life?”

“It won’t ruin my life.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Hey. I’m not Greggory, okay? I want to tell the world about you.”

The smile that dawned on Izzy’s face was one Rabin wanted to cause for the rest of his life.

“I don’t care about the world.” Izzy gave him a brief kiss. “Just you.”

Epilogue

Rabin had only spent time with him the one night, but he’d know Danny anywhere. He watched his friend stroll into the O’Hare baggage-claim area, a backpack slung over one shoulder. His strawberry-blond hair was pulled into a loose tail, kept back from his handsome face. With the faded Grateful Dead T-shirt and ripped jeans, he looked every inch the California boy that he was.

“That’s him.”

Beside Rabin, Izzy stopped waving to a little girl tugging along a bright pink suitcase and lifted his head to scan the crowd. “Where?”

“The blond in the Dead shirt.”

“Oh. Oh.”

Rabin frowned down at the rapt gaze Izzy fastened on Danny. “What?”

“Mmmm. He is gorgeous. I see why you were tempted.”

Impulse had Rabin’s hand at Izzy’s side, poking where he knew Izzy was ticklish. “Don’t get any ideas.”

Izzy laughed and danced out of arm’s reach.

Rabin grinned, then turned to wave for Danny. But the blond had already seen them. They met with a hand slap and grip, then pulled into a hug and back slap. “Good to see you, man. How was the flight?”

Danny shrugged, letting his backpack slip to the ground. “Long. Boring. Pretty typical.” He turned to face Izzy.

Who was smiling up at him. Danny wasn’t as tall as Rabin, but he was still a few inches taller than Rabin’s boyfriend.

Rabin made introductions. “Izzy Rose, Danny Champion. Danny, this is Izzy.”

“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you,” they both said, almost in unison. Rabin groaned and shook his head while they both threw back their heads and laughed. That effectively broke the ice, and they moved into a spontaneous hug. Some of the tension in Rabin’s shoulders eased. He’d been sure they’d get along; he just hadn’t been sure how long it’d take.

But he needn’t have worried. Izzy took charge like the bossy little thing he was and directed Rabin to stand to the side with Danny’s pack while he and Danny went to get Danny’s bags. Rabin didn’t quite get that, but he obeyed, then figured it out as he watched Izzy chatting away at his new friend out of Rabin’s earshot. They made a pretty sight, Danny in his colorful tie-dye and Izzy in one of his rainbow shirts, this one blazoned in gold with It takes balls to be a fairy.

Danny came back to Rabin with a large suitcase. “Dude,” he said with a grin, “your boyfriend’s a trip.”

Rabin pushed the case up against the wall beside him. “Yeah, I know.”

Danny slapped his arm once, then went back to join Izzy, who had managed to charm a young mother and her son.

Eventually the pair headed back Rabin’s way, Danny pulling another large suitcase behind him and Izzy tugging a slightly smaller one.

“…always knew he was talented,” Izzy was saying, as though he were catching up an old friend, “but we never thought he’d be famous. He didn’t like being around people, for God’s sakes.”

Danny laughed at that. “I can’t even imagine.”

“He hates crowds. He’s better at it now, but oh man.”

Rabin reached for the handle of the suitcase behind Danny while handing the backpack to his friend. “Are you talking about Brent?”

Izzy wasn’t remotely repentant. “Of course.”

Rabin shook his head as he and Danny made the switch. “He’s gonna kick your ass.”

“Pfft. Only if he can catch me. Besides, Danny won’t tell.”

Danny looked at Rabin, his blue eyes filled with mirth. “Of course not.”

Rabin could easily see that Danny had fallen for Izzy’s ebullience, just like everyone did. “Let’s go.”

They headed for the parking lot, conversation paused as they maneuvered through the crowd.

“So, hey,” Rabin started as soon as they were relatively alone, headed toward where they’d parked Izzy’s Mazda, “I talked to Gordon.”

Danny nodded. They hadn’t met, but that would soon be rectified. Rabin had talked about the Knights’ new manager enough when he’d spoken to Danny over the phone.

“Turns out he knows Lance Hoff.”

“The bass player from The Might?”

“That’s the one.”

“Damn, you run in the best circles.”

Rabin had to laugh. The car chirped when he pressed the key fob. “That’s not the best part. He says Lance and Noble both are leaving The Might. You know they’ve never gotten it together after that second album, right?”

Danny stopped, facing Rabin. “Dude, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Izzy popped open the hatchback.

“Probably. He wants to introduce us.” Rabin lifted the heaviest of Danny’s three suitcases into the trunk. “He sent Lance a rough recording Brent and I did of one of the new songs, and Lance liked it.”

Danny maneuvered the second suitcase in beside the first. “No fucking way.”

“Yep.”

“The fucking Might?”

“The best part of ’em, anyway.”

Izzy laughed. “God, I don’t even know who these people are.”

Danny shook himself and lifted the last suitcase into the trunk. “Most people don’t. They never made it anywhere on the charts. Most people think their music’s too complicated.”

Rabin grinned at his lover. “But musicians like them.”

Izzy rolled his eyes. “That explains it, then.”

They climbed into the car, Rabin driving, Izzy beside him, with Danny in the back. As they left the airport, Rabin filled Danny in on Gordon’s plans for the Indigo Knights as well as the tentative schedule Brent and Rabin had worked out for studio space. When Danny mentioned needing to find a job, Izzy suggested the pizzeria near his school and even offered to set up a meeting.

They took Danny to Rabin’s apartment, which was soon to be Danny’s apartment. Danny would be taking over the lease now that Rabin had pretty much moved in with Izzy at Brent and Hell’s. Izzy hadn’t wanted to move, and Brent and Hell both assured Rabin that it was okay. “We don’t want to lose our cook,” Brent had said. Rabin couldn’t blame them. So while some of Rabin’s stuff was still in the apartment, he’d cleared most of it for Danny.

Danny looked around and shrugged. “Chicago. Never thought I’d live here.”

“If you can stand the winter, it’s a great place to be,” Rabin told him, laughing because he knew Danny had never lived in snow. He grinned at Izzy, who sat on the stool by the kitchen counter. “Magic happens here.”

Danny saw the look and laughed. “I certainly hope so. Seriously, though, thanks for calling me.”

Rabin nodded. “Feels right.” And it did. He felt at home with Danny like he used to feel at home with Zane, better maybe since he was older now, without the teenage angst. “I’m glad you came.”

“You going to kiss now?” Izzy joked.

Rabin laughed. “No.” He pulled Izzy off the stool and into his arms. “All my kisses are for you.”

Izzy hugged him back. “Good.”

“Y’know, I’m really glad you two got back together,” Danny mused, watching them. “You make a good couple.”

Izzy leaned back enough to look up into Rabin’s face. “Yeah, me too.” He giggled. “He made it easy.”

~ * ~

Chapter One

“You almost ready?”

Danny didn’t look up from the suitcase he was wondering how he was going to close. “Almost.” He pressed and pushed at the square canvas case, but it just wasn’t going to do it. “Damn. Of course it has to be a winter wedding.” Standing, he puffed out a breath and shook his head.

“I got a bigger suitcase if you want to use that.”

“No.” Danny pointed blindly toward the closet, still glaring at the case. “I’m taking the garment bag for my suit, and it’s already full. I don’t want to pay that much for luggage.”

Cash wandered into his line of sight, staring down at the case that sat on the mattress-on-top-of-box-spring that served as Danny’s bed. “Can’t you hitch a ride with one of your rich friends on a private jet or something? Then you could take all you want.”

Danny gave his roommate a rueful look that was wasted since Cash was looking at the suitcase. “I’m not a big-enough deal—yet—for a jet. Besides, Brent and Hell are already long gone, since they’re in the wedding. Lance and Noble have money, but not that kind of money.”

“Damn.” Cash leaned forward and put his weight on the soft top of the charcoal-gray case. Danny took the opportunity to admire his profile. Two years younger than Danny, Cash was unconsciously beautiful. Thick-rimmed tortoiseshell glasses and a sloppy overhang of hair that wanted to be both brown and blond vied to hide inquisitive brown eyes. He had a slim build under a green thermal shirt, a bright yellow Sesame Street T-shirt, and jeans that were baggy on his frame. Even a pimple near the corner of his mouth did nothing to detract from the gorgeous curve of his bottom lip or the saucy jut of his narrow chin. Danny watched Cash kneel, then crawl around the case to the center of his bed, and tried his best not to think of other, more fun things they could be doing than packing.

“Here.” Cash put all his weight on his arms to try to hold the top of the soft case closed. “Can you get it now?”

Danny knelt beside the bed, the better to get a grip on the zipper that would seal his suitcase shut. If it also put his shoulder right up against Cash’s, that was just a happy coincidence. If it allowed him to fill his sinuses with the scent of a clueless computer nerd who probably hadn’t showered since the morning before, so be it.

They gave it a good try, but it wasn’t going to happen. Expelling air past his lips, Cash sat back on his heels. “What have you got in there?”

“Only the essentials.”

Cash watched as Danny opened the case all the way. “Jesus, no wonder.” He picked up a thick blue knit sweater. “This wouldn’t fit in there alone.” He picked up another sweater of similar bulk. “How many of these did you pack?”

“I’m going to upstate New York to a ski resort. I’m a California boy, remember?”

“Well, yeah. But you can’t expect to fit all this in a carry-on. You’re only gonna be gone for four days.”

Danny took the two sweaters Cash held and crossed his tiny bedroom to where the garment bag hung on the closet door. “Maybe I can hang these in this.” Although that might stretch them. And he already had two necessary suits in the bag. Damn it. He looked good in those sweaters too.

“What’s this?”

Danny glanced over his shoulder to see what Cash was holding. “Toiletries.”

Cash hefted the stuffed-to-bursting faux leather bag. “Get out.”

“What?”

Cash blinked those amazing eyes at him. “You really are gay, aren’t you?”

Danny gave him a withering look, then morphed it into an eye flutter. “You finally noticed.”

Cash laughed, dropping the toiletry bag onto Danny’s mattress. “I guess I’ve never seen you act so…gay before.”

Danny froze, considered, then turned around to face Cash with one hand cradling the sweaters and the other propped on his hip. “I think I might be insulted by that phrasing.” He threw in a good toss of his shoulder-length hair to go with the prim tone he used.

Cash smiled, that slightly embarrassed curl of lips that made Danny’s balls tingle. “Don’t be.” He waved his hand at Danny’s overstuffed bag. “This is just way over the top. What have you got in there?”

“Essentials—hair products, shaving gel, razor, cologne, lube, condoms.” He said the last to get a reaction from Cash.

Didn’t work. Cash just frowned. “You can’t take that stuff in a carry-on, you know.”

“Oh shit. You’re right. Fuck. Looks like I’ll need the third bag anyway.” Sighing, he turned to his closet.

“Do you really need all this stuff?” Cash asked as Danny rummaged through a surprising pile of crap on the floor of the closet. He’d only lived there three months, and he was rarely home.

“What stuff?”

“Isn’t it a hotel? Won’t they have shampoo and gel and…stuff?”

Danny heard the pause, wondered at it, but let it go. “Well, yeah, but I’m very choosy.” He backed out of the closet with a second, matching bag in hand. He raised a hand to lovingly comb through his strawberry-blond locks and fluttered the eyelids of his bright blue eyes. Modesty aside, his sisters and plenty of lovers had informed him of his best assets, and he used them to advantage. “No one looks this good by accident.”

Cash just snorted, which made Danny laugh.

“Hey, just remember I’m Danny Champion.” He said the name that he’d always liked with particular emphasis, making sure Cash heard and acknowledged his pride. “I’m the lead singer of the soon-to-be-world-famous Indigo Knights, and don’t you forget it.”

Cash watched him with mild amusement. “I can’t. You don’t let me.”

“Damn straight.” They shared a laugh as Danny dropped onto the mattress with the second bag. He began to transfer things he’d be checking instead of carrying on. “And this stuff is nothing. Back in LA, I knew plenty of guys who make me look totally butch.”

“‘Totally,’” Cash teased in his very worst California drawl. Chicago-bred was Cash.

“Dude,” Danny threw back with his best surfer-boy impersonation. Helped that he had been, for a time, a surfer boy.

Well, at least Cash found him amusing. Two months after relocating from Los Angeles to Chicago, Cash had moved in with Danny when it became clear that even with a job waiting tables at a pizza parlor, Danny couldn’t pay the rent and utilities on the crap apartment he’d inherited from his friend and bandmate Rabin. Money was tight since the album Danny was there to record with his new band was not yet contracted to any record company. What the Indigo Knights did have was the faith and backing of their producer, one Brent Rose, the lead guitarist of the megapopular band Heaven Sent. So things looked really good for them. Unfortunately, one must live and pay bills while working toward fame and fortune. Although Danny’s bandmates—all better off financially than he—had offered to help, he had opted to take a part-time job at a pizza joint and leave the help from his friends for when he might really need it. Besides, he and Cash had already become acquaintances, meeting at the mailbox, and then Danny had him over a few times for dinner when he’d brought food home from work. At some point, Danny had asked Cash if he was interested in moving in together, to save on bills. Cash was a college student, living off a scholarship and an allowance from his parents for one more year. After graduation, he was supposed to put his bachelor of computer sciences degree to work to make his own money. This didn’t concern him, because he already had a number of companies interested in his skills. Only reason he wasn’t working for them now was because of a deal with his parents where he promised to get a degree first. So, even though Cash didn’t really need to save money, he’d accepted Danny’s offer, and they’d become friends of a sort. They both kept odd hours, so they didn’t see each other much, but they got along well when they did. Cash was personable and friendly although not outgoing. Danny had liked him from the moment they’d met. The only way Cash could be more perfect would be if he were gay.

Unfortunately, he was not.

Not that Danny wasn’t quietly hopeful.

Danny looked at the three sweaters that lay between the bags. “What am I thinking? You’re right—I don’t need all of these.” He grumbled as he started to repack just the first case again. “Wish I’d figured that out before spending all my extra cash on clothes.”

“You gonna be okay for rent? I could probably help if you need it.”

Danny’s heart swelled at Cash’s effortless sweetness. “Thank you, but no. I put aside next month’s rent already.” So he was okay for January. He’d have to see about February. He hadn’t gone home for the holidays, so he’d saved all that money for travel, and his ticket to New York for the wedding was already paid for, but he still hadn’t figured out what he was going to do in the next month or so when the Knights went on their first club tour. Worry about that when you get back. Danny was an expert at compartmentalizing his worries. He smiled for Cash. “Besides, all my expenses are paid for the next five days.”

“Must be nice.” Cash watched as Danny sifted through the clothing in the suitcase—T-shirts, underwear, slacks, and jeans, together with the last sweater Danny really wanted to take. “Been reading about this wedding on the net. It’s a big deal.”

“Fuckin’-A.” Danny took the jeans out. He’d wear a pair on the way there, and it’d just have to do. “Luc wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Cash scratched at the mess of his hair, making Danny’s fingers itch to smooth it out for him. “Still weird to think it’s such a big deal that two guys are getting married.”

“These aren’t just any two guys. This is Luc Sloane and Reese Schulyer.”

“Uh-huh.” Cash’s enthusiasm was tepid at best. He wasn’t exactly up on the music scene. “But what’s the point?”

Danny stopped considering his clothing to give Cash his full attention. “What’s the point in what?”

Cash gave him a fully sincere look. “I don’t get why two guys would get married at all.” He shrugged. “What’s the point?”

Danny blinked. “What’s the point?”

“Yeah.”

“They’re in love.”

“Okay. So they live together. But why spend all this money and shit and get married? They’ve been living together for years already, haven’t they?”

“Well, yeah, but…” Danny blinked again. “You can say the same thing about a man and a woman.”

“That’s different. They can have kids and stuff.”

Danny raised a brow. “Ever heard of adoption? Besides, having kids isn’t the only reason to get married.”

Cash flushed and dropped his gaze. Danny might have been more offended, but he could see Cash was sincerely struggling to understand. “Yeah, okay, but…” Another shrug. “I dunno. I always thought that weddings were a girl thing.” Danny happened to know Cash was an only child, so he wasn’t sure where Cash thought he was an expert. “Girls grow up picking out dresses and flowers and stuff. Guys don’t.” His brow creased in thought, and he looked back up at Danny. “Gay guys don’t do that, do they?”

Danny had to smile. “Some do.”

Cash’s mouth fell open. “Get out.”

“Dress, flowers, the whole shebang.”

“No way! A dress?”

Danny laughed. “Okay, maybe not the whole thing. Some forgo the dress. But there are plenty of guys who dream about their weddings. Gay and straight.”

“The ones that’re into fashion and stuff, right? Or the cross-dressers?” He said it like they were a different breed. No doubt, in Cash’s mind, the classifications of gay men were as cut-and-dried as the code he studied for his degree.

Danny hoped he’d been changing that opinion little by little. “Okay, I’ll grant you that traditional weddings are more of a girl thing, but there are plenty of guys who dream about the pomp and party of a wedding. Especially the party.”

“Do you?”

Danny shrugged. “I haven’t really. I never saw myself as the marrying type, even before I knew I was gay.”

Cash chewed on the inside of his lip, nodding. “Yeah, I know what you mean. About the marrying type, I mean.”

Danny concentrated back on his suitcase dilemma to keep himself from cupping Cash’s face to do a little lip-nibbling himself. He couldn’t take offense at Cash’s assumptions. Cash simply had no point of reference. He didn’t even realize Danny was crushing hard on him. “But Luc and Reese are different. They want the whole spectacle, and they’ve put a lot of work into this wedding. The GLBT groups are coming all over themselves about it.”

“I’ll bet. Those were the sites that had the most hits.” Cash cocked his head to the side, considering. “How much does it cost to buy out an entire ski resort for a long weekend, anyway?”

“Buttloads. Not to mention feeding everyone.”

“And it’s over New Year’s.”

Having culled a third of what he’d originally packed, Danny shut the lid and tried the zipper again. Hopeful. Now there was only about an inch of space between the two sides of the zipper. “Heaven Sent needs to come out with their new album real soon so Luc can pay for it.”

Cash leaned atop the suitcase, Danny knelt on the floor at the foot of the bed, and together they wrestled the zipper into place.

“Ha!” Danny found his face disturbingly close to Cash’s, so he sank back on his heels to gain some needed distance. “Success.”

Cash sat up, glancing at the pile of clothes Danny had created beside the discarded second case. “I hope you got everything in there and don’t have to open it again.”

“I think I’m safe for the night.” He was meeting the others at the airport tomorrow morning.

Cash glanced around Danny’s bedroom. Not much to see. Danny hadn’t bothered to decorate, since the apartment was pretty much just a place to sleep and eat. He’d almost been living at the studio for the last few months. “Gonna be quiet around here without you.” Cash spent the majority of his time at home in his bedroom on the computer. Danny wondered sometimes if he’d even come out if it weren’t for school or for Danny prodding him occasionally to talk.

“Don’t you have plans for New Year’s?”

Cash snorted. “Right.”

Danny grinned. In the whole time he’d known Cash, he’d met two other friends. Both computer nerds, both fellow students, both geeky males. He hadn’t gotten the impression they were bosom buddies, more guys with common interests who passed some boredom together. He’d never seen Cash with a girl, but then, Cash seemed strangely asexual. At least in his own mind. In Danny’s mind, Cash was quite the sexual being, on the receiving end of a number of Danny’s favorite fantasies.

“So what are you going to do?”

“I’ll probably spend the night with my parents. My mom likes to watch the ball drop, then wake up early, make breakfast, and watch the Rose Parade.”

Danny’s eyebrows flew north. “The Rose Parade? I didn’t think people really did that outside of California.”

“She likes to pretend she wants to move there.” Cash shrugged. “And she likes roses.”

Grinning, Danny declined to point out that the parade was a hell of a lot more than just the roses. He had a sister who was a Rose Parade fanatic. Gazing at Cash, he didn’t much think about the next words that came out of his mouth. “You should come with me.”

Cash startled, the jerk of his head dislodging his fringe of hair to obscure his eyes. “What?”

“Yeah!” Danny grinned, aware he was making an invitation he wasn’t allowed to make, but sure he could work it if Cash accepted. Which he wouldn’t. Which didn’t stop Danny from trying. “Sure. Why not?”

“Uh, not invited?”

Danny waved a hand in the air, brushing the objection aside. “I bet I can figure something out. There’ll be a couple hundred people there. What’s one more?”

“Right.” Sarcasm dripped from his lips as Cash pushed himself to his feet. “That’s gonna happen.”

Danny followed him from the room. “Why not?”

“Where do I start? How about: no plane ticket.”

They passed through the hall that separated their bedrooms and into Cash’s room. Or, as Danny liked to think of it, Cash’s lair. Very little natural light ever made it into the shrouded ten-by-fifteen space. The blinds on the single window were always shut and half hidden behind a solid wooden-framed bunk bed. An actual bunk bed. The bottom bunk served as a clothes hamper, although clean clothes were known to hang out with the dirty on occasion. The top bunk sported X-Men sheets underneath a thick black comforter that had seen better days. Two bookshelves were crammed full of books, comics, and action figures, and all sorts of computer paraphernalia cluttered most of the floor except for the corner that served as Cash’s command center. The L-shaped desk supported two monitors and space for at least one laptop on the surface. There were two keyboards, but one was almost never used, as Cash used both monitors for the same main system. A tower and a few backup drives were on the floor and shelves underneath the desk.

Cash dropped into his ultramodern chrome-and-leather swivel chair, jiggled his mouse, and looked like he planned to ignore Danny, but Danny wasn’t having it. “We could probably get you a ticket.”

“The day you leave?”

Danny dug a space out of the—thankfully clean—clothes on the bottom bunk and sat facing Cash’s profile. “Okay, it might be expensive.”

“You think?” Cash ripped off his glasses and stared at the twenty-seven-inch screen two feet in front of his nose.

“I think you just don’t want to go to a gay wedding.”

“There’s that.”

“You admit it?”

Cash spun to face Danny. Danny had to catch his breath at the sight. Cash with his glasses was intriguing. Cash without was just fucking gorgeous. Not that he knew it. He didn’t see the appeal of his almond-shaped eyes with those gold-tinted lashes. He didn’t know the stubble that would never be a beard was a turn-on. He wasn’t aware that his thin, long jaw and sunken cheeks created a whole that Danny longed to explore at length with fingers, lips, and tongue. “There’s no way in hell I’m going.”

Danny knew it was a losing fight, but he fought it anyway. “Would you go, if you could?”

Cash rolled his eyes and turned back to his monitor. “Don’t think so.”

“Why not? This is the wedding of the century.”

He grunted. “Depends on who’s talking.”

“Fine. Still, a shitload of celebrities will be there.”

Cash stared at his screen and shrugged. “I don’t belong there.”

Danny considered his profile. In truth, he was probably right. But Danny had never had much use for “belonging.” He was a much bigger fan of exploring different options. “That’s not a big deal to you, is it?”

“Not really.”

And in Danny’s eyes, that might be Cash’s fatal flaw. Danny would kill to go to such a party. He still couldn’t believe his luck in not only getting to go, but being a paid-for guest. Not every guest’s expenses were all paid. Some had to foot the bill for their rooms at the reserved resort. But since the Indigo Knights were Brent’s pet project, and Brent was best friend and best man to Luc Sloane, the Knights got an all-expense-paid ticket into what many were predicting to be a historical wedding. Danny was so excited, he had a near perpetual hard-on. Too bad he hadn’t been able to coax his roommate to share that with him.

Quit it, he told himself as soon as the idea occurred. You’ll find plenty to fuck at the wedding this weekend. He could hardly wait.

Danny heaved an overly dramatic sigh and stood. He knew when to stop pushing. “Okay. You don’t know what you’re missing.”

“I’m sure you’ll tell me when you get back.” Cash’s wry comment followed him out the door.

Chapter Two

“That one?” Danny murmured, taking another surreptitious glance at the hottie in the corner. “The blond in blue?”

“That’s the one,” Noble acknowledged, his gaze on the other side of the room as he brought his drink to his lips.

“How was he?”

Noble might have been drinking his champagne, but his smug smile was fully evident. “Sweet and splendiferous.” The Indigo Knights’ drummer was a study of oddities. Six feet two inches tall, with a mohawk that, when properly spiked, gave him another three inches. Tonight, however, it was styled rather than spiked, so curls flowed in rich, kelly-green waves from his widow’s peak to a few inches below his nape, while each side of his head was smoothly shaven. For Noble, it worked. So did the vivid green irises that no one could possibly believe he was born with. Noble was fond of colored contacts and had them in green, purple, red, and an odd, disturbing gold. His nose was pierced with a ring through the left nostril, and a matching ring secured the tip of his right eyebrow. For the wedding, he wore a suit of a darker, more subtle green than his hair, with a soft chartreuse silk shirt. When shirtless, he displayed a bar through one nipple and a tattoo of a horned toad over the other—as he explained it, “my horny toad.” Surprisingly, he only sported one silver ring in each of his ear lobes and had no other piercings, but he wore a full array of bulky silver rings on his fingers, even when playing. His look was picture-perfect rock star, which Noble definitely was. He could hold a beat like a metronome but make his drums produce any number of other rhythms while he was doing it.

Danny chuckled and sipped his own champagne. The blond in the dark blue silk shirt and deep purple tie was slim and model perfect, just like Noble liked them. Danny had discovered over the months that he and Noble had similar tastes in men, although Danny tended toward brunets, while Noble definitely had a thing for blonds. Thus far in their relationship, neither of them had hooked up with a redhead. Danny caught sight of a ginger-haired babe with a sexy dark goatee. Perhaps that should be remedied.

The weekend at the Genesis resort was magical in so many ways. Of course there were the wedding festivities that were due to begin any moment, but last night had been a party that had made more than one guest wonder how the wedding itself could ever top it. Drinking, dinner, and dancing, as well as assorted other entertainment, had filled the night and continued through the day. Guests were responsible for room service if they ordered it, and their ski paraphernalia if they chose to try out the slopes, but everything else—including booze—was on the house. Danny could definitely get used to this kind of living.

“So…” Danny kept his eye on the ginger cutie but didn’t pursue just yet. The guests were gathering around a raised platform set in the middle of the largest ballroom, and the wait staff was circulating to make sure everyone had champagne for the big event. An oversized clock on one wall showed it was about forty minutes to midnight. “You taking in the blond again tonight?”

Noble didn’t even glance that way. “No. I’ve already got tonight’s conquest singled out.”

Danny followed Noble’s line of sight to behold yet another blond sitting at the bar. This one was less cute and more handsome and had his eye right back on Noble. “Well, all right, then.”

“And you? Will you be with the CPA again?”

Danny laughed. “He wasn’t a CPA.”

“Are you sure? He looked like an accountant.”

“He didn’t fuck like one.”

“Mmmm. How do you know? You ever fuck an accountant?”

“Have you?”

“Yes.” Noble waggled his eyebrows. “Once the glasses came off, the beast was released. I barely survived the night.”

Danny loved talking to Noble. He always ended up laughing. The glasses comment made him wonder if there was a beast inside Cash, but he put aside thoughts of his roommate. “Well, this guy works in the film industry.”

“Production?’

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”

“Mmm. Probably lying. Either that, or he’s a lowly handyman but didn’t want you to know that.”

Danny shrugged. “Whatever. We enjoyed last night.”

Noble nodded. “And as long as everyone left the room happy and healthy, that’s all that matters.”

Before Noble could ask about Danny’s conquest for the night, a fanfare announced the arrival of the bridal party. Or would that be the groomal party? Danny wasn’t sure of the correct terminology. The female justice of the peace entered wearing a blinding white tuxedo. Danny only knew she was the justice of the peace because she’d been pointed out to him by Luc the night before. She was a handsome older woman with gray hair that had a bold blue streak in the front that curled down and around one ear. Behind her came Luc’s Heaven Sent bandmates and their significant others. First, Johnnie and Tyler, followed by Darien and Chris. Hell, however, was walking with Gretchen Hobbes, Heaven Sent’s manager. Every last one of the group was dressed in almost white. “Almost” because the colors were actually ivory or ice blue or soft peach. No tuxedos or formal dress. Rather, they were dressed in flowing sleeves, tight pants, and high boots, just like the grooms. Each outfit was unique, with only the colors to unify them. When the six were arranged along two sides of the dais with the justice of the peace standing in the center, another fanfare announced the arrival of the best man and best woman. A gorgeous, grinning woman walked in on Brent’s arm, and even if Danny hadn’t already known she was his twin, it was quite obvious Reegan was Reese’s sister. Same hair, same smile, same almost everything. The two of them walked up and took their places beside the justice of the peace. Then the lights dimmed, and a hush fell over the crowd. Danny expected music, but there was none, just a general whisper from the crowd of approximately two hundred guests.

Then they arrived. Hand in hand, grinning ear to ear, Lucas Sloan and Reese Schulyer approached the dais. Luc wore snug white pants and gorgeous white leather knee boots with gold buckles up the side. His shirt was light wool, with blousy long sleeves and a loose V-neck that showed off much of his bare chest as well as the intricate white tiger over his left pectoral. Glittering diamond bangles circled his wrists, and his rich auburn hair was loose, tumbling in waves over his shoulders. Reese wore ivory hip boots and a cinched white corset under a flowing, nearly transparent shirt that showed off the dragon and tiger tattooed on his back. His hair was black, wavy, and also loose to his shoulders, with one thick lock of vivid blue in the front.

Danny glanced at the clock and was impressed to see they still had about twenty minutes until midnight. The justice of the peace started to speak, and she must have been mic’d, because each word was crystal clear. At her prompt, Luc spoke some words, then Reese. Then they exchanged rings. They had it timed just right; just as the justice of the peace said, “You may now kiss your husband,” it was time to start the ten-second countdown. The crowd began with “ten” as Luc and Reese wrapped their arms around each other and shared an amorous kiss.

Grinning wide, just happy to be in the moment, Danny kept his place about twenty feet from the dais and watched the happy couple as everyone around looked for someone to hold as the year turned over. Noble had disappeared, and Rabin had his arms wrapped around Izzy, laughing softly at the tears that wet Izzy’s cheeks. It didn’t look like either Luc or Reese was even aware that two hundred other people were in the room with them. They were so happy, so in love. I want that, Danny decided.

Up on the dais, the attendants had broken ranks to find their significant others. Brent and Hell murmured to each other. Darien and Chris laughed at a quiet joke. Tyler melted into Johnnie’s embrace to nuzzle under his jaw. We’re going to have that, Danny promised himself. The Indigo Knights, his band, were going to be every bit as famous as Heaven Sent. But not just famous. Happy. Content. Excited about life. That’s what Danny was determined to have.

“Three. Two. One! Happy New Year!”

Balloons and confetti formed a white-and-gold rain throughout the largest banquet hall at the Genesis resort.

* * * *

“This is awesome,” Danny told Rabin as he and his friend sat at a table in one of three banquet halls decked out for the wedding. To his right was a great roaring fire blazing in a huge fireplace, and to his left was a bay window laced with frost, thanks to the drifting snowfall outside. Danny was more than full from late-night hors d’oeuvres and pacing himself with scotch and sodas heavy on the soda. An hour after the ceremony, he was feeling no pain.

Rabin snorted, lifting a half-empty tumbler to his lips. “Not everyone can afford this.”

Danny grinned at him. “Just wait until our album hits the market, man. We’ll be able to afford something like this very soon.”

Rabin cringed and glanced around. “Don’t say that so loud. Iz will hear you.”

Danny cracked up, leaning back in his chair. “You’re safe. He’s over there, picking on the food.” Rabin’s boyfriend was a cooking student, and although he’d raved about the entrées they’d been served at the prewedding dinner, he wasn’t enthused about the finger food at the reception. Danny thought he was crazy. The food was insanely good. Or maybe the alcohol made it all better. “Why? Is he making noises about the two of you?”

“No.” Danny knew Rabin’d had a lot to drink, because his English accent was far more pronounced. But you had to know him to see the alcohol had any effect on him at all. “But I’m getting lots of ‘Well, if I were catering a wedding…’” Rabin shook his head, but Danny caught the wisp of a smile at one corner of his expressive mouth. “He’s been talking about starting a catering business when he graduates. Not sure if he’s serious or not.”

Danny cocked his head to the side, watching Rabin. When they’d first met, Danny had thought the man quite intriguing. Handsome without being insanely gorgeous, Rabin had the kind of sharp looks that just made people look twice. Or more. But other than one very nice kiss, it hadn’t been in the cards for them. Rabin hadn’t yet admitted it at the time, but he’d already been completely in love with Izzy Rose. Four months later, they were living together and still riding the high of newfound love. Danny didn’t begrudge them, but he did wonder sometimes. He knew few people in relationships—hetero- or homosexual—that lasted longer than a year. He really hoped there wasn’t trouble on the horizon for them, and not only because Izzy was related to Brent Rose, the Indigo Knights’ producer and all-around patron saint. He genuinely liked Rabin and Izzy together and wanted his friends to be happy.

Rabin caught him looking, and blue eyes narrowed. “What?”

“What do you think? You gonna marry him?”

“What? Me? Not tonight.”

Danny gave him a withering glance. “You know what I mean.”

“I dunno.” Rabin glanced at Izzy, and there it was, that goofy smile he got sometimes when he looked at the little man who held tightly to his heart. “Yeah, probably. If that’s what he wants.”

“What about what you want?”

“I want him to be happy.”

“Aww, how sweet.”

“Fuck you.”

They laughed.

“But really man, forever? You’ve only been together four months.”

Rabin gave him a look that belied anything he might have been drinking. The look was hard and direct. “I love him. I can’t see myself with anyone else.”

Danny smiled. It was sweet. It was. The romantic part of his heart soared for his friend and wished him all the best. But the practical part of his heart knew forever was a long time for a young man, and promises made at the beginning of a love affair looked and felt different years later. “Tough time to start a relationship,” Danny mused, staring at the melting ice in the bottom of his empty glass. “I don’t envy you.”

“What, you mean with the band and all?”

“Yeah.”

Rabin shrugged and ran a hand through chestnut hair that had started the night spiked high but now had sort of wilted. Truthfully, Danny preferred the current look and knew Izzy did as well. “Doesn’t bug me. I kind of did the groupie thing when we toured before. Not my thing.”

“It was all girls then.” Prior to Izzy, Rabin had only ever been with women.

Caught off guard by the comment, Rabin coughed, then laughed. “Yeah. There is that.” Again his gaze wandered toward where Izzy stood. “But I like the idea of that one person who’s just for me.”

About twenty feet behind Rabin, the ginger cutie Danny had spotted before the wedding strolled by on his way to the next room. Danny took that as the cue to let Rabin off the hook. “Well, it’s my thing.” He stood and tossed back his loose hair, checking it in the partial reflection in the window. “And I happen to be at a party full of eligible gay men. I’m going to enjoy it. Starting at that bar in the next room. You coming?”

Rabin stood but shook his head. “Nah. I think I’ll go rescue whoever Izzy’s trapped.”

They parted ways, and Danny left the small room for the bigger one, where the ceremony had been held. The dais had been moved to one side of the room and split in half so it lined one wall. On it, a long bar had been set up, manned by four bartenders. A dance floor had replaced the dais in the center of the room, and pulsing dance lights poured over gyrating bodies that moved to the beat governed from the DJ platform in one corner. Most of the party was here, and Danny was thrilled to see the majority of the bodies were male. This was definitely the place to be. Now, if he could find his red-haired lovely, the night would be even better. He stepped up onto the dais carefully in the dark, uncertain light and maneuvered around bodies to get to the bar. It took him a while because he stopped and chatted with various people he’d met earlier. One simply didn’t just walk by some of the hippest people in the music or art world when one had the chance to schmooze.

It was sometime later before he actually made it to the bar to order his drink. He was taking his first sip when a body crashed into him. Holding his glass up high to avoid further spillage, he instinctively curled his arm around the other man to help steady him. The man turned, flashing colored lights spilling over the light curls that fell about his face. A gorgeous face came very close to Danny’s, huge eyes blinking myopically as they failed to fully focus. Danny would have been enchanted—no, he was enchanted—but there was nothing he could do about it. He knew that face. Knew it well because it belonged to Tyler Purcell, Johnnie Heaven’s husband.

Tyler smiled wide, making Danny’s heart skip a beat. “Hi.” He made no move to step out of Danny’s arms. In fact, his put his hands on Danny’s shoulders and seemed comfortable in the circle of Danny’s arm, their hips brushing. They were about the same height, so that guileless face remained close to Danny’s. His white shirt glowed in the black light, and the front gaped open enough to show a tantalizing amount of bare chest. To confound matters, he smelled bizarrely of strawberries. “You look familiar.” Tyler blinked slowly. “Do I know you?”

Oh man, if he didn’t know any better, he’d say Tyler Purcell was hitting on him. But he did know better. Everything he’d heard about the man confirmed he was very much in love with his husband. So he could not be hitting on Danny, despite what Danny held in his arm. The arm he tried to unwind so he could present his hand properly. “We’ve met. Danny Champion.” Didn’t blame Tyler for not remembering him. Their greeting had been brief, and there’d been a lot of people at Brent and Hell’s place that night. “Indigo Knights?”

Recognition dawned, and Tyler smiled. “Right.” He swayed into Danny again with a drunken smile, forcing Danny to hold on to steady him again. He slid one hand a little up Danny’s neck. “Hi.”

Okay, maybe he was hitting on him. Danny started to panic and glanced past Tyler for an irate spouse. “Uh, hi.”

“You’re pretty.” Tyler traced one side of Danny’s jaw with gentle fingers. “So blond.”

He was one to talk, with all that beautiful gold framing his face. True, the current lighting didn’t show off the color well, but Danny had seen plenty of pictures to confirm the color. He caught his hand drifting up Tyler’s back, then hastily dropped it from around Tyler’s waist. He backed up a step for good measure too. “Thanks.”

Tyler frowned at the loss of contact but managed to catch Danny’s arm and hold tight. He pulled, walking backward toward the dance floor. “Come dance with me.”

“Huh? No, I don’t…”

“Come on.”

Because he idolized the man, Johnnie Heaven was always a welcome sight to Danny’s eyes, but never more than right then. He materialized behind his husband, causing Tyler to blunder into him. His famous waist-length hair was caught in a loose tail tied between his shoulders so that some of it billowed to frame his face and line his long neck. His shirt too was open in front to reveal even more chest than Tyler’s, decorated by a deceptively simple necklace of feathers and turquoise. He caught Tyler’s shoulders to hold him steady and leaned in close to his ear. “Hey, you.”

Tyler’s smile melted away, and he tilted his head away from Johnnie’s. “Go away.”

“Now, blondie…” Unfazed by his husband’s rebuff, Johnnie reached around Tyler to grab the wrist of the hand that still had a death grip on Danny’s arm. “Let the nice man go.”

“No. The nice man and I are going to dance.”

Johnnie’s eyes met Danny’s. He was smiling, but the warning was clear. “No. You’re not.”

Danny shook his head, wholeheartedly agreeing. “No,” he said for good measure.

With an annoyed snort, Tyler let Danny’s arm go. He turned to face Johnnie fully and punched his shoulder. It wasn’t a hard hit, and his aim was off, so it couldn’t have hurt. “Fuck you.”

Johnnie met the curse with a patient smile and caught Tyler’s arm before he could hit him again. “Gladly. Shall we go to our room now?”

Tyler growled, yanked his hand from Johnnie’s, and stalked away.

Johnnie watched him go. Then he sighed and shook his head. “Sorry about that, Danny.”

“No worries on my part.” Johnnie-fucking-Heaven! And he remembered Danny. How outrageously cool was that? Outwardly, he tried his damnedest to remain cool. “Uh, you guys okay?”

“Oh yeah, we’re fine.” Johnnie glanced after Tyler again. The blond was back in the thick of the dance floor, sidling up to Reese. The groom met him with a happy yelp, and they laughed drunkenly as they continued to dance. “He can’t stand crowds, but for some bizarre reason, tonight he decided to get drunk. He’s only ever been like this once before.” Johnnie snorted, his eyes still on his spouse as two guys behind him looked interested. But Tyler was completely absorbed in himself and his friend and failed to see the danger his husband did. “Just my luck, he gets flirty. You’re the fourth guy I’ve pulled him off tonight.”

“Wow. Fun.”

“Not so much.” Johnnie gave a fatalistic shrug. Then laughed. “But it’s good for him to let loose once in a while. Won’t be so bad if I can keep him out of trouble.” He winked at Danny. “With any luck, he’ll be really sorry tomorrow morning and willing to do a lot to make it up to me.”

They shared a laugh at that.

Johnnie-fucking-Heaven! Danny had gotten used to working with Brent, and he was fully comfortable now working with Noble and Lance, who were minor celebrities in some circles, but Johnnie was just a different case. Johnnie was, almost literally, everything Danny wanted to be. And he was standing right there.

“So…” Johnnie propped his hip against the bar and motioned at one of the bartenders. “How goes life with the Knights?”

Danny tried to squelch the tremor of excitement that threatened to have him shaking his butt like an overenthusiastic puppy. Johnnie actually wanted to talk to him? Sure, his eyes were on his spouse, but the words were for Danny. As calmly as he could, he replied, “It goes good. With Lance and Noble, things have really shaped up.”

“I bet. Quite a find, those two. Sounds like they were happy to get away from The Might.”

“Tell me about it. We’re beyond lucky that Gordon knows them.”

Johnnie grinned thanks at the bartender, who put what looked like a vodka tonic in front of him. “Things like that have a way of happening when it’s right. Happened with us.” Johnnie turned that grin on Danny as he brought the drink to his lips. “Brent’s all excited about you guys, and I’ve learned over many years to always trust his instincts.” Small sip. “In music, at least.”

Danny was glad to hear it. He was beyond excited. A few months ago, it had just been Rabin and Danny with a name and a few songs, using Brent’s studio, filling in what they could for drums and bass. In what Danny could only describe as a magical moment, their manager, Gordon McCarty, had found their answer in Lance Hoff and Noble Welbourn, the bass player and drummer from The Might, who were sick of the restrictions of their band and looking for a change. With an experienced rhythm section on board and under Brent’s guidance, only Danny’s inborn Scottish pessimism kept him from being certain it would all be golden from here. “I trust his instincts too.”

“You gonna be done recording by February?”

“We’re already done. The tracks went for mastering a week before Christmas.” Again, Danny had to suppress the urge to wiggle in excitement.

“Well, shit, I’m behind the times. That’s awesome. Congrats.” Johnnie reached out a hand, and they shook. “What’s Gordon got in mind next?”

“He’s looking to get us some gigs around Chicago during January, then do a club tour starting late February or March.”

Johnnie nodded. They left a big thing unspoken. Both of them knew Heaven Sent was going back into the studio in January. When that album came out, it was an unspoken promise that the Knights would open for them on tour. Brent had mentioned the possibility more than once, and Gordon worked for the same management company that took care of Heaven Sent, so there was no reason it couldn’t be a done deal. It was ridiculously good fortune for a new band, and Danny didn’t speak of it, for fear of jinxing it.

Johnnie winced at something he saw. A glance showed Danny that Tyler had stumbled into someone else on the dance floor. As the blond was righting himself, Darien Hughes—Heaven Sent’s drummer—came to the rescue. Very smoothly, the drummer maneuvered Tyler out of the stranger’s arms and into his own before spinning him carefully into Darien’s boyfriend, Christopher Faith. Johnnie smiled, secure that his friends had his back. He raised his glass to Danny. “Ah yes, the club years. I don’t envy you that.”

“It’s okay. I’ve been clubbing for years. And we’ve got to start somewhere,” Danny said with a grin.

“That you do.” He took a healthy swig of his drink, then laughed. “You ready to be a rock star?”

When Danny met his eyes, he found the full brunt of Johnnie’s gaze on him. It was electrifying. The singer was an amazing, dynamic man with a captivating aura that made him an ideal front man for a rock band. He oozed confidence and sensuality from the roots of his waist-length hair to the tips of his designer shoes. If Danny could step into his shoes or be just a shadow of what he was, he’d be a happy man.

Danny gave him the best cocky grin he could muster. “I’m more than ready.”

Johnnie nodded. “Good. Remember that. Even when it gets hard—and it will get hard—remember that.”

Danny thought that was probably it for their talk, that Johnnie would go collect his spouse, but he was wrong. Johnnie kept talking, and Danny was damn well going to stick around until he stopped. They moved away from the bar to one of the little tables set up along the wall. Somehow, no one came to bother them, and it was almost like they were alone during their chat. Later, Danny wouldn’t remember all they discussed, but he’d remember the feeling of talking with Johnnie as people and not as huge fanboy and famous rock star. To his delight, he found he actually liked Johnnie as much as he’d always thought he might. They had a similar sense of humor and found a lot to laugh at.

Johnnie was in the middle of a story about a disastrous gig during their first tour when he was interrupted by a body tumbling into his lap. Instinctively, he grabbed on and held the blond man, who wrapped his arms tightly around Johnnie’s neck.

“I’m sorry.” Tyler’s soft groan was blurred and low, far more suitable for an intimate moment. Danny might not have heard him at all, but there was a break in the music. He tucked his head into the curve of Johnnie’s neck as he settled himself more comfortably in his husband’s lap. “I’m sorry.”

Smiling softly, with a wink for Danny, Johnnie stroked Tyler’s arm. “Sorry for what, blondie?”

“Fuck you. Don’t be coy.”

Danny couldn’t help a small laugh of his own. Johnnie grinned at him over Tyler’s head.

“Yeah, okay.” Johnnie kissed the top of Tyler’s head. “You’re an ass.”

“’M not an ass. You’re an ass.” It was said matter-of-factly and without any rancor. Tyler raised a hand to his face and clumsily rubbed his temple. “I’m spinning.”

“I’ll bet.”

“Why’d you let me drink so much?”

Johnnie kept his tone pleasantly even. “I’m evil and should be punished.”

“Yes.” Tyler sighed, and one hand slid down to rest comfortably just inside the open front of Johnnie’s shirt. “I’m ready to go upstairs now.” No doubt about it, that was a sexual demand and not just an innocent statement.

Johnnie heard it loud and clear. “You’re the boss. But you gotta get up so I can stand.”

Danny wasn’t sure Tyler heard at first. Before he moved from Johnnie’s lap, he brought his hands up to frame the singer’s face and stared into his eyes for a long moment. “I love you. So much.” The words were whispered, but Danny heard them well enough. Before Johnnie could respond in kind, Tyler’s lips were on his in a sweet but intense kiss.

Beautiful. Choked up, Danny decided it was best he left them alone. Quietly, he stood and slipped away. But he couldn’t help one backward glance at the kissing couple. On one hand, it was sad. For Johnnie Heaven to be tied romantically and sexually to just one man didn’t seem right. He should be surrounded by groupies and have his pick of them every damn night. But on the other hand, Danny only had to look at them to know Johnnie wasn’t complaining. He was completely and totally smitten with his spouse, and it looked like—despite Tyler’s earlier outburst—the feeling was mutual.

Good for them. Danny turned toward the dance floor and the single men who were there. A new DJ had taken over, and the first pounding beats of dance music filled the air. He could feel happy for two men in love while lamenting the leash on the rock icon. Who knew? Maybe he, Danny Champion, could fill the gap left by Johnnie’s fidelity.

With that happy thought, Danny shimmied into the fray. He rubbed up against several writhing bodies, most of them male, and reveled in the freedom of being in a crowd where he didn’t have to worry if the men were receptive. At a gay wedding, the heterosexual males who didn’t welcome advances had no business on the dance floor.

He never did find the red-haired cutie again, but he cozied up to a very pretty man with cocoa skin, black hair, and blacker eyes with an exotic slant that Danny found hypnotizing. The fact that he had a devastating smile didn’t hurt any. They danced close together for a while, then even closer when Danny wound an arm around the guy’s waist to bring them groin to groin. Oh yes, things were looking up for an early a.m. frolic.

Talking on the dance floor was impossible, but the hottie responded with an eager nod when Danny pointed toward the open arch that led to the next room.

“Whoa.” Hottie laughed, combing damp black fringe back from his forehead. “It’s intense in there.”

“It sure is.” They shared a look, both wearing the same knowing grin. Danny offered one of the bottles of water he’d snagged from a convenient table on the way out. “I’m Danny.”

Hottie took it. “I’m Donnell.” His voice was higher than Danny had expected but pleasant. Both men opened the bottles and replenished their fluids.

“Are you a friend of the groom or ”—Danny paused, then chuckled and shrugged—“the groom?”

Donnell laughed. “I work for the Ysell Gallery. We display some of Reese’s work.”

“Oh. Wow. I didn’t know he had stuff on display.”

“He sure does.” A damp curl of hair dropped back over Donnell’s forehead. “What about you?”

“The best man is my band’s producer. And a friend.”

“Oooh!” Dark eyes lit up, and Donnell took an enticing step closer. “You know Brent?”

Danny reached up to slide his hand down the soft fabric of Donnell’s deep red silk shirt. “Yeah.” No, he was not against using Brent’s name to get sex. So sue him.

Donnell dragged a finger along the waistband of Danny’s slacks. “Would I have heard of your band?”

“Maybe. The Indigo Knights?”

After a brief moment of thought, Donnell shook his head. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You will soon enough.”

They were now pressed together, Donnell’s hand a light weight at the small of Danny’s back and Danny’s fingers sliding into the soft hair behind Donnell’s ear.

“That sounds”—Donnell stared at Danny’s lips—“promising.”

“Mmm.”

Danny made so bold as to lean in and touch his lips to Donnell’s. Donnell responded by opening. He also flattened his hand on Danny’s back and pulled so they were pressed close enough for both to realize the other was hard.

“You in Elm Lodge or Oak?” Danny murmured against Donnell’s lips. All the guest lodges at Genesis were named after trees.

“Elm.”

“My room’s closer.”

“Let’s go.”

Chapter Three

Despite the god-awful wind chill and the horrible snow, Danny whistled as he hurried from the train stop to his building. A pizza takeout box prevented him from putting one gloved hand in the pocket of his overcoat, but it wasn’t that long of a walk and took even less time if he trotted. Plus, the action helped to keep him warm.

What the hell was he doing in Chicago anyway? He was a southern California boy. His blood was too thin for snow! But to follow his dream, he’d brave the weather and suffer the indignity of being the only member of his band who had to get a job to pay the bills for his tiny little apartment. He’d bear the culture shock of coming home from an expensive, all-expense-paid weekend at a posh ski resort to immediately agree to take the lunch shift at the pizza place where he worked. Although he’d been able to save up enough to cover January’s rent, he was still low on utility and food money, so the extra shift, even right after his time off, was welcome. The savings that had helped him moved to Chicago had dwindled to under a thousand dollars, and he really didn’t want to use any more of it if he could help it.

So, all things considered, Danny could brave the hellish cold.

Once in the lobby of his building, he breathed a little easier. Just being in from the wind raised his body temp enough that he could loosen his scarf as he began the three-story climb to his place. He even jogged up, telling himself he was working off the pizza in advance. Cash wasn’t in the main room when Danny entered the apartment, but there was nothing new about that. He’d been out cold when Danny had come in last night and long gone by the time Danny woke in the late morning. After putting the pizza on the table in front of the couch, Danny went down the hall and tossed his coat and scarf through his open bedroom door before sticking his head inside Cash’s room. Cash sat with his eyes glued to the monitor, fingers flying over the keyboard. He wore jeans and a sweater, outside gear that told Danny he’d gone to school today. Or, at least, had gone out. Otherwise, he’d be wearing sweats, and his hair wouldn’t look like it had been introduced to a comb.

Danny knocked on the door frame to get Cash’s attention. “Hey.”

It took a moment for Cash’s fingers to wind to a stop and his head to turn. For a second it was like he’d never seen Danny before in his life, but then recognition dawned as his brain emerged from whatever cyberspace he’d been in. “You’re back.”

“Hungry? I’ve got pizza,” Danny prompted, to further encourage the human in his roommate.

Finally, it was there. Cash nodded eagerly. “Yeah. I’ll be right out.”

Danny visited the kitchen to grab the roll of paper towels, a bottled iced tea for himself, and a soda for Cash. He sat and had just opened the lid of the pizza box when Cash came out.

“Not deep dish?” Cash asked as he sat. They made both where Danny worked.

“Not tonight.” He picked up a slice, folded it in half, and raised the pointy end toward his mouth. “I’m in a New York state of mind.”

He couldn’t be sure if Cash even got the Billy Joel reference. Sometimes Cash surprised him with some musical knowledge, but for the most part he was oblivious. “Sorry I wasn’t up when you got back,” Cash said, digging up his own slice.

“You were out like a light. Tough day?”

“Yeah.” Chewing. “Was trying to get the coding done before classes started. Then George’s server tanked, so we had to track down Mr. Trautmann to get into the lab at school.” He rolled his eyes as he took his second bite, then talked while he chewed. “George is a complete tool. He needs to replace that dinosaur, like, yesterday.”

Danny grinned. He enjoyed Cash’s depictions of his few friends. They were all tools, as far as Cash was concerned, and were clearly not as talented as he, though Cash would never utter those words. He simply saw it as fact and resigned himself to putting up with his lessers. Danny figured the attitude came with working with computers so much, inanimate objects you just dealt with. “So you were at school all day?” Cash’s spring session didn’t start for another week, but Cash was both teacher’s assistant and prize student and so was known to go in at odd times.

“Yesterday and the day before.” He growled as he used greasy fingers to open his can of pop. “Trautmann hosed the files for the intro class as well as the backup, so I had to recreate a bunch of stuff from scratch.”

“Ouch.” Danny knew next to nothing about technology, but he’d heard enough from Cash to know that backup was king.

“Yeah.” Cash swallowed the second-to-last bite of his slice. “I went ahead and made my own backup this time.”

Danny nodded vaguely, then flipped on the television, and they watched a South Park rerun in silence for a while as they scarfed down the rest of the pizza.

With a satisfied sigh, Cash sat back, swiping grease from his hands with a paper towel. “How was the wedding?”

Danny grinned, wiping his own hands. “It was awesome. Tons of people, tons of food, and a great party. Luc and Reese were over-the-top happy.” He finished his fourth slice as he told Cash all about the continual party. He talked around the guys he’d hooked up with, sure Cash didn’t really want to hear about his exploits. “They spoke their vows right before the stroke of midnight so they were kissing over New Year’s.” Danny couldn’t help a sappy grin. “It was incredibly romantic.”

Cash snorted, tossing his paper towel onto the box to land beside the two remaining slices.

“What?”

Cash shook his head. “There you go with that romance stuff again.”

Danny sucked grease from his fingers, then wiped them on his own towel. “Sorry, I was there. It was very romantic.”

Cash kept his eyes on the TV screen. “Yeah. Okay.”

“It was!”

“If you say so.”

Danny stared at him. “You don’t believe me.” It wasn’t a question.

Cash met his gaze for a second, then shook his head. “I still don’t get why two guys need all that wedding stuff.”

Danny felt his heart fall a little. “You just don’t like weddings, do you?”

“Not really.

“Are your parents married?”

Cash glared mildly. “Yes. Happily. But that’s got nothing to do with anything.”

That blew Danny’s burgeoning theory. “So what is it? What’s with you and weddings?”

“It’s just pointless. It’s just a party.”

“What’s wrong with a party?”

“Nothing, I guess.” Some kind of understanding dawned. “Oh, okay, I get it. It’s a party. This was a networking thing?”

“Huh?”

“The wedding. It was a networking thing for Heaven Sent?”

“No!” How horrible. A wedding was an event, a declaration of two souls. To reduce it to… “Okay, yes, some networking went on. Of course. But Luc and Reese did this because they love each other.”

Cash shrugged. “Okay.”

“If I say so?”

Cash’s attention was back on the television. “Sure.”

Danny sat back on the couch, watching Cash’s profile as he thought about what Cash had said. Why couldn’t he see the magic? Was he really that clueless about people? “It’s not the wedding. It’s the romance that bothers you.”

Another shrug. Clearly, Cash was done with the discussion.

Danny wasn’t. “You do realize that most of the romantic ballads in history were written by men?”

“For women.”

“Ha. You don’t know that.”

“Huh?”

“You have no idea how many of those ballads were written by men who hid their sexuality.”

Cash rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine. I don’t know for sure. But most of romantic literature is centered around a man going after a woman.” He thought for a second. “So is Reese the girly one? Luc doesn’t seem the type.”

Danny’s jaw could not have dropped farther open unless it unhinged. “Did you really just say that?”

“What?”

Danny shook his head to clear it, his blood up at this obvious challenge. “So you’re saying that only ‘girly’ guys can be romantic?”

“Well, yeah.”

“And by ‘girly’ you mean ‘faggy guys with limp wrists and lisps’? Chicks with dicks?”

Cash’s eyes narrowed warily. “Look, I’m not trying to be insulting. It’s just that there’s no reason for a regular guy to be romantic with another guy. It’s unnecessary.”

“Unnecessary?” Danny twisted around to face his roommate, one knee bent on the couch. “So you think gay men just kinda do the ‘you wanna?’ ‘yeah, you wanna?’ then go off and fuck?” He banged his fist into his palm for emphasis.

He got a flinch out of Cash for that. “Oh come on.”

“That is what you think!”

Cash threw up his hands and slumped back. “Okay, maybe it’s not that cut-and-dried. Yeah, guys go on dates. Yeah, they buy each other, I dunno, Valentine’s Day presents and stuff. But guys can just be, I dunno, straight with other guys.” He smiled. “No pun intended.”

Danny cocked his head to the side, unwilling to let this go. “You don’t think a guy likes to be romanced?”

“No.”

“Not even by a girl?”

“No.”

“Because it’s unnecessary for a guy to be wooed?”

Cash grinned. “‘Wooed’?”

“It’s a perfectly good word.”

“Okay, then, yeah.”

That’s it. He’d held back his own attraction to Cash for a long time. Maybe he was still high off the romance of the weekend. Danny was up on his knees beside Cash before the other man had a chance to react. He grabbed Cash’s hand and held it between both of his.

“What the hell…?”

Danny gazed into Cash’s eyes and pitched his voice low. “Have I ever told you how gorgeous you are?”

Panic was the first reaction he saw, and it settled into narrow-eyed disbelief, but somewhere in between those two extremes, Danny saw something else. A spark of…interest? Hope? Cash tried to pull his hand away. “Quit it.” His voice was soft, surprised. Uncertain.

“No, seriously.” He reached up to cup Cash’s chin, effectively stilling him. He wanted to pull off the thick-rimmed glasses but was afraid it would spoil the momentary hold he had on the other man. “You have the most gorgeous eyes.” He kept his voice low, hypnotic. This he knew how to do. “I could get lost in them for hours.” He let his thumb stroke the sparse stubble on Cash’s chin. There was that spark again, fanned by a hitched breath. Both very brief, but Danny saw them because he knew what to look for. He had to admit being surprised to see it on Cash’s face. Surprised and very intrigued. He let his gaze fall to Cash’s lips, moved his thumb to stroke the bottom one. “And I’ve wanted to kiss those lips ever since I saw them.”

Cash shut his mouth with a click and edged back toward the arm of the couch. “All right, stop.”

“Can’t.” Not when he could hear the tiny quake in Cash’s breathing. Like a predator, Danny moved with him, leaning one arm on the back of the couch so he could hover over Cash. He was careful not to crowd too close, to leave Cash an avenue of escape. The fact that Cash didn’t take the chance was telling. “Every time I get near you, it’s harder and harder to move away. I’m drawn, like a moth to flame.”

Cash placed a palm on Danny’s chest to stop his forward progress. “Okay, that’s hokey.”

“Maybe. But that doesn’t make it not true.” Danny put his hand over Cash’s to trap it against his heart. “Can’t you feel my heart racing?”

Cash opened his mouth to protest, but nothing came out. He must have really felt Danny’s heart beating. Danny pushed against Cash’s hand, knowing he was taking a big risk. He’d backed off Cash for months. If Cash hadn’t reacted, he probably would have backed off again, but that spark of interest spurred him on.

“Th-this isn’t…” Cash managed to stammer, his gaze glued to Danny’s. “That’s not what…”

Danny noted a few things other than that Cash couldn’t finish his sentences. His eyes were wide. His lips were parted, and Danny could almost feel the caress of his breath. The tips of the fingers that were spread over Danny’s heart curled, digging into Danny’s flesh in what had to be an unconscious gesture. Danny didn’t want to be accused of taking where he wasn’t wanted, but how the hell was he supposed to pull away from this?

He couldn’t.

Instead of letting Cash off the hook, he dived in against Cash’s token resistance and pressed his lips to Cash’s. Cash didn’t move or reciprocate, but once Danny touched him, he couldn’t stop. Leaning heavily on the arm he had over the back of the couch, he lowered himself farther and angled his head for a better fit to Cash’s parted lips. A tiny yelp that might have been a moan squeezed from Cash’s throat, but he didn’t pull away. Danny took advantage and slid his free hand back behind Cash’s ear, holding him as he opened.

But that’s when Cash reacted. Before their tongues could touch, he jerked his head back, trapping Danny’s hand between his skull and the padded arm of the couch. “Wait.”

Wait, not stop. Hopeful. Danny kept his face close and kneaded softly at the top of Cash’s neck. He noted some fogging on Cash’s glasses, but it didn’t completely obscure the daze in Cash’s eyes. “You sure?”

He watched Cash start to blink himself back to reason and didn’t fight the urge that made him kiss Cash again. He kept it to lips. Mostly. A soft brushing of skin to skin with just a little bit of his tongue tracing Cash’s bottom lip. So delicious. He could do this for days.

Cash’s eyes almost closed again, but another jerk had him pushing at Danny’s chest, for real this time. “Stop.”

Danny sighed and sank back onto his heels, cursing himself for not pushing anyway. But he’d been raised by a strong woman and taught manners by equally strong sisters. He was already guilty of ignoring one stop; he’d be pushing if he ignored it twice.

As soon as Danny was clear, Cash rolled off the couch, stood, and took himself around the coffee table to stand beside the television. His eyes were wild, his lips wet. He looked positively edible. “What was that?”

Danny tried to be casual, but he was now aware of an aching erection that wanted Cash back where he’d been, on the couch, beneath him, preferably naked. What had they been doing? Why had he…? Oh, right. “I was just trying to show you what romance felt like.”

“That wasn’t romance.” Jerky head movement, wide eyes. Both very unlike Cash. “Romance is candles and dinner. That…that was…”

Interesting distinction. Danny made a show of checking a watch he didn’t wear. “It’s kind of late, but I think there’s an all-night diner a couple blocks over. I can take you—”

“Shut up. That’s not what I meant. I meant…” Cash shook his head and raised one hand halfway, fingers aiming for his lips, but then he stopped and yanked it down to his side. “Why’d you kiss me?” Breath whooshed through flared nostrils.

“Because I wanted to.” And I want to again. And again. This unsettled Cash was more intriguing than any other incarnation Danny had seen.

“You kiss all the guys you want to?”

“Obviously not. Else I’d have kissed you ages ago.”

Cash jerked back but didn’t have any more room to go, so he bumped into the television. He wasted a few minutes in catching the TV and righting it before it fell on the floor. It was enough time for Danny to get his erection under control. It wasn’t going away anytime soon, but he could think a little clearer. Enough to unfold himself from his knees and sit properly on the couch. If Cash noticed the bulge in his pants, so be it.

“I thought you knew…” Cash rattled, still messing with the TV. “I mean, I thought you figured out I’m not gay.”

“Well, that’s what I thought. But…”

“But what?”

Danny laughed. “Jesus, Cash, you all but put out an invitation.”

“I did not!” Even though it had a shrill quality, Cash’s voice got deeper in anxiety.

“Well, you didn’t see what I saw. And you took a hell of a long time to stop me.”

Cash ran a hand over the top of the television, watching himself do it. No verbal answer. Clearly, he was compartmentalizing, thinking it all through so he could calm down.

Danny didn’t want him to calm down. “Did you like it?”

“No.” Too fast.

Danny laughed. “I’m supposed to believe that?”

“Yes!”

With a sigh, Danny pushed to his feet. To keep himself from lunging for Cash, he picked up the pizza box and the errant paper towels. “I’m sorry I took you off guard.” Not. “And I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” He would not, he decided as he took the trash to the kitchen, apologize for the kisses. Not in a million years. There was silence behind him. He dumped the trash and turned to find Cash still in the hall to the bedrooms, watching him. Because the only thing I want to do is do it again, he admitted to himself as he watched the flush fade from Cash’s neck. “We still friends?”

Cash scowled. “I don’t know.”

Danny held up his hands, palms out. “Look, I won’t do it again.” Unless you ask me. Unless you tempt me. Shit, this was going to be hard.

Cash’s eyes narrowed as though he heard the unspoken thought. “I’ll have to think about it.”

Danny’s happy buzz faded as he watched Cash turn on his heel and disappear into his bedroom. For one of the first times since they’d been living together, Cash’s bedroom door closed before it was time to bed down for the night. Danny slumped against the kitchen counter and ran a hand through his hair. “Good job, idiot. Now what?”

Chapter Four

“Earth to Champion.”

A hand decked with silver rings passed in front of his eyes, and Danny jerked out of staring at the blank wall across the studio from where he sat.

“Come in, Champion.” The body that belonged to the hand dropped onto the couch beside him. Hazel eyes that looked like they were lined with kohl but were just surrounded by thick, dark lashes focused on him under a fringe of bright green hair. “Such deep thoughts.” Noble pursed his lips and shook his head, clucking his tongue. “That is a no-no. How might I help to expel such danger?”

Blinking to clear his thoughts, Danny glanced around the empty studio. He must have been in a daze for a while. The paper towels and Styrofoam containers from dinner were gone, as were Rabin and Lance. Their guitars still rested on stands from earlier rehearsal, so Danny’s best guess was they’d taken the trash down the hall to the kitchen. “Are we ready to go?”

“We’re still waiting on Gordon.” Noble tapped Danny’s skull with a finger to regain his attention. “What were you thinking about?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

“Nosey.”

“Fuckin’-A.”

Danny grinned and sank into the deep cushion of the couch. “I kissed my roommate last night.”

Noble took a moment to think. They’d never met, but Danny had told him about Cash, even that he thought his roommate was adorable. “Isn’t he straight?”

Danny’s eyes unfocused and gazed inward, back to the memories he kept reliving of the previous night. He brought his hand up to pinch his bottom lip between forefinger and thumb. “That’s what we thought.”

“Mmm, sounds intriguing. Was this just one kiss? Or a makeout session?”

“More than one kiss but not a session.”

“And how did he react?”

“Not entirely…bad.”

“Elaborate.”

“He didn’t haul off and punch me or kick me out of the apartment. But he did bolt down in his bedroom and was gone when I left today.”

“Ah yes. Avoidance. A typical reaction.”

Danny rolled his head to the side to look at Noble. “You’re an expert on this?”

“Somewhat. I’ve done my share of turning. Straight guys can be fun to play with.” Noble studied the black polish on his nails. “Doesn’t always stick, but it’s usually interesting.”

Danny sighed, thumping his head against the back of the couch. “I think I screwed up.”

“Possible. You gonna talk to him?”

“I have to. I live with the guy.”

“What do you want to happen?”

Danny let his grin say it all. “What do you think?”

Noble laughed. “But after you fuck, what then? We’re headed out of town soon.”

Danny held up a finger. “Which means the timing might actually be perfect.”

“So you have thought about this.”

“All fucking night.”

“Continue.”

Excited to discuss his theory, Danny drew his knee up so he could face Noble on the couch. “If he really is curious, we could fool around, then part as friends when I leave.”

“And your living situation?”

“Hell, I’ll be on the ropes once we get going anyway. No way I can afford rent while we’re gone.”

“He know this?”

Danny frowned. “Uh… Well, I guess not.”

“Perhaps you should mention it.”

“Perhaps I should.”

They were interrupted by voices in the hall getting louder. Gordon led the way, his ever-present leather messenger bag slung over his shoulder. Their manager was a force to be reckoned with. To Danny, he always seemed like polished marble—smooth, solid, and strong. Cold? Kind of, but not in a way that made him inaccessible. With black hair shorn on the sides and longer on top, hazel eyes, a killer smile, and a body that showed dedication to a gym, Gordon was good-looking, and he knew it. He knew what he wanted, and that became immediately apparent as soon as you started to talk to him. At the same time, Gordon laughed a lot and wasn’t afraid to admit the few times he was wrong. It was the fortune of the Indigo Knights to have that kind of force working for them.

Lance and Rabin chatted as they followed him into the room. Lance closed the door.

“All right, guys,” Gordon began, setting his bag on the table before he unfolded it to get to his laptop. “I hope you’re all recovered from your time at Genesis.”

“I’m a new man,” Lance murmured, turning a chair around so he could be seated in it two feet away from Gordon.

“Hope he’s an improvement on the old one,” Noble said.

In looks and demeanor, Lance Hoff was all that his best friend and roommate, Noble, was not. Where Noble was bright and flashy, Lance was almost monochrome. He wore his light blond hair long, often pulled back into a tail. His face was almost triangular save for the jut of strong jawbones underneath each ear. His pointed chin was shaded with light brown stubble, and his thin pink lips always looked slightly pursed, like he was thinking about something. Which he usually was, since he didn’t talk much. Black was the foundation of his wardrobe, and he wore colors reluctantly. For all their differences, however, Lance and Noble were fast friends and had a lot of respect for each other. By the way their rhythms worked together, one would think they shared the same heartbeat.

Rabin stretched out on the couch on Danny’s other side, feet up on the coffee table, hands folded behind his head. “I’m gonna get spoilt. That’s two New Years I’ve spent in a row there.”

Danny poked his side. “Maybe next year it’ll be you and Iz getting married there.”

Rabin’s eyes went wide, but Danny didn’t think the panic was genuine. “Bite your tongue.”

“There are better things in the world to bite.”

“Mmm…” Noble leaned a shoulder against Danny’s and talked across him. “Amen to that. At least a dozen Izzy places spring to mind.”

Rabin pointed at him. “Watch it, whore.”

Noble grabbed Rabin’s wrist and wrapped his lips around Rabin’s finger for a quick suck. “What should I watch?” He laughed after Rabin jerked his hand back.

Laughing, Danny swatted both their hands away. Such girls, really. But he loved them. They were an unlikely quartet—quintet with Gordon. And it was strange fate that they were all gay—or bisexual for Rabin and Noble—but Danny took it in stride, attributing the coincidence to yet another sign they were destined to be together.

“Ladies, ladies.” By now, Gordon had the laptop out and was perched on the table beside it. He wore a black sweater with the blue-and-white-striped collar of a dress shirt folded neatly at his throat. He would have looked very businesslike if it weren’t for the small feather earring dangling from his right ear. “Let’s get to the business at hand.” He grinned. “You have your first club date next weekend.”

A general cheer filled the room. Rabin sat forward, elbows on knees. “Where?”

“Club’s called Jefferson Douglas. Don’t ask me where the name came from. Gretchen knows the owner and pulled some strings to get us two weekends, two nights each, two sets a night.” Gretchen not only owned the management company for which Gordon worked, she was also Heaven Sent’s manager. If she recommended it, there was every reason to believe Jefferson Douglas was worth their time. “I checked it out last night. Not a bad size. Full bar and a dance floor, although the stage is minuscule.”

“Is it a pay gig?” Danny asked.

“Respectable. We get the door, and club gets the bar. We’re responsible for our own promotion, but there’s typically a good crowd there. College not too far away, so I’ve already set up some marketing. Mainly this’ll be practice in front of a live audience.”

“Fuckin’-A,” Noble murmured, bouncing in his seat.

Gordon nodded agreement. “Now, about space. Today’s our last here. Hell’s got a band renting the studio starting this weekend. But he and Brent continue their generosity. They’ve said we’re welcome to use their private studio at their place.” He grinned at Rabin. “It’s nice to have a man on the inside.”

Rabin chuckled. “Hell’s promised me they’ll take it out of our hides eventually.”

“Well, until then, we luck out because of them. Lance, Noble, you remember how to get there?”

Lance nodded, or as much as he could nod with his chin resting on the backs of his hands. “Sure thing.”

Noble shrugged. “I’m catching a ride with him.”

Lance looked at Danny. “You need transportation?”

“Would be nice,” Danny accepted. Noble and Lance were living together in a much nicer apartment building that wasn’t all that far away from Danny’s. Brent and Hell lived far enough off the grid that he couldn’t just take a train.

“We’re all set, then,” Gordon decided, closing the laptop. “I talked to Bruce Noche, and he’s available for sound. Gretchen’s agreed to loan us two interns as roadies. You can meet them next week.” He nodded toward the equipment along the walls. “Hell’s got a guy who’ll come to transport the instruments to their place, so if you want anything with you before it goes, tonight’s the night to take it. Anything else?”

“How’s the club tour stacking up?” Noble asked.

“Still working on it. I’ve got feelers out from here down to Atlanta and out to New York. Nothing solid yet, but it’s looking good. Made some good contacts at the wedding, so that helps.”

“Any idea on dates?” Danny was going to have to give notice at the pizza place. And let Cash know he’d need a new roommate.

“We’re looking at March through May. Maybe June.”

“Heaven Sent goes back to the studio when Luc gets back from his honeymoon. End of the month.” Rabin announced this needlessly. Everyone in the room was keenly aware of Heaven Sent’s schedule. Current plans were to start the tour late summer or fall. Kind of fast considering the big band didn’t have any new music recorded, but Brent was Heaven Sent’s musical head, and he had plenty of raw material ready to go. He’d already been sharing some of the ideas with his bandmates remotely. All they really needed was a month or two to be in the same room to solidify the music.

“Right, then,” Gordon hopped to his feet. “The Web site’s up and running, so make sure you point people to that when you can. Our Jefferson Douglas dates are all up there. And I’ve put a lot of thought into it, and I think our best bet for a video is to shoot some footage of you onstage. Talked to the manager at JD, and he’s good with it.”

“What? No fancy film locations and barely dressed girls?” Lance kept a straight face, but his blue eyes were dancing.

“Or barely dressed boys?” Noble asked.

Gordon snorted. “Not unless the record company signs on, providing us with a bigger budget—which they still haven’t.” He held up a hand at the groans. “We’re close to a deal but still not golden.”

Danny didn’t let that discourage him. Big record deals were even harder to get these days with the Internet taking over the music business.

“So, that’s it.” Gordon closed his laptop. “Take what you need tonight, and we’ll get the rest packed up and moved when you’re done.”

Danny kept his seat as his bandmates stood to ready their instruments for rehearsal. They had a lot to discuss now that they had a live gig to prepare, but he wanted to take this one moment to soak it in. To enjoy. It was happening. The Indigo Knights really were coming together.

Chapter Five

Danny didn’t even see Cash again for three days. He spent the rest of the day and both of the next in rehearsal with the band, coming up with a set list. The one night he did spend at home, Cash wasn’t there, presumably spending a late night at school. The next night, Danny spent at Brent and Hell’s, leaving for the dinner shift at the pizzeria straight from there. Thursday morning, the day before the gig, as he bolted down a bowl of cereal on his way out for the early lunch shift, Danny finally saw Cash.

Cash eyed the bright red-and-white-striped shirt Danny wore. “Did you work yesterday too?” He kept his gaze away from Danny’s face.

Danny didn’t have time to press him, although he did briefly wonder what Cash would do if he grabbed him and kissed him. “No. Rehearsal. We’ve got a gig this weekend.”

Some of Cash’s caution evaporated, and he took a step closer. He even smiled. “Really? That’s great.” He laid his hands on the counter. “Congrats.”

“Thanks.” Danny set his empty bowl in the sink. “I’ll be home tonight, though.” There. Cash now had fair warning if he wanted to avoid him.

Cash drew his eyes up to meet Danny’s. There were no hints there for what he was thinking. Maybe a little defiance, but mostly it was a neutral stare. “Yeah. Okay.”

Danny rushed past Cash and filled his hands with jacket, hat, and gloves before he could fill them with Cash. “See ya later.”

* * * *

Three days of rehearsal and two full shifts at work had Danny beat by the time he got home that night. But he felt a second—third? fourth?—wind coming on when he saw Cash on the couch. He wore a faded yellow Big Bird T-shirt and equally faded gray sweats. Thick socks protected the feet he had propped on the coffee table. Attention fixed on what looked to be a cop drama, he didn’t even glance up as Danny divested himself of outer garments.

“It’s colder’n hell out there,” Danny tried by way of natural greeting as he took the few steps into the hall to throw his coat and things into his bedroom.

Cash just grunted and kept his eyes on the TV screen.

Okay. “You eat?” Danny shook a paper bag he’d brought with him. “I’ve got sandwiches.”

“I ate.”

“Oh.” Danny took the bag to the kitchen and stuck it in the refrigerator next to a plastic bowl that was half full of some kind of pasta that would have originated from a box. Cash practically lived on that premade stuff, although he brought home leftovers once or twice a week when he went to see his parents. Gearing himself, Danny went to the edge of the couch and looked down at Cash. “Are we talking or what?”

Finally Cash looked up at him. The eyes behind those glasses were sharp and bright but not angry. At least, Danny was pretty sure of that. “Why’d you do it?”

“The kiss?”

“Yes.”

“I wanted to.”

“Why?”

He wanted to sit but wasn’t sure he should get too close. Not yet. “Haven’t you ever been caught up in a moment?”

Cash finger combed hair from his eyes. “Is that what it was? A moment?”

“Yeah.”

Cash shook his head. Some of the laser focus in his eyes softened as he looked back to the television. “No. Never.” He sank a little, a small sign of vulnerability that pulled at Danny.

Taking a chance, Danny sat on the couch, leaving a full cushion between them. “Cash.” He had to be careful with his next question, but the curiosity on this point had been plaguing him for months. “Have you ever been kissed?”

Cash didn’t seem to take offense. He stared at the magazines on the coffee table, a distant look in his eyes. “Sure. Yolanda Carter in eighth grade. Spin the bottle.” He swallowed and returned his gaze to the television. “And, uh, a stripper at my uncle’s bachelor party when I was eighteen.”

Danny put aside the shock of a stripper. “Only twice?”

Shrug. “If you don’t count family. Yeah.”

Inwardly, Danny reeled. He couldn’t fathom never having kissed anyone. But then, he wasn’t an introverted computer nerd who rarely found the need to talk to people in person. “So you’ve never had sex?” Might seem obvious, but Danny wanted to make sure.

“Supposedly.”

The immediate and strange answer caught him off guard. “Run that by me again?”

Cash’s thumb played over the buttons of the remote control, not changing the channel, just touching. “The stripper. My uncle gave her some money and told her to make a man of me. Only, he got me drunk first. I don’t remember any of it, but she said I did okay.”

Danny had never seen Cash drunk. Had never even seen him drink a beer. Judging by the look on his face, the experience in his past might have put him off alcohol. “That’s all?”

“That’s all.” Then, before Danny could respond, “When was yours? First kiss.”

“Me? Laurie McDiarmid. Third grade.”

Cash turned a little toward him, surprised. “Third grade?”

“I was cute.”

Cash snorted.

Danny grinned. “First kiss with tongue was in seventh grade.”

“A girl again?”

“Yeah. Didn’t kiss a guy until I was sixteen.” He let himself remember that shining moment of awkwardness. It’d been Gerardo Hayhurst’s first kiss too. They’d shared a lot of firsts.

“Did you know then?” Cash’s question brought Danny out of his memory. “That you were gay?”

“I was pretty sure by then. Wasn’t all that enthused about the girls I’d dated.” Danny laughed. “That was my thing. I always became better friends with my girlfriends than anything else. The fooling around never worked so well.”

Usually that’s when totally straight guys shook their heads and gave up on him. Cash, however, looked thoughtful. “But with a guy…?”

“Oh, that worked just fine.”

Cash flushed a little around the ears and faced the television again. Danny studied Cash’s profile and realized some heavy thoughts were going on inside that head. Kissing and sex were definitely not in Cash’s daily program. It was good, though, that they were talking so openly and that Cash was asking him pointed questions. He took a chance and probed further. “Hey, Cash, you jerk off, right?”

“Sure,” he answered, but the distant look in his eye suggested he was thinking of something else.

“What do you think about? Then?”

Cash shook his head, staring thoughtfully into space. “Not much. It’s always dark. It’s just kind of…shadows and feelings.” Shrug. “Then it’s over.”

“‘Over’? Oh man.” Danny’s head was always filled with fantasies. Many didn’t make much sense, but they were always there. In the last few months, Cash had starred in a number of those fantasies. But he didn’t need to know that. Yet. “You watch porn?”

“Some. But that doesn’t always get me off.”

“Ever watch gay porn?”

“No.” Just a simple no, not a horrified negation as in Why would I ever do something like that?

Danny pushed up on his knee, leaning closer to Cash. Cash finally turned to look at him fully. “What are you doing?”

Danny braced an arm on the back of the couch and slid it behind Cash. “Let me kiss you.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Why do you want to?”

“Because you need to be kissed.”

Cash snorted. Tossing the remote control onto the couch between them, he stood. “You’re just saying that because of what I told you.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Danny got to his feet, but Cash now had the couch between them. “Okay, yes. But that’s not all of it.”

“Then what is it?”

Good question. Danny struggled for an answer that wasn’t just an expression of his selfish desire to put hands and mouth on Cash’s body. Catching Cash’s gaze with his, he started around the couch. “Did you like kissing me?”

“No.”

“Try again.”

A tiny sneer lifted one side of Cash’s upper lip as he watched Danny get closer. He didn’t move away. “Okay. Yes. But that’s probably because I’ve never kissed anyone like that.”

As soon as he could, Danny reached up to slide his fingers along Cash’s jaw, back into that silky mess of brown-and-gold hair. “Then let’s do it again.” He used his other hand to pluck Cash’s glasses from his nose. “I’m very good at kissing.”

Cash kept his eyes averted, watching Danny set his glasses aside. The heavy fringe of his hair threatened to hide his face, but Danny kept Cash’s face tipped up enough to prevent that. “I’m not sure I want to be gay.”

“Okay.” Danny leaned in again, dragging Cash up against his body. Those eyes were so much larger, more vivid without the glass obstruction. The two men were pretty much the same height, so all their parts were in alignment. Perfect.

Before their lips could touch, Cash caught Danny’s shoulders, holding him at bay. “Did you hear me?”

“Yeah, sure. It’s okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry. I’ll be gay for both of us.” He touched his lips to Cash’s.

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

Danny wound his other arm around Cash’s waist, holding tight. “Stop thinking.”

“But—”

Danny bit his lip, hard enough to surprise words away from Cash’s mouth. “It’s okay.” He licked at the lip he’d just abused. Sucked on it for a brief few seconds. “Just let me make you feel good.”

Melting. That digital mask Cash showed to the world was melting to display a true, needy human being underneath. Fingers dug into Danny’s upper arms. “I can’t…”

He swept his tongue into Cash’s mouth, delighting in the soft, tiny squeal that emitted. “You can.”

“But—”

“Shut up.” He took Cash’s mouth, stopping any hope of speech. Holding on to the back of Cash’s head, he put all his own desperate longing into the kiss, pouring it into Cash.

Gradually, Cash’s grip on his arms loosened. Hands slid toward the center of his back until Cash had both arms wrapped around him, almost clutching. That was when his head angled, his mouth opened, and he gave in completely to the kiss. Danny loved it, holding Cash up when the other man leaned in to him. He let Cash respond, allowed the awkward clash of teeth and tangle of tongue. It told him better than words that Cash wanted this. Needed this. Hell, to hardly ever be touched? Danny was definitely doing him a service. And service he would. If he could.

He carefully nudged Cash back a step. Then another. A quick peek past Cash’s head let him aim for the hallway as he continued to walk Cash backward.

Cash caught on when they reached the hall. He pulled his mouth from Danny’s and set his feet. “Wait.”

“Oh, don’t stop now,” Danny murmured, ducking his head to sample the skin above Cash’s thudding pulse. He gloried in the full-body shiver his touch provoked. “We’re just getting to the good part.”

“I’m not gonna fuck you.” Deliberately harsh. Cash was trying to shock himself out of this.

Not if Danny could help it. He licked up the length of Cash’s neck. “Okay.” He nudged Cash back another step.

“Jesus.” Hands gripped his shoulders again. “Did you hear me?”

“I heard you.” Danny lifted his head to grin at Cash. “There’s plenty other stuff we can do besides fucking.”

As he’d thought it might, that threw Cash. He blinked, and Danny managed to push him into the open doorway of his bedroom. Not Cash’s—no way Danny could maneuver in that mess of clothing, game memorabilia, and computers. Besides, any necessary supplies were quite handy by Danny’s bedside.

“Other stuff?”

“Oh yeah.” He backed Cash up until his heels hit the edge of the mattress and box spring that sat on the floor. Danny grabbed Cash’s hips and yanked forward so their cocks pressed together through layers of denim and cotton. He kissed Cash hard. “My hands and mouth work just fine with my pants on.”

A simple nudge toppled Cash onto his back on the unmade mattress. To Danny’s eye, his navy blue sheets were a perfect nest for his soon-to-be lover. With the lamps and the overhead light off, the only illumination came from the open door behind Danny, and it threw deep shadows in all sorts of interesting places. Danny knelt and hooked his fingers in the waist of Cash’s sweats.

Cash grabbed his wrists. “Wait—”

Danny distracted him with another kiss. “But you need to be naked.”

“But…”

Danny tugged and managed to expose the first tufts of the curly brown hair in Cash’s crotch, but a helpless sound stopped him. He took a deep breath, realizing his zeal might be clouding his judgment. Much as it pained him to do so, he pulled his fingers from Cash’s waistband and instead slid his palms upward, gliding underneath the hem of the T-shirt and along the silky-soft skin of Cash’s sides. He moved so he would end up kneeling over Cash, low and close so they shared body heat.

“Too fast?” he asked when his nose brushed Cash’s.

“Um…”

He settled his palms on Cash’s chest. His right forefinger brushed over the pebbled tip of Cash’s nipple. “We could just do this.” He kissed Cash again, this time drawing it out. He took little bits at a time—lips, then teeth, then tongue. He wanted so badly to devour, but his patience was rewarded when Cash started to kiss back. When Cash sucked in his bottom lip, Danny groaned and gave in to the desire to pinch the nipple teasing his fingertip.

“Ah!” Cash jumped, his head jerking back into the pillows.

Danny grinned and pinched again. “Like that?”

Cash’s eyelids fluttered. “Yeah.”

Danny nipped at his chin. “There’s more I can do.” He pinched the other nipple. “You can stop me anytime you want.” Danny meant the words, but he prayed hard that Cash wouldn’t stop him. He nuzzled the soft bend where jaw met neck as he played both thumbs over Cash’s nipples.

When Cash sighed, Danny took the lack of protest as permission. He shifted down Cash’s body and pulled the Big Bird shirt out of the way so he could get his mouth on one of the tasty treats he’d been teasing with his fingers. They were small but clearly very sensitive; Cash started squirming when Danny flicked the nipple with his tongue. Danny slid his hand down Cash’s side, caressing warm skin. There was little tone to Cash’s muscles, but there was also no fat, just slim, smooth muscle. Danny moved lower and kissed the first soft dip of Cash’s belly right below his rib cage. His breath was audible now, his hands restless. One was smoothing over Danny’s back, and the other clutched the sheets at his side. As Danny continued down to lap at Cash’s navel, the hand on his back slid into his hair, fingers squeezing, then releasing.

Unable to hold off any longer, Danny slipped his hand over Cash’s sweats to cup the arousal that tented the crotch. He could smell precum and knew the briefs inside those sweats had a damp spot. He squeezed, and Cash’s entire body clenched, arching a little. Danny glanced up to see the heated grimace of pleasure that took over Cash’s face. He grinned and held Cash’s hooded gaze as he lowered his head, extended his tongue, and touched it to the cotton that shielded the tip of Cash’s cock.

Cash’s chin tipped up, his eyes closing, back bending. “Shit.”

Permission enough. Danny quickly hooked his fingers into the waistband of sweats and briefs and pulled them down to expose the cock he wanted so very badly to devour. It was every bit as gorgeous as he could have hoped—maybe not especially long and thick, but hard and flushed and leaking a little. With a groan of his own, he sucked in the head and took his first real taste of Cash. Delicious.

“Oh shit!”

Fingers tore at his hair, but Danny barely felt it. Eyes closed, he sucked in more of Cash, letting salty bitterness coat his tongue and slide down his throat. He wrapped his hand around the shaft and pulled back to the tip before sliding down to the base. Meantime, Cash was curling toward him, surrounding Danny as his body constricted. His free hand gripped Danny’s shoulder while the one in his hair yanked instinctively. Danny rode it, turned on by Cash’s lack of control. He sucked and squeezed and knew immediately when Cash’s orgasm triggered.

“Fuck!”

Cash’s hips pumped, and only Danny’s hold on his cock kept him from shoving down Danny’s throat. The leg not trapped under Danny’s body flailed, Cash’s heel slamming down on the mattress once, twice, to help release some of the tension. A flood of cum filled Danny’s mouth, enough to dribble from his lips before he could swallow it. He held on to Cash as he subsided, slowly releasing his cock but staying close enough to lap it clean. As Cash breathed hard, Danny licked at the cum on his belly, then, when it was gone, just licked at his skin. The death grip released from his hair, and Cash’s hand fell away to thump on the sheets.

When Cash’s breathing leveled, Danny pushed up onto his elbow. His own cock was furious, pressing against the inside of his zipper, but he kept his struggle from his expression as he watched Cash’s eyes drag open. “Good?” he asked with a cheeky grin.

“Oh man.” Cash lifted a hand to wipe at his face.

Danny crawled up until his nose was above Cash’s. He was careful not to touch anywhere, but he wanted Cash to feel his heat. He also wanted to kiss while Cash’s taste was still in his mouth. The taste was slow to dawn on Cash, but Danny knew when it hit him, felt the hitch in his breathing. “Want more?”

“Uh…”

He’d suspected there would be no answer, and he was right. Cash had quite a bit to deal with at the moment, and a gentleman would back off and let him do so. Even if said gentleman really wanted to take advantage of the warm body beneath him.

“Tell you what.” He took another brief kiss. “Why don’t you go take a shower?” Another kiss. “I’ll stay here.” Another. “When you get out, you can come back in here, and we can do more.” This time he kissed longer, used tongue, hoping to make Cash want that more. When he pulled back, he did so completely, drawing up his knees and inching away from Cash’s body. “Or you can go to your room and go to bed. I promise to leave you unmolested.”

Cash frowned at the shadowed ceiling for a moment. He licked his lower lip. Bit it. Thinking. “Okay.” Then he was getting up. He didn’t glance back as he left the room, unaware or uncaring that the sight of his trim, pale ass made Danny’s cock throb. Danny stared after him until he was gone, kept staring at the hallway wall as the light from the bathroom lit it. Then the bathroom door took the light away.

Groaning, Danny fell face-first into his sheets and took a good, long smell of Cash’s lingering scent. He really hoped Cash came back, because it was going to kill him to stay in his room alone tonight.

Danny heard the shower come on and let out a tortured, pathetic laugh, thinking of all that naked skin being washed. Skin he’d just tasted. Skin with little bitty freckles that he’d never noticed until he was real close. He grabbed at his crotch to keep himself from vaulting from the bed to join Cash. Patience. Must. Have. Patience.

“Screw it.” Muttering to himself, he spun over onto his back, threw the blanket toward the foot of the bed, and twisted to reach the drawer of his rickety nightstand. Seconds later, the lube was on his hand, and his pants and briefs were shoved down his thighs so he could jerk himself off. It didn’t take long at all. Just hearing the shower had him going, knowing the water was sliding over every inch of Cash’s body.

“Fuck,” he told the ceiling after he was done. The edge was gone, but the urge remained. He knew from experience it wouldn’t take him long at all to get hard again. Plus, the sound of the water was driving him out of his mind. “Fuck,” he repeated for good measure. In an effort to calm down, he shucked the pants and briefs and took them to the laundry pile in the corner. He found his towel from the morning’s shower and used it to wipe spunk from his fingers and belly, then tossed the towel back in the pile. He pulled off his sweater and left it, as well. The radiator hadn’t removed all the chill from the air, but his blood was pumping so hard, he could have gone running naked in the streets. Okay, maybe not. Amused by his thoughts, he crawled back into bed, flopped onto his back, and waited.

Eventually, the water turned off. Danny was still enough that he could hear Cash moving around in the bathroom—the shower curtain swishing open, a slight ring of the towel rod as Cash pulled his towel off it. Mostly silence while Cash must have been drying his skin. Danny got lost in thought for a few moments there, but his attention zeroed back in when the door clicked open.

He held his breath.

The bathroom light clicked off. Soft footfalls on the worn hallway carpet. They stopped. Danny’s door was closer to the living room than the bathroom, so Cash could just slip into his own room without Danny seeing him. Danny heard the slight creak of Cash’s door, and his heart fell.

Damn.

Except…no click of the door closing. Then there was a faint, exasperated sigh and a soft thump. Those sounds propelled Danny to his feet as he pulled the top blanket from the bed to wrap around his waist.

He stuck his head out in the hall and saw Cash standing at his door, hand on the knob, forehead against the door frame. A big blue towel covered him from waist almost to knees, but everything else was gloriously bare and damp. Pale, precious skin with the sparse body hair of a young man. It was obvious by the lack of muscle tone that he didn’t work out, but he was naturally slim, with an almost delicate build that wasn’t obvious when he had clothes on. Wet hair was mostly slicked back from his face, but the stubborn locks were escaping forward as they dried. An intrepid curl was wound tightly around Cash’s ear, spilling droplets down the column of his neck. Cash stayed facing his bedroom, but Danny saw eyes roll his way.

“Can’t decide?” Danny asked, putting on a smile. Whether this went any further or not, Danny cherished the adorable vulnerability Cash showed, suspecting he was one of very few who had ever seen it.

“No.”

Danny secured the blanket with a tuck, braced both hands on his door frame, and leaned a little farther into the hallway, just enough so Cash could see his bare shoulders. Maybe that would be intriguing. Maybe it would scare him off. Danny really couldn’t tell, but he took hope that Cash still wasn’t moving in the direction he faced. “Anything I can do to help?”

That made Cash laugh. It was brief and a little harsh, but it was a laugh. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You’re standing in the hallway.”

“Thanks. Figured out that much.” His hand gripped the doorknob harder, but he twisted his neck to look at Danny. Dark eyes scanned Danny’s shoulders and chest, then focused on his face. “I shouldn’t do this.”

Danny took a chance and stepped forward. He watched Cash’s eyes widen slightly as he clearly expected Danny to be naked. When he saw the blanket, there was a flash of something Danny could only hope was disappointment before Cash schooled his expression. Danny leaned against one side of the doorway and tucked his arms behind his back. The blanket splayed about his legs like a heavy skirt. “Why not?”

“I’m not gay.”

Danny waited, one eyebrow raised.

Cash sighed. “Okay, I didn’t think I was gay.”

“It’s not so bad. I kind of like it.”

“I’ve never thought of myself as gay.”

“It’s not like you’re out with girls all the time.”

Cash drew his head back an inch so he could thump his forehead on the door frame again. A drop of water shook free of the curl around his ear and plopped onto his shoulder. “I know.”

“Ever think that may be why you’re not?”

Clearly, Cash had not considered the situation in light of his being gay—his eyes went round, and his jaw fell. He thought about that a moment, then frowned. “I just thought it was because they never gave me the time of day.”

Danny had to laugh. “That can’t be it. You’re fucking gorgeous.”

Cash drew his head back again, but this time he turned it to look at Danny, lips parted in surprise. “You really think that?”

“Absolutely.”

Slowly, the hand gripping the doorknob released it and dropped down to the tuck that kept the towel around Cash’s waist. Holding the towel, he faced Danny. The light from the living room showed him fully, and Danny dug his fingers into the wood that braced his back rather than reach for Cash.

“And you really want me?” He clearly didn’t believe it.

So Danny let every bit of his desire show—on his face. He didn’t think it prudent to drop the blanket just yet. “So very much.” He enjoyed the flush that crept up Cash’s neck. “But you have to want it too.” Please want it too.

Cash’s gaze landed somewhere in the middle of Danny’s chest. He bit the inside of his lip, then nodded. “Okay.”

Danny was shocked that his heart didn’t thump its way out of his chest. There was too much blanket to show it, but just this conversation had him hard again. He’d never been one to want to turn a straight guy, but Cash was an entirely different game altogether. Danny grinned and pushed from the doorway but remained with one foot in his bedroom. “Okay.” He retreated a step into the dark of his room and held out a hand. “Come here.”

Cash stared at his hand.

Danny wiggled his fingers. “I won’t be accused of taking advantage.” He said it with a smile and a laugh as he took another step back and out of Cash’s sight. “You have to come in here on your own.”

“You’re nuts. You know that?”

He laughed as he rounded to the far side of his bed. Cash appeared in the doorway just as Danny was kneeling on the mattress. He held out a hand. “Come here, sweetheart.”

To his utter delight, Cash headed for him. But he was scowling. “Don’t call me sweetheart.”

Danny crawled to the center of the mattress and took the hand that Cash let him have. “No? Too girly?”

Drawn down to sit, Cash maintained a death grip on his towel. “Yeah.”

Danny leaned in but avoided the lips that Cash parted for him. He took advantage of Cash’s uptilted chin to nip at said chin, then nibble along his jaw toward his ear. “What should I call you?”

“I don’t know.”

Danny nudged, and Cash easily sank to his back on the mattress, his wet curls on Danny’s pillow. Danny nipped his earlobe. “Pumpkin’s probably out?”

“Pumpkin?”

“Mmm.” Danny sucked softly at Cash’s pulse. “Then you probably won’t go for teddy bear.” He ran his palm up Cash’s practically hairless chest. “Bear doesn’t suit you anyway.”

“Huh?”

Danny chuckled as he kissed his way down Cash’s neck. “Never mind.” He readjusted so he was lying on his side, pressed up against Cash. There was probably still too much blanket for Cash to realize the effect he had on Danny. “Stud muffin?”

Cash growled and punched Danny’s shoulder. Not hard but enough to get his meaning across. “Now you’re just playing with me.”

“Oh yes.” Danny bit at the big muscle down the side of Cash’s throat. “Playing’s a big part of sex.”

Cash shuddered. “It is?”

Danny lapped at the place he’d bitten, the pushed up on his elbow so he could see Cash’s face. He smiled. “It is when I’m involved.”

It might have been that he couldn’t have spoken better words in that moment. He watched most of Cash’s fear and reluctance drain away, replaced by a tolerant, goofy grin. It was a look Danny promised himself he would provoke often in the future. “You really are a nut job.”

“Mmm.” He swooped in to take Cash’s mouth with his. While he had Cash distracted, he slid his palm down Cash’s belly and under the towel. Cash yipped when Danny cupped his balls and gently squeezed. “I like nuts.”

Cash laughed, then groaned into Danny’s mouth as they kissed again. As Danny played with his balls, Cash finally grabbed hold of Danny to pull him close. One hand gripped the meat of Danny’s shoulder while the other snaked under to wrap around Danny’s chest. Cash rolled toward him so he was almost on his side. Danny had to wonder if he even realized the towel was now gaping open and pretty much fell away when he bent his knee up. No, Cash was more focused on tongue play and learning how to kiss. Although Danny was willing to let him explore, he was dying to suck on the tasty treats he kept rolling in his palm. But as the kiss continued, he abandoned Cash’s balls to fist his shaft.

“Oh God. Fuck, that’s… God.” Cash’s head fell back on the pillows, eyes mostly closed, eyeballs rolled up into his head.

Danny watched shadows play over his expression. “Want me to suck you off again?”

“Oh God. Please.”

Humming, Danny scooted down and sucked Cash in as far as he could. Cash was hard enough that it didn’t all fit, but Danny made the most of his fist at the base of the shaft and covered the whole thing. Cash shouted and grabbed at his shoulders and neck. This time, Danny throttled the base of his cock and pulled his lips back to the very tip, more intent on pleasure than release. He worked Cash’s cock with one hand and his mouth, keeping him on edge. With his free hand, he discreetly searched the mess of sheets until he found the bottle of lube he’d abandoned. Expertly, he opened it and squeezed some into his palm, then worked the liquid up to his fingers, getting them good and slippery. He sucked Cash deep again just as he drew wet fingers over that sensitive skin behind his balls. Soft, teasing touches that Cash might not even feel. Gentle exploration farther back, slipping and probing until one fingertip found the puckered opening he sought. He rubbed. Cash stilled—but didn’t tell him to stop. As he sucked, Danny rubbed Cash’s anus, spreading lube around the tight muscle and the protective cheeks around it.

When Danny worked one finger in up to the knuckle, Cash’s whole body tensed. Danny paused, ran the tip of his tongue over the head of Cash’s cock, and watched Cash stare at the ceiling. “I can stop,” he offered, letting his breath caress Cash’s sensitive skin. “But I swear I can make it feel good.”

Cash swallowed. “Will it hurt?”

“It might. Some.” A lot. Damn. This was the worst part. He couldn’t be sure if Cash was one of those guys who’d love it or hate it. But enough finger play would give him a damn good idea. So he pressed his finger in a little more and curled it a bit. “But it can feel amazing.”

Another swallow. Danny watched the shadow of his Adam’s apple. Then a precious nod. “Okay.”

Danny kissed the tip of Cash’s cock. Sucked it. Worked his tongue and lips down the shaft as he gradually pushed his entire finger into Cash’s incredible warmth. He focused all his attention on his lover, unable to spare himself the briefest thought or he’d instantly blow. He pulled the finger out and pushed it back in. Again. Again. Heartened when Cash sighed and his hips pushed down on Danny’s finger. Promising. Enough that Danny gathered more lube, then pushed two fingers in. Cash only told him to wait once, breathed through it, then used his hips to show Danny he was ready for more. Danny groaned and pressed his forehead to Cash’s belly, nearly overcome with the need to get up on his knees and fuck Cash blind. Patience. If only that were one of his strong suits. But he thought he was doing just fine, considering. He managed three fingers and found the right angle to hit the magic spot for Cash. He knew it when Cash tensed and hissed. “Fuck.” Smiling, Danny rubbed again and was rewarded with a full-body shudder. There were some men who were just made to be fucked, and Danny strongly suspected from that reaction Cash was one of them. Lucky me. He worked his fingers, and Cash rolled with him, breathing loud. Danny pumped a little faster, a little harder, and Cash groaned, thumping the mattress with his heel. He sucked Cash’s cock and worked his ass until he knew Cash was right on the brink.

Then he stopped, popping his mouth off Cash’s cock and pulling his fingers out.

“Hey, what?”

Danny reared up on his knees and lunged for the nightstand. His cock was up and eager and there for Cash to see, and he let Cash get an eyeful as he retrieved a condom. When he was back to kneeling between Cash’s legs, Cash was still staring at his cock.

Danny ripped the condom open. “It’ll fit.”

“You sure?”

He started rolling on the prelubed prophylactic. “Positive. The fingers felt good, didn’t they?”

“Well, yeah, but that’s bigger’n your fingers.”

Danny fell forward so he could press his lips to Cash’s. He’d meant it to be a quick, comforting kiss, but it turned into a drawn-out duel of tongues. When he pulled back, Cash had that slightly dazed look again. “Trust me,” he murmured over Cash’s lips before pushing back onto his knees.

Cash watched, arms outspread, fingers gripping the sheets, as Danny grabbed under one knee to push it back. The weird lighting threw awkward shadows that didn’t allow him to actually see Cash’s entrance, but experience helped him out. With one hand around his own shaft, he prodded a little. Cash shut his eyes and bit his lip. Danny found his place and nudged. Cash drew in a breath and closed his eyes.

“Relax for me, honey bunny,” Danny murmured, leaning into Cash’s bent leg.

Eyes opened again. “Honey… Ah!” Mouth open and eyes still wide but unfocused. “…Bunny?”

The head of Danny’s dick was inside, and the pressure was glorious. “Mmm, my own honey bunny.”

“Uh!” Cash twisted his hips a little, and Danny sank in deeper. They both gasped. “No—urgh—honey bunny.”

“Kitten?” A little more.

“No.”

Danny pulled out some, then pressed in farther. His brain was scrambled, so he could barely keep up the teasing. “Snuggle umpkins?”

“No.”

“Pookie?”

“What the fu…uack!” Cash yanked at the sheets to either side of him when Danny rocked and evidently hit a good spot. “Oh shit!” Although Cash’s face was screwed into a frown, Danny knew that tone, and there was nothing of pain about it. Or, if there was, it was woven into intense pleasure.

All the way in now, Danny struggled to think. He wrapped his hand around Cash’s cock and his arm around Cash’s thigh and tried to keep going slow. But it was torture. Everything about the way Cash’s body gripped him just made him want to thrust like a madman. “Cash, baby, you feel amazing.”

Strong fingers reached down to dig into Danny’s flank. “Move.” Breathless. Cash’s face, neck, and chest were mottled red, and damp hair was plastered to his forehead and cheeks. “For fuck’s sake, move!”

Danny pulled out and shoved back in, and the extended groan that drew out of Cash’s throat was agonizing torture. Danny would do absolutely anything to produce that sound again. So he tried, with another thrust. No second moan, but the constriction on his cock made up for that.

“Yeah. Oh God yeah.”

Danny started a rhythm. Cash produced another groan, twisting to his side to grab a pillow. It realigned their hips, shifted Cash’s leg from one of Danny’s shoulders to the other, and completely changed the angle of Danny’s cock in Cash’s ass. Clearly a position that Cash favored, if his clawing at the bedclothes was any indication. Danny had never seen a virgin react like this, and it was novel enough to distract him from his own orgasm. Somehow, Cash got himself turned all the way around so Danny was straddling one of his legs and Cash was on his side, leaning toward being on his belly. Without the leg to lean on, Danny fell forward, bracing on the bed.

Danny’s legs were shaking before he realized that he’d lost it. “Fuck, Cash,” he muttered, eyes shut tight. “I’m gonna come.”

Cash gripped his wrist and kept moaning. Danny thrust, shook, came.

Cash was still moaning when Danny flipped him onto his back and swallowed him down mere seconds before Cash’s cum flooded Danny’s mouth.

Chapter Six

For the first time since he’d moved to Chicago, Danny woke with a warm body in his own bed. Immediately aware of the welcome presence, he smiled and rolled to his side to snuggle against Cash’s back. Cash had pretty much passed out after that last orgasm, spilling everything he had into Danny’s mouth. Danny had barely managed to stay awake long enough to clean them both up a little and pull the blankets over them before he’d let sleep pull him under too.

He checked the clock on the nightstand. It was still early for him. He wasn’t sure when or if Cash needed to be at school. Nosing aside Cash’s hair, he nuzzled at the back of his neck while sliding his fingers lightly over Cash’s chest. Probably should wake him up, Danny decided, pulling Cash so his back was flush against Danny’s chest. It had the added benefit of snugging his ass right against Danny’s morning wood. He opened his mouth and sucked at some of the warm skin at the side of Cash’s neck. This released a sigh from Cash, but Danny was pretty sure he was still asleep. Smiling into Cash’s skin, Danny slipped his hand down Cash’s chest, over his belly, and found the promising start of an erection to fondle.

Danny knew the second Cash truly woke up. His body jerked once, and he drew in a breath. But by that time, Danny had him fully hard, and his hips were rocking instinctively.

“Morning,” Danny murmured, the word jumbled because he was also licking up Cash’s neck toward his ear.

“Oh God.”

“No.” Danny sucked at his earlobe as he gave an extra-good stroke up Cash’s shaft. “It’s just me.”

Cash groaned. “Not. Funny.”

“It’s a little funny.” Chuckling, Danny shifted. With just a minor adjustment to his hold, he climbed over Cash until they were lying on their sides, facing each other. Cash was still groggy as Danny took a moment to find the lube, but was awake enough to watch him pour clear liquid in his palm. The eyes closed again when Danny reached down to wrap his slicked-up hand around both their cocks.

“Ooooh fuuuck.”

Danny cradled the back of Cash’s skull with his free hand and pulled forward so their foreheads touched. “Really?” he asked, closing his own eyes, the better to enjoy the friction of his hand and Cash’s cock. “Thought this might be better the morning after your first time.” He tipped his head so he could brush lips with Cash. “Should we switch position?”

“Shut up.” Eyes still closed, Cash clutched at Danny’s sides and concentrated on rolling his hips to pump his cock through Danny’s grip.

Danny grinned and squeezed. “But you’re so gorgeous. All sleepy and turned on.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re all flushed.”

Cash’s eyes cracked open, hazy with pleasure but sparking with annoyance. “Shut up.”

Again Danny brushed Cash’s lips with his. “Make me.”

At first, Cash didn’t understand his words. Then he caught on. Mirroring Danny’s hold, Cash threaded fingers through Danny’s hair and yanked him into a kiss.

Danny let out a groan of his own and kissed back with fervor. They strained together, clutching, pumping, pressing close. Danny knew Cash wouldn’t last long, so he let his own pleasure go sooner than he usually would. He almost timed it just right, coming only a few strokes after Cash coated their bellies with cum.

They lay panting, foreheads pressed together, Danny’s free hand still wrapped around the back of Cash’s neck while Cash’s fingers now dug into the backs of Danny’s shoulders.

Danny gave Cash a soft kiss. “Morning.”

“Morning?” Cash gave a breathless laugh.

“Wasn’t sure if you needed to get up for school or not.”

Cash’s head jerked up. He flipped onto his back to look at the clock behind him, then sighed in relief. “I’ve still got time. Need to be at the lab in two hours.”

Not enough time for much. Leaning on his elbow, Danny pulled the blanket down to reveal Cash’s bare belly, covered in sweat and spunk. “You might want to take another shower.”

Cash glanced down. A frown signaled his thought process had kicked in. “Uh…yeah.”

Danny kept his tone light as he traced Cash’s navel. “You want company?”

Huge brown eyes finally focused on him. The haze of recent orgasm didn’t completely mask the panic, but he was probably calmer than he’d expected he would be. “Uh…”

Danny could almost see the thoughts racing in Cash’s eyes. Foremost was “What have I done?” “You’re not going to freak out on me, are you?”

“No.” Cash blinked, his gaze skittering down. Then, to Danny’s relief, he managed a small smile. “Maybe.”

“Before you do, can you tell me if I was any good?”

Bingo. Cash burst out laughing. There was a slight hysterical tone to it, but mostly it was a good, deep laugh. “You’re fucking nuts.”

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“I’m not telling you.”

Smiling, Danny leaned closer to brush a kiss across the tip of Cash’s nose. “Don’t freak out on me, okay?”

Cash sobered, but the smile teased his lips. “Yeah.”

Danny moved the kiss to Cash’s lips. “No worries. We never have to do it again if you don’t want to.” Another kiss. “Although”—a swipe of tongue—“I really hope you’ll want to.”

Surprising Danny, and maybe himself, Cash rolled toward him, pressing in for a proper kiss. Hand up to stroke the side of Danny’s neck, he met Danny’s gaze when their lips parted. “I think I want to.”

Danny’s heart expanded to painful proportions, an experience he’d never quite had before. The wonder of it kept him from saying anything smartass. Instead, he plopped onto his back and covered his eyes with one forearm. “Go now. Take your sexy ass to the shower before I have to molest you again.”

Danny kept his eyes covered while Cash rolled off the mattress, but he had to look as Cash walked away. To his credit—and Danny’s visual pleasure—Cash didn’t attempt to cover his delectable ass on the way out of the room.

Danny lay for a moment, watching the ceiling as he listened to Cash go from bedroom to bathroom. Only then did he let himself really think about last night. It had gone well, he thought. He was certainly pleased with the outcome, and Cash didn’t look too traumatized. This should be good. They could have a lot of fun together. Until he left.

Which you still have to tell Cash about.

All in good time. Cash had school, and Danny had his first performance with the Knights tonight. Talking could wait.

Chapter Seven

“Hey, Roy.” Danny lifted a gloved hand to wave to the man sitting at the bar just inside the door.

The manager of the club glanced up from his magazine and waved. “Hey.”

Danny kept going on his way toward the door that led to what served as backstage. Work lights were on in the main club area, making it look like the warehouse it used to be, with bare beams and roughly finished walls. Nearly everything was painted black, with the glaring exceptions of the bar and the stage. The bar was a shiny blue that glowed like a black light when the work lights were off and the party lights were on. The stage was wood and exposed brick with a bank of harsh stage lights that made the little corner an oven during performances.

Rabin followed Danny toward the back door. The two of them had chosen to take a walk down the street to fetch dinner for everyone after the sound check. Plastic bags full of Chinese food dangled from their hands as they passed by the stage, still set up with their equipment. Noble’s new indigo bass drum showed off the Knight’s stylized purple shield logo, gaudy and awesome even in just the work lights. It was about an hour before the club would open, two before the current version of the Indigo Knights took the stage for the first time together.

Danny pushed open a heavy door to plunge into the darkness off a narrow hallway. The only true light came from behind him and from the open doorway at the end to his right. A flash of purple that was Noble’s spiked hair crossed the opening, putting a smile on Danny’s face.

Noble’s favored synth music filled the air, pumped into the small, brightly lit room from a boom box perched on a rickety table. Noble and Lance were there with Fiona and Rusty, the interns-turned-roadies. Bruce, the sound guy, was also there, sucking down Coke from a can. Noble’s hair was now properly spiked, standing straight up from the rest of his freshly shaven skull. In honor of the performance, he’d bleached and re-dyed the day before to a neon purple that glowed under the stage lights. He wore a loose, torn tank top of navy blue, and the two belts that circled his waist were completely unnecessary to hold up snug jeans. Lance wore his familiar black attire, with the long sleeves of his button-down rolled above his elbows and the worn knees of his jeans providing the only white to his wardrobe. His blond hair was pulled back into a tail, but the front was loose enough that most of it looked like it was going to fall forward into his face.

Danny and Rabin received an enthusiastic greeting as everyone crowded in for food. While they were eating, the stereo system from the main part of the club kicked in, signaling the door was now open. Soon they’d see how well Gordon’s marketing efforts had paid off. A rush of excitement filled Danny and made it impossible for him to sit. He’d been onstage many times before, but it was always exciting, always new, always different. He couldn’t wait to get in front of the crowd.

At the half-hour mark, he retrieved his backpack from the big general locker bestowed on the band for the night and fished out the loose white shirt he’d selected to wear. He’d purposely kept it bundled to preserve the wrinkles in the soft, nearly transparent fabric. Thoughts of Cash sprang to mind as he pulled off his T-shirt. He remembered Cash’s laugh when Danny had shown him the white shirt and the long blue scarf he planned to wear with it. Remembered Cash’s blush when Danny suggested he put the shirt—and nothing else—on himself. He’d blushed some more when Danny started to describe what they’d do with Cash naked. Needless to say, Cash had been a little late getting out the door. He’d pulled away, wished Danny good luck, and fled just in time. Danny grinned at the memory and hoped Cash wasn’t too worn-out late tonight, because Danny had plans for celebration.

Lost in thought, he’d just slipped on the shirt over a tight black tank top when he turned to find Noble standing next to him, arms crossed, a smirk curling his mouth.

“What?”

“Someone got laid.”

Fiona and Lance, seated on the couch beside them, stopped talking, attention now focused on Danny. Everyone else was on the other side of the room, and although it was small, with the music it was impossible for them to hear.

For whatever reason, Danny decided to play dumb. “What?”

Noble grinned. The kohl he’d smudged around his eyes made him look slightly demonic. More so than usual. “You got laid.”

“And you know this how?”

Lance laughed. “Noble knows these things.”

Noble nodded and raised a silver-beringed finger to lay it aside his nose. “Noble knows these things.”

“Pray tell, how?”

The hand dropped from his nose, and for a moment, Noble just let his gaze roam Danny’s face. “A certain…satisfaction. A bit of peace.” Noble reached up to poke at the corner of Danny’s mouth. “A slight smile.” He chuckled. “Plus, you were humming.”

“I was not.”

“You absolutely were.”

“Well. Can’t I just be happy because we’re playing our first gig tonight?”

“Are you?”

“Yes.”

“Did you get laid?”

No sense denying it. “Yes.”

Lance chuckled. “See,” he said to Fiona, “told you.”

Noble pushed at Danny’s lip with his finger before letting his hand fall again. “And who was the lucky guy? Was it the ever-elusive roommate we’ve yet to meet, or did you give in to frustration and find some random piece of ass?”

Scary that Noble only mentioned two possibilities. For the first time in many years, Danny had been without at least a few fuck buddies available to call. Chicago just wasn’t good for him. Or maybe it was the winter. Yeah, blame the weather. “If you must know, it was Cash.”

Noble’s eyebrows soared. “Oh ho. Do tell.”

“Nothing to tell.”

Noble clicked his tongue in mock sympathy. “Wasn’t that good?”

“You ass. It was terrific.” He pushed past his friend, headed for the five-foot-wide mirror mounted on the opposite wall. “But I don’t need to tell you about it.”

“Oh, boo.” Noble came to lean against the frame of the mirror, arms crossed, watching Danny. You popped some computer nerd’s cherry, and I don’t get details? I’m your bandmate. Your brother.”

Danny tucked the tails of the shirt into his jeans, leaving the front unbuttoned and wide open. “I wouldn’t tell my brother, either.”

Noble pouted. “That’s cold, man. Way cold.”

“I love you, man. But I don’t fuck and tell.”

Grimacing, Noble scratched at his smooth-shaven jaw. “I’m disappointed in you. How else will I get my jollies?”

Danny finger combed his hair to mess it up a little. He wore it loose and long, the strawberry-blond, slightly wavy locks drifting down just past his shoulders. In a moment, he’d line his blue-green eyes to make them look more mysterious. He didn’t think he was conceited or anything, but he did know how to make himself look good. It was a must in his chosen profession. “Like you’re not gonna pick up some piece of ass tonight?”

“Well, yeah, but I like hearing about it.”

Laughing, Danny had to ask, “What about Lance?”

Noble sent his best friend a withering glance. “It’s been so long since he got any, I think his dick’s shriveled and fallen off.”

Without missing a beat, Lance patted his crotch. “It has. Truly sad. But that frees me for pursuits other than a hot, tight ass.”

Beside him, young Fiona’s eyes widened, and a smile that could not be contained took over her mouth. She’d only known them a few days, but she fit in well. As did Rusty, though her counterpart wasn’t quite as overly friendly as she was. Danny was sure he was high as a kite, but he got his work done without flaw, so there was no point in making a deal about it.

Noble sighed. He wandered over to drop onto the couch beside Fiona, who had moved to perch on the arm. He leaned forward to prop his elbow on one knee and plucked a fried wonton from the carton on the table before him. “There are no other pursuits, as I have tried on many occasions to explain to you. There is only dick and ass.”

Danny chose to pursue Noble’s line of thought, exchanging grins with Fiona. “What about women?”

Noble crunched his snack. “A means to procure more dick and ass.”

Fiona gasped, then giggled as she swatted his back. Noble didn’t even flinch, just kept crunching.

Danny shook his head, turning back to the mirror. He could see them all in the reflection. “You’re crude, man.”

“Not crude. Just right.” He reached over to pat Fiona’s knee. “I’m sorry, dear, but it’s true. The world’d be a better place if men would just suck up to the fact that we all want it up the ass.”

“Are you that misogynistic?”

“What? Me? Hell no. I think women are great.” He squeezed Fiona’s hand. Judging from the gleam in her eye, she wasn’t taking any offense from his words, although she might be lamenting the fact that she didn’t have a chance with him. “That’s why I think we’d be doing them a fucking favor by admitting there is no such thing as latent homosexuality and there is just homosexuality with an occasional side of hetero for reproductive purposes.”

That made Danny laugh so hard he started crying. He was pretty sure Noble was kidding around, but one could never quite tell with Noble.

Pleased with himself, Noble sat back while everyone around him laughed. Once things had settled some, he stood, brushed nonexistent crumbs from his hands, then walked up to Danny.

“You’re gonna bring the nerd around sometime, yeah?” he asked, standing behind Danny, meeting his eyes in reflection.

“Not if you call him the nerd.”

Noble placed a hand over his heart and put on his best solemn face. “I swear to not call the nerd a nerd to his face.”

Danny chuckled and shook his head. “I’ll give it a shot. Not sure if he’s ever been to a club before.”

“Mmm. Then you get to pop another cherry.” Laughing at his own joke, Noble smacked Danny’s ass and headed for the door. “C’mon, let’s go rock this joint.”

Chapter Eight

It started to snow during the gig. Lance was good enough to offer Danny a ride home so he didn’t have to drive, but even the short walk from the curb to his building’s front door made Danny again curse the state he currently lived in and its wind-chill factor. He had to hand one thing to the company that managed his building, however—the heat worked fine, in the common areas as well as in the apartments. So by the time he opened his own front door, he was already loosening his outer garments. The light over the stove was the main room’s illumination since not much streamed in through the window. A fainter, bluer light spilled down the hallway. When he was free of his coat, he followed the beacon to Cash’s open bedroom door.

His current lover—and yes, he now happily thought of Cash in those terms—sat at his computer. The desk was turned so Cash was facing the door, and the contents on the monitor couldn’t be seen. His glasses reflected, but the details were too tiny to make out. Not that Danny really cared. He leaned in the doorway, crossed his arms, and enjoyed the view. Cash wore a loose, long-sleeved T-shirt with some sort of logo on it, and he was probably wearing one of his many pairs of sweats. His hair was a loose mop atop his head.

He glanced up at Danny. Paused. Small smile. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“How was the show?”

“It. Was. Awesome.” Danny had wanted to play it cool, but he was still riding the high of performing. Yes, there had been a bunch of mistakes, but he was pretty sure the audience hadn’t been able to tell. The mildly interested, moderate crowd had picked up through the show, and by the end had really been into the music. A handful of girls had taken up residence at the edge of the stage halfway through the show, and it had taken Danny almost an hour to get away from them after the last set.

Cash gave him a real smile. “That’s terrific.”

Danny pushed from the door frame. “You should come see us. Tomorrow.”

A small frown curled down the corners of Cash’s mouth as he watched Danny approach. “Me?”

“Yes, you. I…” As Danny rounded the edge of the desk, his jaw dropped, and his train of though derailed completely when he saw what was on Cash’s monitor. He rushed closer to Cash’s side, just to make sure he saw what he thought he saw. “Is that porn?”

Obviously it was. The paused full-screen video showed a slim young man bent double in the middle of a bed, with a slightly bigger, slightly beefier guy pounding into him from behind.

“Yeah.” Unashamed, Cash clicked his mouse once to take the full-screen video down to a window. Doing so revealed at least three other windows on the wide expanse of monitor space, each with a paused video of one naked man doing something sexual to another naked man.

Danny had to laugh, delighted. “Doing research?”

Now Cash flushed a little. “Kinda.”

“Oh wow, you’re just awesome.” Danny sidled in behind him, leaning over the back of his chair to nuzzle the side of his neck. “I’m happy to do or try anything you want to know.”

“Um, yeah. I kind of figured that.”

Again Danny had to laugh at Cash’s candor. He heard the warm humor underlining his tone, telling Danny he was laughing at himself too.

Cash tipped his head to give Danny better access to his neck. “I just got curious.”

Danny slid his hands down Cash’s shoulders and around to his chest, hugging him from behind. “Did you find anything interesting?”

“A lot. I didn’t know a guy could do some of this stuff with another guy.”

Danny bit his earlobe. “We need to get you a gay Kama Sutra.”

Cash clicked and moved some screens before them. “Already found one. A few, actually.”

Even Danny was impressed with a couple of the things Cash showed him. “Well, hell,” he remarked once, leaning over Cash’s shoulder to get a better look at one image. “I’ve never even tried that.”

“Good.” Cash clicked the window closed.

Danny chuckled. “Not interested?”

“No.”

He rubbed a palm over one of Cash’s nipples, glad to find it perky. “What are you interested in?”

He was a little surprised and a lot turned on when Cash clicked through to find a window he’d obviously saved. The result wasn’t a video but a photo. One guy lay on his back with one knee raised. The other lay behind and partly under him, cock sunk deep in his ass. Danny had enjoyed the position many times, from both sides.

“What about this?”

“Oh man.” Danny rested his head against Cash’s, closing his eyes to take a moment for composure. “You’re too good to be true.”

Cash placed his left hand over the one Danny had spread on his chest. “Does that mean yes?”

He yelped when Danny pulled, yanking him from the chair. Their chests crashed together, and Cash grabbed on to Danny for balance while Danny reached up to pluck his glasses off. “C’mon.” Danny hauled him from the room by his hand, leaving the glasses on the desk behind them. Cash was laughing by the time Danny pushed him down onto the mattress in his room. “Get your clothes off,” Danny ordered, laughing along with him.

Cash complied and was naked by the time Danny had rid himself of his own clothing and joined him. He crawled over Cash and dropped on top of him, pinning him as Danny wrapped his arms around this precious treasure. He locked his mouth on Cash’s and kissed him until they had to come up for air.

“Do you have any idea how fucking turned on I am that you were surfing porn?”

With palms spread flat on Danny’s back, Cash rolled his hips so their cocks rubbed together. “Yeah. I got a hint.”

Danny reached down to palm Cash’s shaft while he sucked at the bend of his jaw. “I guess you decided gay sex is okay?”

Cash groaned, arching closer. “Yeah. It’s pretty good.”

Enough talking. Danny bit into Cash’s neck and pumped his cock, completely forgetting anything for a moment except the need to fill Cash with what he felt.

“Danny.” Hearing his name on Cash’s moan didn’t help matters. “Danny, wait.” Cash managed to grab his hand and roll close enough to trap Danny’s hand between them.

Eager, Danny found Cash’s mouth with his, willing to be trapped as long as he was pressed into Cash’s warmth.

“Danny.” Cash managed to be heard around Danny’s tongue. “The position.”

Oh shit, he was serious. Danny drew in a breath and held it. “Right.” He gave Cash’s cock one last, loving squeeze, then managed to pull away.

He was glad to see Cash was breathing hard too. He turned on the lamp to search for the lube and left it on. Because one good thing about the position Cash had chosen: Danny would be able to see all of him, and he intended to do just that. On his knees, he grabbed a condom and went ahead and put it on, not sure how long he was going to last. He hadn’t felt this desperate, this needy, in a long time. The small, rational portion of his mind explained that he’d never been with anyone so innocently open and naively sexy as Cash before.

Cash watched him, lying there with one bent knee on the sheets and the other in the air. He reached down to clutch the base of his cock, no doubt trying to stop from coming.

“This might be easier if I make you come first,” Danny suggested as he popped the top on the lube.

Cash shook his head. “I wanna see if I’ll come with you inside me.”

“Fuck.” Danny’s chin sank to his chest, and he heaved in a breath, forced to clench everything to keep from coming on the spot.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Sure. You’re killing me, is all.”

“Oh.” Slowly his fist drew up his cock until he was thumbing the tip. “Fuck me first.”

Danny groaned and sucked in a few more breaths. “Right.” He poured some lube on his fingers, then reached for Cash’s knee to lift it higher.

“You need to lie down.”

“I know. I will.” Danny’s wet fingers probed between Cash’s ass cheeks to find his hole. “But it’s easier to get you wet this way.”

“O-oh!”

It strained Danny’s control just watching Cash react. First surprise, then a gorgeous, seething melt into pleasure. “You like this.”

Cash shut his eyes, bit the inside of his lip, and nodded.

Danny pressed in with two fingers. “You’re fucking amazing.”

Cash opened his eyes halfway and swallowed. Then Danny must have hit a good spot, because his eyelids fluttered, and he arched. “You need…you need to fuck me now.”

Shitshitshit. Danny was almost positive he was going to embarrass himself by coming too soon. Using every mental trick he knew, he pulled his fingers from Cash, applied a little more lube to his palm to spread over the condom, and slid down to his side next to Cash. “Lift up,” he murmured, then sidled up under Cash. He grabbed his cock and rubbed the tip where he thought it needed to be. Cash caught on and started to roll his hips, guiding Danny into place. Danny’s breath caught when the tip of him pushed past resistance. Cash groaned and pushed back, slowly impaling himself while all Danny could do was hold steady. As a result, when Cash’s buttocks finally rested against Danny’s hips, it was mostly of his own volition.

Danny wrapped his arms around Cash’s waist, keeping him on his side for a moment so they could press together. He laid a kiss on the top of Cash’s shoulder, then worked his way toward Cash’s neck as he rocked his hips to move his cock.

“Fuck.” Cash fisted the rumpled sheets in front of him. He drew his knee up and pushed his hips back, working with Danny for friction.

They rolled together for long, slow minutes. Really, they barely moved, but so much skin rubbed against skin that Danny felt every centimeter was alive. It was Cash who moved, adjusting until he was on his back. Danny hooked his arm under Cash’s knee, holding Cash open for languid thrusting. Cash reached out and drew Danny down for a kiss. They played tongue games while Danny did everything he could manage to shove inside Cash’s body. They came up for air, and Danny glanced down and got caught on watching Cash stroke his own cock. It was probably that which changed the rhythm of things. Cash started rocking faster. Desperate grunts and pleas bled from his throat. On their own, Danny’s hips matched Cash’s speed, then mastered and overcame it. He couldn’t hold back, not if he tried. Watching Cash writhe and flush, listening to his unconscious pleas, was just too much.

“Cash.” He had to lean back a little to get a better angle. “Fuck, Cash, I’m gonna…”

“Yeah.” Cash’s hand sped up and down his cock, off the rhythm of his own hips, a sure sign he was already gone. “Yeah!” Instantly, cum spurted from his dick, coating his hand, squirting over his chest.

“Fuck.” Unable to help himself, Danny shoved Cash around, pushing him onto his side, nearly on his belly. It gave him a better angle to thrust, to push, to cry out and arch back as a nuclear explosion shattered his spine and filled his veins with liquid lava.

He sank against Cash’s back, trying to regain his breath. “You okay?”

Underneath him, Cash’s chest heaved with his own struggles. “Oh yeah.”

Danny smiled, hearing the grin in Cash’s voice. He nuzzled the back of Cash’s neck. “Sleep here tonight.”

“Mmph.” Cash turned so his cheek rested on the pillow and heavy, sweat-damp hair covered most of his face. But not his mouth, that beautiful mouth, nor the smile that curled it. “Can’t move anyway.”

Danny wished he could just lie there, but he hated sleeping in a condom. Never ended well. Carefully, he pulled out of Cash’s body, moaning with his lover at the delicious feel. He couldn’t resist a good squeeze for both cheeks of Cash’s ass, watching the hole between them glisten with lube. It was enough to make him want to push back inside, but his dick wasn’t up for it. With a sigh, he forced himself off the mattress and to his feet. “You need a towel?”

No answer.

“Cash?”

He peeked, and what he saw of Cash’s profile convinced him Cash was already asleep, his swollen lips parted for air. Too. Fucking. Beautiful. There was that expansive feeling around his heart again. This time Danny was too aware to just ignore it. He mulled it over as he stumbled to the bathroom to dispose of the condom and towel off. Usually after sex, he felt happy and sated, but never this level of satisfaction. Never this feeling that magic had just happened. He’d only been close to this twice before, the twice when he’d been convinced he was in love. Hadn’t turned out to be true either time, but he’d believed it for a while. Fuck. He avoided his own eyes in the bathroom mirror, then returned to the bedroom, turned off the light, and sat looking at Cash’s bare back in the dark. Enough light spilled through the blinds so he could see pretty well. He monitored himself and was dismayed to find the urge to touch Cash was nearly overwhelming. He needed to be close. He settled down and draped himself half over Cash’s back, his head pillowed on the other man’s shoulder. This felt good. Right.

Don’t do it. Don’t fall in love. This is not the time for it. It’s too early anyway. You’re just stoked because you had to wait for Cash so long.

He drifted to sleep trying to convince himself.

Chapter Nine

“What are you doing tonight?”

Big eyes blinked at him behind glasses. “Why?”

Elbows on the counter, Danny laced his fingers over his bowl of cereal and grinned at Cash. Danny sat and Cash stood, facing each other on either side of the counter, having breakfast. Before they’d started having sex a week ago, they rarely ate together, but now it had become something of a morning ritual because, other than very late at night, it was the only time they really got to spend together. “Want me to put you on the list for tonight?”

“What list?”

“My show? The club?” Danny laughed.

“Oh.”

“You want to come? I’ll put you on the list.” Danny had found perseverance and repetition often worked well when communicating with Cash.

“I dunno.”

“You don’t have to come,” Danny said, intentionally averting his eyes. “But I’d like it if you did.”

“I… But…” Cash cleared his throat, but all Danny could see from this angle was that his spoon hadn’t moved from its place atop soggy flakes. “I’ve never been to a club before.”

Didn’t think so. Encouraged, Danny lifted a grin. “Never? It’s nothing to worry about. It’s not all that crowded. It’s more of a dive bar than a club, really. The stage is about as big as this kitchen.”

“That small? Really?”

“Yeah. Imagine trying to get around Noble’s drums.”

That made Cash chuckle, but he quickly sobered, concern drawing his brows together. “Still, I don’t know…”

“Tell you what—I’ll put you on the list for two. You can bring one of your friends.” He doubted it was a favorite scene for Cash’s friends, but maybe they’d like it. Danny reached across the counter and laid his hand on top of Cash’s. He waited for those beautiful brown eyes to focus on him from under Cash’s unruly fall of brown-blond hair. “Hey. Try? For me?” He reached up to brush aside some of that fringe of hair, smiling. “I think I can count on one hand the times we’ve even spent together outside this apartment.”

Cash blinked. Again. And a third time, accompanied by a mild frown. “O-kay.” Clearly reluctant, but it was a start.

* * * *

Leaning against the edge of the booth seat, Danny searched the sparse crowd spread mostly between the bar and dance areas. Rabin and Lance sat at the table just behind him, enjoying drinks and fries in between sets while Gordon and Noble worked the bar, but Danny was too anxious to eat and too distracted to schmooze. Tonight’s first set had gone all right. Not as good as the two last night, but not horrible. No one off the stage even knew he’d dropped an entire chorus of one song. He was sure the second set would go much better. But what had him anxious was that Cash wasn’t there. Okay, he’d known there was a good chance Cash wouldn’t come, given his reaction that morning. But Danny had held on to hope, wishing Cash would bite the bullet and emerge from his shell. Tonight was a perfect night, too. Everyone was pretty subdued, and the drunk girls were at a minimum. Danny had thought the personal request would make a difference. Evidently Cash had not felt the same.

Fuck.

Danny became aware of someone beside him. A brief glance showed Rabin now standing at his side, dressed in jeans, white T-shirt, and faded, ripped jeans from the show. A typical uniform for a rock guitarist. His chestnut hair was spiked, and kohl liner made his gorgeous eyes stand out. He shoved a fry into his mouth as he considered Danny. “He’s a no-show?”

“Looks like it.” Danny shook his head and tried to look like he didn’t care. He wore a sweatshirt now since he’d had to take off his T-shirt because of sweat. He’d change into his spare shirt before the next set. Dark jeans were snug on his legs, and his old boots looked great poking out of them. He’d left his hair loose around his shoulders and knew both it and his makeup needed some attention before he went back onstage.

“Sorry, man.” Rabin clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t take it personal. You knew he probably wouldn’t come.”

“Yeah, that’s not it.” Danny reached back to retrieve his drink from the table behind him. “I was just…” He stared blankly at the opposite wall.

“Just…?”

“I don’t know.” He shook his head and gulped half his scotch and Seven.

Pause. Then a slight grunt. “Wow.” Rabin tilted his head to give Danny a look, surprise evident on his face. He pointed at Danny around the glass he held in his hand. “You’re all bent out of shape.”

“I’m not.” Thing is, he was. That might have pissed him off even more. He’d really wanted Cash to show.

Rabin chuckled. “Okay, you’re not.” His tone belied that statement. He sipped from his drink. “So, you two dating now?”

Danny stared at the darkened stage. Noble’s new dark blue drum set gleamed in the house lights. The microphone stand looked so lonely up there. What he needed was to get back onstage. Yes, he’d feel better then. Onstage, for people who wanted to listen to his music. Listen to his band. Watch him perform. Make him feel special even if they weren’t screaming his name…

“Danny?”

He snapped his gaze away from the stage and back to the current problem. “What?”

“You two dating now?” Rabin repeated patiently, amusement showing only in his eyes.

“I don’t know.” He frowned. “No.”

“So it’s just sex.” A statement, not a question.

Danny paused. “No.” No sense pretending. Either Rabin or Noble would get it out of him. He could feel Rabin staring at his profile. Leaning back against the edge of the booth, Danny pinched his bottom lip between thumb and forefinger, his focus on the scuffed floor beneath his boots. “Fuck, I don’t know.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

Rabin propped himself against the wall right beside Danny, clinking the ice that was all that was left in his glass. “You falling in love?”

“No.” Maybe he answered too fast. “That’s not what this is.”

“Okay.” Same tone as before, said while Rabin stared pointedly at him.

Danny frowned. “It’s not.”

Smiling, Rabin shrugged and looked away.

“All right.” Noble set his feet apart, hands on hips, as he came to a stop before them. The mohawk stood straight up, and a long-sleeved white thermal that was at least two sizes too small conformed to his chest. It was short enough to leave some of his belly bare above the thick belt that wasn’t really holding up his tight jeans. “What gives?”

“Nothing,” Danny answered, gaze on Rabin.

Who just kept smiling and sipped his drink.

Noble glanced from one to the other of them, then back. “You know how I hate to be left out. What are we talking about?”

“Cash didn’t show,” Rabin answered before Danny could.

Now Noble was watching Danny. When understanding dawned, it transformed his face from annoyance to mischief. “Ah. And this distresses you.”

“It does not distress me.”

Noble and Rabin exchanged a glance that just pissed Danny off. Even more because he knew he was distressed, and it didn’t help that they knew him well enough to be certain of it. He crossed his arms and decided he was not pouting. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Shit.” Noble spoke to Rabin, eyebrows raised. “He’s really hooked on the nerd.”

Rabin nodded. “He is.”

“Stop calling him a nerd,” Danny tried to intervene. Even if he is.

Noble ignored him and kept talking to Rabin. “You ever meet him?”

“Cash? Not yet.”

“Don’t you think that’s strange that we haven’t met him?”

Danny pushed off the booth to stand closer to Noble. “Guys, c’mon.”

Rabin nodded to Noble. “I do think it’s a little strange.”

Noble cocked his head, spiked hair glowing in the partially black-lit area. “Almost like he’s hiding this secret from us.”

“Hey!”

“Or”—Rabin held up a finger—“Cash is a figment of his imagination.”

Then Lance was there beside Danny, drink in hand. The black of his shirt and jeans was so much more vibrant than the black of the tables, walls, and floors. “Or Cash is some online buddy.”

Danny gaped at him.

Noble hooted, clapping his hands, rings flashing. “You don’t think this is all some cyber game, do you? Some dude he made up in one of those RPG games?”

Lance shrugged. “What do I know about these things? I just play guitar.”

Danny propped his fists on his hips, trying to glare at them but failing to get them all in one glance. “Guys.”

Noble leaned on Rabin’s shoulder, lips close to his ear, but he failed to whisper his next words. “I think we should help him out. Maybe find him an actual cutie to play with.”

Danny’s jaw couldn’t drop any farther open. “What the hell? I can get my own—”

They weren’t listening. Or they at least pretended not to.

“I don’t know—he might take offense.” Rabin raised a hand, supposedly to cover his mouth and conceal his words, but he too spoke plenty loud enough for Danny to hear. “He thinks he’s the shit, you know. Lead singer and all.”

Noble rolled his eyes dramatically. “Tell me about it. My God, could he be more full of himself?”

Despite the fact that he was the butt of the joke, Danny started to laugh. Which, he was sure, was what his friends intended. “I am not—”

Noble studied him but continued to speak to Rabin. “Still, he needs some arm candy. Maybe Izzy knows someone?”

“All right, that’s it. Fuck you busybodies.” Danny stalked off toward the backstage door.

“Where you going?” Noble rushed up to his side. “Is there a computer back there? You going online to”—he made air quotes with his fingers—“have sex?”

“Let it rest.”

“Seriously, man, you need me to hook you up?”

Danny pushed through the door, smiling. “Not in a million years.”

Noble continued to follow. “You sure? A million years is a long time.”

“Bite me.”

Noble stopped in the door to the dressing room. They were alone for the moment, the thump of dance music muted when the thick backstage door clicked closed. “Well, I could. But I didn’t think it was a good idea for you and me to have that kind of relationship.”

Danny threw himself onto the threadbare couch, sighing loudly.

The drummer stood at Danny’s knees, hands on hips. “Serious, now. You okay?”

“I’m fine. Just a little disappointed.”

“You guys dating?”

“No! We’re not dating. I just…”

“Just?”

“Like him.”

Noble nodded. “You know what you’re doing?”

“Yeah.” Danny let his gaze drop. “Sure.”

Noble patted his head. “You need anything, you know…?”

Danny swatted at Noble’s hand but then caught his wrist to squeeze it. “Yeah. I know.”

“Cool. I’m gonna go eat. You need something?”

“No, I’m good.”

Then Noble was gone, and Danny was alone. Clearly his friends had decided to give him a few minutes alone. He appreciated it.

So he was bent out of shape. So what? It was understandable. He and Cash were fucking. He liked to spend time with the people he was intimate with. Was that so wrong? Besides, he liked Cash. Liked spending time with him. Wasn’t it normal to want to share such a big part of his life with Cash? At least a little? No, it wasn’t wrong. Neither did it matter. Obviously Cash wasn’t of the same opinion. If Cash just wanted to keep the whole thing at fuck buddies, Danny was completely down with that.

He was.

Chapter Ten

The apartment’s main room was dark when Danny got home after two o’clock. Only city lights and the moon lit the room, but a wash of lamplight illuminated the hallway from Cash’s open door. Danny tossed his keys onto the table and paused, staring out the window, wondering if he’d just go into his bedroom or if he’d talk to Cash.

Cash took the choice away from him. Danny had just dumped his outer clothing on the corner chair when Cash materialized as a shadow in the hallway, one hand on either wall. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Just be casual. Don’t be hurt. You knew he wouldn’t come.

“You sounded great tonight.”

Danny frowned. He couldn’t see Cash’s features very well, but he knew Cash could see his. “You were there?”

“I was. For a while.” The shadow ducked its head, and the light made a nimbus of unkempt curls. “I didn’t stay until the end.”

But you were there. Danny took a step toward him, heart rate speeding. “Why not?”

Cash shrugged. “It was…weird. I’ve read about those places, but all those people…” Another shrug.

Those places? “Did you go alone? I thought you were going to ask one of your friends.”

Cash snorted a laugh. “Yeah, like any one of them belonged there either.” And another shrug.

Just like that, the bottom dropped out of Danny’s resentment. “Aw shit.” He was in front of Cash in less than a heartbeat, hands to either side of that lovely jaw to tilt Cash’s head up. “I’m sorry,” he told the eyes he could see very well now that he was closer. Cash was without his glasses, so there were just those gorgeous eyes. “You should’ve told me. I could’ve made sure Izzy came tonight.”

Cash shook his head about an inch both ways, not enough to dislodge Danny’s hands. He reached up to encircle one of Danny’s wrists, just to hold. “It’s okay. I wanted to see you play. I just…didn’t know what to do when I was there.”

Danny almost smiled. Cash without a keyboard or a laptop wasn’t a comfortable Cash. “You mean you didn’t sit at the bar and attract a horde of men to flirt with?” Even as he joked, the very idea made his blood hot. Not that it ever would or could happen. Even at the club, he’d had a hard time picturing Cash there.

“Yeah, right. That’s me. I flirted all over.” Cash rolled his eyes and blew a breath past his lips. “No one even noticed I was there.”

“But you were.” He stroked his thumb along Cash’s jaw. “That’s what’s important.” And the very thought made Danny’s heart soar in a way he couldn’t quite describe. It was like he was expanding, like there was too much air inside him. He was going to burst. Before Cash could further protest, Danny kissed his lips. “I’m sorry you were uncomfortable. I didn’t think you’d be alone.” Truthfully, he hadn’t really thought about it, and that niggled him with guilt too.

“It’s okay.” Cash kissed him back, sliding an arm around Danny’s waist. “What I saw, though,” he whispered against Danny’s lips, “it was great. You looked terrific up there.”

Danny purred, knowing the compliment meant more since music really wasn’t Cash’s thing. He curled one arm around Cash’s shoulders and dug the fingers of his other hand into Cash’s hair. “You noticed?”

Cash chuckled through the next kiss. “Um, yeah. You’re the brightest thing onstage.” A little sigh escaped his chest as Danny nuzzled underneath his ear. “So beautiful.”

Danny froze, drinking in those last two, barely whispered words.

Cash flinched, trying to duck away. “I-I mean, you were, uh…”

The smile that curled Danny’s lips could not be denied. He twisted and pushed Cash up against the wall, pinning him with his body. “Beautiful?”

Cash shut his eyes. “Shit.”

Danny pressed the tip of his nose to Cash’s, their foreheads almost touching. Why could he barely breathe? “Did you just call me beautiful?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

Slowly, dark eyes dragged open. The new angle threw one eye into light while the other remained in shadow. Without the glasses, he barely seemed real, more like a shadow lover out of Danny’s dreams. “You’re gonna make a big thing outta this, aren’t you?”

“Oh, you bet I am.”

“Do you have to?”

“But it’s so romantic.”

Cash groaned, his fingers clutching at Danny’s sweatshirt. “If I go get naked on my hands and knees on your bed right now, will you drop it?”

The sound of the words coming out of Cash’s mouth stunned Danny for a moment. “Maybe.” He caught Cash tight when the other man moved to dislodge. He tipped his head to the side so he could brush his lips over Cash’s. “But first tell me you meant it.”

He tasted Cash’s breath on his tongue for a brief moment of hesitation. “I meant it.”

For that, Danny had to kiss him. He plunged and sucked and demanded until he could feel Cash writhing in his arms, fingers digging into his spine. When he drew back and got a good look at Cash’s face, the other man was flushed and dazed, his lips swollen and wet. But he wanted more. Danny could feel the need because it matched his own.

“You want me.” Danny didn’t make it a question, didn’t seek to give Cash the option of denying. Perhaps it was bad of him, but when faced with the treasure in his arms, his soul was only so good. “Say it.”

Cash had lost resistance. He sank toward Danny, offering his mouth. His hands dropped to Danny’s hips. “I want you.”

Danny pulled him from the wall and guided him into Danny’s room. They stripped off their shirts, and Danny shoved Cash’s sweats off before nudging him down to the mattress. Danny’s boots and jeans took a little more effort, and he couldn’t resist teasing as he saw to the rest of his clothes. “I seem to remember something about you on your knees and naked.”

Cash’s eyes went big. Danny was about to let him off the hook, when he did get up on his knees, then crawled up the mattress toward the corner of the bed where the bottle of lube lay. He settled back on his knees, staring at the bottle like it was a confusing puzzle.

Danny dropped his second boot to the floor. “Cash, you don’t have to. I was just teasing.”

Cash shook his head. “No. If I’m going to…do this…be this, I need to…” He scowled harder.

“Babe, don’t worry about it.” Danny rushed with his zipper, anxious to get Cash back in his arms and smooth away that scowl.

Ignoring him, Cash poured some lube into his hand, but then he stared at his fingers, rubbing his thumb over the pads. Another puzzle. “How come I’m the bottom?”

Danny hid a grin as he pushed his jeans and briefs down his legs. “Did you want to fuck me?”

He was watching when Cash jerked in shock. “Uh…”

Finally Danny was naked. He knelt on the bed. “We can do that, if you want.”

Cash swallowed, eyeing Danny’s cock sideways. “Uh…”

Danny pressed himself and his cock up against Cash’s side and nuzzled his neck. “But you seemed to like it when I was inside you.”

Cash shuddered, and the lube bottle fell from his limp fingers. “Don’t…say…”

“Say what?” Danny slid his hand down Cash’s belly and took firm hold of his cock. “That it’s warm and tight inside your ass, and I can’t wait to get back in there?”

Another shudder. “Don’t talk about it.”

Danny nipped at Cash’s ear as he stroked his shaft. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“Y-you’re demented.” It was said on a sigh.

“Yes. And I’m perving hard on your body. I want my hands and tongue all over it.”

Cash groaned and sagged into Danny. Chuckling, Danny nudged and watched him crumple to his back on the mattress. Danny was on him immediately, covering his chest with bites and licks before he made his way up Cash’s neck to finally meet with his mouth.

“What do you want?” Danny whispered against wet lips.

“You.” The answer was immediate and simple, and it set off that expansive feeling inside Danny again.

He purred and kissed Cash again. “How do you want me?”

Fingers pulled at his hair. Cash kept his eyes downcast, long lashes hiding deep brown irises. No, that wasn’t hiding. His gaze was focused downward, in the direction of Danny’s cock. He couldn’t see it, but he could certainly feel it, pressing into his belly. “I…” He licked his lips. “I want to…taste you.”

“Oh God.” Danny squeezed Cash’s shoulder, trying to get ahold of the surge of need that speared through him. With brute force, he forced control over himself. “Are you sure?”

Cash swallowed, but he nodded. His eyes came up to meet Danny’s. “Yeah.”

Danny stole one last kiss before twisting away to lie on his back. Cash rolled after him and propped himself up on his arms. Weak moonlight filtered through the blinds and glowed a different blue from the computers in Cash’s bedroom. Other than that, they were in darkness. But it didn’t matter. They’d mapped each other out well enough to know where to go. At least Danny had. As smooth hands slid down his chest, he was delighted to realize Cash had done his own share. Danny threw his arms up over his head and gripped the edge of the mattress as he watched the shadow that was Cash reposition between his legs. Cash didn’t hurry, but he also didn’t linger as he tracked his way down Danny’s belly until he found curly, trimmed hair. Then tentative fingers closed around the base of Danny’s cock, and Danny couldn’t help but groan.

“Let me know if I do this wrong,” Cash murmured, lowering to his elbows.

“Just watch the teeth. You’ll do—ah!—fine.”

Yes, that was a tongue he felt. Quick and light, like a kitten testing a treat. But then the lips joined in, and all thoughts of baby animals washed from Danny’s mind. Cash was nothing if not…methodical. Thorough. He carefully explored every millimeter of the head of Danny’s cock before lips and tongue ventured slowly down the shaft. He must have been reading online, because he tried a few swipes of tongue that Danny was pretty sure he wouldn’t do on instinct. But what did Danny know? Maybe Cash was a natural-born cocksucker. The thought would have made him laugh if he had enough blood in his brain to do so. But Cash had control of the most alive portion of Danny’s body, and he wasn’t done. When the sucking began in earnest, Danny nearly came out of his skin. One of his hands shot down to sink into Cash’s hair, to guide him just a bit. Cash didn’t protest, quickly adapted to the angle Danny put him in, and then they were both groaning as Cash’s mouth slid up and down Danny’s cock.

“Ah!” Danny felt it coming. Knew he should warn Cash. He would’ve if his mouth had worked. “Gah!” He gripped Cash’s hair and tugged.

Thankfully, Cash took the sign and popped his mouth free, but he kept a thoroughly wet hand pumping Danny’s cock even as spunk spurted out over Danny’s belly.

Danny lay for a few gorgeous moments, just breathing, no thoughts in his head. He was aware of Cash moving but couldn’t be bothered to track him. Not just yet.

He started to rouse at Cash’s chuckle. “I must’ve done something right if you’re not talking.”

Danny cracked open one eye and stared into the shadows of Cash’s face. “What?”

“You. You’re always talking. I must’ve done it right if you’re speechless.” He sounded proud. “Unless you don’t want to hurt my feelings.”

“Don’t want to…?” With a frustrated grunt, Danny surged up and tackled Cash onto his back. “I’ll give you feelings.”

Wait, that sounded wrong. But it was too late. He was kissing Cash. He wanted Cash as breathless and mindless as he’d just been. They kissed until Cash was writhing. Then Danny kissed his way down Cash’s body. He took his time, nibbling at any area he thought might be good, making note of the places Cash really seemed to like. When he reached Cash’s cock, he teased around the shaft, laved at Cash’s balls, did everything but suck until wordless begging poured from Cash’s mouth. Satisfied, Danny sank Cash’s cock into his mouth and used every trick he knew to drive Cash crazy without letting him come. Oh no, before he’d allow that, he wet two fingers and pushed them into Cash’s anus. With at least some part of him inside Cash’s eager body, he finally let Cash come.

As Cash panted, catching his breath, Danny crawled up his body. “Did I do it right?”

The shadowy face looked up at him. Even in the dim light, Danny could see the smile. “It was okay.” They shared a laugh. “But you gotta teach me to do some of that.”

Why? For whatever guy comes after me? Like cold rain, the errant thought doused his pleasure. He was glad for the darkness to hide the reaction from Cash. “Sure thing,” he agreed, lowering to his side next to Cash. He let himself be drawn into a kiss while his brain frantically tried to banish the thought of Cash with anyone else. But it was there like a canker, stuck under the skin. And why don’t you want him with someone else? Better yet, why would it bother you, since you’ll be with someone else soon enough? Tour? Remember?

Why? The answer was quite simple. He tried his best not to think it, but he couldn’t run from his own thoughts. It came at him in Rabin’s voice from earlier tonight: Bad time for it. Falling in love.

Bad time. Yes. But when did love ever worry about time?

Chapter Eleven

“So what comes now?”

Head comfortably pillowed on the left side of Cash’s chest, Danny chuckled as he idly watched his finger trace Cash’s navel. “Didn’t you come enough?” Danny was feeling very mellow after a good hour of sex and had not completely turned his brain back on. Besides, he was enjoying the hell out of cuddling with Cash. He hadn’t expected Cash to allow it, but when Danny had snuggled up to his side, he hadn’t pulled away. Midweek, and neither of them had to be anywhere until late morning tomorrow. So a few extra hours in each other’s arms wouldn’t wreck either of them.

Cash softly smacked the back of Danny’s shoulder. “That’s not what I meant.” His hand smoothed over Danny’s back, up to his nape. “I mean with your band. Your Web site said you’ve got club dates coming up in Cincinnati.”

Danny closed his eyes. Damn. Just like that, some of his warm, fuzzy feeling dissipated. It figured Cash would check the Web site. Danny didn’t know what was on the damn thing, but that would be one of the first places a curious Cash would go. “Yeah.”

“In March?”

“Is that what it says?”

“It just says March. Then it mentions Detroit, Louisville, and a bunch of other possible dates.”

Sighing, Danny rolled away from Cash until he lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. “Yeah. I knew it was coming. Just didn’t know exactly when.” Not entirely a lie. He hadn’t known the exact dates.

He waited, listening, expecting an accusation. Now Cash would be mad Danny hadn’t told him he was going, and the anger would be justified. But when Cash was quiet for a few moments, Danny finally turned his head. Cash lay looking at the ceiling too, thinking.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you,” Danny felt the need to add. “I was waiting until something was finalized.”

Cash frowned for a few seconds, then turned on his side. He drew one arm up to lay his head on it. “So what happens?”

Danny bent his elbow to bring his fingers to Cash’s face so he could brush the backs of them along his jaw. “What happens when?”

“What happens when you go out of town? Do you stay at hotels?”

Danny felt a smile creep up. No immediate lover’s recriminations or accusations of abandonment for Cash. He was curious about the mechanics of the tour. Danny rolled to face him, mirroring his position. “Actually, we’ll pretty much be sleeping on a bus.”

“A bus?”

“Yep.”

“And you sleep on it? All of you?”

“Most of the time, yeah.” Danny had never been on a real tour or traveled on a tour bus before with any of this other bands, but he knew what Gordon had planned. “We might stay in motels here and there, but we save money sleeping on the bus.”

“Is it just the four of you and a driver?”

Danny laughed. “No. There’s the four of us, our sound guy, and three roadies.” Both Fiona and Rusty had signed on to go, and Gordon was looking for the necessary third. “Gordon’s going to be with us some of the time too.”

“So, like, nine people?”

“Yeah.”

“On one bus?”

“It’s a pretty big bus, but yeah, cramped quarters.”

“Why not two buses?”

“Well, there’s also the equipment truck and a driver for that, plus daily expenses. We can’t cover much more than that. Yet.”

“What about your album? It’s for sale now.”

“Yeah, but that takes a while to really pay off.”

Cash stared at him, digesting that. “So you just drive from place to place?”

“Yeah.”

“For how long?”

“Sounds like we’ll typically be in a city for a night or two. I don’t know the exact schedule.”

“I meant, how long will you be gone?”

Danny felt his smile dim. “At least until June.”

Not much of a reaction to that, which surprised Danny. Cash just continued to look thoughtful, a slight frown drawing his light brown brows toward the bridge of his nose. “Do you get paid?”

Danny snorted. “Not much. Not yet. We’ll probably get the door—or part of it—which means we only get paid for the bodies we get into the club and any merchandise we sell. The club’ll get the bar.”

“Most of the money probably comes from the bar?”

“Yep.”

“And you’re a new band. People may not know you in those cities.”

He catches on quick. “That’s a distinct possibility. Gordon’s doing what he can, though.”

“So you could make nothing at all if no one shows?”

“It’s possible.”

“Why go?”

“Have to. We need to get in front of audiences.”

“What about your job at the pizzeria?”

“I’m quitting.” In fact, he’d already given notice. His boss was cool about it and had told him to get in touch after the tour if he needed his job back. The only person Danny hadn’t told about the tour was Cash.

Cash blinked a few times. “I don’t understand.”

“Understand what?”

“How can you live like that?”

Cash seldom failed to surprise him. “Huh?”

“Moving around, away from home. Not knowing how you’re going to pay your bills or for food or…anything.”

Danny considered the question. Cash, he realized, had never lived hand-to-mouth. “We’ll be okay. We’ve already got a lot of hype, thanks to Heaven Sent, and Gordon thinks the record company will come through with some backing finally. We’re much better off than most new bands.”

“Still, there’s no guarantee you’ll be big like Heaven Sent. People might not like your music.”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “Gee, thanks.”

“What? Oh, no, I didn’t mean it like that.”

He smoothed a hand over Cash’s bare shoulder. “I know you didn’t.” Danny slid close enough to hook one leg over Cash’s hip. “It’s just the way it goes. You’ve got to play the game to get the dream.”

Cash slid a hand up Danny’s side but didn’t miss a beat in the conversation. “The dream.”

“Fame. Fortune. Fantastic. Fabulous.” He kissed the tip of Cash’s nose. “The dream.”

“The dream.” Cash let Danny kiss him softly but then drew back so they were eye to eye. “What if it doesn’t happen?”

“What?”

“The dream.”

Danny blinked, sighed, and pulled a few inches away. “You’re really killing the mood here.”

Cash thought about it, then disentangled himself and sat up.

“Hey.”

Cash scooted out of arm’s reach and drew up a knee to block his goodies from Danny. “What if it doesn’t happen?”

Frustrated, Danny rolled to his back. “It will.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No, I don’t know it. But I feel it.”

“Really? You’re willing to bet your life on a feeling?”

Danny startled. “Yeah.”

“What if you don’t make it?”

“Your confidence in me and my band is truly underwhelming.”

Cash grimaced. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to offend you. I just don’t understand how you can live not knowing how you’re going to pay rent or for food to eat.”

“I’ve done okay in the time we’ve lived together.”

“Only because you’ve got another job.”

“I can always get a job.”

“In this economy?”

“Look…” Resigned, Danny sat up. He ran both hands through his hair, collecting his thoughts. “Music is what I am. It’s my favorite thing in life. I live for the chance to play for people, to know they’re enjoying something of mine. Can you understand that?”

“Not really.”

“Okay, how about this—me not performing is like you never sitting down at a computer.”

That hit home. Cash digested the words, then nodded slowly. “Okay.”

“Okay. You’ve got a benefit with what you do that I don’t with what I do. With your skills, you can be pretty sure to make money.”

Cash nodded.

“Well, what I do is more esoteric. I need other people to achieve my goals. In order to really do what I love, I need to perform. It’d be like you writing code but having no way to get it off your computer for anyone else to see or use.” Danny was rather proud of himself for finding words that resonated with Cash. “And this is the life. We could completely tank.” Danny spread his hands, palms open and empty. “It’s happened to my other bands. If that happens again, so be it. And we figure something else out.”

Cash propped his chin on his knee and wrapped his arms around his leg. Thinking. He looked so cute, it was a struggle for Danny not to tackle him. “Okay. I think I get it. I couldn’t live that way, though.”

Danny reached over to thread his fingers through the hair above Cash’s right ear. “It’s not always easy, but it’s got rewards.” He edged closer so he could brush his lips against Cash’s cheek. “But we’re good. The Knights. We’re really good.” He blew in Cash’s ear. “I know we’ll make it.”

Cash shuddered and swayed into Danny. “Okay.” He unwound his arms from his leg and transferred them to around Danny. “Don’t worry about moving out.” He tipped his head back to let Danny nuzzle his neck. “I can afford the rent alone. You can keep your stuff here.”

Danny raised his head so he could see Cash’s eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” He grinned big. “I’m gonna take the job with NuCorps.”

Danny slipped from Cash’s embrace and grabbed hold of his shoulders. “What? When did you decide that?”

“Been talking about it with Trautmann. We think it’s a good time.” Cash shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”

“No big deal? Fuck yeah it’s a big deal.” Danny only knew about the job offer because he’d once asked about a contract sitting on the coffee table back before the holidays. It had taken him an hour to pull details out of Cash about the corporation that had offered him a hefty starting salary to write code for them. Danny had gotten him to admit it was a pretty big deal, that this company only hired a handful of young talent from a select group of schools. “What about your deal with your parents?”

“Part of the contract is that I’ll work part-time until I graduate in May. It’s just a few months.”

“Oh man. No big deal? God, you drive me crazy!” Danny pulled Cash in for a quick, hard kiss, then dissolved into a laughing embrace. “You getting that salary they offered?”

“Yeah.” Cash hugged him back. “And an advance.”

“Get out!” Danny whooped. He shoved Cash onto his back on the mattress and climbed over him. “That’s great! We should celebrate.” Cash grinned up at him, all sexy and naked, his brown-and-blond hair spilled over Danny’s blue pillowcase. Only Danny had seen him like this. Danny almost only got to see him like this. “Let’s go out tonight.”

Cash froze. “What?”

“Yeah.” Danny warmed to the idea instantly. “Let’s go out to dinner. You and me.”

“You’re working.”

“Only till eight. We can have a late dinner.” He lowered to his elbows, snugging his hips—and cock—against Cash’s. “I’m not sure I’ve ever even seen you outside this apartment.”

“We met in the lobby.”

“Okay, outside the building.” He smoothed fringe out of Cash’s eyes. “We’ve never even gone grocery shopping together.”

Cash frowned. “We don’t need to.” Cash got most of his groceries from his mom, and Danny usually brought food home from work or leftovers from the studio.

“That’s not the point.” Danny took a moment to kiss him, softening him up. Well, softening most of him—there was something starting to press into Danny’s belly that was getting hard. “If you let me fuck you, you should at least let me take you out to dinner.”

Cash narrowed his eyes. “You’re broke.”

Danny leaned in to nuzzle beside his ear, inhaling fruity shampoo and gorgeous nerd. “Fine. You can take me out to dinner.”

“Why?”

“To celebrate.”

“What?”

He lapped at the vulnerable juncture of jaw and neck. “Your new job. My upcoming success. Your birthday.”

“It’s not my birthday.”

Danny drew back just enough so he could see Cash’s eyes. “When is your birthday?”

Distracted, Cash scowled at him. “May third.”

“Ah. Taurus. Figures.”

“What?”

Chuckling, Danny caught Cash’s wrists and pinned them to the mattress beside Cash’s shoulders. “Taurus. The bull. Stubborn as hell.”

“Hey.”

“Lucky for you, I, as a Libra, am a master of balancing things out.”

Cash thought about that before he frowned. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

Laughing, Danny brushed a kiss across Cash’s lips. “Doesn’t have to.” He kissed again, adding some tongue this time. Oh yeah, he was definitely getting a reaction down under. “Go out to dinner with me tonight.”

“I don’t think—”

He broke off Cash’s protest with another kiss. More tongue. He released one wrist so he could trace the line of Cash’s jaw with his thumb. “Go out to dinner with me tonight.”

“Just us?”

“Just us.”

Cash dragged his eyes open. “Does it have to be all romantic and shit?”

Delighted, Danny laughed. “No. How about that Korean barbecue right around the corner from the L-station? They’re open late.”

“I’ve never been to a Korean barbecue.”

“You’ll love it. There’s a grill at the table, and you can cook your own food.”

“I know. I’ve read about them. Just never went.”

Not for the first time, Danny wondered about Cash’s upbringing. He seemed to have a good relationship with his parents, but could they have raised him any more isolated? There was so much Danny didn’t know, had never bothered to ask. He very much wanted to make up for that lack. Danny kissed Cash’s forehead. “You’ll come with me?”

“Why’s this important to you?”

“I like spending time with you.”

“But you’re leaving.”

Kind of felt like a stab to the gut, enough that Danny flinched back. He pulled a smile as he readjusted, insinuating his legs in between Cash’s to open them wide. “I’m not leaving tonight. Besides, we can talk about stuff. Make plans.”

“Plans?”

“Yeah.” He started his journey down Cash’s body, kissing warm, bare skin. “For the future,” he muttered right before he took Cash’s cock into his mouth.

Predictably, Cash abandoned the conversation. Danny took his time sucking Cash down, teasing his anus, which was still plenty lubed from previous lovemaking. Ridiculous plans ran through his mind as he drove Cash mad. Plans for the two of them. Plans as a couple. Plans that didn’t bear much of a resemblance to reality, but they served Danny’s mood when he shifted to his knees and pushed Cash’s legs up so he could sink his cock deep into Cash’s body. Could he be blamed for wanting to keep this? When Cash’s body accepted him so readily? When Cash’s moans were the sweetest of melodies to his ears? No, he’d deal with reality later. But for now, he’d pretend he could have Cash forever.

Chapter Twelve

Danny sipped his beer and watched Cash meticulously arrange strips of raw meat on the table grill between them. He’d taken to Korean barbecue right away. The meat part, at least. He refused to try most of the assorted condiments, even the ones of which Danny could name the contents. But he was all over the grilling and had taken over completely. Evidently his father and uncle were masters of the grill at home, and he’d never gotten to try his hand.

“Okay, I’ve got something I’ve been dying to know ever since I met you.”

Cash eyed him suspiciously. “What?”

“Where did ‘Cash’ come from? That’s not your real name, is it?”

“No.”

“Your mom a huge Johnny Cash fan?”

“Who?”

Danny’s jaw dropped. “Who? Are you kidding me?”

Cash grinned while stuffing rice into his mouth. “Yes.”

“What?”

“I know who Johnny Cash is.”

Danny narrowed his eyes, but inwardly he was thrilled. Cash would never have teased him like this a few months ago. “Fucker.”

White teeth flashed at him as Cash put down his rice bowl. “I wish it was Johnny Cash I was named after. My real name is Cassius.”

“As in ‘Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look’?”

Cash paused in turning over a strip of pork to give him a surprised but approving look. “You know Shakespeare?”

“I took two years of acting classes. I ended up reading most of the plays on my own.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Cash shook his head. “Always puts me to sleep. Anyway, most people think I’m named after Muhammad Ali.”

“I don’t see the resemblance.”

“Ha-ha.”

“I still don’t get it.”

“Cassius Clay?”

Danny smacked his forehead. “Oh, right, his real name.”

“Right.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense at all for you.”

“And Shakespeare does?”

Danny had to laugh. “Okay. Your mom an actress?”

“No. Teacher.” Using tongs, Cash started doling out strips of meat from the grill to their plates. “She thought it was a cool name. Weird.”

“But where did Cash come from?”

“My uncle. He used to babysit me a lot and wouldn’t call me Cassius, so he called me Cash instead. It stuck. No one but my mother and my grandmother ever call me Cassius.”

“Oh man, your mom actually calls you Cassius? In front of people?”

“Like I said, she thinks it’s a cool name.”

“What about your dad?”

“He think she walks on water, so he let it slide. He calls me Cash, though.”

“Your parents sound a little wacky.”

“They are.” He chewed a moment, clearly enjoying the taste. “Both teachers. I’m their only son, but they kind of raised my uncle, so he’s more like an older brother to me. They’re all cool.”

“They must be super proud of you.”

“They are. Mom was happy I decided on a school close to home.”

“Was computers their idea?”

“No. Mine. I’ve had a computer all my life. I don’t really know anything else.” He sipped his pop. “They would have let me study anything I wanted. What’s really important to them is the degree.” Cash eyed him. “Aren’t you hungry?”

Danny looked down at his plate and realized he’d just been watching Cash and forgotten his own food. “I am.” He picked up his chopsticks and dug in.

Halfway done with what was on his plate, Cash started placing more raw strips on the grill. “So, what about you? Didn’t your parents want you to go to college?”

“Um, no. Okay, that’s not fair. I could have gone if I wanted, but I’d have to pay for it. Mom can barely support herself.”

“They’re divorced?”

“Since I was four.”

“Sorry.”

“No biggie. I don’t remember them together.” Danny picked at some of the kimchi. “They’re actually pretty good friends these days. Only reason they split was that Mom got tired of waiting around for him when he was on the road.”

“He’s a musician?”

“Yep. He plays the oboe.” Danny mimed the instrument with his fingers and chopsticks. “Spends a lot of time traveling around with different orchestras. Never has settled down for a long stint with any of them. He was in Romania last time he checked in with us.”

“Romania?”

Danny shrugged. “He gets around.”

“They ever see you play?”

“My mom, yeah. Not with the Knights, of course, but with my other bands, sure. Mom’s always right up front with my sisters.” Crazy women. He adored all of them.

“That must be weird.”

“Nah. My mom looks and acts like she’s about thirty, so she fits right in.”

Cash smiled and chewed. “You’ve got three sisters, right?”

“Yep. And they rule my world. Or they used to.”

“You miss them?”

“Oh sure. But you know I talk to them.”

“That’s cool.” Cash considered a little plate of what Danny had assured him was basically potato salad. Judging by the look he gave it, he still didn’t believe the claim. “They must be okay with you being gay, then.”

“Are you kidding? My mother is a charter member of her local PFLAG chapter, and my sisters are right there with her. They were thrilled to find out they had a valid reason to join.” Danny licked juice from the corner of his mouth. “So, would your parents freak out to find out about…” He almost said “us” but wasn’t sure there was an us, so he sidetracked and finished with, “…what we’ve done? Together.”

Cash needlessly adjusted his glasses. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. They’d probably be okay. We’ve never really…” A shrug. “My uncle probably won’t handle it so good.”

Danny heard the sad note in Cash’s voice loud and clear. It made him feel about two feet tall. He’d known many a man who’d lost his family because of his sexual orientation. Compassion was what compelled him to say his next words. “Y’know, just because of what’s happened, you don’t have to settle on being gay.”

Cash froze but didn’t look up.

“I’m just saying that no one knows…”

Cash raised his head, and Danny definitely wasn’t fond of the piercing look he got. “You want to keep it a secret?” Cash asked.

“Me? No. I’d be happy to shout about us to the world.”

No response. Just more of that awful stare.

“But I know I’m gay. This is all new to you.” Danny sipped his beer as an excuse to look away. “You might decide you like girls better after all.”

“Yeah. Sure. I’m all about picking up girls.” Nasty tone.

“You could be.”

Finally Cash dropped the stare and shoved food into his mouth. Danny did the same as he struggled for a good way out of this awkward conversation.

After his mouthful, Cash sat back and cast his gaze around the restaurant. There were only three other tables with anyone sitting. “You’re right. I don’t need to tell anyone.”

Danny waited.

“You’re leaving anyway.”

At that, Danny actually felt himself flinch. “Cash, I’m sorry. If I could stay…” He let his words trail off.

But Cash called him on it. “If you could stay, what?”

Good question. Danny gave it a moment’s consideration, inadvertently recalling his fantasies from the previous night. He put down his chopsticks and folded his arms on the table before him, leaning in. “If I could stay, I’d want to see how real this thing is between us.”

“It’s not real now?”

“You know what I mean. I might have to make you my boyfriend.”

Cash snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“Excuse me?”

“Like someone like you could want someone like me.”

“What? Where have you been the last month?”

“Okay, fine, maybe right now. But not long-term.”

Danny scowled.

Cash scowled right back. “I mean, come on. Look at my life, and look at yours. There’s no way it could work.”

Danny wanted so very badly to argue, but Cash was throwing all his own reasoning in his face. Cash was right. But Danny liked the reasons even less coming out of Cash’s mouth than they sounded in his own head. “It could work,” he heard himself say.

Cash laughed. Nasty. Hurtful. “Not a chance. You’d be bored with me so fast. Surprised you’re not now.” The last was muttered under his breath, but Danny easily figured out what he said.

“I could never be bored with you.”

Cash’s mouth dropped open in patent disbelief. “Do you even hear yourself?”

“Loud and clear. I love spending time with you.” I love you were the words he really said, in his head, and the echo of them rattling in his skull clogged his throat. Because it was true. And Cash couldn’t hear it. Nor could he say it.

“Now. Sure.” Cash glanced around for their waitress. “Can we go?”

Still dumbfounded by the voices in his head, Danny just nodded. They didn’t speak while they waited for the check, just finished up their food. Danny watched with clenched teeth while Cash paid the bill, then followed him into the night. Biting Chicago chill kept them huddled in their coats, yet another excuse not to speak. Danny used the time to try to collect his thoughts, but it was virtually impossible. I love you. He did. Perhaps it was soon. Too fast. But he’d known Cash longer than many of the men he’d dated. He liked Cash more than any of the men he’d dated. Every relationship he’d ever had started with attraction, and only a handful had ended up as friends. He’d never started with a friendship before. But he’d never spent time with anyone like Cash. Always overlooked the quiet nerds. So he was in love. But that was horrible. He couldn’t be in love. He was on the threshold of living his dream, of being a star, of having groupies available for the taking and celebrities dying to know him. He needed to explore the world before he fell in love. He couldn’t be in a relationship while all that excitement was happening. It wasn’t fair to him. It wouldn’t be fair to Cash.

The love just couldn’t be.

But how was he supposed to handle that? He couldn’t tell Cash he loved him. Not if he was going to leave. But he didn’t want Cash to think all they had was just a fling. Because it wasn’t. It meant something, damn it. But admitting to that got too close to admitting deep feelings, and he was right back to it not being fair to Cash.

How fucked up was this?

He followed Cash into their building. Up the stairs. He still didn’t know what to say. What to do. Was it even fair to continue sleeping with him? Maybe he should move out now. But the thought of being without Cash when it wasn’t necessary hurt too damn much.

They entered the dark apartment and stripped off coats, gloves, and scarves. With his back to Danny, Cash started down the hallway. Danny stood near the front door, watching him. Cash paused in profile at the open door to Danny’s bedroom. He thought about it. Then he glanced at Danny. He was just a collection of shadows in the darkness, and Danny had to struggle for his overactive imagination not to see that as a premonition of his shadowy presence in Danny’s life.

Cash reached up to take off his glasses. “You coming?” Then he walked into Danny’s bedroom.

Danny rushed after him. They met at the mattress in a breathy tangle of lips and arms. Desperately, they tore at each other’s clothing to remove all of it, to get to skin on skin. It occurred to Danny he should probably slow things down, ease the tension some, but he couldn’t. He was desperate. He needed Cash more than he needed his next breath, and his cock demanded to find its place lodged deep inside Cash.

He found lube and condom in the dark. Cash rolled onto his knees as Danny put on the condom. But when Danny would have used his fingers to get Cash ready, his hands were slapped out of the way.

“Just fuck me,” Cash muttered, almost impossible to hear even in the quiet of the apartment.

But Danny heard. He’d swear he could hear their hearts beating. Taking Cash at his demand, Danny gripped his cock and pushed it past the resisting ring of Cash’s anus into the warm clench of his body.

“Cash…?”

Fingers dug into Danny’s flank, pulling him close. “More.”

Danny braced on the mattress to either side of Cash’s shoulders and used his weight to help push inside. When he was in as far as he could possibly go, he curled forward to rest his forehead between Cash’s shoulder blades. “God, Cash.”

“Danny.” Cash gripped some of his hair, used it to pull his head up closer to Cash’s face. “Move. Please.”

Danny kissed his neck and did as he was told. He rocked inside Cash until those beautiful little sounds started pouring out of Cash’s mouth. The ones that voiced his pleasure, that assured Danny he wasn’t alone in this. At some point, Danny’s hand found Cash’s, and their fingers intertwined. Cash had started on his knees, but now he was flat on his belly, pinned to the mattress by Danny’s weight. Danny bit and stroked and lapped at Cash’s neck as he kept thrusting deep. When Cash came on a cry, Danny had to bite Cash’s shoulder to keep from voicing protestations of love and devotion. Isn’t fair! He screamed silently at himself, eyes closed as he let go and surged toward his own release. Not fair! Tears of frustration welled in his eyes, but the ones that fell on Cash’s back were masked by the sweat on his skin. Danny’s sob of release could have just been that, but it was so much more. In that moment, he wanted to give up everything, every dream he’d ever had, just to stay in this room with the man beneath him.

Sanity returned as he caught his breath. He pressed his nose into the wet skin of Cash’s shoulder and got the tears under control. No fair, he let himself think. I wasn’t supposed to find you yet.

Chapter Thirteen

Danny leaned forward, elbows on knees, face in hands, and groaned. “What do I do?”

He heard Rabin shift on the bench next to him. “Damn, man, I don’t know.”

Danny sighed. He would have raked his hands through his hair, but it was currently gunked up with bleach in a plastic cap. They sat in a swanky salon, getting prettied up by a stylist Gordon had hired. The walls were paneled in dark wood, and soft lights from above reflected over and over again in a line of mirrors. Lance and Noble were in the chairs toward the front of the salon, getting their hair cut, while Danny and Rabin sat on a vinyl couch at the back. As Danny waited on bleach, Rabin endured color. Leonard, the stylist, assured Rabin his hair would be perfect chestnut when it was done. Rabin hadn’t gotten his head around how he could make his hair a more perfect color than it already was, but he was being a good sport about it. A call to Izzy to get his permission had helped too.

Never having dyed his hair before, Danny would have enjoyed the experience a lot more if he weren’t hung up on Cash. A week now since their dinner, and things seemed normal on the surface.

“He won’t talk to you at all?” Rabin asked.

“Not about us. Not that there really is an us.” Danny sat back, staring at the portrait of a male model with blue hair that hung between two mirrors on the wall opposite them. “And I haven’t really tried. I was so happy he was talking to me at all.” He gnawed on the side of his thumbnail. “Fuck, I dunno, it’s not fair.”

“You sure you’re in love?”

“Wish I wasn’t.”

“But are you sure?”

Danny turned his head to look into Rabin’s eyes. “We’ve had this conversation in reverse, you know.”

Months ago, in Los Angeles, the night they’d met, Danny had taken Rabin home with him. After talking for hours, sharing a common interest in music and learning that Rabin had once played for Heaven Sent and lived with Brent Rose over the summer, Danny admitted he’d lured Rabin home in hopes of getting him into bed. They had shared one very nice kiss, but that was as far as it went. Rabin had stopped him because, although things were on the rocks at the time, Rabin had already been in love with Izzy. Danny couldn’t very well forget that night and had developed a respect for Rabin that had grown into the deep friendship he now felt they had.

Rabin smiled, remembering. “Yeah, we have. That bad, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Rabin shook his head as he carefully scratched at his temple. “To use your own words: your timing sucks.”

“I know.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I was hoping you had suggestions.”

“I don’t. Bet Noble does.”

Danny groaned and glanced over to where Noble was conducting an animated discussion with their slim, talkative stylist. “Don’t think I’m up for Noble’s suggestions.” They shared a laugh. “I want to be with Cash. Like, all the time. I’ve never felt like this before.”

His friend nodded. “Sounds familiar.”

“But I can’t afford to be distracted right now. Not now.”

“I know.”

“And he’s so completely out of this life. He really could care less about any of it. And he hates crowds. Can’t stand clubbing.”

Rabin chuckled. “And you’re sure this is love?”

Danny laughed with him. “I know. It’s crazy. We’re nothing alike, share nothing in common, but…”

“Yeah. Izzy kinda bowled me over too.”

“What are you going to do? Being away from him for months?”

“Lots of phone calls and jerking off.” More laughing. “But Izzy understands. He knows what all this means. Besides, he knows I’m coming back.”

Danny nodded. “Cash understands in a way, but it’s just not his thing.”

“He’s never even seen us play, has he?”

“Once. He came but didn’t stay.”

“Why not?”

“Didn’t like the club scene.”

“At Jefferson Douglas?”

“I know. Mild. He’d freak if he got into the White Tiger.” Danny had only been there once, but he knew Reese and Luc’s club in New York was a freaking madhouse on any given night. “But it’s just not his mindset. It’s like when he tries to explain what he does to me.” Danny waved a hand above the plastic cap that covered his hair. “Way over my head.”

“Crazy. You still having sex?”

“Yeah.”

Rabin shrugged. “Maybe for right now you just take what you can get. We go on tour. You stay in touch. Then see what happens when we get back. Who knows, maybe you’ll fall out of love.”

Danny glared at him.

Rabin held up his hands, palms out. “Hey, don’t get mad. It could happen. You’ve only been with him for, what, a month?”

Danny started to pout. “This is not how it was supposed to be.”

“When is life ever how you think it should be?”

Danny snorted. “Damn it, get me a piece of paper. I just thought of some lyrics.”

* * * *

Danny saw the caller ID on his cell phone and immediately picked up. “Hey, Iz.”

“Hello, sexy man. You decent?”

Danny glanced down at his long-sleeved thermal shirt, sweatpants, and thick socks. “Yeah. Why?”

“Is your lover decent?”

Cash sat beside him, sunk deep into the couch, eyes glued on the television. It was the one night of the week they’d both managed to take off, and they were exhausted. After Danny’s two nights of shows, he’d taken every shift he could at the pizzeria to get some extra money in the bank. A project at school had kept Cash away for long hours. Tonight was especially important—to Danny at least—since they only had about a week before he left. Sex was surely in the cards for later in the night, but right now both of them were enjoying the prospect of an evening watching ridiculous primetime dramas.

“Why?” Danny asked the phone.

“Have you eaten?”

“Iz.”

That delightful laugh sounded on the other end of the phone. “Rabin’s with me. I have a roast and trimmings that we’re bringing over.”

“What?”

“This is your one shot to tell us to go home, but I’ll be very insulted if your excuse is nonsexual.”

Danny had to smile. Rabin’s boyfriend was a force to be reckoned with. Also, his food wasn’t to be denied. Danny glanced at Cash. “You hungry?”

“Yeah.” The answer came before the curiosity. “Why?”

“You remember I told you I have a friend who’s a culinary student?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s got a roast and trimmings he’s offering to bring over.”

Cash’s lips parted, eyes wide behind his glasses.

“The food can’t be anything but delicious,” Danny assured him.

“Thank you,” Izzy purred, able to hear him perfectly well as they waited for Cash’s response.

Cash only frowned slightly. “Okay.”

Danny nodded, eyes on Cash as he spoke into the phone. “Okay.”

Izzy giggled. “Okay. We’re in your lobby. Be up in a sec.”

Brows raised, Danny looked at the screen of his phone; Izzy had already cut the connection. “They’re downstairs.”

Cash sat up. “What?”

Laughing, Danny leaned forward to gather a bunch of crap off the coffee table. “Izzy’s school isn’t that far away. He probably just got out of class.” He paused when he realized Cash was staring at him. “Look, I can tell them to leave if you want.”

Cash frowned.

Danny smiled. “Rabin and Izzy are great. You’ll like them.”

“They’re gay.” Just a confirmation.

“Yes.”

“Do they know? About…us?”

“Yes.” A knock sounded at the door, but he ignored it. “Is that a problem?”

Cash’s gaze dropped as he thought about it. Danny’s heart tripped as he waited. Another knock. Cash glanced toward the door and visibly made a decision. He shrugged. “No.”

On impulse, Danny leaned in to kiss him. “Don’t worry about it. No one’s going to make a big deal.” He hoped. One never could quite tell with Izzy. “And if you get uncomfortable, I give you permission to hide in your room.”

Cash glared at him but relented when he saw Danny’s smile. “Fuck you.”

Danny gave him another kiss just before he stood. “Later.”

“I made this in class,” Izzy explained as soon as the door was open, “and it’s just too big to take all the way home.” He presented his cheek for Danny to kiss. “Oh, I like the hair!” He reached up to run his fingers through Danny’s new platinum locks, focused on the one dark blue streak in front. “It’s so you.” Grinning, he breezed past Danny toward the kitchen, carrying a moderate-sized roast pan. Izzy was a few inches shorter than Danny and looked like he was barely out of high school, especially with his long raven hair pulled back in a simple tail away from his sweet, rounded face.

Rabin followed with two bags filled with plastic containers. He stopped to meet Danny’s gaze, apology clear in his eyes. Danny grinned and patted his arm, taking one of the bags from him.

“Hi!”

Danny turned just in time to see Izzy approach Cash. That was when he noticed how Izzy was dressed. Underneath an open light gray overcoat that spilled his blue hat and scarf from the pocket, he wore a faded teal thermal and a blue plaid button-down. His face was devoid of makeup. This was odd. There was always a splash of color or outrageousness about Izzy. But at the moment, he looked completely normal.

He held out his hand, smiling brightly at Cash. “I’m Izzy. You must be Cash.”

Cash blinked at him a moment before an answering smile bloomed and he took the offered hand. “Yeah. Cash.”

“So good to meet you. Danny’s told us about his roommate, and I’ve so wanted to meet you.” He started to shrug out of his coat. “Is your room really wall-to-wall computers?”

Cash’s smile twitched in amusement. He glanced up at Danny, then back to Izzy. “It’s not wall-to-wall.”

Izzy draped his coat over the back of the couch. “But you’ve got a bunch of them, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Could I see?” He folded his hands up under his chin and blinked. “Pretty please! I wanna see if it really does look like mission control.”

“Hey!” Danny protested from the kitchen, where he and Rabin now had all the plastic containers spread on the counter. “I never said that.”

“Oh, I know.” Izzy waved him off, still concentrated on Cash. “That’s just how I pictured it.”

“Uh.” Cash ran a hand through his hair as the Izzy magic kept working on him. Danny was convinced only an awful person with no heart or no sense of humor could resist Izzy’s charms. “Sure.” Cash lifted another helpless glance at Danny before he led Izzy toward his room.

“Sorry,” Rabin said as soon as they were out of earshot. “The best I could do was make him call before we barged in.”

Danny laughed. “It’s okay. Did you tell him about us?”

They paused at the sound of an excited squeal from Cash’s room. Evidently the setup was everything Izzy had hoped.

“Yeah,” Rabin said, shaking his head. “And when I told him you had the night off from work…”

“You told him what I told you yesterday?”

“Was I not supposed to?”

Danny sighed. “No. I figured you would. He have any insight?”

“This is it. Feed Cash, and overwhelm him with kindness.” Rabin held up a plastic tub of grilled vegetables. “He’s like a fucking freight train, that one.”

“Like you mind.”

“Not a bit.” They laughed. “Here, let’s dish this out.”

Danny got some plates out while Rabin opened various containers.

“So, how’s it going?” Rabin asked him.

Danny paused to inhale the delectable aroma of the roast and its nest of vegetables and juices. “We’re okay. I think.” He kept an eye on the empty hallway and tuned his ear to the sound of Izzy’s voice from within Cash’s bedroom. “Still haven’t talked much about me leaving.”

Before they could discuss further, Izzy and Cash reemerged. Danny was relieved to see the panic had left Cash’s face, and he spoke freely with Izzy as they approached.

“I only use the Internet for searching out stuff, y’know,” Izzy said, continuing his conversation with Cash as he strolled into the tiny kitchen space. “It’s great for finding recipes and”—he stopped, arched a brow at Danny, and waited until Danny scurried out of his way—“and stuff, but I barely use it for anything else.” He plucked a spoon from Rabin’s hand and shooed him away so he could properly fill the plates they’d put on the counter. “But I’m determined to learn all about e-mail and stuff so I can keep track of this one”—he indicated Rabin with the spoon—“while he’s out of town.”

Cash grinned at Danny, clearly amused by Izzy.

“Maybe you can help me with that?” Izzy pleaded as he held out a plate laden with roast, gravy, potatoes, and beans.

Cash practically salivated at the sight. “Uh, yeah. I guess. It’s pretty easy.”

Izzy giggled. “I’m a dunce about that stuff.”

Rabin groaned. “Cash, please don’t let him get away with that. He’s not nearly the innocent he looks.”

Izzy blinked prettily at him. “And whose fault is that, Mr. Man?”

With practiced ease, Rabin took another plate from Izzy and managed to kiss his cheek at the same time. “You’re just too irresistible for me not to corrupt.”

Izzy smiled. “Is true. I’m cursed.” He looked up to make sure Cash knew he was kidding, but Cash was already on the couch, digging into his food. So Izzy concentrated on Danny instead. He’s cute! he mouthed.

I know, Danny mouthed back. He took the plate Izzy was filling for him, but held it between them before he left the kitchen. “What are you doing?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

Izzy blinked innocently. “Feeding you.”

“And?”

“Getting to know your…friend.” The pause was quite intentional, as they both knew.

“Don’t help me.”

Izzy rolled his eyes. “Go eat.”

“Iz…”

“Go!”

Izzy spent most of the next hour quizzing Cash about himself, but he couched it in a lot of his own background so Cash didn’t feel on the spot. Danny knew there was something going on in that pretty little head, but he was helpless to steer the boat when Izzy was quite firmly at the helm. Rabin was no help at all, clearly at his boyfriend’s back. The traitor.

But Izzy’s charm worked on Danny too. So well that he was caught unprepared when he heard the words come out of Izzy’s mouth. “Cash, you must come with to the club to hear the band play this weekend.”

Standing in the kitchen, filling the sink with dishes, Danny and Rabin exchanged a glance first before they both turned to look at the others in the main room. Izzy was on the couch now, twisted to fully face Cash, with both of Cash’s hands between his.

Cash frowned, caught by surprise. “Uh…”

“It’s an awesome show, and I need someone to enjoy with. None of my friends are free this weekend, and I hate to be alone. Say you’ll come.”

A wee bit of panic flashed behind Cash’s glasses when he turned to Danny for help.

“Iz.” Danny rushed forward. “Cash isn’t really into clubbing.”

“The Jefferson Douglas can hardly be called ‘clubbing,’ Danny. Please.” He waved a hand in Danny’s general direction, not taking his attention off Cash. “It’s a little hole in the wall, really. No one will bother us.”

“I was there…once,” Cash admitted.

“Really? When?”

“Weekend before last.”

“You were there? I didn’t see you. Oh, you should have come inside. I was terribly lonely.”

Not a chance. Izzy couldn’t be lonely in solitary confinement. But he could put on an act with the best of them.

Rabin to the rescue. “Iz, c’mon.” He put his hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “Don’t pressure Cash to come.”

Izzy grimaced. “But…”

“That’s enough. We’ve fed them. Let’s go.”

They shared a staring match, but Rabin won out. Izzy heaved a heavy sigh. “Fine.” He patted Cash’s knee. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I didn’t mean to. But it has been so nice meeting you, and I know you’d love seeing the Knights.” He leaned forward to the coffee table, whipped up a pen, then wrote on the back cover of a gaming magazine lying there. “This is my cell number. Call me if you change your mind.” Then before anyone could stop him, he tilted into Cash and kissed his cheek. As they all recovered from that, he bounced to his feet and approached Danny. “You keep the leftovers. Give the dish and plastic back to Rabin when you can.” He grabbed Danny’s shoulder to pull himself up for a friendly good-bye kiss. “See you soon.”

Rabin was at the door with their coats. He waved. “See you, guys.” Then they were gone.

Danny looked at Cash, who was a tad shell-shocked. “That was Izzy.”

Cash laughed. “Uh, yeah.”

“He comes on strong, but he’s quite harmless.”

“You sure about that?”

“Well, no, but he likes me.”

“I get that.”

“Don’t worry about what he asked about the club. I don’t expect you to go.”

Cash was still perched on the edge of the couch. He glanced at the number Izzy had written on his magazine. “They seem like a happy couple.”

Danny stilled. “They are.”

“How long they been together?”

“They’ve been living together since August.”

“And Izzy’s okay with Rabin going away?”

“No. Not really.” That got Cash to glance up at him. But other than mild curiosity, he showed nothing else. “But Iz knows Rabin really wants this.” They shared a look. “And he knows Rabin will come back to him.”

Cash cocked his head. “He’s sure about that?”

Were they still talking about Rabin and Izzy? Probably not completely. “They’re very confident that they love each other.”

“What about fans and groupies?”

Danny felt the corner of his mouth twitch up at that. “We don’t have many of those yet.”

Cash watched as Danny sat. “But you will.” He glanced up at Danny’s new hair, at the indigo stripe over the left side of his forehead. “Girls are gonna be all over you guys. Guys too.”

Danny tried to lighten the mood by perking up and letting his grin grow. “You think?”

Cash snorted and turned away.

Danny caught him before he could stand. He scooted over until their thighs were touching. “Rabin went through a lot to prove himself to Izzy. He’s not going to blow that.” He reached up to trace Cash’s jaw with his fingertips, then spoke with his heart. “What do I have to do to prove myself to you?”

The stricken look was instantaneous and surprised Danny enough that he let Cash slip away and stand. “I don’t want you to prove yourself,” Cash said as he rounded the far end of the couch.

Danny slumped where he was, not even turning toward Cash, who now stood behind him. “Then what do you want?”

There was a pause, long enough that Danny had to fight the urge to turn around. He didn’t want Cash to see the look on his face, didn’t want to influence the next words that came out of his mouth.

A small sigh. “Nothing.” Footsteps, and then Cash’s bedroom door slowly closed.

Danny fell forward and buried his face in one of the couch cushions as he fought not to cry.

Chapter Fourteen

“This is good,” Danny muttered to himself as he drew dark blue kohl along his left eyelid. “This can work.”

In the mirror, he could see Cash sitting behind him, casually listening to Izzy and Fiona’s animated discussion of Noble’s tattoos. The drummer stood shirtless behind the couch, also enjoying their debate about his “horny toad” skin art. His leather pants were held together by lacing up the side of each leg, exposing a lot of flesh. If Cash was uncomfortable with a half-naked man standing behind him, he didn’t show it. With mohawk at full mast, and in glittering war makeup, Noble was way out of Cash’s comfort zone, but Cash seemed to be handling it all in stride.

Rabin hitched himself up to sit on the makeup table beside Danny. He raised one hand and blew on his fingernails, helping the black polish dry. “Hey.” He subtly nodded toward the others. “Seems to be okay.”

“So far, so good.” Danny studied his handiwork in the mirror before switching to his right eye. “Izzy works magic again.”

Rabin tried to hide his goofy smile by blowing on his nails again. “He’s good at that.”

Danny shot him a wicked grin. “What else is he good at, hmm?”

Rabin didn’t even look at him. “None of your damn business.” They laughed. “Besides, you’ve got your own now, don’t you?”

Another glance in the mirror showed him Cash smiling, amused. Beautiful. “Yeah. I guess I do. For now, at least.”

“Don’t sound so glum. It’s not so bad.”

“For you, sure. You know Izzy loves you.”

Now Rabin did look at him. “Give it a chance, and you might get that back. He does watch you, you know. Okay, not right now—but hell, Noble’s all naked and shit.”

Chuckling, Danny touched up his first eye. “Hard not to notice that.”

The main door opened to admit Gordon and two surprising guests, along with a strange mild roar from beyond. “Look who I found, ladies.”

Lucas Sloane breezed into the greenroom like he owned the place, tall, gorgeous, and full of life. His auburn hair was clipped at his nape, but plenty of curls had escaped to frame his long face. A black sweater hugged his broad chest and shoulders above relaxed jeans, and dozens of bangles clattered about his wrist as he raised it to wave. “Hey, kids.”

Behind him, Brent Rose followed, another vision in black. Slimmer and quieter than his best friend, he nonetheless caught the eye in a navy jacket over a black shirt and slacks.

Noble was the first to greet them. “What brings you guys out of the studio?”

Luc sauntered farther into the room to greet Rabin with a back-slapping hug. “Well, strangest thing. I just might have let word slip that I’d be here tonight.” He grinned around the room. “I might have mentioned Reese, Brent, and Hell would be with me. I also might have mentioned that we had some rough tracks of a new single we might be handing out to select interested parties.” He dipped two fingers into his back pocket and withdrew a mini CD with handwritten black lettering on it.

Danny’s jaw dropped.

Lance laughed. “And just who might you have let this information slip to?”

Luc shrugged, tucking the CD back in his pocket. “Oh, I might have tweeted it. Might have dropped an e-mail to a reporter or two. Word might have gotten out on our forums, I think?” He looked at Brent for confirmation.

Brent rolled his eyes. “Yeah, perhaps posted by one of your code names?”

“Maybe.”

“Is that the noise I hear?” Rabin asked.

Luc grinned. “You’ve got a full house. Hope you’re on tonight.”

Absolute silence greeted his words as the four band members digested what he was saying and the others in the room gave them a chance to do so.

Noble recovered first, grinning. “Holy shit.”

Lance nodded, his smile growing. “Fuck yeah.”

Rabin turned his head to meet Danny’s gaze. “Dayum.”

Danny blinked. Torn. His first reaction matched the whoop of glee Noble now emitted. His second and nearly simultaneous reaction was oh shit, thinking of the object of his obsession. Slowly he turned to look at Cash, who hadn’t moved and who didn’t look like he had any reaction at all. But Danny could see the wider eyes and the shock that made his neck stiff. “Wow,” Danny said for the others. He had to be happy. This was awesome for the band. But it had turned out to be the exact wrong night for Cash to come see them.

While the others congratulated one another, Danny made his way to the couch to sit beside Cash. “Listen, if you don’t want to stay, I get it. There’s a back entrance you can use if you want to take off.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Danny saw Izzy watching, nodding slightly. He patted Cash’s shoulder. “I’ll go with, if you want.”

Relief washed over Cash’s face first. But then he blinked, glancing between the two of them. “I, uh, is this normal?”

“No,” Danny said. Then, “Hey”—the latter for Luc, who sat down on the arm of the couch beside him.

Luc leaned one arm on the back of the couch behind Danny. “Hey.”

Danny fought the urge to gulp. He’d met Luc, been at his wedding, seen him in a casual setting. But the Luc that now hovered over him was the Lucas Sloane in all his radiant glory. Luc had turned on the star power tonight. “Luc, this is my friend Cash. Cash, this is Luc Sloane.”

Cash had learned enough to know who Luc was. He smiled big and shook Luc’s hand. “Really nice to meet you.”

Luc grinned. “Likewise.” It was almost believable too. “Hey”—this back to Danny as he dug in his pocket once again—“Johnnie wanted me to give you something.”

Danny blinked. “Me?”

“Yeah.” Luc dangled a long silver chain from his fingers. The pendant hanging from it was an intricately detailed knight’s helm, silver except for the plume, which was painted a deep, dark blue. “He said he thought of you when he saw it. He had the color put on special. For the Knights.” He let the pendant and chain drop into Danny’s open palm. “Thought it might bring you good luck.”

Danny stared, speechless, at the precious gift that lay in his hand. His idol had given him a token for luck. Was this for real? “Tell him thank you,” he said with a dry throat.

Luc smiled and nodded. “Will do. He almost came tonight, but he decided to get some late-night work done without the dictators there.”

“Dictators?” Cash asked, sounding way too calm for how Danny felt.

Brent appeared at Luc’s shoulder. “That would be me and Hell.” He gave Luc’s arm a “friendly” slap that might have been a touch heavy. “Our coworkers seem to think we’re hard on them sometimes.”

Luc rolled his eyes at Danny. “Yeah, don’t know where we’d get that.”

“Five minutes, guys!” They heard the roar of the crowd again as Gordon left to go work the front of the house.

Luc stood. “Gotta go.” He gave Danny a thumbs-up. “Break a leg.”

Brent waved and nodded, then followed him out into the roar.

“Whoa.” Danny sank back into the couch, getting real preshow jitters for the first time in his life. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he might throw up.

“This is a big deal, huh?” Cash asked softly.

Danny looked at him, and suddenly Cash seemed far more real than he ever had. He was solid and warm and sitting right there. He was witness to the miracle that was happening to Danny, and he made it more vivid with his presence. “Oh yeah. This is a big fucking deal.”

Cash smiled. “But it’s good, right? They’ll bring in more people.”

Danny glanced at the bustle of people around them. Now everyone seemed busier tonight. “They will.”

Cash patted his shoulder. “Congratulations.”

Danny laid a hand over Cash’s. “Don’t say that yet. It’s bad luck.”

Cash frowned.

Danny laughed. “Okay, I know this isn’t your kind of thing. We picked a bad night for you to be here. You should go.” A few feet away, Izzy squealed as Rabin hugged him. Danny squeezed Cash’s arm. “Thanks for coming.” He wanted to kiss Cash but wasn’t sure it would be welcome. Everyone in the room knew about Cash and Danny, but Cash didn’t know that for sure. Danny didn’t want to make him any more uncomfortable. “I gotta go.”

It killed him, but he tore himself away from Cash to finish his makeup. In a hurry, he ripped off his T-shirt and slipped on the leather vest he’d chosen to wear tonight. With all the reverence it deserved, he carefully drew the silver necklace over his head and let the pendant drop against his sternum with a good, solid thump. He might never take it off again. He was primping his hair, making sure the indigo stripe fell right, when he saw in the mirror’s reflection Izzy leading Cash out of the room. He took heart that Cash’s gaze was on him as he left.

Then he had to empty his mind of everything but the performance. If Archangel Luc—God, he was going to get a kick out of that—was going to bestow a blessing on them, Champion Danny was going to lead the charge.

* * * *

Izzy: We’re still here. We got a booth across from the bar. It’s crazy out here!

Still breathing hard, Danny stared at the text on his phone. He’d just come off the stage and now stood in the makeup room, trying to catch his breath and cool down before he plunged into the crowd. What a crowd! Jefferson Douglas was filled to the max, and supposedly there was a line outside waiting to get in for the Knights’ second set. The towel someone had handed him was damp with his sweat, and he’d picked up his phone just before checking his hair.

“He’s still here.” Danny’s mumble was lost in the jostle of bodies around him, but he kept his focus on the little screen of his phone. How the hell had Izzy convinced him to stay?

“What’s up?”

Danny looked up at Lance. Like him, the bass player was drenched in sweat, blond streaks of hair curling around his ears and down his neck. He was flushed, and his eyes held a gleam of excitement Danny had yet to see in those calm blue depths.

Danny held up his phone. “Cash is still here.”

A minor frown squeezed Lance’s brow. He didn’t know as much about Danny’s situation as Rabin or Noble, but he knew enough. “He didn’t bolt?”

“I thought he had.”

Lance clapped Danny’s bare shoulder. “That’s great. Maybe he enjoyed the show.”

Danny grinned. “I hope so.”

They both glanced toward the door as it flung open to spill a few reporters into their midst.

Lance swiped his neck with his towel once more, then tossed it aside. “Let’s hope you can get to him eventually.”

Danny walked out into a sea of attention. Two journalists introduced themselves at the same time, one an older woman who thought dyed black hair could make her look younger and the other a paunchy guy with a great-enough smile that he was actually kind of attractive. That they knew each other was obvious by the way they painstakingly ignored each other.

“Danny, Jenny Keip from the Fold.” She held a business card toward him with two fingers. It took Danny a moment, but then he recalled the Fold was a big-time music blog, unaffiliated with any particular record company. She moved closer so her breasts brushed his arm. “I’d love to do a post on you—”

“Roger Gold from Sun Times,” said the man, also flipping a card Danny’s way. “We’d love to hear more about the Knights and your relationship with Heaven Sent…”

Two journalists turned into three, who were pelting Danny with questions so fast he was glad he’d practiced a lot of the obvious answers ahead of time. Then there were the girls. No sooner had the journalists let up than a group of four girls who might have been in their twenties surrounded him, begging for autographs and pictures. He gave both with a smile and even managed to pluck a roaming hand off his ass without making a big deal about it. As all this was going on, Danny saw Rabin and Noble suffering similar fates. Lance was nowhere in sight, but presumably he got his own dose of the same.

When a glance at his phone told him he had maybe twenty minutes before the second set, he begged away from the girls and maneuvered his way across the club to the booths in the back. Izzy’s bright blue shirt helped as a beacon. Cash sat against the wall, with Izzy blocking him from most of the crowd. A break in the wall of people allowed them to make eye contact, and Danny smiled. Waved.

Then a body hit him. Instinctively, he wrapped an arm around the other person to steady them both. Thin, strong arms snaked around his neck, and a palm flattened at the back of his skull to yank his face toward another. Lips locked hard with his, mashing into his teeth. He was so startled, it took him a minute to push away. He was pretty sure a flash went off. The girl was a few inches shorter than him, with sleek black hair in a short, hip cut. Her dark eyes shone at him with a lot more than just excitement.

“Danny!”

He mustered a smile but knew it didn’t reach his eyes. “Hey.” He reached up to grab her wrists from around his neck.

“Danny, I love you.”

“Love you too, darlin’.” Gotta remember the fans. Gotta remember to schmooze. Even if they were just plain rude. “Just not that way.”

“No, no.” She resisted being untangled, but drink and whatever made her clumsy. He held her arms between them, blocking her. “Danny, take me home with you. I’ll do anything.”

“Sorry, sweetheart.”

“But—”

“No.” With a very slight push for emphasis, he let her go and backed away, unsure if she’d follow. But although she watched with longing, she didn’t jump at him.

He made a mental note to keep an eye out for her but then turned back toward Cash. Great. From the look on his face, if Cash hadn’t seen the whole thing, he’d seen enough. His delicious lips were drawn down at the corners, and his head was tilted down toward the half-finished drink set before him. Izzy was turned away from Danny, speaking urgently to him. Across the booth, Fiona was nodding emphatically.

Just great. Distracted by deciding what he was going to say, he was again startled when an arm wound around his waist, stopping him for another body. This one was larger and definitely male. Danny had to look up an inch or two into a face that would have captivated him if a better one weren’t a dozen feet away. Frosted blond hair fell artfully over a high forehead, shading but not hiding eyes that weren’t brown, though Danny couldn’t tell the true color in the club’s lights. Again, the eyes gleamed with intoxication that probably wasn’t all from watching the Indigo Knights perform.

A killer smile flashed at him. “Danny.”

Danny kept his head averted as he tried to subtly push away. The guy’s shirt was fully unbuttoned in the front, and Danny’s palm ended up spread over smooth, creamy flesh. It was then he recognized the guy. Didn’t know his name, but he’d seen the face and body plastered on enough billboards. A model, and an expensive one at that. “Hey.”

“What do I need to do to get you into bed?”

Forward. Why’d he pick on Danny? Noble would love this. “Sorry, not available.”

“You sure? I can be discreet.”

That made Danny laugh as he managed to put some distance between them. “Like now?”

Confusion and then genuine embarrassment flushed over that handsome face. But he was a trooper and didn’t let it bother him too much. “That’s just a little fun.” His smile came back. “We could have lots of fun.”

“I’m sure we could, but I’m taken.”

“Taken?” This was another voice. Female. Dismayed, Danny turned to see Jenny Keip come up to his side. “Is there a love in your life, Danny?” She had a scary, pit bullish look in her eyes. “Is it a man or a woman?”

Danny just managed not to glance at the table where Cash sat. He swallowed. “I…”

“Come on, Danny.” Her grin would have made any snake proud. “Your fans want to know.”

He pushed out a breath, again stopping himself from glancing over her shoulder. Besides, the model was still standing there. With effort, he summoned his sunniest smile. “Sorry, no deal. It’s a brand-new thing. I don’t want to jinx it.”

“But aren’t you going on a club tour? What does your sweetheart think about that?”

Danny put on a grin. “Don’t know yet, really. I’ll have to ask.”

“Is he here tonight?”

No pronouns. Everyone who cared to ask knew Rabin was bi, but Noble and Danny had agreed to play the rock stars and not commit to a sexual preference. It had worked for Heaven Sent. Lance just rebuffed everyone. “Not tonight,” Danny answered. He put a friendly hand on the reporter’s shoulder and smiled. “Will you excuse me? It’s time for me to get ready for the next set.”

Resolutely, he put his back to her—and to Cash beyond—and headed for the door backstage. But there was no refuge there. Lance and Gordon were holding court with a few more reporters. Danny waved but headed for the lockers for a clean shirt.

Before he changed, he pulled out his phone and texted Cash. Sorry. That was a reporter.

He put his phone on the shelf in his locker and pulled off his shirt. A loud click got his attention, and he turned to see a man smiling at him from behind a smartphone, having just taken a picture.

“Ladies and gentlemen”—that was Gordon speaking up—“I’m afraid I’ll have to move our interview to another room. The boys need to get ready for their next set.”

Danny’s phone chimed as Gordon herded people from the room.

Your show was great. I’m going home. Can’t handle the crowd.

Danny’s heart fell. Understand. Thx for staying. C u later. “Fuck.” Danny thunked his forehead slightly on the next locker’s door.

“Trouble in paradise?”

A glance showed him only Lance at his side. Gordon and the reporters were gone, leaving the room oddly quiet and tomblike.

“I didn’t get to talk to Cash.” Angrily, he pulled on a ripped white T-shirt. “And I didn’t get to explain about the girl who kissed me or the guy who manhandled me right before his eyes.”

“Ouch.” Lance chuckled. Looked like he’d been back here for a while. He was already changed and cleaned up. “You think he’ll take it badly?”

Sighing, Danny pulled his new pendant outside of the shirt. “Yeah. I’m pretty sure he will.”

Chapter Fifteen

The lights and the television were on when Danny got home at three a.m., but Cash was out cold on the couch. Danny stood over him for a moment. Studied him. He lay somewhat between his side and his back, one arm draped over his middle and the other hanging off the front of the couch. Wool socks, blue sweats, and a dark gray, long-sleeved thermal kept him warm in the slight chill of the apartment. His lips were parted, and his glasses had been knocked crooked off his nose. That soft, mussed hair hid most of his forehead and brows, but one eye was clear of both glasses and hair, and Danny stared at the shine of golden eyelashes for far too long.

“I love you,” he whispered, words kept low so even if Cash were faking sleep—which Danny didn’t think he was—he wouldn’t have heard. Because it was true. He did. If he didn’t, the model would have gotten him into bed. Or, if not the model, about a dozen other prospects who had made themselves available after the show. But beyond admiring the scenery, Danny hadn’t been interested. His sole purpose had been to get home to Cash. If that wasn’t love, he didn’t know what was.

He knelt in front of the couch and slid his hand over Cash’s chest. “Hey.” Cash startled, smacked his lips, then settled back into sleep. Heart blooming at how adorable this was, Danny shook Cash a little. “Hey, wake up.”

Another start, and this time those lovely eyes opened. Sort of. “Hey,” Cash greeted him in a gravelly voice. He blinked as he glanced around. “What time is it?”

“Late. After three.”

“Mmph.” He rubbed at his eyes underneath his glasses. “Must’ve gone okay after I left.”

Danny just watched him. “Yeah. It went okay.”

Somehow the rubbing had helped right the glasses, because they were in the correct spot on his nose when Cash brought his hands down. He frowned at Danny. “What?”

“What?”

“You’re staring at me.”

Danny allowed himself a fond grin. “I like staring at you.”

That got him a deep frown. “Quit it.”

“Just because you don’t like hearing it doesn’t make it any less true.”

Cash pushed up to sit, avoiding Danny’s gaze. “You had tons of people hanging all over you, most of ’em way better lookin’n me.”

Danny watched him stand. “Not to me.”

His back to Danny, Cash’s shoulders sagged. “You’ve got to stop saying junk like that.”

Danny stood, following as Cash headed for the hallway. “Why?”

“Because.”

Danny let that go, let Cash disappear into the bathroom. He stared at the door, wondering what to do. A relationship between them could work. Johnnie and Tyler did it. From what he’d heard, there were times where Luc and Reese didn’t see each other for weeks or months, and they made it work. But Cash had to want it too, and Danny just wasn’t sure he did.

Quietly, Danny removed his clothes and climbed into bed. He smelled of sweat, alcohol, smoke, and any number of perfumes, but he wasn’t in the mood to shower. He lay there with his bedroom door open, allowing in the only light from the hallway. He heard Cash emerge from the bathroom. Pause. Then pad to Danny’s door. His shirt was gone, but the sweats still hung low on his hips.

“You awake?”

“Yeah.”

Another pause while Cash’s hand played with the edge of the door frame. “Want company?”

A flush of emotion filled Danny’s chest. Tears of relief threatened to fill his eyes, but he held them back. He pulled the blanket aside, clearing space beside him. “Always.”

Cash turned out the light in the main room, then navigated back to Danny’s mattress with only dim moonlight to show the way. Danny turned on his side to cuddle him close, draping one leg over Cash’s hip.

Cash’s hand slid down his bare side to rest on his thigh. “You’re naked.”

“Mmm.” Danny nuzzled at the hair covering Cash’s forehead.

“You smell like the club.”

Danny kissed his brow. “That happens.”

The hand on his thigh slid forward. The backs of Cash’s fingers brushed the underside of Danny’s half-hard cock. “You sleepy?”

Danny laughed and pulled Cash closer. “Not that sleepy.”

The kiss they shared was deep and slow. Cash was a tad distracted, no doubt concentrating on the hand he closed around Danny’s cock. Danny lowered his leg enough to free Cash’s hip, allowing him to push the sweats down far enough to grab Cash’s cock in return. They stayed that way for long, glorious minutes, lazily jerking each other off, neither of them in too much of a hurry to move on to something else. Danny would not—could not—believe Cash wasn’t into this, into him. True, he was Cash’s first sexual experience, and that was always special, but even if it was hesitant and unsure, Cash was reaching for him and was a full participant.

They could deny the inevitable only so long. Cash started to wiggle, moaning as he sucked on Danny’s tongue. Danny pulled away just long enough to twist his upper body to reach behind him to get the lube.

“Wait.” He stopped Cash when the other started to move from their embrace. “Hold out your hand.”

There was just enough light for them to see. Cash watched as Danny squirted lube onto his palm, then put the lube aside. Awkwardly, Danny rubbed his left hand on Cash’s right, smearing lube across both palms, then guided Cash’s hand back down toward their crotches. He scooted closer so he could help fold Cash’s grip around both their cocks. Then he fitted his own grip above Cash’s.

Cash tucked his head into the curve of Danny’s neck, his free hand digging into Danny’s back. “Shit.”

Grinning, Danny held him close and teased the heads of their cocks while Cash squeezed and pumped toward the bases. He thrust into their hands and clutched the back of Cash’s head, turning it so he could whisper in Cash’s ear. “Come for me, baby. I want you all over me. I want to smell like you.”

“Don’t…talk…”

“You love it when I talk. Know how I know? You get harder.” Danny squeezed their cocks for emphasis. “You grab at me. You lose your breath.”

“Do…not…”

“Do too.” He bit Cash’s earlobe, trying to keep himself from coming first. “And when I’m inside you, your ass squeezes so hard, it’s like to snap my dick off.”

Something between a gasp and a cry burst from Cash’s lips, and liquid warmth spurted onto Danny’s belly. Groaning, he pushed Cash onto his back and covered him, rubbing against him, kissing him while pumping cum from his own cock.

“Asshole,” Cash muttered, even as he slid his hands soothingly over Danny’s back.

Danny stayed where he was, letting his heart beat right next to Cash’s. Chuckling, he slid his wet hand around the side of Cash’s hip and wiggled it toward the crack of Cash’s ass. “Not sure I could do more than finger you right now. Unless you want a rimjob.”

The catch in Cash’s breath answered Danny’s wondering about whether he knew the term. He laughed. “Ah, someone’s been doing more research. You want me to lick your asshole, baby?”

Cash slapped Danny’s back halfheartedly. “No. You’re an asshole.” He yawned.

“Mmm.” Danny twisted his head enough to nuzzle the bend of Cash’s neck. “Probably. But you love me anyway.”

All he got was a grunt. Cash slipped quickly and quietly into sleep, but Danny was pretty sure he heard Danny’s words.

Danny tried to sleep, but it was slow coming. He held on to Cash and tried his best not to panic. Failed. Just because they hadn’t talked about it yet didn’t mean the storm wasn’t coming. Nothing was settled, and too many words were left unsaid.

And they’d reached Danny’s last week before the tour.

Chapter Sixteen

Danny leaned in the doorway of Cash’s bedroom. Although Cash didn’t look up, he knew Danny was there.

“What are you passionate about?”

Fingers stopped on the keyboard, and Cash’s head tipped to the side. “Huh?”

Danny crossed his arms and ankles. “What are you passionate about?”

Cash gave him an incredulous look.

“I’m serious. There’s got to be something that gets you going.” He jerked his chin toward the computer. “Is that it? Writing code?”

“Uh, sure.”

“No.” Danny pushed off the door frame and went to sit on a small cleared space on Cash’s bottom bunk. It forced Cash to turn his chair away from the keyboard to face him. “Your answer tells me that’s not it.” He folded his fingers and propped his elbows on his knees. “What are you really passionate about?”

“Why?”

“I want to know.”

“Why?”

Danny shrugged, determined to maintain his cool. Inside, his emotions were simmering, but he knew Cash would shut down if he showed any of that. It was Tuesday, and the extent of their talking about their situation had been Cash confirming the bus left on Friday. Danny had been waiting on Cash to bring it up, but nothing beyond that was forthcoming. Danny had too much time on his hands now. This afternoon had been his last shift at the pizzeria, and he had two days to put things in order. This thing between them was his first priority. “You know what I’m passionate about. I want to know what really matters to you.”

Cash frowned. His gaze fell to his knees. “I don’t have anything like that.”

“There’s got to be something. It can’t be sports. It’s not fashion design.” That got him an amused snort. “What about those games you play online?”

Cash glanced over his shoulder. “Uh, I don’t know. They’re fun.”

Danny frowned. “Do you collect anything?” He looked at the action figures and paraphernalia in Cash’s bookshelves, but there didn’t look to be a cohesive theme. “Anything at your parents’ house?”

Cash gave it some thought, his gaze roving toward the closed laptop by his elbow, but then shook his head. “Not like that. That’s all just…stuff.”

Danny had not expected this response. He’d been prepared to involve himself somehow in something Cash found exciting, but if there wasn’t anything, his idea was blown. He stared at Cash like he’d never seen him before. “What makes you happy?”

Cash was torn between a smile and a frown. “What is all this?”

“I want to know if there’s something we could share. Something we could do together or something I could get you while I’m on the road. Maybe.” Said aloud, it sounded lame, but it had made sense in his head.

Cash shook his head again. “What does it matter? You’re leaving.”

“I’m not leaving forever.”

Now there was a genuine frown, backed by more than a little anger. “You might as well be.”

“What?”

“Come on, Danny. I may not know much about the music business, but I know what I saw this weekend. You’re gonna have millions of people fawning all over you. Thousands you can take to bed. I’m supposed to believe you want me over all that?”

“Yes.” It was out before Danny could stop it.

“Please. I’m naive about some things, but I’m not stupid. You’re gonna be a big rock star. I heard all sorts of people saying it that night. I saw that gorgeous guy come on to you.” To Danny’s horror, Cash gave him an encouraging grin. “You can’t tie yourself down to a computer geek.”

Danny scowled. “Did Izzy tell you that?”

“What?”

“Or was it Gordon? Those aren’t your words.”

“Danny, all I meant was that we—”

Danny shot to his feet and caught hold of Cash’s jaw before either of them fully knew what he was doing. He drew Cash to his feet, heedless of the office chair that swiveled away and banged into the desk. “I didn’t try to fall in love with you. It just happened.”

Shock, then heated anger, made the eyes behind thick lenses spark. Cash grabbed Danny’s hands and yanked them away from his face. “Fucking quit it, will you?” Astonished, Danny stood still while Cash slid away toward the door. “God, you say you’re in love with me, that I mean so much, but we both know it’s bullshit. So just stop.”

Danny’s mouth was open to protest, but Cash rounded on him with more.

“You’re so fucking melodramatic with all your romance and shit. Okay, you got me. I fell for it. You’re amazing. You’re beautiful.” Cash’s voice caught on what might have been a sob, but he swallowed it and went on. “You got me into your bed, and I loved. Every. Fucking. Minute of it.” He took two steps toward Danny so that their noses were inches apart. “But don’t think I’m fool enough to let you make me fall in love with you. Not when you’re going on with a life I can’t be part of. You’re going to be a big huge star.” He backed away. Two steps. Three. “I’m not going to be the one who gets dumped when you move on to bigger and better things. My life is quiet and boring and predictable because I like it that way. That’s what makes sense to me.” Eyes closed, he shook his head and spun away again. “What we’ve got right now is fine. You can do whatever you want with me because, yeah, I do want you.” He slashed a hand through the air. “But it ends when you go. Because it should end.”

With the glasses in the way, Danny couldn’t be sure if he saw tears before Cash disappeared into the other room. “Cash, wait.” He rushed out, but Cash was already at the front door, jacket and gloves in hand. “Where are you going?”

“My parents’. I’m gonna stay with them tonight.”

“What? No.” He managed to grab Cash’s arm before he was out the door. “We need to talk about this. You can’t just—”

Cash pulled out of Danny’s grip. “No. No more talking. I said everything I need to say. I’ll be back tomorrow after school.”

Danny stared at the door after it slammed. He wanted to go after Cash, but his feet stayed rooted to the floor. Because, as much as it hurt, Cash was probably right. Danny had no business making this about love when it was Danny’s dream that made it impossible.

Chapter Seventeen

Backpack slung over one shoulder, Cash was two steps into the apartment when he stopped. He took a moment to look around, taking in the boxes and luggage, before he lifted his gaze to meet Danny’s. “You’re moving out?”

At the kitchen counter, Danny finally turned away from the note he’d been toying with for the past hour. Toying because he knew leaving a note was chickenshit. He’d killed time waiting for Cash to come home. “Yeah.”

“You don’t have to. I said I’d keep your stuff for you.” No inflection, no disappointment or anger in his voice. Danny wanted to think he was hiding emotion, but was he really?

“Yeah. I think I do.” Danny ran a hand through his hair. “You were right. I’ve got no right to ask anything of you, and if I stay here, I know I’ll do just that.” He faced Cash, drank in the sight of that crazy mop of hair, those shielding glasses, and the most delectable mouth he’d ever tasted. “Whether you believe me or not, I really do think I love you. But”—he held up a hand to silence the words Cash opened his mouth to say—“I get where you’re coming from. With any luck, my life is about to change dramatically. And no one, especially not me, really knows what’s coming next.”

Cash let the backpack slide from his arm and looked again at the boxes. So few. Danny had been stunned at how little time it’d taken him to pack his things. “Where will you go?”

“I’ll stay with Noble and Lance.”

“And your stuff?”

“Brent’s letting me store it at his place. Rabin’s going to come back with me and his truck tomorrow. As for the furniture”—he shrugged—“you can keep it or get rid of it. Let me know if you need me to do anything.” He tapped a check he’d left on the counter. “Here’s my last month’s rent.”

Cash looked at him again. He wore the studiously blank mask that didn’t allow Danny to know what he was really thinking. “You don’t have to go.”

“This is probably for the best.”

Slowly, Cash nodded. Was it evil of Danny to be glad Cash didn’t seem pleased? Probably, but he was glad anyway.

“Okay.” Cash dug his hands into the deep pockets of his cargo jeans. “I guess that’s it, then.”

“I guess so.” Disappointed, Danny stood. He knew he shouldn’t have expected anything more. No protestations of love or begging that he stay. He’d known Cash would agree with him. He should be happy with the little bit of protest he did get. But the drama queen in him had insisted on hoping for more.

Still… He stepped toward Cash, raising his hands to cup the other’s jaw. Cash gazed at him with those big brown eyes, unreadable behind his glasses. He didn’t protest when Danny kissed him, parted his lips to receive Danny’s tongue, even did a little tasting of his own. Danny gave thought to pushing it further, to spending one last night with Cash in his bed, but it was a bad idea. If he allowed that, he’d want one more night, then one more and yet one more. Better to quit cold turkey. Cash licked his lips as Danny stepped back, but nothing more than that. His hands were still in his pockets.

“We’ll probably be by around one or two to get my stuff tomorrow.” Danny warned him, giving him the chance to not be there.

“Okay.”

I love you. He lifted his hand in a wave. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

Danny brushed past him to the door.

“Danny?”

“Yeah?”

Cash gave him what looked like a genuine smile. “Thank you.”

Danny wasn’t sure what the thanks was for. He wanted to ask but knew that was trouble. If he didn’t leave now, he might never manage it again. So he just smiled back. And left.

Chapter Eighteen

“Well done, guys,” Gordon greeted them as they paraded into the greenroom. “Great show.”

The greenroom at Club Gypsie wasn’t green—most greenrooms weren’t—but it was certainly nicer than some of the places the Knights had played at in the past two months. Gypsie was a high-end dance club in Philadelphia that hadn’t been on their original schedule. But good hype at the beginning of the tour had allowed Gordon to add some other clubs that had been doubtful when the Knights were complete unknowns.

They weren’t unknown now, thanks to Heaven Sent fans. There was little doubt where all the screaming girls—and boys—had come from. Pictures and stories about Danny, Rabin, Noble, and Lance had cropped up on almost every Heaven Sent Web site, both official and unofficial. Once Heaven Sent had made the association public, their fans were scrambling to find out all about this new band. Now that the members of Heaven Sent were all romantically attached, their fans were aching for publicly available idols. These days, the Knights needed to beef up security at many of the clubs, and some of the smaller ones had even canceled because they couldn’t afford the overhead. Didn’t matter. For every club that canceled, there were now two or three more asking to take their place.

It was a wild ride. Danny loved it. He was almost too tired and wired to care that he hadn’t had sex with another person since leaving Chicago.

With a loud sigh, he collapsed onto a plush red couch. Soft fabric over thick cushions felt good against his bare torso. He wondered where his shirt had gone, then dismissed the thought immediately. He’d lost an amazing number of shirts in the past few weeks. It was his own fault since he kept throwing them into the audience. Gordon happily supplied him with new ones, naming the others as acceptable losses.

The arrival of a towel tossed over his face blotted out the light. He rolled onto his back as he plucked it free, bending one knee to prop a boot on the couch, making room for Rabin to sit with him. The guitarist was just as sweaty and amped as he was, but the spikes of his hair were still sharp and upright.

“Here.” Rabin tossed a bit of pink and black fabric on Danny’s chest.

When he picked it up, Danny laughed and displayed a very pretty pair of panties. Difference being the front panel was bulged and reinforced, clearly designed to contain a cock. “How cute. For me?”

Rabin chuckled, mopping his face with another towel. “Dunno. Hooked on the neck of my guitar when I was leaving the stage.”

“At least they’re new and not worn.”

Noble snatched them from Danny’s hand so he could inspect. “Now, I would love to see the cute little number who tossed these up.”

Rabin wrapped his towel around his neck and sat back on the couch. “I’m sure he’s out there.”

Lance glanced over Noble’s shoulder at them. “Didn’t you used to have a pair of those in green?”

Noble sent a wicked grin after him, holding the panties up between two index fingers. “I did, in fact.” He grinned as Danny, Rabin, and the roadies hooted at him.

Laughing, Gordon raised his voice. “All right, guys, settle down for a moment. I want to show you something.”

Rabin and Danny pushed off the couch to follow Noble and Lance to the table where Gordon had his laptop set up. The screen showed a really cool version of the Indigo Knights logo superimposed over a montage of portraits of the four of them, all with an indigo wash. That was the site’s banner. Below was a three-column page full of gold text on a midnight background.

“This our new Web site?” Lance asked, leaning over Gordon’s shoulder. Gordon had been making noises about a redesign.

“No. This is a new site that’s caused a lot of chatter about you on the net.” He used the mouse to scroll down. “It’s better than our site. A one-stop shop with your schedule, bios, and a member forum.”

“You pay someone to do this?”

“No. The webmaster e-mailed for permission to post the club dates and repost your bios, but I never expected this.”

“Who did it?”

“Don’t know.” Gordon clicked on the link for the forum, and Danny had to lean forward to make sure he saw what he saw. At least a dozen different forum topics, including one for each member of the band. The post count on every one of them was in the hundreds.

“How long has this been around?”

“A week. Whoever did it managed to get the word out fast. It helped that he—and I’m only guessing it’s a he—linked in with the main Heaven Sent forum. A lot of the traffic seems to have come from there.” He clicked on the forum for Danny Champion; a full page of posts popped up, some with rather embarrassing subjects that just made Danny laugh. “But as you can see, it’s developed a life of its own.”

“Wow. Who’s this guy?”

“I’ve been trying to find out. He signs his e-mail as John, but that’s all I know. He registered the domain as private, and the e-mail comes through there.” Gordon shrugged. “I guess I have to ask you guys. Do you want me to pursue it? So far, he’s done nothing but help. He seems like a genuine fan.”

Lance looked at Noble. “You think Shelby could have something to do with this?”

Shelby Koontz was the lead singer of The Might, the band Lance and Noble had belonged to for seven years. Shelby was ridiculously rich, so much so that he created his own studio on his family’s estate. He’d not only paid his bandmates but put them up in a guesthouse. From all Lance and Noble had said about him, Danny got the impression the guy was an extreme megalomaniac and perfectionist. The Might had been his from beginning to end, and the rest of the band members had been there to fulfill his dream. Despite the cushy living conditions, that had ultimately been why Noble and Lance left, wanting some control over their creativity, for a change.

Noble snorted. “Are you kidding? If it was him, he’d be the first to take credit for it.”

“True.” Lance shrugged at Gordon. “That was my only idea.”

“Doesn’t seem like a big deal,” Rabin said, reaching over Gordon to click on some more links. “Maybe we can just keep tabs on it for now.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Gordon admitted. “God knows I’ve got plenty other stuff to do.”

“Well…” Danny stepped away and returned to the couch. “I know someone who could probably help us figure out who it is, but he’s not talking to me these days.”

Noble perched on the couch’s arm beside him. “Still haven’t heard from him?”

“Nope. Sent a few e-mails to that address Izzy gave me.” He nodded to Rabin, who’d given him the information. Cash, it seemed, was in touch with Izzy. “But never got a response.”

“Fuck him.” Noble slid down to the seat beside Danny and put an arm around him. It would have been nicer if Noble weren’t still pungent and damp with sweat. Danny liked the manly-man smell and all, but this was too much. But he didn’t move away, needing the comfort. “We’ll take you out and find you a sweet young thing to fuck into oblivion tonight.”

Danny chuckled and untangled himself. “Thanks. But no, thanks.” He stood and swiped his towel over his neck and shoulders. “I’m not interested.”

“Lance, goddammit!”

Danny turned, surprised at the vehemence in Noble’s voice, but the drummer was glaring at Lance, who was still propped up against the table next to Gordon.

Lance looked as surprised as Danny. “What’d I do?”

Noble pointed at him. “What did you do to Danny to make him dysfunctional like you?”

Lance rolled his eyes, then said to Danny, “Any chance I could get you to fuck someone so he’ll stop blaming me?”

Danny grinned and turned to the mirror. “Sorry, man. You’re on your own.”

“That’s the problem!” Noble protested, standing in a huff. “He’s alone.”

Only because he was looking in the mirror did Danny see Lance glance at Gordon. Neither Rabin nor Noble saw Gordon return the glance, then shy away. Interesting.

“Jesus H Christ.” Noble was still on a rampage. “Where’s the shower? I need to do all the fucking myself.”

Rabin watched him storm off, laughing. The laughter died down when Rabin moved up next to Danny, though. “Should I have given you that e-mail address?”

Danny shrugged, lifting his bag from where it sat in a corner onto the table before him. “Sure. It’s not like I really expected anything. Although some kind of response would have been nice.”

Rabin nodded. “If it’s any consolation, he only wrote to Izzy once more, basically thanking him.”

“What did he write about in the first place?”

“He was looking for that crazy Heaven Sent site. Y’know, the one you can’t find through Google search.”

Danny paused with a new shirt in hand. “Yeah, I know it.” The site could only be reached by a link, and you could only join by invitation. Danny was a member, but he hadn’t gone there much. Although the Knights were mentioned a lot more these days, it remained a Heaven Sent site. Now that he actually knew the guys, searching out information on them didn’t seem like a good use of his time. “Why’d he want the link there?”

“Don’t know.”

“He ask for an invite?”

“Not that I know of.”

Scowling, Danny pulled on his shirt and started to button it up. “That’s weird.”

“Kinda. Maybe he wanted to hack it.”

“Maybe. But why? He’s only ever met Luc, and that was brief.”

“Maybe he’s become a big fan since you’ve gone.”

Danny snorted, leaving a good portion of his blue silk shirt unbuttoned, the better to frame his knight pendant. He rarely took it off anymore. “Maybe he’s trolling for dates.” Depression dropped on him like a ton of bricks. He felt his shoulders sag and let his hands fall to his sides. “Shit.”

Rabin patted his arm. “Don’t do this to yourself.”

“Can’t help it.”

Behind them, a chair scraped on the floor. Only then did Danny realize Lance and Gordon had remained, talking quietly across the room. He frowned at them.

“Danny, you’re going out front, right?” Gordon asked, slipping his laptop back into his messenger bag. “There’s a reporter out there who wants to talk to you.”

“Yeah. I’ll be right out.”

Gordon nodded and left. Lance waited a beat and then left too.

Danny opened his mouth to make a comment to Rabin, but the door opened again. Gordon was back and ushering a man Danny had to assume was the reporter. Rabin exchanged a sympathetic glance with him, then backed away. Danny had one moment to banish his depression and put on his game face. He managed it. He was nothing if not professional, even if his heart was broken.

Chapter Nineteen

Bryon Keelan had a beautiful face, the kind of face you’d remember. Which was good for him since he was an actor. Danny had seen him in any number of bit parts for movies or television in the past few years. Recently he’d been cast as a secondary character in Roommates, a major primetime drama that looked like it was going places. He had smooth blond hair and twinkling blue eyes and a mouth designed to wrap around a cock, at least to Danny’s eyes.

And that mouth was smiling at Danny.

“I really love your music,” Bryon said, leaning against the back of the couch on which they both sat, getting a little closer. “Your lyrics are haunting.”

Around them, a private party was in full bloom. Gordon had gotten the Knights invited to a Roommates promotion party. How, Danny had no idea, but here he was playing the rock star for the actors and the press that watched them both. Danny had learned more about television than he’d ever thought to ask. It was June, and they’d made New York in fine style. Most of their shows were now sold out, and Gordon was getting all sorts of invites from various places. Best news yet, however, was that the record company had finally come through. Gordon had started negotiations on a contract.

Tonight, things were winding down. Half of the partygoers were gone, and the other half were obviously in the midst of acquiring their late-night company if they were going to have some.

It was apparent that Bryon Keelan wanted Danny’s company.

Danny smiled at the actor, wondering if he was out or if he was going to ask Danny for one of those “don’t ask” interludes. “You’ve heard of us?”

“Yeah.” Casually, Bryon propped an arm on the back of the couch and leaned his head on his palm. Smooth. He was letting his looks do most of the work for him. He also smelled outrageously good, something spicy and slightly sweet. “When they told us you’d be here tonight, a bunch of the others scrambled to get your album.” He smiled proudly. “But I already had it.”

“Oh?”

“I’m a big Heaven Sent fan.”

And there it was. Danny had learned that particular pickup line well over the past few months. When delivered along with a look like he was getting now, it meant “I’m gay, and I want to eat your dick.”

Danny put on a noncommittal smile and nodded. “Excellent.”

“You write the lyrics?”

“Most of them.”

“I thought so. Very soulful, but still fun.”

“Thanks.”

A pink tongue flashed between parted lips as Bryon went in for the kill. “What say you and I go somewhere private to talk? Music.”

Right. Music. With the ease of recent practice, Danny’s smile turned breezy, and he tilted his head to the side in an abbreviated shrug. “I should probably be getting back to the hotel.”

“Want some company?”

“Afraid not.”

Bryon’s perfect brows drew into a V. “I’m sorry—did I read this wrong? I thought you were gay.”

“I am. And if you’d caught me a few months ago, I’d have been all over you.” He put in a wicked grin and a brow waggle for emphasis. “But now’s not a good time.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Yes.” Okay, it was a lie. But he felt like he had a boyfriend, since every time he considered hooking up with someone, he immediately felt like he was cheating on Cash. His mother blamed his romantic streak. His sisters blamed his stubbornness. He didn’t know which it was, but it was killing him.

“Oh.” Bryon’s demeanor changed, seduction melting into what Danny could only read as weariness. “Well, damn.” Switching his drink from one hand to the other, he leaned forward to reach in his back pocket. “Let me give you my phone number anyway.” He glanced up and tried the smile again. “In case the timing gets right.”

“Okay.” Danny pulled out his fancy new phone—an expense he’d finally decided was justified instead of risky—and called Bryon’s phone so they both could store numbers. Who knew? Maybe when he got over Cash, he’d be interested. He studied Bryon a moment as the actor put away his phone. “Are you out?”

The megawatt smile was back. “Happily, yeah.”

“Good. Then you won’t mind this.” Danny leaned over and brushed his lips across the other man’s. Bryon was surprised but didn’t seem upset as Danny sat back.

“What was that for?”

Danny grinned. “Didn’t want you to think it was because you aren’t hot as hell.”

Bryon threw back his head and laughed, and Danny considered himself proud he’d removed the weariness from the man’s eyes, at least for the moment. He excused himself and went looking either for another drink or for Gordon to see if he could leave. He chatted with some of his new friends along his path, found a scotch and soda but no Gordon. He did find Rabin, though, sitting on a low wall overlooking the city. The house sported an awesome view. Danny forgot the actual name of the town they’d passed through to get there, but they were about an hour outside the city. It kind of reminded Danny of the Hollywood Hills or Malibu.

“Nice view.” Danny propped himself on the wall beside him.

“Yeah.”

“’Course, you’re used to this kind of thing, living with Brent.”

Rabin just smiled. “Hey, give us about a year, and I might afford my own digs.”

“A year? Shit.” Danny sipped his drink. “With the way we’re going, it won’t be long.”

Neither of them could wipe the grins from their faces. They were almost there. It was really happening. Danny was almost Danny-fucking-Champion, damn it. He just wished he was enjoying offstage as much as on.

“Yeah. Just wait for the tour.”

The tour, of course, was the one with Heaven Sent. Gordon was heavy into finalizing the details with the people he worked with who were in charge of Heaven Sent. He didn’t have details, but Danny knew Europe, parts of Asia, Australia, and even some countries in Africa were already on the bill before a return to the US. They’d be on the road for over a year.

He hoped that’d be enough time to get over Cash.

“Yeah,” he agreed aloud, downing half his drink. He hadn’t had enough tonight and didn’t think he was going to get a good buzz, so this one more couldn’t hurt. He wasn’t driving. “The tour.”

He knew Rabin was studying him before he said, “So, Bryon Keelan?”

“Yep.”

“Looked like he was hitting on you.”

“He was.”

“Not interested?”

“Not really.”

Pause. “Cash?”

“Of course.”

Rabin sighed. “You’re gonna need to go see him.”

There went the rest of his drink. “Why? He made it pretty clear he was done with me.”

“Obviously you’re not done with him.”

“Don’t think he cares.”

“You don’t know that. Maybe he just needed some time without you to figure things out.”

“Nope. I think Cash has it all figured out. I was an extra bit that he didn’t need.”

“You sure that’s not what’s making you hold out?”

Danny considered getting indignant but gave it up. Rabin was a good enough friend, had listened to enough of Danny’s griping, that Danny knew he was trying to help. “Nope. Could be that’s what’s pissing me off—that he didn’t want me.” He shrugged. “But it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t want me, and I’ll get over it. Sometime.”

Rabin chuckled, standing. “You really are a drama queen.”

Danny glared at him, but it lacked any heat. “Fuck you.”

Rabin patted him on the shoulder. “In your dreams, pretty boy.”

Chapter Twenty

Danny held his beer up to Lance. “It’s good to be home.”

Chuckling, Lance clinked bottles with him. “I guess this is as much a home as any.”

“I meant Chicago.”

“I know what you meant, surfer boy.” Lance sipped his drink. “This place isn’t any more home to me than it is to you.”

“True. Home for right now, then.” Danny lovingly stroked the soft brown microfiber of the couch that supported them. “After a few months of that bus and motel rooms, I’m real happy with my couch right here.”

Lance propped his bare feet on the coffee table. “At least until we head out again.”

Leaning his head back, Danny groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

“Yeah, you love it, and you know it. You’ll be missing the screaming girls any moment now.”

“Aww, I miss ’em already.”

Which got him a laugh. Lance and Noble’s apartment seemed so very quiet. They’d only been home a day, and Danny kept expecting someone to barge in and tell them they needed to hurry to get back to the bus or onstage. There was a lot he loved about doing a tour, but that love had to be pretty profound for him to put up with the rest of the crap. Now was nice, though. Now they got to rest for a few weeks while Heaven Sent got their affairs in order. The album was done and getting mastered. Arrangements for the first leg of the tour in Europe were finalized. The ink on the Indigo Knights’ contract with the record company was dry. Life was good.

Danny didn’t even think about Cash much anymore. Not much.

He downed most of his beer in shared silence. “Thanks for letting me crash with you again.”

“No problem. You’re a good enough roommate.” Lance stared at the television but didn’t lean forward to get the remote to turn it on. “Ever hear from the nerd?”

“Nope.”

“Sorry.”

“Hey, it is what it is. He made it clear where we stood.” Danny wondered how many times he’d have to have this conversation.

Lance studied him a moment. “You’re okay with that?”

“No. But there’s not much I can do.”

“You gonna see him?”

“I think, yeah.” Danny wiggled his bare toes and stared beyond them out the sliding glass door that led onto the balcony. Not a place he wanted to be in the wet Chicago heat. He actually missed California’s desert air. “I need to at least convince myself that it’s done.”

Lance shook his head. “I got to hand it to you—not easy to keep celibate the last few months.”

“You have.”

“I’m different.” Lance stood and started toward the open arch that led to the kitchen. “Didn’t Noble tell you? I’m sexless.”

Danny frowned after him. “That’s serious?”

Lance returned with two more beers, caps already off. He kept a straight face as he handed one to Danny, then smiled as he resumed his seat in the easy chair. “No. I’m fully functional.”

“Can I ask why you haven’t had sex in so long?”

Lance pondered a moment as he downed a few sips of beer. “I used to sleep around. A lot. I hurt someone. Didn’t realize I really cared about that person until after I’d ruined it.” He shrugged. “Guess I’m doing penance now.”

Danny watched him carefully. “That person still around?”

Lance smiled. “It’s not Noble.”

“Is it Gordon?”

By the way Lance froze, Danny knew he was right. Lance’s blue eyes met his, lips tight. “What makes you say that?”

“Little hints.”

“Noble didn’t tell you?”

“He hasn’t told me anything.”

“Well, hot damn. He actually can keep a secret.” Lance thought for a moment. “You probably want to keep that little tidbit to yourself.”

“What? That Noble can keep a secret?”

Lance smiled at his joke, but then the smile dimmed. “Gordon and I were together. I hurt him. Bad. It’s a wonder he’s even talking to me. I doubt he wants the information spread around.”

“You still have feelings for him?”

“I still feel I need to make it up to him. Let’s leave it at that, shall we?”

Danny took the hint. “Mum’s the word.”

Lance nodded.

They finished their beers in companionable silence, and Lance left to disappear into his room. Noble wasn’t due back for hours. Danny turned on the television but wasn’t really into it. Day started to melt into night. He was antsy, but he didn’t know what to do.

Then his phone beeped. A text. It’s Cash. Can we talk?

Danny blinked at the little screen, wondering if he was hallucinating. But the caller ID clearly identified Cash Pattison, although the number was new. Questions flew through his head, but he settled on one. When?

Tonight? Dinner?

K. Where?

Come by my new apt. What followed was an address. Still unfamiliar with much of Chicago, Danny was going to need to get Lance to help him with directions.

Dinner. With Cash. If this was a dream, it was a pretty good start. Parts of his body that had been dormant for months began to tingle. B there in an hour.

* * * *

The building was brick, at least its facade. It looked like a pretty typical condominium complex. A nice one. By the time Danny arrived, day had fully dissolved into night. Mounted lamps threw yellow circles onto the bricks along the first floor. Above, glass balconies looked out over the street.

Impressed by the location, Danny buzzed number 404 at the callbox mounted beside doors into the lobby.

“Danny?”

He startled at hearing Cash say his name so clearly, then smiled at himself. Glancing up, thinking there was a camera, he said, “It’s me.” No camera to wave to, at least not one obvious.

“Great. Come on up.” A horrible buzz filled the air, and one of the double doors cracked open.

It was easy enough to find the elevator, and Danny was further impressed by the chrome-and-wood decor. “Cash has moved up in the world,” he muttered to himself, punching number four, then waiting for the cube to take him to his destination.

Was that what this visit was for? To show Danny that Cash was fine without him? Or had Danny left something behind in the old apartment, and Cash wanted to give it to him in person? Danny didn’t dare hope Cash just wanted to see him again. Not after months of silence. Okay, a small part of him hoped for it. The melodramatic romantic in him wanted Cash to fall all over him with protestations of love, but the realist squashed that firmly. Maybe Cash just wanted to be friends. Maybe he needed a booty call. That one made Danny laugh at himself.

The hallway was carpeted, and one side looked out on the street. Evidently, public hallways lined the outside of the building, and the condos—at least on this side—overlooked the interior courtyard. Danny found the door marked with 404 and knocked.

No sound from inside, only the soft whir of air-conditioning and the rumble of cars passing on the street below. Then the knob clicked, and the door opened.

The person who greeted him was an older female version of Cash. She had the same gold-and-brown hair, although hers was in much better shape, longer and pulled back in a tail. Big dark eyes beamed at him from behind lenses surrounded by purple metal frames with little rhinestone flowers at each corner right next to the arms. She was chunkier than Cash, but not unpleasantly so, and her smile was the same one Cash got when something genuinely pleased him.

“Hello,” she greeted. “You must be Danny.”

“I…am. Am I at the right place?”

“You certainly are.” One hand still on the door, she extended the other. “I’m Rebecca, Cassius’s mother. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Danny took the hand, unsure what to say. In the six months he’d lived with Cash, he’d never met Cash’s mother. He’d certainly not expected to meet her tonight.

“Come in, come in. My, you’re just as handsome as your pictures.”

She ushered him inside, where he was immediately engulfed in the smell of something heavenly. Grilled fish, if he didn’t miss his guess, plus some kind of potato dish. His mouth started to water.

The interior of the condo lived up to the promise of the rest of the building. The cream walls were boldly blank, and the floors were warm hardwood. Outdoor lamps lit a balcony beyond sliding glass doors. Furnishing was sparse and all new. A couch and two matching chairs sat before a mounted forty-inch television. On the other side of an empty space, Danny spied a swank kitchen through an open door.

Rebecca closed the door behind him. “May I get you something to drink?”

His mouth was open to answer, when he heard a voice he’d suspected he’d never hear again.

“Hi, Danny.”

Danny swung around to face a hallway that led away to, presumably, at least one bedroom and a bathroom. Cash stood there, but he’d changed his look. For the better. The hair was still longish on top, but none fell lower than his ears. The rest was buzzed close to his head, proving his roots were dark brown. The glasses perched on his nose were not the thick tortoiseshell Danny remembered but rather lenses with narrow, shiny metal frames. He wore a short-sleeved polo shirt and knee-length denim shorts. No comic characters stretched across his shirt, and the shorts looked like they might be new. A wonder.

“Wow. You look great.”

“Thanks.” Cash gestured toward Rebecca. “This is my mom.”

“We’ve met,” she piped in, circling Danny toward the kitchen. “Now, I’m just going to take the fish out, and then I’ll be out of your hair. I hope you don’t mind my hanging around, Danny, but I so wanted to meet you.”

Danny watched her disappear into the kitchen, then looked at Cash.

“Sorry about that. She’s been teaching me to cook. I didn’t mean for her to stay this long, but she wanted to meet you.”

“You cooked?”

Cash smiled. “Mostly. She helped. A lot. But I’m getting better.”

“I thought we were going out?” Surprise made Danny speak without thinking.

Thus the fallen expression on Cash’s face. “We can, if you’d rather do that…”

“No, no, no, that’s fine. It smells awesome. I’m just…surprised. In the whole time we lived together, you never made more than mac ’n’ cheese and grilled cheese sandwiches.”

“Yeah.” He pushed his glasses farther up his nose in a familiar gesture that made Danny’s heart ache. “That was getting old.”

Danny smiled at this new version of Cash, approving. Cash was talking to him. He looked like he paid attention to how he looked. He had cooked for him. His mother had wanted to meet him. Strange things were afoot, and Danny had to wonder again what tonight was about. Then he decided to not think and to go with it.

Danny looked around, taking a few more steps across the empty wood floor. A dining table was needed. “Nice place. You’ve moved up in the world.”

“Yeah.” Cash glanced around like he was seeing it fresh. “My mom helped me pick it out. And, um, most of the furniture. What there is of it.”

Danny stroked the padded top of one of the upholstered chairs. He recognized the titles on the gamer and computer magazines spread across the coffee table. “Bet you picked out the TV.”

“Well, yeah.”

“Job must be working out for you.”

Cash stepped up behind the other chair and held on to it with both hands. He looked toward Danny but not directly at him. “It’s good. I really like it. I can pretty much keep my own hours, and I work a lot from home.”

“Sounds great.”

“It is. Yeah.”

“All right.” Rebecca bustled from the kitchen, pulling her purse onto her shoulder. “The food is all ready. You boys should sit down and eat soon.” She put a hand on Cash’s shoulder and kissed his cheek. Then she turned to smile at Danny. “I want to thank you for being such a good friend to my Cassius.” She held out her hand, and he shook it, dazed. “I hope you enjoy the dinner and that we see each other again. Soon. I’ve heard your music, and I actually really like it. I’ve got my quilting group almost convinced to go to one of your concerts!” With that bomb, she smiled at her son again, then left.

Danny wondered where, exactly, he’d crossed over into the Twilight Zone.

“She, um, knows. About, uh, us.”

Oh? “What does she know?”

“That we were…” Cash flushed. “I told her I’m gay.”

Danny dug his fingers deep into the chair’s cushioned back, aware they were both using the chairs as props. “Are you?”

“Yeah. I think so.” Cash nodded, but he might have been trying to convince himself. “I’m pretty sure.”

Danny’s eyes narrowed as an ugly spear of jealousy chilled his chest. “You test that theory with anyone else while I was gone?”

Cash’s face shut down, and just like that, the unreadable mask was back. “No.”

It was just as well. They needed to get things straight before Danny could entertain eating. “Why am I here?”

Finally, Cash met his gaze, giving no clues what he was thinking. “Dinner?”

“That. And what else?”

“There has to be something else?”

“Yeah. You haven’t talked to me in months, and suddenly tonight you want to make me dinner?”

“I couldn’t talk to you when you were in another state.”

“My phone number hasn’t changed. And I e-mailed you.”

There went Cash’s gaze. “Yeah, well. That was a…weird time.”

“A weird time? So weird you couldn’t even write me back? Not even to tell me to go to hell?”

“I didn’t…” Cash’s head shot up, and he searched Danny’s face for a moment. Then he took a deep breath. “I need to show you something.” He released his chair and headed for the hallway.

Danny was impelled to follow.

First door on his right was a bedroom. Had to be where Cash slept, judging by the clothes strewn and piled instead of folded and put away. Danny was relieved to see the bunk beds had been replaced with a thick mattress and box spring and even a frame. The blue sheets on the bed showed no trace of any type of comic character.

Next door was a bathroom, surprisingly roomy, with both shower and tub. Pale green tile matched neatly hung towels. It looked oddly unused.

The last room put a smile on Danny’s face even though he was still antsy. It would be considered a bedroom only if computers needed beds. This was clearly where Cash spent most of his time. Where others would have slept in the bigger room and set up the smaller bedroom as the office, Cash had gone the other way. An open door beside a closed closet was another bathroom that showed more use than the first. A new, massive corner desk was set up on the far wall, one side under a wide window. The same monitors Danny remembered stood sentinel, and the hum of hidden towers filled the room. The one item that surprised Danny was a new stereo unit set up on the opposite wall. It seemed oddly out of place. “Well, nice to know some things never change.”

Cash paused at his office chair to glance back at Danny. He understood Danny’s point and shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Yeah.” Danny waited. “So?”

Cash sat and pulled up to his desk. “Right.”

“More porn?” Danny asked, trying a joke to lighten the mood just a little.

Cash smiled, but it was strained. “Not this time.”

Danny came forward as Cash put his fingers on his trackpad. The monitor came to life to display the fan site Gordon had shown them a few weeks ago.

“I’ve seen that site.”

“Yeah?” Cash clicked on a flashy page that officially announced the Indigo Knights would be touring with Heaven Sent.

A few feet behind Cash, Danny stood very still. Anger drained from him, and tension held him motionless. Like the calm before a storm. “Gordon’s been trying to find out who runs it.”

“Yeah. I know.”

Danny stared at the back of Cash’s head. “You know?”

Cash nodded. “It’s mine.”

When Danny didn’t say anything, Cash turned his chair around to face him.

“Yours?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

Cash watched his own finger trace the frayed edge of his chair’s padded arm. “Before you left, you asked me what I was passionate about. It started to bug me that I didn’t have anything.” He glanced toward the monitor. “So I started this.”

“Why?”

Cash shrugged. “At first it was just a little fun. Sites are easy to set up, and it was something to do. And the girl who runs that special Heaven Sent site’s pretty cool. Turns out I kind of know her. Online. She gave me a lot of good tips.” He turned back around fully and started to click. “I kind of got caught up in it.” Danny saw his grin in profile. “It’s fun.”

“The forum.”

“Well…that.” Cash’s hand hovered over the trackpad before he drew it back to his lap. “And I got to keep track of what you were doing.”

Danny’s heart swelled. But he didn’t let himself grab Cash like he wanted. “You were keeping track of me.”

“Yeah.” Cash sighed. “It wasn’t, like, romantic or anything. I mean, not…” He sighed again, frowning at himself. “I…missed you.”

Danny took a step forward. “Missed me.”

“Yeah.”

“You could have called.”

“Maybe. Didn’t know if you’d want to talk to me after I blew you off.”

He was right behind Cash now. “You should have called.”

Cash shrugged.

Danny grabbed the back of Cash’s chair and spun it around. With it propped against the desk, he leaned on both arms, bringing his face more on level with Cash’s. “Why’d you want to keep track of me?”

Still no eye contact. “I missed you.”

“How much?”

A frown waved over Cash’s face. With clearly monumental effort, he raised his head to finally meet Danny’s gaze again. “I missed you. I-I want you.”

Struck, Danny froze. His feeble brain couldn’t process what he was hearing fast enough.

Cash reached up to touch Danny’s jaw with tentative fingers. “You probably moved on. I get that. But, um, maybe if…when you’re in Chicago…we could still see each other? Sometimes?”

“Sometimes? Like, sex?”

“Yeah. That.”

“Just that?”

Cash shrugged. “Well, yeah. I know you’ve got…others.”

Frustrated, Danny grabbed Cash’s shoulders and hauled him to his feet. While Cash yelped and grabbed Danny’s waist to steady himself, Danny framed his face and forced him to look at him. “Is that what you want? Sex?”

Surprise made Cash’s eyes wide and parted his lips. “I—”

“Because I can give you that.” Danny stared hungrily at Cash’s mouth. “Gotta warn you, though, might be a little wild at first. Because I haven’t had sex since I left Chicago.”

“I… Wait, what?”

Danny shook him a little. “I haven’t been with anyone since I was with you.”

“That’s…impossible.”

Danny’s laugh sounded a little bit like crying. “Believe me, it’s possible.”

“But…all those people. They had to be all over you.”

“They were. I turned every one of them down.”

Cash frowned. “But…why?”

Danny threaded his fingers through Cash’s hair above either ear and tugged. “Because I’m fucking in love with you, you idiot.”

Fingers dug into his sides just as his dug into Cash’s hair. Dark brown eyes searched his face, disbelieving. “But… I…”

“But what? What, Cash?”

Cash swallowed, searching Danny’s face. “I didn’t expect you to…”

“I didn’t expect to either. But I didn’t want anyone else.”

“But…no one?”

“No one. Just me, my right hand, and thoughts of you.”

“They said…”

“They who?”

“Online.” His eyes focused on Danny’s mouth. “They lied?”

“It happens.”

Cash bit his lip. “No one?”

“No one.”

“Fuck.”

Then they were kissing. Danny didn’t know who started it and didn’t care. His mouth was open and accepting of the tongue that awkwardly stroked his. He hoped he got bruises from the punishing grip of Cash’s hands at his sides, proof this was really happening. In sliding his hands through Cash’s hair, he managed to hook his thumbs on the arms of Cash’s glasses. He got them off without breaking the kiss and held them carefully as he wound his arms around Cash’s neck.

Eventually they had to breathe. Cash broke contact but swayed into Danny to tuck his forehead into the curve of Danny’s throat. His hands slid up to spread on Danny’s back. “I didn’t expect this.”

Danny held him close, closing his eyes, tipping his head up, smelling his freshly washed, clueless nerd. His. “What’d you expect, baby?”

“Didn’t know if you’d be mad. Didn’t know if you’d even come.” Fingers dug into his back. “I didn’t know what I was doing without you.” He trembled. “I missed you so much.”

“I’m right here.”

“Danny.”

Danny tipped his face down, nuzzling in the vicinity of Cash’s right ear. “I love you.”

Minor tremble became major shake. “Danny.”

Still keeping Cash’s glasses safe in one hand, Danny inserted the other between them to stroke Cash’s clean-shaven jaw. “I love you so much. Tell me we can make it work.”

Cash nodded into his neck. Hugged him closer. “I want that.”

“Do you, baby?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me.”

Cash stilled. Swallowed. Carefully he lifted his head. Danny’s heart caught to see the tears that welled in those huge brown eyes. “I want to make it work. I-I don’t know how…”

Danny shook his head. “Later for that. Give me the words, baby.”

Cash sucked on his bottom lip as one fat tear fell down his cheek. “I love you.”

The world could not contain the joy that spread through every cell in Danny’s body. Smiling, he brushed the tear from Cash’s cheek. “Say it again.”

Cash’s nostrils flared. Then, slowly, he smiled. “I love you.”

“How much do you love me, pumpkin?” There was the frown he wanted. He felt a minor pinch at his side.

“Don’t call me that.”

Stroking Cash’s jaw, Danny closed the distance between their lips. The kiss was light at first, exploratory. Lovers leaning each other like it was the first time. “Sugarplum?” Danny’s breath wafted with Cash’s.

Cash nudged him toward the door at his back. “No.”

Gladly, Danny walked backward, keeping his arms around Cash. “Ducky Cakes?”

Cash just stopped at that one. He pushed Danny to arm’s length. “Ducky Cakes?”

“Forgive me, Snookie Bear.” Danny kept moving backward, letting his hands slide down Cash’s arms until they gripped each other’s wrists. Well, almost gripped. He still had hold of Cash’s glasses. “The blood flow to my brain is kind of sketchy at the moment.”

Cash let him walk backward for a few steps, then shook his head and took over. With a good hold on Danny’s wrist, he led the way from the room. “I think I like baby best.”

“Then baby it is,” Danny declared, happily following Cash to the other bedroom. “I like the bed, by the way.”

“Mmm.” Cash led him to it and plucked his glasses from Danny’s hand to lay them on the single nightstand. Then he shoved Danny onto the mattress. He grinned. “I like it better now.”

Danny reached for him. “I can make it even better.”

“Yeah.” Cash crawled over him until they were almost nose to nose. “You can.”

Time lost all meaning. When Cash kissed him, that was all Danny wanted to do for the rest of his life. For a moment. Then he dug under Cash’s shirt to find warm, smooth skin, and he needed to taste. He wrestled Cash to his side, and they tangled together while trying to get each other naked. Lots of laughing and a few good-natured curses later, they were skin to skin, cock to cock, with four hands sliding everywhere at once.

“Please tell me,” Danny whispered in between kisses, “you’ve got lube here.”

Cash twisted his upper body to reach into the nightstand. While he was doing that, Danny took full advantage and spread kisses all over the bare chest and nipples exposed to him. Cash enjoyed it enough that he remained on his back even after he had lube and condom in hand. Amused, Danny crawled over him, still kissing as he reached for the bottle and packet.

“You didn’t do this with anyone else while I was gone?” he confirmed, trailing his way down Cash’s rib cage to the softer plane of his belly.

Hands on his shoulders guided his way down. “No.”

Danny kissed the weeping tip of Cash’s cock. “Not even tempted?”

Cash tugged a lock of Danny’s hair. “Stop talking.”

Chuckling, Danny reached down to push Cash’s leg up so his knee was bent. “Make me.”

Cash reached down, wrapped his hand around the shaft of his cock, then pointed the head toward Danny’s mouth. “Here. Put this in your mouth.”

Danny grinned. “Gladly.”

With his mouth happily occupied, listening to the music of Cash’s moaning, Danny popped the cap of the lube bottle and wet his fingers. Cash arched forward when Danny sank first one finger, then another, easily into his body. Cash was more than ready.

“Are you sure you didn’t do this with anyone?” Danny asked, careful to keep his tone light as he knelt between Cash’s legs.

Frustrated because Danny had stopped, Cash reached down to stroke his cock. “What?”

Danny ripped open the condom packet. “You’re awfully loose down there.”

Cash stilled. Then flushed and grinned. With his free hand, he reached over to the nightstand drawer and drew out a slim vibrator. “I’ve been practicing.”

Danny nearly dropped the condom. “No. Really?” He stopped Cash before he put it back. “No, wait.” He sat on his heels. “Show me.”

“What?”

He nodded at the purple plastic in Cash’s hand. “Show me what you do with it.”

With one hand wrapped around his cock and the other holding a vibrator, Cash looked a little like the cute young things Danny had often watched in porn videos. His stunned expression might have been comical if it weren’t so damn sexy. “You know what I do with it.”

Danny stroked his own cock with his still-wet hand. “I want to see.”

“Why?”

He reached for the lube and held it out for Cash. “Please?”

Hesitant, Cash released his cock and held out his palm. He watched Danny pour some out, then continued to watch as he wet down his toy.

Danny grinned. “You looked this up, didn’t you?”

Cash mirrored his grin. “Yeah. Ordered this online too.” He twisted to his side and moved his leg to get a better angle at his ass. Danny had to lean for a better view, but he saw the important part. He saw the shiny head of the vibrator penetrate that ring of tight muscle. He glanced up to see Cash’s eyes had closed and his bottom lip was caught between his teeth.

“That’s gorgeous,” Danny assured him, adjusting so he could get closer. Quickly he rolled on the condom, then reached down to tap at the fingers Cash used to push the toy in and out of his body. “Did you think of me when you did this?”

No answer. Judging from the wash of pleasure over his face, Danny didn’t think an answer would be forthcoming. So he kissed Cash’s upraised knee, took hold of the end of the vibrator, and turned it on low. Cash twisted, moaned.

“I’ll bet you did,” Danny crooned, taking over the toy from Cash. He pushed it in, then brought it out, watching as Cash writhed. “Bet you thought about me fucking you.” He wrapped his free hand around Cash’s cock. “Sorry—I can’t vibrate for you, though.”

Desperate, Cash spread his arms across the mattress and glared at Danny. “Stop talking and fuck me.”

Grinning, Danny pushed the vibrator in farther and gave it a vicious twist. “Like this.”

Cash’s eyes fluttered up, but he recovered quickly. “No.” Before Danny could protest, he sat forward. They grappled a moment, but Cash won out, turning over onto his hands and knees. “Like this.” He reached back to pull out the toy.

Danny froze, entranced. Cash’s ass beckoned, shiny with lube. The look he gave Danny over his shoulder was pure carnal invitation. Unable to resist, Danny rose up on his knees behind Cash, braced his hands on slim hips, and guided his cock easily into Cash’s slicked-up opening. They both sighed in pleasure as Danny leaned over to drape Cash’s back with his body. Cash collapsed onto the mattress, arms and legs spread. Danny wrapped an arm around his torso and planted soft kisses at his nape as he thrust slowly. In. Out. In. Out.

“I don’t want this to stop,” Danny murmured, picking up the pace. “I want you all the time.”

“Yeah.” Eyes closed, Cash gripped the pillow underneath his head.

“You and me.” Faster now. Danny propped up on his elbows to get a better angle. “I love you.”

“Mmm.” Cash’s head lifted, his neck arching as he cried out. “I…love you. Too.”

Danny kept as much skin in contact with Cash’s as he could. Sweat beaded between them, lubricating the way. He didn’t so much thrust as rock. The mattress thumped against Cash’s fancy wood headboard, and pillows, sheets, and bedspread bunched up around them. Cash shuddered when he came, burying his cry in the pillow below his head. Danny wasn’t far behind, biting into the back of Cash’s shoulder as everything he had poured into his lover.

They lay panting together for precious moments before Danny had to roll away. He tied off the condom and dropped it over the edge of the bed, promising himself he’d remember to dispose of it when his legs worked again.

Turning back, he rolled into Cash’s arms and kissed his sweaty forehead. “God, I missed you,” he murmured.

Cash snuggled in close, his arms comfortable around Danny. “Missed you too.”

Chapter Twenty-One

“Europe?”

They sat at the breakfast table in Cash’s kitchen, eating a reheated dinner. Cash wore boxers with Snoopy on them—he hadn’t completely abandoned his comics—and Danny had pulled on another pair covered with X-Men logos. The food was delicious and had probably been even better when it was hot, but they were both worn-out from making love and would have eaten almost anything.

“Yeah.” Danny had decided to start this off right and admit to Cash he was going back out of town. “Then I think we go to Australia, then back up through Asia.”

Cash chewed as he considered this. “How long will you be gone?”

“It’ll pretty much be a year before we’re back in the States.”

Cash raised his eyebrows and bent back over his plate.

“Does that change things? For us?”

Cash pushed green beans around the plate with his fork before scooping them up to his mouth. “No.”

“But…?”

Shrugging, Cash pushed away his empty plate. “I still have a hard time believing you just want me.”

Danny smiled. “And I have a hard time believing no one will snap you up while I’m gone.”

“Right.” Cash snorted. “I don’t ever go out.”

“There’s probably some closeted guys at your work planning to make a move.”

He paused when Cash just stared at him, drinking him in from his platinum hair to as much of his bare chest as could be seen above the table. “They’d have to be pretty good to measure up to you.”

Danny blinked. “Careful, baby. That almost sounded romantic.”

Cash sat forward and folded his arms on the table to lean on them. One lock of hair fell over his eye, but a head toss cleared it. “It’s true. When you were gone…” He thought. Frowned. Shook his head. Sighed. “It was like all the color went out of my life. I didn’t know how to handle it. You… No one laughs like you.” He picked at one of his knuckles. “No one sees things like you do. I…lost that when you weren’t around.”

“I was a phone call away,” Danny felt the need to point out.

Cash shook his head. “I didn’t think you’d want me. I was pretty sure you’d moved on at least a dozen times. When you e-mailed”—another shrug—“I was offended. Like you couldn’t let me just get over you.”

“That’s not what I wanted to do.”

“Oh, I know.” Cash laughed softly as he stood, gathering their empty plates. “I finally talked to my mom. She showed me how stupid I was being.”

“Your mom?”

“Yeah. Totally unexpected. She really listened to me.” He set the plates in the sink and just stood there, looking at the wall. “She and my dad have been great.”

Danny stood and sidled up behind Cash. He wound his arms around his lover’s middle and kissed his shoulder. “I’m happy for you.”

Cash turned in his arms. “Last night—dinner—was my idea, though. I wanted to see you again, and I thought…” He sighed and turned his face up so Danny could see his eyes. See the sincerity in them. “I decided I’d take any little part of you that you were willing to give.”

Danny smiled and pressed closer. “Baby, I’m willing to give you everything.”

They kissed, a slow drag of lip against lip.

“I still don’t know if I can handle those crowds.”

“It’s okay. I know a few people you should meet. Johnnie Heaven’s husband can’t stand crowds either.”

“Really?” Words were muffled since neither of them was willing to stop kissing.

“Yeah. Besides, being on the road is really shitty. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”

“You’re still going to do it.”

“I’m still going to do it.” He swiped his tongue over Cash’s. “But it’ll be better knowing I’ve got you to come back to.”

Cash twined his arms around Danny’s neck. “I’m here as long as you want me.”

“Good.” Danny started to draw him across the kitchen floor, back toward the bedroom. “Because that’ll be forever.”

~ * ~

Chapter One

Present day, September

“Here we are,” Lance announced as he turned the car in to a tiny parking lot outside a nondescript brick building. There was no sign on the door or any indication of what might be inside. He’d had to punch in a code for the gate to the chain-link fence that was now closing behind him, and only the number above the door told him they were in the right place. A dusty blue truck was parked to the right, with a gray Mercedes and a black Corvette to the left. Outside, warm sun failed to brighten the industrial setting as cars rushed by on the busy street.

Noble didn’t make a move to get out of the car once Lance had turned the key. “You sure this is it?”

“You’re the one with the directions.”

“Yeah, but…” Bangles clacked on Noble’s wrist as he waved at the building.

Lance indicated the Corvette and Mercedes. “Someone inside’s got money.”

Noble considered the cars, brushing bright green bangs out of his eyes. “Yeah. I guess so.” Decision made, he tossed the paper with the directions and the gate code over his shoulder into the backseat, then reached up to drop his sunglasses over his eyes. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

Lance grinned as his friend got out of the car, flashing midriff between the hem of his lime-green-and-black T-shirt and the waistband of faded, torn jeans. Noble wouldn’t admit it, but he’d dressed very carefully to make a grand first impression. Lance did not dress to impress, trusting Noble to do it for them. He adjusted his own sunglasses as he exited the car, but there was no flash of skin, thanks to his worn, faded black button-down and equally faded jeans. The only little bit of nonblack in his ensemble was the blue rubber band holding his blond ponytail.

Pocketing the keys to the Porsche rental, Lance followed Noble up a short flight of cement stairs and through a rust-red fire door. A small, carpeted reception area was deserted, but there was an open door behind the empty desk, and voices could be heard down the hall beyond.

Noble did the honors, using his calling-over-the-crowd-in-a-club voice. “Hello?”

“Hey! Hello!” came a shout from the hall. “Come on back.”

Turning to Lance, Noble slid his sunglasses down his nose for a significant look under raised eyebrows. They both recognized the voice. Lance tipped his head to meet the gaze over the rim of his own glasses, giving a bland look in return. Waiting.

Predictably, Noble broke first. With a small snort, he rolled his eyes, raised his sunglasses on top of his head, then turned down the hall. Slipping his sunglasses into his shirt pocket, Lance followed, carefully giving no indication of the fact that his heart rate had just jacked up to a level where he was shocked he could even breathe around the pulsing muscle.

Gordon.

Lance had known he’d be here. Of course. They’d made plans to meet. The meet was the reason they were here. The meet was the reason he and Noble had dropped their apartment in California, put all their stuff in storage, and headed across half the country. The meet could quite possibly change his life in many ways. But that didn’t change the fact that after a year and a half, he was about to see Gordon again.

That was worth a jacked-up heartbeat.

Lance followed Noble down a hallway with gray walls and sturdy green carpet. None of the doors to the right or left were open, but the one at the end of the hall was, and as they approached, Gordon appeared in its frame. Lance swallowed but otherwise managed to contain his reaction. God, Gordon looked good. The thick black hair was cut straight to his neck and around his ears but left longer on top, spiked a little with product to make it shine. His square jaw was clean-shaven, his welcoming smile on display. Too far away to see them, Lance knew full well that in the bad lighting Gordon’s hazel eyes would look more brown than green. While he looked terrific in black T-shirt and jeans, the look was a little off to Lance, whose memories were filled with Gordon in crisp button-downs and slacks. But the atmosphere of the studio lent itself to the outfit. Or maybe Gordon was more casual these days. Time had passed. It was possible.

“Noble. Good to see you.” Gordon folded Noble into a brief, warm hug, then nudged him inside the room. “Come, meet everyone.” Changeable eyes then focused on Lance. Only because they stood face-to-face did Lance see the shadow that flashed across Gordon’s expression. All of a sudden, the smile was a little forced, and some of the warmth drained from his gaze. Nostrils flared, just a bit. “Lance.”

He wanted a hug too but saw it wasn’t happening, so he kept his hands deep in the pockets of his jeans and stayed back out of arm’s reach. “Gordon.”

Gordon took a step back, turning as he did so, then reached a hand toward Lance. “Come inside.”

Lance started past him, eyes averted. He couldn’t help a small flinch when Gordon’s warm hand patted his shoulder, staying there as Lance walked by. No hug but a touch. That was something.

Later, Lance promised himself. Later he’d talk to Gordon and find his footing. Right now a potential future was in the room before him, and it deserved his full attention.

Noble had already started his own introductions, so it fell on Gordon to introduce Lance to the others. Lance recognized the original Indigo Knights’ guitarist from a little background searching he’d done online. Rabin Squire looked every inch a rock star. Thick, short chestnut hair, dark, dramatic eyes, and a killer smile. Handsome guy with that sultry, slightly dirty look that girls loved. The English accent just brought out reminders of the British Invasion from the eighties, which really couldn’t hurt a band’s reputation.

Rabin shook Lance’s hand, wearing a big smile, those eyes shining with a fire Lance often saw in hungry musicians. This one, Lance was sure, was largely responsible for the demo tracks Gordon had sent them. This one was the one to know. Thankfully, Lance felt an instant liking between them—no spot judgment or comparison, just open welcome. He could work with that.

Danny Champion was as ridiculously good-looking as any of the surfer boys Lance had seen in the few months he’d lived in California. His rich voice, expressive eyes, and charming smile displayed everything Lance could hope for in a lead singer. He too was instantly welcoming, if a little bit too excited. But excitement was okay. This guy had more spark in his left pinky than the lead man of Lance and Noble’s former band had in his whole body.

Lance knew Brent Rose on sight. There weren’t too many people involved with modern music who didn’t. He was amused at himself for a little bit of a fanboy hitch in his chest as he shook the low-key musician’s hand. Brent was the musical head and heart of a band that had accomplished everything Lance could ever hope and then some. That he contributed his talents to producing the two guys Lance had just met lent a lot of weight to Lance and Noble’s agreement to drive across the country to meet them. If Brent thought they were something, they were definitely worth a look.

He was sitting at the console when Lance approached, and remained sitting, although he did lean forward as they shook hands.

“I saw your Christmas show,” Lance told him with a genuine smile. “Fucking awesome, man.”

Brent smiled, dark eyes warm under a low hang of black hair. “Thanks. You were in LA? I thought you were out of New York.”

“Yeah.” Lance propped himself on the edge of the console, half monitoring the sound of Noble talking to both Rabin and Danny. He couldn’t catch the words, but by the tone of Noble’s voice and the speed of his speech, he was liking them too. “We were. But after we left The Might, we went for something completely different.”

“Ah. Yeah.” Brent tossed his head in an effort to clear his eyes of the black forelock. “Sorry about The Might, man.”

Lance shook his head. “I’m not. We did what we were asked for as long as we could.” He glanced around the studio space. The place he’d been used to working in was better, to be sure. All the equipment here was new, but Shelby was rich and was always upgrading his space with anything newer. Add to it that The Might rehearsed in a studio inside a guest house on Shelby’s family’s estate instead of in an industrial part of town, and the setup on the whole was nicer. “We needed something else, y’know? Where we had more say.” And it felt like this could be that place. These people could be people he could work with instead of working for.

“I’ve heard about Shelby.” Brent sat back in his seat, calmly folding long fingers over his flat belly.

Lance finally recognized the logo on his faded green T-shirt as one from Heaven Sent’s first world tour. He assumed its origin was in the Far East, since the characters looked Chinese or Japanese. Or Korean. Hell if he would know. He’d only ever been to Europe, never the Far East.

“Was he really that controlling, if you don’t mind my asking?” Brent said.

“Don’t mind at all. And yeah, he was.”

“Total dick,” Noble supplied, sidling up next to Lance to add his opinion to the conversation. “Knows music but never let anyone else have a say.”

“What the fuck?” murmured Rabin, who came up behind Brent’s shoulder. “What kind of fun is that?” Lance liked the wicked tilt to his smile.

Noble pointed at him, grinning big. “I like you. But you’ll probably regret you said that.”

Beside Noble, Danny laughed.

“On that note”—Gordon stepped up between Danny and Rabin to complete the circle—“shall we discuss a few things?”

It was easy. Gordon started with how they’d handle the trial period, being clear that anyone could back out after the time they all agreed to try things out. He had Brent explain about the studio space and the available equipment and made sure that everything they needed to know was discussed up front. Maybe it was too easy. But that was Gordon, organizer extraordinaire. He lived for this shit.

And, well… Lance looked around at the guys in the room. He and Noble were a pair. Not a couple, not ever that, but their friendship was based on years of common ground and understanding. Where he went, Noble went, and vice versa. And he got a good feeling about Rabin and Danny. They were obviously friends, but perhaps they hadn’t been for very long. Danny, certainly, couldn’t have been in Chicago more than a few months, and Lance knew the breakup of the original Indigo Knights was fairly recent, within the last year or so. Regardless, they had an easy understanding between them that wasn’t sexual, although Gordon had warned Lance and Noble that both were gay. Lance was eager to get his bass in his hands and play around with these guys to see what kind of sounds they could muster. He hadn’t been eager for a long time.

“All right.” Noble rubbed his palms together eagerly. “Now that that’s done, when do we get to play?” He backed away from the circle toward a drum set in the corner. “I don’t have my skins, but these’ll do for a while.”

“I didn’t bring my bass,” Lance stated to no one in particular since Rabin and Danny had started after Noble.

Brent stood up, proving to be a few inches taller than Lance. He jerked his head toward the door. “I’ve got some equipment in the other room you can borrow for today.”

Lance followed Brent into the musician’s equivalent to a candy store. The little room was filled with guitars mounted on the walls, amps stacked atop each other, and sundry other musical equipment, including a selection of horns that Lance had to linger over just because they were pretty.

“Nice setup.”

“Thanks.” Brent looked around the room with a small smile. “Hell and I had started collecting so much crap, it’s good to get it out of the house.”

Which reminded Lance that Brent was famously involved with one of his bandmates. Lance had read about the stir Heaven Sent had caused in the GLBT community since each of the original four members as well as the newest member turned out to be gay. All of them were now in long-standing relationships with men. To be honest, that fact had been one of many factors he and Noble had talked about after Gordon had extended the offer to meet and possibly join the Indigo Knights. Any band closely associated with Heaven Sent would naturally get some of that spotlight. That wasn’t anywhere near an issue for Noble, who was out and loudly proud. Wasn’t a problem for Lance either, although he wasn’t quite as loud and only recently—last few years—into men.

Lance picked up a shiny blue Les Paul bass. His favored guitar was gold and a few years older, but this one wasn’t all that different. “This custom?” he asked, sliding his fingers along the neck.

“Yeah.” Brent leaned against a table and dug his hands into the pockets of his jeans, unimpressed by the equipment surrounding him. “It got made for Luc, but he only used it once, then left it with me. Should be in tune. I was playing with it the other day.”

Lance tried it out while he fought back a mild wave of jealousy. He’d only known the man for a half hour, and already Lance envied the hell out of him. Brent’s accomplishments and fame were all impressive, but what Lance envied was his calm acceptance. Lance had his own version of fame and more money than he knew what to do with, but he’d come by it in a completely different manner. Despite what others saw in his outward appearance, he was not nearly as calm or as comfortable in his skin as Brent Rose seemed to be. “This is sweet.”

“Use it.” Brent turned to pick up a small amp. “This came with it.” He set the amp on the table, then waved his hand around. “Or you can use any of the others.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” Brent smiled at him. “Want to make you comfortable, after all. I think you and the guys could do some good stuff together.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You know The Might?”

“Oh sure.”

“Did you know that it’s all Shelby’s music?”

“Sure.” Brent’s stare took on a bit more intensity. “But you played it. I’ve seen you live. You’re good.”

Lance’s jaw dropped before he could stop it. “You’ve seen us when?” With the exception of a brief tour of Europe about a year ago, The Might had never played live anywhere except in a club in New York called Fletcher’s, which was owned by Shelby. It was inconceivable that someone with Brent Rose’s notoriety had been in the club without Lance’s knowledge.

Brent chuckled. “Hell and I were kicking it in Berlin.” He cocked his head, smiling. “That’s kind of his playground. I think we caught every obscure club in the city. But we saw you in…” He glanced up at the ceiling, thinking. After a moment, he grimaced and shook his head. “Fuck, I don’t I remember the club, but you were there, and we both liked what we saw.”

Lance laughed as he put the guitar’s strap over his shoulder. “I’m impressed. Not everyone liked Shelby’s last concept.” Few people had, in fact, liked the music Shelby had insisted on for their second—and last, at least for Lance and Noble—album. It was part rock opera, part testimonial, part self-indulgent bullshit.

Brent shrugged. “Okay, I wasn’t all that much about the storyline, but a lot of the music was really good. And you and Noble were great.” He grinned. “I can see why you’d leave, though.”

“Ha. Ya think?”

“You should like Rabin’s ideas. Gordon thinks your styles complement each other.”

Adjusting the strap so Brent didn’t have to see what emotion might be in his eyes, Lance nodded. “We really liked the demos he sent.”

“And those are just demos. Wait until we get to the good stuff.” Brent sounded excited. Eager. When a musician of his caliber felt like that, it was hard for Lance not to be eager himself. So he went ahead and let himself feel it.

“There you are.” Lance froze at the sound of Gordon’s voice at the doorway. He turned to see the man with a hand on either side of the frame, biceps straining the short sleeves of his T-shirt, an airy smile curling lips Lance wished he didn’t remember so well. Gordon looked at Brent. “Brent, do you mind if I talk to Lance alone for a moment?”

Brent glanced at Lance but stood. “Sure.” He waved two fingers at Lance and left the room.

Lance fiddled with the strap, seemingly unconcerned as Gordon shut the door. Okay. He geared himself, unsure what the tenor of this talk was going to be.

“Will that work for you?” Gordon asked, his deep voice filling the small, soundproof room.

A glance up showed Gordon gesturing at the guitar. “Yeah. For now.” Lance stroked the upper surface of the body, pleased with the feel. “Our stuff should arrive tomorrow.”

“Good. You had it shipped here?”

“Yep. Just like you suggested.”

“Good.”

Carefully, he lifted the strap from his shoulders and set the bass beside the amp on the table. In the lengthening silence, he propped his butt on the edge of the table, crossed his arms, and looked up at Gordon.

Who was looking at him. What did Gordon see? Not anything he liked. There was a regrettable distance in those gorgeous eyes, a blankness in place of the love that used to shine there. No visible desire to rush into Lance’s arms, which—while understandable—was a damn shame. Lance met that cool look with affected calm and waited.

“I thought we should get one thing clear.” Gordon toyed with his smartphone. The thumb of his other hand was hooked in his pocket. “We’re not getting back together.”

It wasn’t any surprise to Lance. Nor was it a surprise that Gordon wanted things clear from the beginning. That was his way. Still, it poked hard at Lance’s heart. “I didn’t think we would.”

“Good. Because we’re not.”

“Okay.”

Gordon tilted his head to the side a little, eyes narrowing just a touch. “Okay?”

Lance took a breath and let it make noise as he expelled it. “Gordon, I don’t want to fight. I never did.”

Eyes narrowed more, and lovely lips pressed together, but Gordon made none of the comments he certainly could.

“Hell”—Lance tried an offhand smile—“I’m surprised you even called me.”

“I didn’t call you. I called you and Noble. There’s a difference.”

“Right.”

“I mean it. Despite what’s happened between us, I still think you guys are too good for where you were.”

“And now?”

“Now?” Gordon glanced at the door like he could see the men in the other room. Then he faced Lance again. “They’re good too. Really good. I think that you all could be spectacular together.” Emphasis put spark in his eyes, all the proof Lance needed that these guys really were good, since Gordon knew what he was talking about. “I’ve got that feeling.” He tapped his phone on his thigh, watching himself do it. “Believe me, it wasn’t easy to call you. But it was like a sign from God or whatever powers that be.” A small laugh and he shook his head a little. “Rabin and Danny needed a rhythm section, and I knew one that was perfect. I couldn’t not call you. Despite”—his expression darkened—“our past.”

Lance’s heart ached that Gordon could ever have had any reason not to talk to him. He loved the man, even if Gordon might never believe that again. “I’m glad you called.”

Gordon nodded. Then his head came up, that intense glare back in his eyes. “But it’s not for us. You do understand that?”

“I understand.” He wished he didn’t, but he did.

“Does Noble? Because I don’t want to hear shit from him.”

Lance reached up to rub the back of his neck, fingers massaging the base of his ponytail. “I can’t promise that he won’t give you shit. It’s Noble. But I can promise you that he understands too.”

Gordon breathed in, nostrils widening a bit. “I guess I’ll talk to him later. But I thought you and I should be clear.”

“Crystal.” Lance should probably have let it go at that. Might have been wiser. But he’d learned that he wasn’t always wise. His fingers tugged the band from his hair. “As long as we’re being clear…”

Gordon stilled. Wary. Waiting.

Combing his long, straight blond hair out with his fingers, Lance searched Gordon’s face, looked for some evidence of the man who’d loved him once. Once. Before he’d ruined it. “I still love you.”

Gordon’s eyes flew open wide. “What the fuck? Didn’t I just say—”

Both hands came up, palms out in defense. “I know. You said we weren’t getting back together. I understand.” Lance dropped his hands and let emotion bring the corners of his lips down and fill his gaze. “But you need to understand that I’ve never gotten over you.”

Gordon shook his head slowly, contempt written across his face. “You hypocritical bastard. You had your chance with me.” Punch.

“I know.”

“You’re the one who broke what we had.” Stab.

“I know.”

“I told you I don’t do second chances.” Rip.

“I know.”

“And you have the gall to tell me…”

“The truth.” Lance maintained calm only because he’d trained himself to do it during the long months that he’d dealt with what he’d done. “Nothing but the truth. I was an idiot, and I deserve to be hurt. I deserve your hatred, and I don’t deserve to have you back. I know all that.” He shook his head, aware of a long strand of blond that escaped to bisect the left half of his face. A very small, very ineffectual shield. “But it hasn’t changed the fact that I still love you.”

Gordon glared at him. Full-on hatred heated the space between them. It was something like a minute before Gordon could form words, and when he did, they were full of venom. “Fuck you. Fuck you to hell and back.” He pointed at Lance with the hand clutching his phone. “Stay the fuck away from me. We work together. That is it.” He stomped to the door but whirled before he opened it. “Oh, and by the way, I’ve got a boyfriend.” It was said with a measure of triumph, an arrow aimed at Lance.

Lance flinched, letting Gordon see the barb strike home.

“He’s smart and gorgeous, and he’s good to me. So I’m not interested in anything you have to give.” With that, Gordon ripped open the door and left the room.

Lance stayed where he was, staring at the tight nub of the carpet beneath his boots. He thought maybe he wanted to be angry, but he was only sadly tired. “Well,” he said after a few minutes, “that happened.” Pulling himself together through recent practice, Lance picked up the guitar by the neck, hooked the fingers of his other hand through the handle of the amp, and took both through the open door toward his new future.

* * * *

The rest of the afternoon was too short. Gordon was gone by the time Lance returned to the studio, and he was thankful to immerse himself in an impromptu jam with the guys. Gordon and Brent were right—there was something there in Rabin and Danny. It was raw and undirected, sure. Lance and Noble had spent the last chunk of their lives following direction rather than creating on their own, Rabin had gone through a rough time with the first incarnation of the Indigo Knights, and Danny was pretty new to anything musically serious. But there was something there that looked like it was going to work, some electric spark that snapped into place and looked like it could grow. It was a heady feeling, one that propelled the four of them to go to dinner after Brent announced he had to head home. One that got them through dinner at a twenty-four-hour diner with a lot of laughs and a lot of sketchy plans for the immediate future.

For a few hours, Lance was able to be happy again.

Noble noticed. He waited until they were in the car on the way back to the hotel they were staying in until they needed an apartment. “So.” Just that one word, with that inflection, and Lance knew what was coming. He knew Noble too well not to. “You talked to Gordon.”

Elbow propped in the open window, cheek pressed to his hand, Lance considered the road, the lights, the cars ahead of him. “Yeah.”

“And?”

He could make light to frustrate his friend; that was usually fun. But it was probably best to just get this over with so he could get back to the high from playing music. “He’s got a boyfriend.” There, that’d cut to the chase.

“What?” The leather seat creaked as Noble turned as best he could to face Lance. “A fucking boyfriend? What the fuck? Is that what he got you alone to tell you?”

Lance shook his head. “He got me alone to tell me that we’re not getting back together. The boyfriend is one of the reasons.” And not even the main one.

“Well. That’s it,” Noble murmured, sinking back in his seat. He regarded the road for a moment. “But you knew it wasn’t happening with the two of you.” Statement, not question. They’d discussed this at length on the drive to Chicago and several times in the months before that.

Lance smoothed his hand over his head, unsuccessfully patting down tendrils of hair that had flown loose from his ponytail. “Yeah.”

“You okay?”

“Sure.” Not convincing, but neither of them expected him to be.

“You’re way too calm about this.”

Maybe on the outside. But then, on the inside too. He was kind of calm, wasn’t he? “What choice do I have?”

Noble simmered on that for a moment. “That’s pretty fucked-up. You finally do the one thing he demanded you do; then he doesn’t even reward you for it.”

“I’m not a fucking dog.”

Noble snorted. “You came when he called.”

“Fuck you.”

“Yeah, okay. That was low. I’m sorry.” Noble glared out the window, pouting more than Lance ever would. “Y’know what? Fuck it.” He swatted Lance’s thigh with the back of his hand. “Let’s go out.”

“No.”

“Yeah. Danny and I were thinking about it anyway. C’mon, let’s find some nameless dick.”

“No.”

“Okay, you can find out his name if you want.” Noble laughed, managing to sound carefree. “You’ve been doing the celibacy thing for the last year because you were hoping Gordon would take you back, right?”

“No.”

“Bullshit.”

“No.” Lance shook his head, but he already knew Noble was incapable of understanding his situation. They’d talked far too many times, and he’d never found the words to explain it so that Noble would get it. Hell, he barely got it himself.

“It’ll make you feel better.”

“No.” He turned in to the driveway of the hotel’s parking lot and stopped at the gate.

“Jesus, Lance.”

Fumbling in his pocket for the keycard that would open the gate, he didn’t look at Noble. “No.”

“Fuck.” Noble threw himself against the back of his seat, sulking like a child. “You’re no fun.”

“Right.”

Noble was quiet until after Lance had parked and they’d met each other outside the car. He stopped Lance when he would have gone toward the elevator. The lighting in the covered parking garage was bad, so Lance couldn’t make out the gold of the colored contacts Noble had chosen to wear today. Gold to match the streaks in the green hair that had wilted about his head during the day. But Lance could see the concern in his friend’s expression. “I’m serious, you know? We should go find you some distraction.”

This time Lance shook his head for emphasis. “No.”

“You need to get laid.”

“No. I don’t.”

“It’s been months.” Although he tried, Noble couldn’t contain his horror at the truth of that statement.

“I know.” It’d been longer than Noble probably suspected.

“You need to quit punishing yourself.”

Tired of this conversation, Lance put his head down and tried to walk past Noble. He managed it, but his friend followed.

“He’s moved on. You know that now. You need to move on too.”

He didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. Noble wasn’t going to understand. At the elevator, he punched at the Up button.

“I really don’t think continued celibacy is going to get him back.”

“It’s not about that,” Lance grumbled as the elevator doors dinged open.

“It sure as hell is about that. What else could it be?” Noble got in beside him, staring at his profile while he swiped the keycard and pushed the button for their floor. “You screwed up. You fucked around. He left you. Okay. Now it’s time to start a new chapter in this story.”

Lance held his breath rather than say any of the angry words that built up behind his clenched teeth as the shiny elevator shot toward the sky.

Noble just couldn’t stay quiet for long. “I know you loved him, but punishing yourself isn’t heal—”

“Shut up. Shut the fuck up.” Little of his anger came through in his tightly controlled voice, but Noble knew him well enough to hear it.

“But—”

“No.” The elevator doors opened on their floor, and Lance led the way out. Right this moment, he wished they’d gotten separate rooms rather than renting a two-room suite. He could use some distance from his friend so he could process the day. Noble said nothing as he followed Lance into the suite, but he wanted to—Lance could feel it. Better to just deal with this now.

He turned at the door to the bedroom he’d claimed to find his friend a few steps behind him, watching him. “Gordon is my problem.” He stabbed a thumb at his chest for emphasis. “Not yours. He’s still the guy you were good friends with before, and you should be again.”

Noble’s eyebrows flew up in shock, and his expressive mouth opened for a rebuttal.

Lance cut him off. “I’m the one who screwed up. I’m the one who hurt him, not the other way around. If I wasn’t a total dick, we might still be together. That’s my problem to deal with. Lay off.”

Now those eyebrows dropped, crowding in growing anger over narrowed eyes.

Again Lance cut him off. “If you want to go out and get laid, go for it. In fact, please go. Get the fuck out, and go have fun for the both of us. Me? I finished a drive across country, quite possibly joined a pretty awesome band, and got my heart rebroken”—he made himself say the last with effort—“all in one day. I’m tired. I’m going to bed alone, and I’m going to enjoy it.”

Noble’s glare had smoothed at the mention of the drive and the band, and he’d flinched at the heart part. When Lance was done talking, Noble sighed and nodded. “Okay. I’m going to bed too.”

Lance summoned an expression of mocking shock. “What? Alone? Are you sure you’re okay?”

With a grimace, Noble turned toward the door of his bedroom. “Bite me.”

“No, thanks.”

As the tension diffused between them, Lance really began to feel the weariness he’d just professed. The bed behind him beckoned, and he hoped it was as good as the expensive hotel promised. “G’night, Noble.”

“Night, Lance.”

Chapter Two

Past, three years ago, January

“Wakey wakey, sleeping beauty.”

Lance grunted. He knew that voice. It was annoying. It had to go away.

The voice laughed, and the mattress to his right sank. “Sorry, my friend, but you’ve got to get up. Daylight has come, and our master approaches.”

Lance groaned and hugged a pillow to his face. “’M asleep.”

“Understood. But given the state of you, I think you might want to get up anyway.” A finger poked his back. “Seriously, dude. It’s almost ten. Shelby’s on his way down here.”

Tired as he was, Lance heard that. Sighing, he sagged into the covers as best he could. “Can’t you hold him off?”

“What?”

Realizing his words had been muffled by the pillow, Lance turned his head and peered blearily at Noble through a curtain of his own hair. The blond strands were lank and oily, testament to the night he’d had. “Can you hold him off?”

Noble grinned at him from where he sat on the side of the bed, fully clothed and way too bright and shiny. His blond hair was buzzed short on the right side and left long to flop over his face. “No can do. You said the master wanted us to meet someone at ten.”

At the moment, Lance couldn’t figure out why he’d say something so ridiculous. Then he remembered Shelby’s phone call the previous night. Shelby did want them to meet someone—although he hadn’t given Lance a clue who—and since Shelby didn’t typically care for people, it was probably a big deal.

“Shit.” Heaving another sigh, Lance pushed up on his arms. Blinked a few times. Cursed the muffled state of his head. He hated that Noble could sound so awake in the morning. It was obscene. Rolling away from Noble’s chipper voice, he stopped when he hit a barrier. He blinked at Noble, who just grinned. Slowly he managed to adjust himself onto his back so he could see what was behind him. Or, rather, who.

His maneuvering had woken his bed partner, who raised a head covered in a gorgeous array of brown curls to narrowly open dark eyes. “What time is it?”

“Nine thirty,” Noble answered cheerfully.

Lance stared at the guy he’d fucked last night. Fucked repeatedly. Freddy had kept him busy with sex and tequila all night. Tequila, yes. Body shots. That was why his head was fuzzy. Tequila wasn’t a great drink for him.

He sat up in the sheets. He was naked. Freddy was naked. Noble was not. Lance rubbed his face with one hand. “Where are the twins?”

Noble chuckled. “They’re not twins, and they’re already gone.”

Lance glanced down again at Freddy, who was listening and watching with one eye peering over the bunched-up hump of a pillow. He wasn’t bothered by Noble’s presence. Then again, he was one of Noble’s friends, so he was probably used to this. Lance looked back at Noble, fully dressed in a faded Van Halen T-shirt and a threadbare pair of jeans. God, his hair was even clean, the light blond mop still a little damp from a shower. “What the hell are you doing here again?”

“Shelby,” Noble reminded him.

“Right.” Lance took another look at the mound of Freddy’s ass under the white sheets. The idea was tempting, but his dick was worn-out from the night. “Right.” He rubbed his face again, then leaned forward to get on his knees to crawl off the foot of the bed. “You sure I said ten?”

Noble smacked his naked ass. “Ten was the magic number last night.”

“Right.” Like he never missed a beat, Noble’s memory was as faithful as his rhythm, so ten it must be. “’M taking a shower.”

“Good idea.”

Lance didn’t look back at the two on his bed. Ten to one, he would come out of the bathroom to find them making out.

Padding across the rugs that covered the hardwood floor helped to clear his head a bit. By the time he reached the bathroom door, his vision was no longer blurry. Gray sandstone and smooth bronze fixtures were soothing to the eye, especially with the muted sunlight leaking in through the frosted windows over the shower, but not as soothing as the warm water that sluiced over his head. Hot water did the trick to clear his head enough to wonder what Shelby wanted with him the day after a gig. Shelby’s “me” time was usually sacrosanct. He must have thought it pretty important to deign to speak to his minions on the band’s day off.

Once Lance was clean, he dried himself with one of the plush towels hanging by the shower and ran a comb through his long, straight blond hair. As he never cared much what he looked like, he just pulled it all into a ponytail and let it drip down his back. After deciding he didn’t have time to shave—Shelby could deal with the scruff—he returned to the bedroom, only slightly disappointed to find it deserted.

The bedroom decor was deep browns and gray. He hadn’t decorated it, but on mornings like this he appreciated that whoever had had thought to make the curtains extra thick to block out the sun and the carpet extra deep to cushion his tired feet. At present, the only light came from the door Noble had left open and the one lamp he had turned on over the dresser opposite the bed.

Lance pulled open one of only three drawers he used in the fancy dresser and chose a threadbare green sweater. The jeans went on commando. He plucked a rolled pair of socks from another drawer, then headed into the attached sitting room. He sat briefly to put on the socks that would protect him from the cold hardwood and tile in the rest of the house, but left off his work boots.

In the upstairs hallway, the stretch of needless columns that lined the walls looked like one of those showpieces you see in fancy magazines. Pretentious murals of pastoral landscapes filled the spaces between the doors, covering what they could of the truly awful rose hue of the walls themselves. At one end of the hall was a seating area that Lance had never seen used but always had a fresh bouquet of flowers on a delicate glass table. At the other end was an L-shaped staircase lit by a bright skylight at the top of the stairwell. Lance passed Yaz’s suite as he headed for the stairs, but the door was closed, so he couldn’t tell if The Might’s guitarist was in house or not. Probably not.

The first floor was a kitchen area behind a free island and one big, sprawling room that combined a living and dining area. Double glass doors led out to an enclosed patio with a gorgeous manicured garden. Another set of double doors, these thick and reinforced for sound, opened on another staircase that led down to the studio. It wasn’t a normal band’s pad by any stretch.

Noble’s laugh greeted him as he left the staircase. Noble and Freddy sat at the table, drinking coffee and enjoying the pastries that were put out by the staff every morning. Freddy was shirtless and barefoot, wearing a pair of Noble’s drawstring pants.

“Freddy doesn’t get how all this isn’t ours,” Noble said over the rim of his cup, eyes dancing.

Lance shrugged as he sat. “Nope. It’s all Shelby’s.”

“But you’re in the band together.” Freddy frowned as he delicately picked apart a danish. Even rumpled from sleep and sex, he was perfect. If he wasn’t a model, he damn sure should have been one.

Lance piled a tiny plate with a bear claw and two fruit danishes. “The band’s Shelby’s. He pays for it all.”

“Well, Daddy pays for it all.”

Lance shrugged. “Same difference. The house is Shelby’s. So’s the studio and the equipment. We just work here.”

“And live here,” Noble added.

Freddy nodded appreciatively. “That’s a nice gig.”

Lance shrugged. “It’s got its perks.” Few people ever understood the drawbacks.

“Is it just the two of you?” Freddy asked as Noble got up and circled the free island into the kitchen. “Or does the guitar guy live here too?”

Lance grinned at guitar guy. “Yaz has a room here, but he’s not here that often. He usually just shows up for rehearsal.”

“He doesn’t like us all that much,” Noble said as he poured coffee.

“He’s hot,” Freddy proclaimed with a thoughtful look. “But he’s…I don’t know. Kind of creepy.”

Lance covered his mouth to keep from spewing crumbs as he laughed.

Noble chuckled as he set a mug in front of Lance. “He is kind of creepy.”

Freddy watched Lance compose himself. “So, what, you just get to live here? Rent free?”

“Part of the job is that Shelby wants us handy at all times,” Noble answered. He brought his knees up to wedge them between himself and the table, managing to curl up in what looked like a comfortable position in the very confined space. It made him look about fourteen years old instead of twenty-three. He balanced his cup on his knees. “He puts us up so he can bother us at any time, night or day.”

Lance snorted, still feeling a trace of his hangover. “Drunk or sober.”

“Preferably sober,” Noble agreed, pointing at Lance’s coffee mug.

With a little grumble, Lance picked up the mug and sipped. Thick, black heat barreled down his throat, burning away a lot of the remaining haze in his brain.

“So you must be rich.”

Lance exchanged a wry glance with Noble.

Who shrugged. “No.”

“Really?” Freddy asked.

“Really.”

“Don’t you get paid?”

“Sure. But not all that much.”

“Even with room and board?”

“Yep.”

“That sucks.”

Lance and Noble mirrored shrugs.

“It could be a lot worse,” Lance replied, indicating their surroundings.

Freddy looked to Noble. “What about the apartments you talked about at the club?” Shelby maintained two furnished apartments above the club where the band played—also owned by Shelby—and both Lance and Noble had keys. That was where Lance had intended to spend the night last night rather than schlepping all the way back to the Fletcher family estate.

“That’s so we can be handy there too,” Noble explained.

“It’s the only place we ever play for an audience,” Lance said.

“Ever?” Freddy’s eyebrows shot up.

“Ever.” Lance sucked gooey apple gunk from his thumb and forefinger.

“But…shouldn’t you be playing, like, clubs and stuff? Touring?”

“Real bands do,” Noble said with a false smile. “But we don’t have to.”

“Huh?”

“Shelby’s rich enough to do what he wants without caring about little things like, oh, publicity or marketing.”

“The music’s the only thing that matters to him,” Lance added, his tone far less sharp than Noble’s.

“Isn’t that…weird?”

Noble chuckled. “There isn’t much that’s normal about this band.”

The front door opened, and their lord and master breezed in wearing a cable-knit sweater and pristine dark jeans under a cashmere overcoat. With him was perhaps the most gorgeous man Lance had ever seen. Eyes that were either hazel or light brown sparked with wicked intelligence under thick black brows. Glossy raven hair was cut short around his ears and neck but was long enough on top to show a gentle curl. The shape of his eyes, cheekbones, and mouth suggested he often smiled, which he did as he closed the door Shelby had carelessly left open. Broad shoulders filled out a charcoal woolen coat open over a patterned blue sweater. He topped Shelby’s height by at least a foot. Lance’s eyes opened wide, and he forgot to chew for a few seconds as he watched the man tug off his gloves.

“Ah, good. You’re here.” Shelby led the way into the room, tossing his coat toward the coatrack, heedless of the luck that made the coat snag on one of the hooks. He headed for the table, gaze landing on Freddy. “Who’s this?”

“This is Freddy,” Noble said.

Good thing because Lance found it difficult to concentrate on Shelby and still watch the other man casually remove and then hang up his coat. When he turned away, it gave Lance an excellent view of a trim, tight ass in snug designer jeans. His mind conjured any number of wonderful things he could do with that ass.

“I see.” The cool tone made Lance drag his focus from the other man’s ass to see a gaze that matched the tone. Shelby eyed the young man at the table with disinterest. “Freddy is leaving.”

Freddy blinked. Unaccustomed to Shelby’s manner, he didn’t hear the overt command. Lance briefly considered a protest but was distracted by the other man approaching the table. Hazel eyes met his, and that awesome grin kicked up a notch as the stranger nodded at Lance.

Noble came to the rescue, standing. “Yes. Freddy’s leaving. C’mon.”

“Oh.” Freddy dropped the remainder of his danish on his plate and stood. “I, uh…yeah.”

Noble’s voice retreated. “I’ll call you a cab. Let’s get you dressed.” He led Freddy upstairs.

Which left Lance alone with Shelby and this man he was dying to know. He stood, ready to make his own introduction if necessary.

It wasn’t. Once Freddy was gone, Shelby’s tone rose to its usual level of bored disdain. “Lance, this is Gordon McCarty.”

The vision reached across the corner of the table to shake his hand.

Lance hoped his grin wasn’t too dopey as he reached to grip the hand. He was about to say…what? He didn’t know. But Shelby wasn’t finished.

“He’s now The Might’s manager.”

Hand in Gordon’s warm, dry grip, Lance felt his jaw drop and his eyes bug out. Gordon clearly found this amusing. He squeezed Lance’s hand, then let go with a warm nod of greeting.

Gaping like a fish, Lance had to look at Shelby for confirmation. All he saw was his boss’s back, as Shelby was already in the kitchen, retrieving an empty mug from the cabinet.

“What?” he called, needing clarification.

“I’m the band’s new manager,” answered a voice thick and rich as honey.

The sound recaptured Lance’s attention, and he was again staring into eyes so deep they might drag him in. He was ready to do anything that voice said as long as it was said while the two of them were alone and naked. Bed preferred but optional.

That wide, delectable mouth curled into a wry grin. “You look surprised.”

It took effort to recall the relevant conversation, but Lance finally found his voice. “I…am.”

“Sorry if it’s too much of a shock. I hope it’s not an unpleasant one.”

That grin was infectious and stirred things low in Lance’s belly that a full night of fucking Freddy hadn’t managed to stir. This guy wasn’t even really his type. Sure, he liked dark hair and a toned body, but he tended toward smaller, prettier boys. While Gordon was clearly quite pretty, he was definitely not a boy. “Not unpleasant. Just…unexpected.”

Gordon nodded, glancing at Shelby, who was pouring coffee. Small, classy silver rings hugged earlobes that Lance wanted nothing more than to suck. “He thought you might be surprised.” Those eyes were back, looking at Lance. “Mind if I get a cup?” He jerked his head toward the kitchen.

“Uh, no. Help yourself.”

Lance sat heavily and watched as Gordon joined Shelby in the smallish space between the island and the two walls of kitchen counter and appliances. A manager? What had brought this on? Shelby was an autocrat, a dictator. In the four years Lance had been with him, he’d never given up one iota of power. It had taken him most of those four years to come up with an appropriate lineup of musicians he deemed worthy to record The Might’s first album. Shelby didn’t accept or seek out gigs at clubs or venues other than Fletcher’s, because he knew he couldn’t control every aspect of the performance at a place he didn’t own. What on earth had possessed him, after all this time, to suddenly acquire a manager?

Shelby returned to the table before Gordon. “So whose is the boy upstairs?” he asked too casually as he selected a pastry. “Yours or Noble’s?”

Lance glanced behind him, but Gordon’s attention was on pouring creamer into his mug. “Mine. I guess.” Didn’t seem prudent to mention Noble’s other two since they were gone anyway.

Shelby shook his head as he sat back in a chair. Not bothering with a plate or napkin, he bit into the pastry and ignored the flakes that fell on his sweater. “I still don’t understand. You weren’t gay when I hired you.”

Gordon heard and glanced up at that. He met Lance’s gaze, smiled, then returned to his task.

Lance made himself concentrate on Shelby. “I wasn’t?”

Shelby’s eyebrows rose like he actually cared. “Were you?”

Lance shrugged, then leaned forward to resume his own breakfast. “I’d never tried it before.” Which was true. It’d never occurred to him to fuck a guy until Noble had made it seem like a good idea. He couldn’t say he was sorry for his friend’s push to the gay side.

Gordon’s shoulders shook slightly in silent laughter. What did that mean? Could Gordon be gay? Could Lance be so lucky? Right, that’s smart. Shelby finally hires a real manager, and your first thought is to screw him? Nice, dickwad. Nice. But the urge wasn’t going away. Not when Gordon cocked his head like that, so his neck was exposed and looking positively edible.

“Mmm,” Shelby mused, unaware of Lance’s inner dialogue. “And now you have. Thanks to Noble.” He screwed his perfect little nose into a mild sneer as he brushed crumbs from his sweater onto the floor. “Remind me again why I hired him?”

Lance’s fist clenched. Shelby’s tone and choice of subject was enough to distract him from intimate musings. “He’s a damn good drummer.”

With a sigh, Shelby resumed nibbling on his danish. “That he is. Lucky him.”

With practiced ease, Lance loosened his fist and took a deep breath before he chewed the rest of his own pastry. Shelby might have gone through different guitarists in the time that Lance had worked for him, but once Lance had convinced him to hire Noble, they’d been his rhythm section. As far as Lance was concerned, he never wanted to play with another drummer again. He and Noble clicked like no other drummer he’d worked with before.

As Gordon returned to the table with a steaming mug in hand, footsteps on the stairs heralded the return of Noble and Freddy, the latter now with his boots and jacket on. With a wary eye on Shelby, Freddy rounded the table to Lance’s side. Lance stood, and Freddy smiled up at him. “I had a great time,” he said softly before hopping up on his toes to give Lance a kiss.

Lance steadied him with an arm at his waist and smiled. “Me too.” He stole another quick kiss—showing off for Gordon a little? Was Gordon even watching? Did he care?

Freddy backed away, glancing again at Shelby, who was staring into space in the opposite direction. “Maybe we can do it again?”

Lance nodded. “You bet.”

Freddy grinned, nodded silently to Gordon, spun to give Noble a hug, then hurried out the door.

Gordon’s expression was unreadable, damn it, his face tipped down as he sampled his coffee.

Noble grabbed his cup from the table and went to top it off. He looked at the back of Shelby’s head, then lingered a little over Gordon’s before meeting Lance’s eyes.

Lance kept his face neutral. But he did decide to be the one to drop the news. “Hey, Noble, this is Gordon.” As Gordon stood, already turning toward Noble, Lance added, “He’s The Might’s new manager.”

Noble damn near dropped his hot coffee. Only nimble fingers and quick reflexes kept the mug in his grasp with just a little sloshing over onto his hand. Immediately the meaty place between thumb and forefinger went to his mouth, but his gaze darted from Lance to Gordon and back again as the news settled in.

Gordon saw the near accident and rushed to his side, full of concern. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah.” Noble’s voice was muffled since he was still sucking liquid from his hand. “I’m fine.” He locked big eyes on Gordon when they stood just a pace apart. “Did he say you’re our new manager?”

Lance squelched the tinge of jealousy as Gordon showed concern over Noble’s hand. All he’d gotten so far was a handshake.

Shelby sniffed, tossing the flaky remains of his pastry onto the table. “I don’t know why you both insist on acting so surprised.”

Three pairs of eyes turned on him, but Shelby only saw Lance’s since the others were behind him.

Shelby gave him a familiar narrow-eyed look, not quite a glare but not that far off. “I have plans for The Might, and I don’t have time to see all those plans through myself.” The explanation was short and concise and more than he’d usually say on the subject of expansion. Clearly, finishing the album had altered his outlook more than Lance had realized. Shelby shook his head as he dusted off his hands. “Gordon knows me from prep school. I haven’t seen him in years, but he’s been abroad, and he’s familiar with the business. What are the labels you’ve worked for again?” he asked without turning.

With a last look for Noble—who was now wiping off his mug over the sink—Gordon returned to the table. “I’ve been working for Gramster Records for the past year and a half.”

Lance perked up. “I’ve heard of them.” Gramster was small, but they had a few notable acts. They were a bigger deal in Europe than in the States. “Wooster. Gun Cartel. They’re with Gramster, right?”

Gordon smiled and took a sip of his coffee. “I worked a lot with Wooster, in fact.”

Lance grinned, thinking of the raunchy look and sound of the new-style punk band. More scream and little melody. But they were popular in France and Germany and getting a toehold in the UK. “You don’t look like a Wooster man.”

Gordon shrugged. “I clean up nice.” Boy, did he.

Behind Gordon, Noble fluttered his hand and made a yee-ouch face that showed he thought Gordon’s words were an understatement.

Shelby finished his coffee, then set the mug down with a clack. “Where’s Yaz?”

“Dunno.” Noble took a seat beside Gordon. Lance tried not to scowl.

“Haven’t seen him,” Lance added at Shelby’s pointed look.

The boss man scowled. “Did you tell him I wanted him here?”

Lance shook his head. “I didn’t see him before we left last night.”

“Oh for the love of…” Shelby glared, and Lance let him, unimpressed. “Is he upstairs?”

“Fuck if I know.”

A disgusted grumble burbled from Shelby’s throat as he pushed to his feet, then stomped toward the staircase. Gordon and Noble watched him stalk off. Lance picked up his bear claw and bit into it.

“Is Yaz trouble?” Gordon asked, turning back to the table.

Noble laughed. “You could say that.”

Lance shrugged. “He and Shelby don’t play nice.”

Their new manager nodded, either oblivious to or ignoring the fact that Noble was sizing him up. “Good to know.” He sipped, glancing from one to the other of them. “What about you two?”

“Aww.” Noble ducked his head and affected the Tennessee twang he rarely used. “We play real nice.”

Gordon grinned but didn’t particularly warm to the mild flirting. “Also good to know.”

“So, Wooster, huh?” Lance asked before Noble could continue to flirt. Last thing he wanted to watch was Noble luring the gorgeous man into his bed. He didn’t usually care, but he just didn’t want Noble to have this one.

“Yeah. That was a lot of fun. I took them through Germany, Italy, China—”

“China!” Flirting forgotten, Noble leaned in eagerly. “You’ve been to China?”

Gordon happily spent the next few minutes answering Noble’s barrage of questions about where he’d been in the Far East. Lance listened with interest. Neither he nor Noble had ever been out of the country, so it was a treat to meet someone who’d traveled as much as Gordon seemed to. Lance felt something very like hope blossom in his chest as Gordon spoke of Beijing and Hong Kong. Well traveled, clearly educated, smart, sense of humor, and gorgeous as all fuck. What more could any band want from a manager? This guy could probably really take them places if Shelby would get out of his way.

Like a black cloud, Shelby descended the stairs a few minutes later, the palpable waves of his annoyance effectively halting their exchange. “Neither of you have spoken to him?” he demanded when he reached the table, heedless of the conversation he’d interrupted.

“Not since last night,” Noble replied.

Lance shook his head.

Shelby growled. “That’s it. I’m done.” He made a gesture toward Gordon that was almost but not quite a snap of his fingers. “Gordon, let’s go back to my office. I want you to look into a few things, and we can take another look at your contract.” As Gordon stood, Shelby looked at Lance and Noble. “If either of you see Yaz, call me, and tell him that his next paycheck depends on his talking to me as soon as possible.” When he turned, he almost bumped into Gordon, and that seemed to remind him: “Or you can call Gordon.” He pointed at them as he said to the other man, “You should exchange cell numbers.”

They three of them took out their cell phones and obeyed quietly while Shelby fetched his coat. Gordon seemed more amused than anything by Shelby’s behavior, which Lance found encouraging. Those who found the humor in things got along better with Shelby.

Still smiling, Gordon nodded his good-byes. “I’ll talk to you guys soon.”

Shelby called to them while Gordon got his coat. “I’ll be back at”—he checked his oversize, expensive watch—“noon to rehearse. With or without Yaz.” With that disgusted tone, he opened the front door and left.

Donning his coat and palming his gloves, Gordon tossed out one more “Bye” before following in Shelby’s wake.

Lance and Noble stared at the door. Then they turned and stared at each other.

“Did that just happen?” Noble’s voice was barely above a hush, as though he was afraid to mention it.

Lance gave it some thought. “I think…yes.”

“Was that weird? I think that was weird.”

He sighed. “Yeah, that was a little weird.”

“Did you know before they got here?”

“Nope.”

“At all?” Noble asked.

“Nada.”

Noble stared at the door again, like it would reveal the secrets of Shelby’s mind. “What do you think his”—he made air quotes with his fingers—“plans are?”

“Don’t know.” Lance let a grin take his lips. “Looks like a good plan to me so far.”

“I’ll say. Unless it’s Shelby’s usual crap.” They pondered for a few quiet moments. “Gordon’s pretty damn hot, too.”

“Noble.” Lance spread his palm on the table between them and stared hard at his friend. “Don’t.”

“What?”

“No innocent act. If he’s really gonna be our manager, our relationship should be professional.”

Noble raised an eyebrow. “Says the guy who was drooling all over his breakfast.”

“What?”

“Oh, no way you’re ducking that. I know you. You never took your damn eyes off him. I’ll bet you’re so hard you can’t fucking stand.” His narrowed eyes dared Lance to deny it.

Well, he could stand, but his arousal would show. “I’ll admit. He’s gorgeous.”

“He’s fucking gorgeous, damn it.”

“Okay, yeah. Still, we should keep our distance.”

“What’s made you a prude all of a sudden?”

Lance gave Noble a serious look. “This guy could be our ticket to getting out of Fletcher’s. To really doing something. One of us goes where we don’t need to and pisses him off, we lose that. Right?” Sounded good. Too bad he wasn’t so sure he wanted to play by those rules himself.

Noble considered the notion. “Okay, yeah.”

“So we keep our distance. As far as sex goes, anyway.”

Twisting his lips in a grimace, Noble sat back in his chair. “Not gonna be easy.”

“You’ve got plenty other guys to play with.”

“True.” Noble contemplated his coffee while Lance finished off his last few bites. “Hell, he might not even be gay.”

“You can’t tell?”

“Not yet. Course”—he sipped—“I couldn’t tell about you at first either.”

Lance dusted his hands off over his empty plate. “I wasn’t gay when you met me.”

“Yeah, you keep saying that.”

Chapter Three

Present, early October

“So you’re newly gay.” Lance lifted his glass to toast Rabin, who sat across from him at the booth’s table. “That’s cool. So am I. Sort of.” He downed the dregs of his beer. “Just the last few years.”

“Yeah?” Rabin had spent the last half hour telling Lance the brief and romantic story about him and his boyfriend, Izzy, who also happened to be Brent Rose’s cousin. The conversation had started with an explanation of events that led up to Gordon calling Lance to come to Chicago for the Knights, but it turned out both stories were entwined. “What woke you up?”

Lance had to smile at the way Rabin put it. He glanced at the crowd below them. The booths in the club were on a second level, a foot or so above the dancing crowd and the bar. It made it easier to spot their waitress but not to flag her down. “Who do you think?” He turned the smile quickly on Rabin before resuming his search for the waitress.

“Noble?”

“Yep.”

“Oh. Are you two…?”

“No.”

“But you have been?”

Lance gave up for the moment and just set his empty glass at the edge of the table. It sat beside Noble’s nearly full glass of the same type of beer. Beer going flat since Noble was out with Danny on the dance floor. “Just a few times, years ago.” Lance slid Noble’s drink toward himself before picking it up.

“He was your…first?”

“Yeah.” Beer was a little flat, but it was still good. Lance licked his lips. “He was my first. But him and me…” He shook his head. “We’re better friends.”

Rabin nodded. “But you liked it.”

“Oh, I liked it, all right. Didn’t sleep with nearly as many women after that.”

“But you still did? Sleep with women?”

Lance snorted. “I slept with just about anything.” He laughed at the look of horror Rabin tried to hide. “I stuck to adult humans, though.”

That made Rabin laugh. Finally the waitress came along, and they ordered another round of drinks for the table. Lance wasn’t surprised that the night had turned out like this so far. The four of them had proven to get along famously in the past few weeks. He couldn’t remember studio sessions that were so invigorating, so exciting, so fun. Maybe with his first few bands, but he’d been so young then, and he hadn’t known any better. Certainly they’d never had this much fun with The Might, since Shelby had called all the shots. Working with these guys was the pure exhilaration he’d always suspected he and Noble could enjoy if they hooked up with the right situation. And they finally had, both inside and outside the studio. Tonight was a case in point. Noble and Danny were out on the dance floor, living it up and scoping out their sexual conquests for the night, and he and Rabin were sitting talking. It worked.

“Well, at least you’re not into bestiality.”

“No.” Lance sipped at what had been Noble’s drink. “Not into anything these days.” He felt the hesitation more than saw it, only because he wasn’t looking. But the question was coming. Rabin was trying to figure out how to ask. So Lance took pity on him. “You know that feeling you’ve got with Izzy?”

“Yeah.”

“I had that.” Lance ran a finger along the rim of the glass, watching as he did it. “I had a…good relationship.” He glanced up so Rabin could read his expression. “And I blew it. Completely fucked it up beyond recognition.” He dropped his gaze back down, but his fingers were just resting on the rim of the glass now. “It still hurts.”

“Shit. I’m sorry.”

Lance shrugged. “My own fault.”

Another hesitation. This time Lance let Rabin work it out. “Do you date at all now?”

It was still early in their friendship, so Lance expected the question and had a ready answer. “I never really dated before. Just fucked around. A lot. But”—he sat back, the vinyl of the booth seat sighing under his weight—“no.”

“How long’s it been?”

Lance smiled, knowing the reaction that would come. “Almost a year.”

It took a second to sink in. “Almost a year since…?”

“Almost a year since I’ve had sex with anyone else.”

He had to look up to see the expression. It was one of the few joys of his situation. It usually started with a blank stare as whoever it was decided if he’d just said what he’d just said. Then, when they realized he had, the wide-eyed denial. No, he couldn’t possibly have said that. How could anyone not have sex for a year? Reactions varied from there through reasoning, further denial, or outright disbelief.

Lance wasn’t surprised that Rabin went the reasoning route. “Wow. Really?”

“Yep.”

“Can I ask why?”

“Sure. But it’s not like I really know. I just don’t feel like it.”

“Ever?”

He felt his mouth twist into a mocking half smile. “Nope. I get the urge; then I just kind of lose interest.”

Rabin was frowning at him, thinking.

“All the important parts work, by the way,” Lance assured him. “My right hand works just fine.”

The frown dissolved into a laugh. “Well, there’s that, at least. But… Bloody hell.”

Lance shrugged.

“Does the other guy… Guy?”

“Yeah.”

“Does he know?”

“No.” Actually, Gordon might know, but Lance didn’t think he cared. “That doesn’t matter anyway. I missed the boat with him.”

“But that’s quite a sacrifice.”

“Not really. Not in the grand scheme of things. I mean, hey, war? Famine? Government spending? Those are big. Me not dipping my wick isn’t a big deal.”

“So is this a forever thing?”

“Who knows? I don’t fight it anymore. If it happens someday, it’ll happen.” He chuckled. “Drives Noble crazy, so there’s a bonus.”

Rabin laughed. “Yeah. I could see that it would.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Does it bug you? About me?”

“What? No. It’s your life, man. I’ll be honest—it seems kind of extreme.”

Lance shrugged agreement.

“But it’s really none of my business.”

To say Rabin’s reaction was a relief would be an understatement. Lance knew his behavior wasn’t normal, but he’d given up trying to change. It’d happen eventually.

They strayed to other topics for a while.

Noble showed up at the end of the table. His shiny green locks were draped over the right side of his head, the shaved left shining in the colorful lights. His button-down was open to reveal everything from his navel to the toad tattooed above his pec.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

Rabin spoke. Lance didn’t. They both stared at the young man standing beside Noble, because it certainly wasn’t Danny. No, this one was short, with bright orange hair, or so it looked under the lights. He had a cute pixie face and a wicked smile. He might even have had freckles.

“This is Carlton.” Noble had his arm around the guy’s shoulders, and all of his attention—both of their attention—was on Lance. “Carlton, this is Lance.”

The cute guy leaned in to extend his hand. “Hi.”

Lance shook his head with some trepidation. The look on Noble’s face told him what this was.

“Lance,” Noble began as though he was speaking to a child, “you want to dance with Carlton.” He nodded for emphasis.

“I do?” Lance didn’t like to dance in general. Then again, Noble didn’t particularly mean on the dance floor.

“Yes.” Carlton leaned over the table toward Lance, both hands spread over the surface. He got his face as close to Lance’s as possible without crawling over the table. “You do.”

Lance met Carlton’s eyes calmly. “You’re cute.”

“Thank you.”

“But no, thanks.”

Carlton put on a pout. “Why not?”

“Not interested.”

“But—”

“If you’d like to sit, I’d be happy to talk.” Lance indicated the empty space beside him. “I’m sure we could get along well. But that’s all we’re going to do. Talk.”

Carlton opened his mouth, then closed it on a confused frown. Over his head, Noble speared Lance with a disapproving glare.

“But…” Carlton tried the grin again. It should have been tempting. It wasn’t, really. “I’m easy.”

“I’ve no doubt. But you’re not getting laid here. Best spend your time somewhere else.”

At that, Carlton stood up and faced Noble, looking for guidance.

But Noble was still glaring at Lance. He shook his head. “Really?”

Lance met him glare for glare. “Really.”

“You are so fucking sad.”

“You keep reminding me.”

With a disgusted snort, Noble turned. In one motion, he wound an arm around Carlton’s shoulders, spun him, and led him away.

“Wow.” Rabin watched them go, bemused. “That happen often?”

Lance sighed. “Too often. Noble is more determined to get me laid than I am.”

“I see that. Why?”

“After he introduced me to the gay side of my life, he pretty much chooses who I sleep with. Or, at least, he did.” He nodded at the slight alarm that took over Rabin’s expression. “I know, I know—it’s freaky. It’s another reason I choose to be celibate. The only guys I’ve known are the cute young things Noble picks for me. Except one.”

“Ah. The one.”

“Yes.” He shook his head. “I’m pretty bad at picking up guys myself. Reasonably good with girls, but not so much with guys.”

“That’s weird. Isn’t it supposed to be easier with guys?”

“It’s supposed to be.”

“Why not go back to girls?”

“Thought about it.” He shrugged. “I’m just not interested.”

“I dunno. You go see a doctor about this? Maybe it’s medical.”

Lance laughed. “I thought about seeing a shrink but…” He shook his head. “What’s the point? The only one who’s really put out about it is Noble. I feel fine. Besides, I’ve got this new band I’m really excited about.”

That made Rabin grin. “Yeah, that’s pretty exciting.”

“Yeah. Let’s talk about that.”

Chapter Four

Past, that night

“So. You think we should call Yaz?” Noble asked, hitching himself up on one of the bar stools on the far side of the kitchen island.

“What for? Shelby already tried him a million times.” Lance bent down to check on the frozen pizza through the oven’s window. Shelby’s people cooked for the guest house twice a week and left reheatable dishes behind for the rest of the meals. Both Lance and Noble favored the homemade pizzas, which were better than a lot of the choices they had in the city.

“He might answer if one of us calls.”

“Or he might not.”

After a full day of rehearsal with Shelby in a shitty mood because Yaz never showed, food was imperative. Shelby had been sharp, annoyed, and very vocal about how pissed he was that he had to play the guitar parts himself. Not that it mattered. He’d run them through dozens of different versions of partial songs that he hadn’t finished. Since he’d been in such a bad mood, neither Lance nor Noble had even tried to bring up the subject of Gordon and what he was going to do for The Might. Their curiosity would just have to wait.

Noble toyed with an oven mitt that had been sitting on the island. “I’m just saying, we could be nice.”

Lance took the two steps toward the refrigerator. “Or we could let him deal with his own shit.”

Noble flipped his head to clear his face of some of the forward-hanging fringe. “Yeah. You’re right. Fuck him.”

The refrigerator opened with a muted hiss. “You want a drink?”

“Yeah. One of those German beers. In the brown bottle.”

Lance hid an eye roll with the door. A connoisseur of beer Noble was not. Of course, neither was Lance, really. He just knew that the beer Shelby’s staff provided was pretty darn good. Gordon might know about beer. Had he said he’d been to Germany? Had he fucked some guy in a German hotel? Okay, stop. Reining in his thoughts, Lance started shifting things around in order to get to the bottles that were lined along the back of one shelf.

After a pause, Noble spoke. “So. When do we get to see Gordon again? I want to hear about these plans.”

Lance was glad for the cool air on the sudden flush to his cheeks. Just thinking about Gordon and how he looked in that blue sweater, the sound of his laugh… “I’m sure we’ll see him soon enough.” He took out two bottles, opened them with the opener built into the refrigerator door, then slid one across the shiny black counter to Noble.

“And Shelby said they went to school together. That makes him a blue blood.”

That hadn’t occurred to Lance. Gordon didn’t strike him as bleeding blue. “Sure does.”

“What’s up with that? He’s the polar opposite of Shelby.”

Lance checked the timer above the stove as he sipped. “You know that from, what, a ten-minute conversation?”

“Oh, come on. You can tell. Gordon’s, like, cool. Shelby’s a douche.”

Lance had to grin. “Guess there’s rich, and then there’s rich.”

Noble glanced around their swank surroundings with a jaded eye. “Yeah. I guess so.” He rolled his bottle between his palms. “When do we get to be rich?”

“Some say we are.”

“Some don’t know shit.”

“Very true.” Lance sipped and watched Gordon’s smile in his mind’s eye. “Maybe Gordon will make that happen.”

“That’d be awesome. ’Cause, y’know…the big time. Money and albums and travel and fans.” Noble’s face lit up, and his eyes went distant as he pictured it.

“Right.” He was cynical about the music business and supposed breaks, but Noble was still new enough to believe in the fabled glory of being in a rock band. Unlike Lance, he’d never been in another band, outside of a failed high school attempt. Two years with The Might had provided Noble some stability after a dark time in his life that Lance only knew about in vague terms. Lately it seemed Noble was looking out at the world, wanting to experience more of it.

They shared a few moments of silence as they drank and waited for the pizza. In the living area, the television droned, but the sound was down too low for Lance to figure out what they’d left on.

“What do you think he has on him?” Noble asked finally.

“Who?”

“Gordon.” Noble stared at the reflective surface of the tiles before him, thinking hard. “On Shelby. He has to have something, doesn’t he?”

“If that’s what you want to think.”

“Yeah.” Noble’s eyes opened wide over a wicked grin. “Maybe they have a torrid sexual history, and Shelby’s paying Gordon off for his silence.”

Lance burst out laughing. “I’m sure that’s it.”

Noble tapped his chin with one finger. “Trouble with that is, I don’t picture Gordon doing Shelby.”

“Could be the other way around.”

“Not a chance. No way Shelby tops that.” Noble shook his head for emphasis.

Lance grinned as he got the hot pads down from their hooks above the stove. “And Shelby’s not gay.”

“There’s that.” Noble was quiet while Lance took the pizza out of the oven, but spoke as Lance was cutting it. “I hope Gordon’s gay.”

Lance shrugged, concentrating on his task rather than any errant thoughts about Gordon’s sexuality. He didn’t want to think about it. Thinking about it made him hard. He dished out half of the pizza to Noble and the other half to himself; then both of them picked up their plates and headed for the television. Now he saw the reality show. His and Noble’s secret shame was an addiction to them. Unfortunately, this one was almost done.

“Jesus, what if Shelby’s really serious?” Noble said as they got comfortable: side by side on the couch, the remote between them, their sock-clad feet on the polished coffee table. “It’d be awesome to have a real band manager. God, maybe a tour?”

“Yeah.” Lance propped his plate on his thigh and reached for the remote control. “But only if Shelby lets him do it right.”

“Yeah.” Noble took a huge bite, blowing belatedly to cool the hot cheese. “You think he will?”

Lance chewed on a more reasonable bite. “What?”

“Let him.”

Lance started surfing channels. “I doubt it.” He had given it serious thought and refused to get excited, no matter how promising it was to have Gordon around. “Shelby’s too much of a control freak.”

“Yeah.” Noble’s disappointment sounded through. “Fuck.”

* * * *

Their hunger sated by the pizza, and brains zonked from bad television, neither Lance nor Noble moved more than their heads to look back when the front door opened. Yaz breezed in on a gust of winter chill. The Might’s guitarist looked none the worse for wear, bundled up against the weather in a thick leather jacket with a scarf wound around his neck. His riot of light brown hair had been tamed from being under a striped knit cap, which he now held in his hand. An overnight bag was slung over his left shoulder. He greeted them with a nod. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Noble said while Lance turned back to the TV. “Where you been?”

“Out.”

“Shelby’s been looking for you.”

Lance glanced over to see Yaz’s complete lack of concern. “I know,” Yaz said.

“You call him?”

“No.”

Noble rolled his eyes at Lance. “Okay.” He righted himself to face the television. “Whatever, dude.”

Without another word, Yaz passed behind them to the stairs that led to the second floor.

“Should we call Shelby?” Noble asked when Yaz was out of earshot.

“Probably.”

Lance didn’t bother, knowing Noble couldn’t resist. The drummer lasted all of a minute before his plate clattered on the coffee table and he was scrambling for his cell phone. His fingers flew over the screen as he sent a text. The phone blipped, and Noble gave a little sigh. “There.” He switched phone for plate and sat back on the couch. “I’ve done my duty.”

* * * *

Gordon showed up just under an hour later. Lance and Noble were sprawled at either end of the couch, still watching television, when the front door opened. “Hi, guys.”

Lance suppressed the grin that wanted to curl his lips. “Gordon.”

The handsome man wore the same overcoat and blue sweater from earlier. He loosened the gray scarf around his neck as he approached them. “I’m here to see Yaz. He still here?”

“Shelby sent you?” Noble asked, amazed. “Man, what a way to start a new job.”

Lance was a little surprised too. He’d felt sure Shelby would want to do his own yelling at Yaz.

Gordon just gave Noble a tight smile. “Is he here?”

Noble pointed at the ceiling. “We haven’t seen him since he went up.”

Nodding, Gordon turned away to hang up coat and scarf. “Could I ask one of you to introduce me?”

Comfortable where he was, Lance prodded Noble’s thigh with a socked foot. Noble grimaced at him but stood. “Follow me.”

Lance watched them disappear up the stairs, still wondering. Maybe Shelby was serious about this manager thing if he sent Gordon to deal with Yaz. Or maybe it was late and he hadn’t wanted to deal with it. It was too soon for Lance to really tell.

Ten minutes later, Noble was back, alone, hazel eyes alight. He whistled as he sat. “Damn. Gordon’s fucking awesome.”

“What happened?”

“Yaz wasn’t gonna answer the door, but Gordon had a key.” Noble’s face shone with excitement as he tucked his knee up on the couch to face Lance. “He let us in, and Yaz came storming out of the bedroom all pissed and shit. I told him who Gordon was, and he said he didn’t give a fuck, and we gotta get out of his room. Gordon just stood up to him and stayed all calm.”

Lance propped up on his elbow, concerned. Damn the thick walls of the guest house! He hadn’t heard a thing. “What are you doing down here?” Yaz was a lazy fuck but he was big and wasn’t a stranger to bar fights.

Noble shook his head, awe in his eyes. “I’m telling you, Gordon was in control. He asked me to leave, and I didn’t even question it till I was halfway down here.”

They both glanced at the ceiling, but nothing could be heard. Just the thought of Gordon smacking Yaz down was giving Lance a hard-on. Wasn’t that messed up?

“You think he’s booting him?” Noble asked, still staring upward.

“Gotta be.”

“That’s a way to start a new job.”

Lance shrugged and resumed his seat against the couch’s arm. “Gotta be done.” He pointed the remote at the television and tried to think bland thoughts that’d make his stiffy go down.

Twenty minutes later, Gordon returned. If he was upset, he didn’t show it. He tucked his phone into his hip pocket as he approached the couch with a determined smile. “Yaz will be moving out tomorrow. He’s no longer part of the band.” So calm. Like James Bond ordering a drink right after beating some bad guy’s ass. Not a mark on him.

Noble sat back. “Just like that?”

“Shelby’s decision,” Gordon told him, showing more interest in the movie they were watching than what he was saying. He leaned against the back of the couch, and Lance tried his best to ignore how good Gordon’s cologne smelled. Two silver rings adorned the long, unblemished fingers that sank into the couch cushions maybe a foot from Lance’s shoulder. If he reached out, he could touch that skin.

“He has until tomorrow night to pack his things. Just so you’re aware, security will be posted at the front and back doors tonight and tomorrow morning to make sure things go smoothly.”

Lance heard the warning loud and clear. Security to make sure Yaz didn’t get out of hand and didn’t take anything but his own stuff. Impressive. “Good call.” Left on his own, Shelby would have just kicked him out. Lance knew this from watching it firsthand.

“If either of you would rather stay somewhere else for the night, I can arrange for accommodations.”

Lance had a feeling this last bit wasn’t Shelby’s idea. Wasn’t something that would occur to the boss man. After all, they could always go stay in the apartments above the club. But the offer did seem like something that would occur to Gordon. Thoughtful.

“I’m good,” Lance assured him.

“Me too.”

Gordon looked from Lance to Noble, then back to Lance, maybe for just a touch longer. “All right. I’ll leave you to enjoy your night.”

“Hey.” Lance grabbed for his hand, stopping him before he could turn away. “You want to stick around? We got all kinds of movies. Cable? Netflix?” He ignored Noble’s curious glance and squeezed Gordon’s hand. “Popcorn?”

The smile had frozen on Gordon’s face. Hazel eyes flicked down to look at where Lance held him, then back up to Lance’s face. Lance might have imagined the flare of heat in those depths, but he didn’t think so. It made him smile.

But that made Gordon away. Gently, he pulled his hand from Lance’s grasp, then used it to draw his phone back out of his pocket. “Thanks,” he said, looking at the phone rather than at them. At Lance. “But maybe another time. I’ve got to…go.” When he tucked his phone away again, his smile was back to being casual, and the heat was gone from his eyes. “I’ll see you guys soon,” he said mostly to Noble before he turned to grab his things and go.

“Right.” Noble’s tone was wry as he glared at Lance after the door closed. “We’re gonna keep our hands off him.”

Lance tried to act innocent. “What? I was inviting him to stay so we could get to know him better.”

“Uh huh.” Before Lance could stop him, Noble lunged forward and grabbed at Lance’s crotch.

“Hey!” Lance struggled, but wrestling with Noble was like trying to harness an angry ferret.

“Yeah.” Noble squeezed the erection that Lance’s overlarge sweatshirt had hidden. “You’re so fucking hard for him.”

Miffed, Lance shoved Noble off of him and bent his knees between them for protection. “It’s not like that.”

“It’s absolutely like that.”

Lance glared.

Noble glared back.

“Okay. Yeah. I want him.”

“I knew it.”

“But I’m not going to do anything about it.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m not. I meant what I said before. I don’t want to mess this manager thing up.”

Noble looked anything but convinced.

Lance threw his hands up. “What?”

His friend sat back on the other side of the couch, thinking about it. “If he’s gay, you’re so toast.”

“I’m not.”

“Oh yeah. You are.”

“Then maybe I’ll be lucky and he’s not gay.”

Noble’s grin was wicked and not the least bit comforting. “Right. Like you weren’t gay.”

Chapter Five

Present, October

Lance met Rabin’s eyes across the room, both of their heads nodding in time to the music that filled the air. They grinned. The new song was coming together. It would work.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Noble stopped the beat, sticks clicking in his hand when he held it up to get everyone’s attention. “I got an idea. What if we…”

Lance listened with most of his attention, but a part of his brain was admiring the room. This was it. Seriously. For a few weeks now, the four of them had been playing together, and it just felt right. The new songs were killer. Rabin and Danny had no problems digging into the demo tracks they’d sent to Lance and Noble, rewriting and revising the music to fit in Lance’s and Noble’s ideas. They’d even thrown out some of the tracks in favor of some new ideas the four of them had come up with together. As Noble spoke, Danny pushed himself off the couch and came to sit on a stool closer to Lance. He wasn’t just a lyrics man. He might not have the musical background of the rest of them, but he had a good ear, and they’d been teaching him to fill in the holes in his knowledge.

Today it had just been the band. Brent had taken the last week off, giving them space to work together and play with new ideas. He was due back the day after next to hear what they’d come up with, and that served as a deadline to do all they could before then. It was way past midnight now, and they’d been working for hours nonstop, but Lance didn’t feel tired. He was amped on excitement, and it felt so good. He wasn’t alone either. The others felt it too. They fed off each other until all of them shared a manic sort of energy, the type he’d never experienced with any other band.

That was how Gordon found them at two o’clock in the morning. “I thought I’d find you all here.”

The smell of hamburgers and french fries filled the air, stopping the music.

Smiling, Gordon held up four stuffed white paper bags. “Hungry?”

Noble and Rabin were on their feet in a rush, nearly knocking over their stools. Lance was a little slower, carefully setting his bass on the stand next to his seat. Danny hesitated, his head bent over the notes he was furiously writing in his notebook, face obscured by the fall of silky strawberry-blond hair.

“Hey.” Lance nudged Danny’s foot with his own. “Eat something.”

Without lifting his head, Danny raised a finger. “Be there in a minute.”

Lance followed the others out the door and down the hall to the kitchen. By the time he got there, the bags had been unpacked, and a half dozen burgers were laid out among just as many paper baskets of fries. “Jesus, you get enough food?”

Gordon glanced at him, his smile not visibly strained. The two of them still didn’t speak much, but Lance had been trying to throw in casual remarks here and there. Gordon had begun to respond in kind. “Wasn’t sure how hungry you’d be,” Gordon said.

“Ravenous,” Noble answered before digging into a thick, messy burger.

“Yeah.” Across the table from him, Rabin did the same, adding a moan of delight. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was. When did we eat last?”

Noble shook his head. “Days ago,” he proclaimed, mouth full of food.

Lance sat, forcing his attention away from Gordon and the ass he displayed by bending over the little refrigerator in the corner. Determinedly thinking of the music rather than the man, Lance unwrapped a burger for himself.

“Thanks for the food, Gordon,” Danny said when he came to join them.

“Not a problem.” Gordon placed a round of sodas on the table. Without asking, he’d learned what each band member liked. Smiling as they ate, he leaned on the backs of Noble’s and Rabin’s chairs. “I’ve got to take care of my boys.”

Lance watched his face, but Gordon carefully didn’t look at him. The bags were from 24-hour burger place less than a mile away, so he hadn’t gone far for the food, but he must have come and seen their cars still out front before making the decision. He kept doing thoughtful stuff like that. Indeed, taking care of his boys.

Noble snorted, pulling a long slice of onion out of his burger. “Yeah. Not like your last band let you do that.” He tipped back his head so he could lower the onion into his open mouth.

Gordon watched him do it. “True. One of the reasons I left that shitty job.”

Lance dropped his gaze to his food, willing to let that one go without comment.

“But you guys are working late.” Gordon changed the subject smoothly. “I trust everything is going okay?”

Rabin and Noble both started to talk at once, each telling him about the song they’d been working on today. Danny’s eyes went blank as he stared at the center of the table, but Lance now recognized that as a sign he was thinking. Of lyrics, probably. Gordon listened intently to what he was being told, finally dragging around another chair when the chatting kept going. They talked about the tracks and how they could relate together as an album. Gordon mentioned that he’d found a graphic designer he thought was perfect to do their album cover. Which sparked a heated debate about logo ideas. Heated enough that paper bags were flattened out to serve as paper for rough sketches of ideas. Nothing was settled, but talk took them back to the studio, where tracks were played for Gordon. He smiled as he listened, eyes shining with pride.

It was five in the morning when it became clear that they were all too tired to do any more. Lance wasn’t the only one who kept yawning, and he was pretty sure Danny had fallen asleep on the couch.

“All right, ladies.” Gordon stood up from the table, closing his laptop. “That’s enough. You all need some sleep.”

No one protested. As Lance, Rabin, and Noble stored their gear, Gordon leaned over Danny to nudge him awake. Mumbling together, Rabin and Noble leaned heavily on each other as they left the studio, headed for the parking lot. Danny got up and yawned as he walked after them. Gordon, looking far more awake than any of the others, took a few moments to stash his computer.

Lance lingered at the door, waiting for him. Gordon started when he saw him standing there. They shared a look.

Lance thought of a dozen things he could say. A dozen things he could do. But he discarded them all. He just smiled, nodded, then turned and walked away.

That was good enough for now.

Chapter Six

Past, a few days later

Sonya came out of the bedroom with arms raised to pull her long black hair into a ponytail. She’d re-dressed in her long-sleeved black T-shirt and jeans, which were what passed for a uniform for the bartenders at Fletcher’s. Shame about the sleeves, though, because they covered some truly spectacular tats up and down her arms. Tats Lance had explored at length the previous night. “I better get going. Gotta take stock before tonight.”

Lance offered a mug as she approached, and smiled back at her before they exchanged a quick kiss. “Coffee?”

She made a face. “Never touch the stuff.” She splayed a palm over the middle of his chest. “I had a great time last night.”

He placed the mug on the counter behind him, then set his hands on her hips. “Me too.”

“You fuck pretty good for a gay guy.” They laughed together.

“I try to please.”

She pressed against him to give him another kiss, this one a little softer and a little longer. She was the same height as him, which, truth be told, was how he liked women. Noble said it only figured that he liked the girls who were like guys. He had to admit, although she was hot as hell, Sonya fit that description. He wouldn’t be surprised to find out she could bench press more than he could. Of course, he didn’t know how much he could bench press. “Maybe we can hook up again?”

He gave a noncommittal shrug but rubbed his palms over her hips. “Maybe.”

“No promises.” She chuckled as she stepped away. “Tina said you were hard to pin down.”

“I dunno.” He followed her to the front door. “You seemed to do pretty good last night.”

That produced a wicked smile on her face. “Yeah. You did pretty good yourself, bass man.” She opened the door and turned as she stepped into the hallway. “See ya later, Lance.”

He leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb. “Later.”

She spun toward the stairs, then startled as she almost ran into someone who’d just come up. Lance’s heart sank when he saw Gordon, dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved gray T-shirt pushed up to the elbows, carrying a cardboard box.

“Oh hey, Gordon,” Sonya greeted merrily.

Gordon smiled at her, then raised his eyes to meet Lance’s over her shoulder. “Hey, Sonya. Lance.”

Lance nodded, keeping his expression neutral. Damn. Talk about the last person he wanted to see him with a woman. Yes, he knew it didn’t matter, but he still didn’t like it.

Sonya patted Gordon’s arm as they maneuvered past each other in the narrow hallway. “See ya later,” she called, waving to both of them as she descended the stairs.

Gordon juggled the box into one arm so he could dig in his pocket for keys. Shelby kept two furnished apartments over Fletcher’s and had given the band keys. Lance and Noble used them more than anyone else. Looked like Gordon had received his own set.

“Need some help with that?” Lance offered, trying not to ogle Gordon’s ass as he set the box inside the door.

Standing, Gordon looked like he was going to say no, but he hesitated as the door eased shut. “Y’know what? Yeah. I’ve got some boxes waiting downstairs. Can you help me bring them up?”

“Sure.” Lance pulled his door shut as Gordon stepped back into the hallway. “I see Shelby gave you keys to the apartments.”

“Yeah.” Gordon tossed his set before tucking them back in his pocket. “In fact, I’m going to be staying in this one.” He glanced over his shoulder before taking the first step down the stairs. “I hope that won’t cramp your style.” It was said with a teasing grin, but it bit into Lance.

“Nah.” He caught himself studying the breadth of Gordon’s shoulders as he followed the other man. Damn. “But you might want to change the locks. Unless you want Noble barging in on you at all hours of the night.”

Gordon laughed, a nice, free sound. “I’ll get right on that.”

There were about a dozen boxes lined up on one side of the bar downstairs in the empty club. One of the bouncers was just setting one down when they arrived.

“Thanks, Eli.” Gordon clapped the big guy on the arm. “Lance and I can get those upstairs.”

“You sure?” Eli asked, looking at Lance.

But Gordon answered. “Yeah. You go help out back.”

Lance nodded, and the huge man returned the gesture, then left. “I hope these aren’t heavy,” Lance grumbled good-naturedly as he bent to pick up one of the boxes.

“Nope.” Gordon hefted another one himself. “No books or anything.”

“You gonna move in some furniture?” Lance asked as he started after Gordon up the stairs. The idea of Gordon moving in to the apartment had a lot of appeal.

“God, no. That’s far too permanent.” Gordon laughed. “When Shelby offered a furnished apartment, I jumped at it. Other than some keepsakes in storage and the luggage I’ve already got upstairs, this is all I own in the world.”

Lance thought about that. It made sense. It sounded like Gordon had been on the move for years. “Well, at least now you can stick around one place for a while.”

Gordon gave him a weird look as they set the boxes down just inside the apartment door. “I don’t think so.” He snapped his fingers a couple of times, pumping his hand. “I need to be on the move. Need to get the word out about The Might.”

“Is that what Shelby’s told you to do?”

“It’s what I will do.”

Huh. The way he said that… “What, exactly, has Shelby asked you to do for The Might?”

They headed back down the stairs. “What any good manager would do. Get the word out. Arrange gigs. Make us famous.”

Lance stopped Gordon with a hand on his arm before he bent over to pick up another box. Those changeable eyes—sometimes more brown, sometimes more green—met his, full of amusement. “Is that what he said?”

Gordon thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Not exactly.” He turned out of Lance’s grip and bent over to get a box.

Lance picked up one of his own and followed. “What did he say?”

“First, fire Yaz.” With a grin, Gordon used a finger to check that off in the air. “Done. Then I’m to handle the finances and the day-to-day management of the band so he can concentrate on creative activities.” His tone and manner told Lance that his words were pretty close to verbatim. “Oh yeah, and I’m supposed to find him a new guitarist.”

“You do know that we never play anywhere but here. Right?”

Gordon didn’t answer.

Once they’d deposited their boxes upstairs, Lance blocked Gordon’s way out of the apartment. “Look, I don’t want you to get your hopes up here. We’re not a normal band.”

Gordon stepped back, out of arm’s reach, and gave him a patient smile. “I know that.”

Lance shook his head. “No. Really. In the four years I’ve been with him, Shelby’s never let us play anywhere but at Fletcher’s.”

“I’ve heard that.”

“That’s four years.”

Nodding, Gordon maintained that tiny smile of amusement. “That’s how it has been.”

Lance searched Gordon’s face, and behind that smile he glimpsed what he suspected was a huge stubborn streak. “You think you can change that?”

Gordon cocked his head, curious. “Don’t you want to change that?”

“What I want doesn’t matter. Shelby’s the man in charge.”

The full grin that curled Gordon’s lips did wicked things to some lower regions of Lance’s body. “And now”—he patted Lance’s arms as he circled around toward the apartment door—“I’m in charge.”

He was out the door, but Lance had to stand there for a few seconds and breathe. All he wanted to do was run after Gordon, tackle him, and fuck him. That strength, that confidence, that cocky assurance—it had never particularly turned him on before, but Gordon carried it too well. Lance closed his eyes and tamped down the hope that mingled with a burning surge of desire. When Gordon talked like that, Lance believed he could change things—and he hadn’t believed in change for The Might in a very long time.

When he had himself back under control, he hurried downstairs to help Gordon with the last of the boxes. He searched his mind, and composed and discarded words, now desperate to determine Gordon’s sexuality once and for all.

“That’s it,” Gordon said. He waved at the boxes sitting in the corner around and on top of a reading chair. “I’ll unpack those later.” He pulled out his smartphone and thumb-punched the screen.

Lance hadn’t figured out how to do it right yet, so he finally decided to just do it. “Gordon?”

“Yeah.”

He stepped close, just two arm lengths away. “Are you gay?”

Gordon’s thumb stopped. His head was cocked enough to the side that Lance saw him blink slowly and smile. Then he looked up. “Why do you ask?”

In for a penny… Lance edged closer. “Because I think you’re fucking hot.”

Gordon’s phone hand dropped to his side. If that contemplative look he gave Lance could have been any more sexy, Lance wasn’t sure how. “Do you.”

Compelled, Lance took a step closer. Then the phone hand shot back up, and one corner of the plastic square hit him in his sternum.

“Stop.”

Heart missing a beat, Lance did.

Gordon paused, searching his face, before he let the hand drop again. But Lance still felt the poke in his chest and knew he was to remain where he was. “I am gay,” Gordon said.

Lance smiled.

“But you and me? Not happening.”

The thrill of pleasure that had been heating Lance’s veins chilled. “Why not?” But he knew why. Hadn’t he told Noble why it was a bad idea?

“We have to work together.” Gordon’s thoughts confirmed his. But then Gordon tilted his head and narrowed his gaze in a way that let Lance know he’d thought about it anyway. “Besides, in the very short time I’ve known you, I’ve already seen you with an adorable boy and a very striking woman. I’m not so sure I’m your type.”

Lance’s smile was automatic. “I like variety.”

Gordon’s expression cooled. “I’m not on the menu.” Whatever he saw in Lance’s face must have warranted further explanation. “I’ve done the messing-around thing. It’s always bad with someone I work with.”

Lance found himself nodding, looking away, even though it felt like the blood was draining from his heart. “Yeah. Sure. You’re right.”

A hand on his upper arm made him face Gordon again. The flare of heat he saw in those eyes made his pulse thump. “Not that I don’t find you wildly attractive.” The admission came with a slightly self-mocking grin that managed to make Lance feel better.

Better enough to grin back. “Well. That’s good to know.”

Satisfied, Gordon stepped back. “So let’s just keep it at friends. Okay?” Lance nodded, but Gordon was already looking at his phone again. He frowned slightly at something he saw, muttered a little, then closed the phone. “I’ve got to run a few errands before the show tonight.” He held out his hand as though none of the fire between them had happened. “Thanks for the help.”

Feeling wooden, Lance shook Gordon’s hand, then drifted back across the hall while Gordon descended the stairs again. “Well. Shit.” He stared around the empty apartment, wondering what to do with himself. He hated putting himself out like that. Nine out of ten times, he looked like an idiot.

He knew what Gordon said was right. He’d said it himself. So why in holy fuck did he still want the man? Gordon was right—he wasn’t really Lance’s type. In men, Lance preferred small and pretty and—let’s be honest—flighty. In men, he gravitated toward those who were quite obviously gay. He’d never really had a thing for the type where you couldn’t tell. But Gordon was just…different.

Growling, confused, Lance stomped toward the bathroom, ripping his shirt off as he went. He needed a cold shower to cool his head and his blood.

* * * *

Noble arrived later that night. “So Gordon’s living across the hall?” His voice was cheery as he closed the front door of the apartment. “That’s convenient.”

Lance stared at the television, barely aware of what was on. He’d been sitting there for a few hours, trying not to think. The last bottle from an imported six-pack dangled from his fingers. “You saw him?”

“Briefly.” Noble’s duffel landed on the floor with a soft thud.

“He’s gay.”

There was a pause in the rustle of clothing. “Who?”

“Gordon.”

Noble came into his line of vision as he rounded the end of the couch. He still had on his coat, and his cheeks shone red while he tugged his scarf from his neck. “How’d you find out?”

Lance sipped his beer. “I asked.”

Surprised, Noble dropped to sit. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

Noble chuckled. “Well, that’s one way to find out.” He bunched his scarf in his lap. “So he said he was.”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“And?”

Noble started to slip out of his coat. “There’s more to it.”

Lance shrugged, eyes still trained on the travel show displaying the wonders of Milan for him. “That’s it.”

“You didn’t say, ‘Let’s fuck’?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Lance took another drink. “He said it wasn’t happening.”

“He did?”

“Yep. Said it was a bad idea to mess around with someone you work with.”

Hugging his coat, Noble slouched against the back of the couch and stared thoughtfully at the television screen. “Well.”

Lance shrugged again.

“That’s it, then?”

“That’s it.”

“Bullshit.”

Now Lance looked at him. “What?”

Noble had the gall to laugh at him. “You’re just gonna let this one go?”

“Yeah.”

“Right.”

“What?”

Noble shook his head. “You really want him.”

“I don’t.”

“You must. You’ve never just outright asked a guy if he was gay before.”

“Seemed like the thing to do at the time.”

“Jesus.” Noble pushed off the couch. “Okay. Whatever. You don’t want him.”

“I don’t.” Lance scowled at Noble’s back. “It’s a bad idea. I’ll fuck it up.”

Noble waved a hand in the air as he walked away. “Sure.”

“Fuck you.”

“No, thanks.”

Lance thought he should probably say something, but fuck him if he knew what it was. Didn’t matter anyway, because Noble disappeared into the bedroom.

Fuck.

Transferring his glare back to the television, he finished off his beer. Fuck if Noble was right. Okay, he didn’t tend to let things go when he wanted them. There was very little that he wanted that much. But there were plenty of other guys for Lance to have. He didn’t need Gordon.

Chapter Seven

Present, early November

“All right, guys, gather round.”

Lance glanced up from where he sat with Rabin at the table in the studio. Between them were a half dozen mini ribbon synthesizers, little three-by-four-inch boxes that produced different sounds based on how the knobs were set and how a sensor strip was touched. He and Rabin were looking for some appropriate sound for one of the new tracks, and Brent had too many toys just sitting around not to experiment.

Gordon dumped his laptop case on a mostly cleared spot on the edge of the table and draped his coat over a nearby chair. “Where are Danny and Noble?”

“Down the hall,” Rabin answered, sitting back.

“Could you get them?” Gordon’s hazel eyes positively shone with excitement. “I have big news.”

“I’ll get them,” Lance offered, standing. It was a good excuse to take a moment and compose himself. Seeing Gordon excited did disturbing things to his heart, but seeing Gordon excited and looking hot in a black sweater and slacks was something he needed to process.

He was fine a few minutes later, after he’d retrieved his other bandmates from the toy room. By then Gordon was seated at the table with Rabin. His thick black hair was a little longer than usual, the shortness on the sides almost enough to cover Lance’s fingers if he speared them through it, the top long enough that it stood up in wild disarray, testament that Gordon had run his own fingers through it.

“There you are,” he greeted as Lance, Noble, and Danny came into the room. “Have I got some news.”

“What’s up?” Danny asked as Lance resumed his seat. Danny and Noble remained standing.

“I just got a call from Brent.” Who was out of town for the week in New York with Hell, visiting his best friend, Luc Sloane. Luc was getting married, and Brent was the best man, so there was a lot of wedding planning involved in Brent’s trip. Gordon’s grin was infectious as he continued. “He’s talked to Luc and Reese, and he’s got us invites to the wedding.”

For a moment, they just stared.

“Wait, what?” Danny asked.

“Luc Sloane’s wedding?” Noble clarified.

“Yes.”

“The wedding that’s at some exclusive resort in upstate New York?” Danny was blinking hard.

“Yes.”

It was Rabin’s turn. “The wedding that’s sure to have tons of high-end industry people there?”

“The same.”

Lance put in his two cents, grinning like a loon. “Holy shit.”

Gordon laughed, happy enough that he didn’t give Lance a glare for merely being in his presence. Although, to be fair, in the past few weeks Gordon’s reaction had calmed down. As long as others were in the room, and as long as they stayed on the topic of music or business, he and Lance had actually had some normal conversations.

Danny caught the back of a chair, then slowly lowered himself, still reeling. “But how…?”

“Brent’s already reserved rooms for us as special guests,” Gordon continued, watching Danny. “The rooms and most of the meals are already paid for.” He knew that was Danny’s primary concern. Of them all, Danny was the one most strapped for cash these days. “He’s writing it off as an investment in your future.”

If Danny’s eyes had gotten any bigger, they’d have bugged out of his head. “I-investment?”

Gordon’s teeth flashed brilliant white in a smile that nearly cracked his face wide open. “He said, and I quote, ‘You need to tell them to sell their asses off.’” Still laughing at Danny’s amazement, Gordon opened his laptop bag to ruffle through it. “And that’s what we’re going to do. Brent’s going to send me a guest list as soon as it’s available, and I’ll give you all some names you need to remember.” He brought out his tablet and fired it up to take notes. “I need to get you all business cards. Of course, you should always turn the business deals over to me.” His fingers flew over the on-screen keyboard.

Danny recovered himself enough to reach out and squeeze Rabin’s shoulder. “Have I ever told you how glad I am you came on to me in that bar that night?”

Rabin’s eyebrows soared as Lance and Noble laughed, having heard the story of how Rabin and Danny met. “I didn’t come on to you.”

Clearly Danny was still reeling, but he was good enough to joke. “Whatever, man. Thank you so much for finding me.”

Noble stroked Danny’s loose strawberry-blond hair. “There, there, poppet. It’s just a wedding.” He chuckled. “The fucking wedding of the decade.” Still stroking Danny’s hair, he gazed dreamily up at the ceiling. “And just think of all the gorgeous men that are sure to be there.”

That gave Danny a wicked smile. He leaned his head back into Noble’s belly and gazed up at the ceiling with him. “Oh, man, hadn’t even thought of that.”

Lance exchanged a fond glance with Rabin.

“Oh.” Gordon kept his head tilted down as he typed. “And you can each bring a guest with you.”

“Shit, no.” Danny’s head was back down, and the overwhelmed disbelief had resurfaced. “We’re not rooming together?”

Gordon shook his head. “We’ve each got singles.”

“Brent’s a fucking god,” Danny mumbled, as though finally seeing a fact that he’d yet to acknowledge. “That’s all there is to it.”

“Don’t tell him that,” Rabin advised. “He’ll get a big head.”

For which they all laughed.

Lance sat back in his seat, toying with the synth in front of him while the rest of them continued to talk. A guest. Great. That probably meant that Gordon would bring Leon. Lance had yet to meet this boyfriend Gordon had spoken of and really didn’t want the occasion to come up. But it wasn’t going to be avoided. Gordon was part of Lance’s life, if not in the capacity he once was. Lance gave himself a quiet moment to think what it might have been like to go to this wedding as Gordon’s boyfriend. To watch two men pledge themselves in love, holding the hand of the man he loved. Hell, it was a New Year’s wedding. He’d love to kiss Gordon at the stroke of midnight and let the new year herald a new beginning for them.

A vicious yank on his ponytail brought him back to reality with a yelp. He glared up into the vivid green contact lenses Noble was sporting these days.

“Hello. You there?” The narrowing of Noble’s eyes said he knew what Lance was thinking. If not the specifics, at least the general topic.

Lance swatted his hand. “I’m here. What?”

“Gordon’s talking logistics. Pay attention.”

With a blink to clear sentiment from his gaze, Lance turned to Gordon, who was also watching him. But Gordon’s regard was patient, waiting, no suspicion. No thought given to what Lance might have been musing. Of course not. What does he care? He’s got Leon.

“Sorry.” Lance put on a pleasant mask to match Gordon’s. “What were you saying?”

“He asked if you were going home for the holidays.”

Lance shoved Noble away from him, more as an excuse not to look at Gordon than anything. “No.”

“You’re not going to see your sister?” Gordon asked carefully.

Lance looked at him again, keeping his face carefully blank. “No.”

“Don’t you think you should?”

Lance focused on the table, folding his hands around one of the mini synths. “No.”

“They haven’t really talked since his mom died,” Noble answered for him.

Gordon stared at him over Lance’s head. “Still?”

Lance spoke to Rabin and Danny, his voice level and empty. “My mom died two years ago.” He switched his attention to Gordon, who showed echoes of the sorrow they’d shared back when they were together. “Morgan and I agreed that I didn’t need to come around for holidays.” Because, really, they had nothing to share. She had her life; he had his. Without their mom around and with their dad long gone, they didn’t have much between them. As long as he sent money she’d spend on presents for her kids, they were good. There, that covered all the family stuff. “Why did you need to know?”

Gordon stared at him for just a moment longer. He’d always wanted Lance to be closer to his family. Then Gordon blinked and put on his business face. “We’ve also been invited to Thanksgiving at Brent’s. It’ll be a much smaller affair, but I’m told that Izzy’s cooking.” A smile at Rabin, who grinned back. “So that’s not to be missed. As for Christmas…that depends on how far you guys get with the album.”

“It’ll be ready,” Rabin stated with full conviction.

Lance, together with Danny and Noble, echoed the sentiment.

“All right.” Gordon spread his hands on the table, seeming at a loss for a few seconds before he regained himself. “I think that’s it. I’ll let you guys get back to work.”

He stood and gathered his bag onto his shoulder. For no particular reason, as he crossed the room to the door, he patted Lance’s shoulder. Startled, Lance looked up so they could share a brief glance. He wasn’t sure what was in Gordon’s eyes at that moment, but it wasn’t anything negative. Then Gordon walked away. Lance put his head down over the synth in his hands, intent on getting his mind back into the music. He felt Noble’s quick pat on the back but didn’t acknowledge it. Thankfully, Rabin and Danny sensed his desire to move on, and talk began again about the track they’d been working on.

Chapter Eight

Past, March

Lance left the apartment, then took two steps to knock on Gordon’s door.

“It’s open.”

After a head roll to stretch and relax his neck, Lance opened the door. Gordon wasn’t in the main room, but sounds from the kitchen led Lance in that direction. On the way, he spied an open gym bag on the floor beside the bedroom. In the kitchen, Gordon was washing a few dishes. His hair shone damp in the overhead lighting.

“You’ve been up?” It was nine o’clock, an early morning for Lance. He was impressed that he’d managed to shower and shave. Then again, he hadn’t had company last night, so it’d been an early evening.

Gordon set a cup on a dish towel to dry. “I was at the gym.”

Lance stared at him while he rinsed off a bowl. “No shit?”

That got Lance a grin over the shoulder. “Yeah.”

“You do that?” Not that it was surprising. Lance had made a habit of noting that Gordon was in terrific shape, but he hadn’t given much thought on how that was.

Gordon laughed. “Yes. I do. I take it you don’t?”

“No.” Lance shook his head for emphasis and even backed up a step to make the denial ridiculous.

More laughing. “It’s not so bad.”

“Yeah. It is. Where did you develop that filthy habit?” He said it with a grin, but he really was curious.

“I like to be active.” Gordon turned off the water and dried his hands. “Outside of a gym, there’s not much chance of that in my line of work.” Still grinning, he patted Lance’s chest as he passed by. “Let me dry my hair, and we can go.”

Lance watched him retreat, wondering at the casually intimate gesture. He decided to mark it “friendly” instead. Because that’s what they’d become. Good friends. Noble touched Lance all the time. One of these days, Lance’s blood would cease to simmer when Gordon did it.

On a whim, he opened Gordon’s refrigerator. Yes, there was beer and containers of leftovers. But there was also milk, eggs, and three different kinds of juice, and the vegetable drawer was full. Shelby’s people obviously weren’t stocking Gordon’s kitchen. They’d learned not to leave too many plants for Lance and Noble, because most of them would wither and die.

“So do you do the machines and the whole nine yards?” Lance asked Gordon when he reappeared.

Clearly amused, Gordon sat on the couch to lace up his boots. “Yes. Mostly just some weights and the elliptical.” He glanced up at Lance.

“I know what that is.”

Which made Gordon laugh again.

Loving the sound, Lance had to smile. “I just don’t know why any sane person would use one of the damn things.”

“To feel good. To stay healthy.”

“Right. That.”

“I take it you’re not a fan of the gym.” Gordon stood and went to grab his coat. It gave Lance a nice, if brief, view of his ass in gray wool slacks.

“No way.”

“Then how do you stay fit?” Lance didn’t miss the quick once-over Gordon gave him.

Warmed, Lance didn’t pay much attention to his answer. “I don’t. Alcohol, gigs, and sex seem to do the trick.”

And there went some of the merriment from Gordon’s eyes. Only some. “Good thing you get plenty of all three.”

“Yeah.” Lance followed Gordon out the door, mentally kicking himself for his words. That’s why he didn’t tend to talk much. He often said the wrong thing. “Good thing.”

“So.” They reached the empty hall at the bottom of the stairs. To the left was the door that led outside the club, to their right the one that led toward the club. “Where should we go?”

Lance caught up with Gordon to walk beside him as they made their way to the outside door. “There’s a diner about five blocks away with killer waffles.”

“Works for me.”

Outside it was a brisk fifty degrees. The sky that could be seen between the buildings was flat gray, with some angry dark patches. The snow was gone, but the air was moist. It was going to rain soon. Lance pulled a knit cap out of his pocket to shove over his head and keep his ears warm. Gordon seemed to enjoy the cold, though, raising his face to the sky for a brief moment when they reached the sidewalk.

“So you’re a fitness junkie, and you eat waffles?” Lance asked, starting down the street. “Isn’t that against the rules?”

“I’m not a junkie. I just like to be active.”

“Now I know why you’re up so early in the morning.”

“Nine isn’t early for most people.”

“Most people don’t stay up all night on a regular basis.”

“True.”

They kept chatting on the way to the diner. A tiny part of Lance’s brain worked over what was happening between them. Obviously they’d become friends. In the last few weeks, they’d gone to movies, dinner, and even a really weird play off-Broadway. Although flirting had occurred, it seemed like both of them were very careful to keep things on a friendly basis. And that’s all they were. Friends. Except that Lance continued to want more than that. How could he not? Now he knew the reason why Gordon’s body was so taut and muscular, but that couldn’t make him want it more. Because he already wanted it too much. Time hadn’t dampened the desire to lick up the long column of Gordon’s neck or find out what those beautiful lips tasted like. Getting to know the man didn’t take away the desire to have him on all fours with his ass squeezing the life out of Lance’s cock. But Lance kept his desires to himself for the good of the band.

* * * *

“Has Shelby ever asked you to help him with potentials before?” Gordon asked, doctoring his coffee with a couple of creamers.

The discussion was guitarists, since Shelby had instructed Gordon to find one.

“We worked together to find a drummer.”

They were waiting for their waffles, sitting on uncomfortable vinyl padding on the metal benches of a booth in the shoddy-looking diner. Gordon hadn’t been sure about the place at first, but when they walked in and the scent of buttered batter and sizzling sausages had hit, he’d been sold.

“But that was more ’cause drums aren’t his thing. He was using a rhythm machine before Noble.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

Gordon picked up a spoon to start stirring. “I’m glad you talked him into a drummer.”

Lance sipped his own black coffee. “Wasn’t so much me as the sound he wanted to get. He wasn’t going to get it with a machine.”

“Lucky you found Noble.”

“Damn straight.”

Instead of drinking, Gordon stacked the plastic creamer cups together, watching his hands as they did it. “You and Noble are very close.”

“Yes.”

“Good friends?”

“The best.” Lance guessed what was coming next. Everyone asked.

Gordon set the creamer cups aside. “Lovers?”

“Only a few times. Years ago.” He felt the need to make that point clear.

His wording made Gordon grin. Also got him to look up. “Why only a few?”

“He’s too much for me.”

Gordon chuckled. “All over the place?”

“All over. In bed and with other people.”

“Ah. Yeah, that could get annoying.”

Lance shrugged and dropped his gaze, feeling a little guilty for talking about Noble. Not that Noble would care. It also wasn’t the whole reason, but he used that one when talking to others. “He’s good. We had fun. But we make better friends. Besides”—he made sure to meet Gordon’s gaze—“we work together.”

Gordon’s small smile said that Lance’s barb had hit home, but it didn’t look like it stung. He finally tasted his coffee. “Was he your first?”

“Guy?” And why did that simple question make Lance feel almost virginal? “Yeah. I had sex with girls before.”

“Now only men?”

“Pretty much.”

Gordon nodded. “Good for you for staying friends. I don’t talk to most of my ex-lovers, much less live and work with them.”

“Not much for second chances?”

Gordon’s casual gaze sharpened, and Lance was sure it was his imagination that the light dimmed just a little. “No. I don’t do second chances.”

It was Lance’s turn to nod. “Good to know.”

There was a slight lull as they both sipped their coffee.

“So.” Gordon’s brisk tone suggested a change of subject. “Why do you stay? With Shelby?”

“Didn’t we have this discussion?”

“I know you say it’s for the paycheck, but that can’t be it. You’re too good.”

Lance let himself feel the compliment a moment. “It’s a good paycheck.”

“Yes, I know, and you get to do what you love for it. But you have to have gotten offers from other bands. You could easily move on.”

Lance shrugged. “I could. Then the other band could tank, and I’d be back to living on the street.”

“Is that where you were before Shelby? Living on the street?”

“Not exactly, but not far from it.” Sip. “I’ve done the whole living-out-of-pocket scene. It’s not all that appealing when you’re pushing thirty.”

Gordon’s fingers toyed around the rim of his cup. “That’s not so old.”

“Not so young, either.”

Gordon studied him. He did that a lot, to a lot of people. He watched. Not everyone noticed, but he’d given up being sly about it with Lance. Slowly Gordon shook his head. “There’s got to be more to it. I don’t see you putting up with Shelby’s crap that long just to be comfortable. You have to have saved money by now. You could branch out on your own.”

Lance sighed, toying with a sugar packet. “I haven’t saved anything.”

“What? With what you make?”

“I send everything to support my mom.”

A dead silence dropped between them.

“Oh. Is she…?”

“She’s in a nursing home. Pretty advanced Alzheimer’s. Plus she’s just old. She had a hard life.”

“Fuck.” Gordon put down his coffee and reached over to lay a hand on Lance’s wrist. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. It is what it is.”

Gordon drew his hand back. “So you’re paying to support her?”

“Yep. I pay all the bills that insurance doesn’t cover. My sister used to pitch in, but she’s got her own family, and it was hard enough on her when Mom was first sick and I wasn’t around. When the money started coming in from Shelby, I gave most of it to her.” Lance stared at the pulp poster hanging on the wall beside them. “She deserves the break.”

“Okay.” Gordon’s coffee cup clinked softly on its saucer. “This makes sense. Where do they live?”

“Detroit.” Born and bred, and neither of them would ever think of leaving. Unlike him. He had to leave that place.

“What about your father?”

Lance shrugged. “Never knew him.”

Gordon toyed with his cup, spinning it slowly. “I’m really sorry.”

He shook his head. “Don’t be. Like I said, it is what it is.”

They were quiet a moment while Gordon digested what had been said. Then he nodded. “So, then, you need the money. And as long as you keep Shelby happy, the money is steady.” It sounded more like he was defining Lance’s life for himself than getting any confirmation.

But Lance gave it anyway. “Yep.”

Another pause as the waitress dropped off their breakfast. “But if you found something equally as profitable, would you leave?”

Lance had to laugh as he slathered butter across his waffle. “What is this? You want me to leave Shelby?”

Gordon was lighter on the butter, but he made generous use of the blueberry syrup. “No. I just…” He shrugged. “I’ve seen what Shelby puts you guys through, and I know what’s out there. Neither of you strikes me as the type to put up with it, even for the money. I guess I’m just trying to understand.”

“Shelby’s earned some loyalty. He’s a pain in the ass, but he’s also been very good to both of us. How many guys would pay all our expenses and give us a paycheck? Just to play his music.”

“I see that.” Gordon chewed thoughtfully. “Who would have thought that his bass-ackward way of doing things could actually work?”

They both laughed, then proceeded with yet another perfectly normal, perfectly friendly meal together.

Chapter Nine

Present, November

Lance didn’t realize there was someone on his couch until he’d started the coffee and was pulling out the waffle iron. Danny pulled himself upright, blue eyes bleary and strawberry-blond hair an oily mess around his face. A clubbing shirt was draped over the back of the couch, and the couch’s deep blue throw blanket slipped from his bare chest.

“Hey, you.” Lance waved over the short counter that separated living room from kitchen. The apartment he and Noble had moved into was light and airy, especially in the morning. It had almost turned him into a morning person. Almost. “Didn’t see you there. Sorry I woke you.”

Yawning, Danny rubbed at his eyes. “’Sokay.” He scooted to the edge of the couch and cracked another yawn. “Hope you don’t mind I crashed here.”

“Nope. You hungry?”

Danny thought about it, trying to blink himself awake. “Maybe after coffee?”

“It’s on its way.”

Heaving a big sigh, Danny got to his feet and stretched. Lance was a human male who happened to enjoy the sight of a nice physique, so he admired his friend. Danny wasn’t what you’d call ripped, but he had a discernible six-pack and a nice surfer-boy tan, although the latter was fading, thanks to being inside most of the time during the Chicago autumn. Unbuttoned jeans rode low enough on his hips to show off the smooth, gorgeous grooves on each side of his groin and the tuft of a dark brown happy trail leading into his briefs. In Lance’s humble opinion, Danny was one hell of a step up from the lead singer of Lance’s last band. He’d attract plenty of fans to the Indigo Knights through his looks alone. Bonus that he could sing.

Lance busied himself with getting the makings for waffles before Danny could catch him watching. “Good night?”

Still shirtless, Danny leaned on the wall at the space where living room changed to kitchen, his bare toes curling on the cool tiles. Jesus, even his feet were pretty. “Yeah.” He scratched his head. “What I can remember of it.”

Lance laughed. “That’s what you get for going out with Noble.” Setting milk down on the counter, he glanced toward Noble’s room. “Is he alone?” His door was open. Beyond, Lance could see the mound of pillows and blankets that would be covering his friend on the bed. Usually the door was closed, or if it was open, there was at least one guy in bed with him. “What gives?”

Danny flushed a little, eyes downcast. “We went to a sex club.”

“Ah. That’s nothing new for him.”

“Yeah. Well, it was new for me. I thought I’d seen it all but…” He shook his head.

Lance chuckled, measuring dry batter into a bowl. “Have fun?”

“Well. Yeah.” Danny seemed hesitant. “You ever been to one?”

“Yeah.” Lance reached into a cabinet to bring out a mug for Danny. “Years ago.” He pointed toward the coffee, which was almost ready.

Danny took the mug. “Did you like it?”

Lance shrugged, pouring milk into a measuring cup. “It was useful. Was never my idea to go, though.”

“Yeah.” Danny was thoughtful as he filled his mug. “Not so sure I want to do it a lot. I’m all for one-night stands, but…” He made a face before taking a sip of straight black coffee. “Oh wow, this is good.”

“Gourmet.”

“Fancy.”

“Yep.”

They were quiet as Lance mixed the batter. It was a box mix, but it was one that he and Noble had grown fond of.

“Is this your normal morning?” Danny asked, leaning on the counter out of the way while he watched Lance.

“Pretty much.”

“Don’t you go out at all?”

“Not often.”

Danny stopped there. Lance was sure he wanted to ask more but wasn’t comfortable yet. Which was fine. Lance didn’t much want to go into it.

Instead he changed the topic. “Y’know, you could’ve slept in there with him. He’s got a huge bed.” That bed had been Noble’s one big splurge when they’d moved in. Lance was shocked he hadn’t gotten one of the custom-made circular ones with drapes and pillows. But the one he’d gotten was plenty big.

“What? No. We’re not…”

“I know you’re not.” If they had, Noble would have told Lance about it. “But that doesn’t mean you couldn’t sleep in there. The couch isn’t that comfortable.” He grinned at Danny. “I know he invited you.”

Danny’s eyes went wide. “How do you know?”

“I know Noble.”

“Yeah, well.” Danny hid behind a sip of coffee. “We agreed we shouldn’t make our relationship sexual.” Gee, that sounded familiar. A good idea too. Lance knew that one firsthand. “Besides, we were both exhausted last night.”

“You still could’ve slept with me,” Noble said, emerging from his bedroom dressed in snug black boxer-briefs and nothing else. His green hair glowed in the soft morning light, and the horny toad etched on his chest looked entirely too cheerful. He scratched his head. “There I was, all alone in that big bed.”

Lance snorted.

Danny rolled his eyes. “Get over yourself.”

Noble slung an arm across Danny’s shoulders and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Never.” He let go in favor of retrieving a mug for his morning sustenance. “You reek.”

First Danny was shocked, but he recovered quickly. “Fuck you.”

“No, no.” Noble yawned as he pulled out the coffee carafe. “We decided not to do that.”

Danny sighed, then set down his mug. “Fine. Can I use your shower?”

Since Noble was busy pouring sugar into his mug, Lance answered. “You can use mine. It’s cleaner than Noble’s.”

Noble rolled his eyes. “You need clothes?”

Danny glanced down at himself. “Uh, yeah, I guess.”

“Help yourself to mine. Should all fit.”

“’Kay. Thanks.”

Noble sneaked a peek at Danny’s ass as the other man disappeared into Noble’s room. “He’s a fucking magnet,” he muttered to Lance so as not to be overheard. “Men fall at his feet. It’s awesome.”

Lance dumped the first waffle on a plate and poured another. “I’m surprised you haven’t.”

“No, I’m not fucking this up. I learned that from you.”

Lance didn’t take the bait, used to Noble’s digs. He got out a mug for himself. “I’m glad you found a friend.” Not that he’d worried. Noble could make friends anywhere.

“I wish you would.”

“I count Rabin and Danny as my friends.”

“You know what I mean.”

He glanced at Noble as he poured his coffee. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

They were quiet as Danny passed out of Noble’s room and into Lance’s, carrying an armful of clothes.

“Did you tell him?” Lance added milk to his coffee. “About me and Gordon?”

“No. That’s your story to tell.”

“Good.”

“Not that it’s much of a story.”

“Even better.”

“I mean, a story has a good ending. Yours…?” Noble sniffed. “He did ask why you were celibate. I told him your dick shriveled up and dropped off.”

“Good.”

Noble chuckled at Lance’s bland response. “Asshole.”

* * * *

Lance saw Rabin waving at him from the door into the console room, so he took off his headphones. “What? Sound off?”

“No, we got it.” Rabin had an odd smile on his face, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. “We need you in the kitchen.”

A glance around the studio and Lance saw that no one else was there. Well, damn. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

Unable to suppress a small smile, he set his bass on the stand beside his stool and put aside his headphones. He knew what day it was, and Noble knew what day it was, but he’d asked Noble not to make a big deal. He hadn’t told Rabin or Danny, so Noble must have spilled the beans. Obediently, he followed Rabin out of the studio and down the hall. Truth be told, this was kind of nice.

“Happy birthday!”

A round cake with white icing and blue trim sat on the table in the middle of the kitchen, with his friends standing around it. Gordon was there too. In fact, if Lance was going to judge by the matches in one hand and cake knife in the other, Gordon had arranged this. The cake even said Happy Birthday Lance.

Lance blinked at him. “Was this you?”

Gordon smiled. “You didn’t think I’d forget your birthday, did you?”

Lance could only stare at him. Gordon had spoken to him a little more in the past week, but he still wasn’t what Lance would call friendly. But today, with the huge smile on Gordon’s face, Lance could almost think they were over the past. “Wow. Thanks.”

Gordon used the excuse of that damn birthday song to look away from Lance. He led the others in a truly mediocre attempt, then insisted Lance blow out the candle. Then he shooed Lance out of the way so he could cut the cake.

“I didn’t say a word,” Noble murmured in Lance’s ear as the others concentrated on the cake.

Lance nodded, still unsure what was happening.

“So, you guys do realize that Lance is the oldest fart here.” Noble’d danced out of arm’s reach, so Lance was unable to hit him.

“You can’t be all that old.” Danny laughed, licking icing off his lip.

“Old enough.” Lance picked up a paper plate with cake. Gordon still hadn’t looked back at him.

“Thirty-three, I believe,” Gordon answered.

Noble exchanged a quick glance with Lance. “Yeah. Like I said: old.”

Gordon pointed the cake-covered knife at Noble. “Shut it, you.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right. You’re almost the same, right? Thirty-two?”

“Thirty-one.”

“Close enough.”

Shaking his head, Gordon raised his plate to his mouth. “Because you’re so young.”

“Twenty-six,” Noble stated proudly.

“Sheesh.” Danny rolled his eyes. “You’re old.”

Noble glared. “What?”

Danny grinned. “Twenty-four, baby.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

Danny proceeded to dance around, singing about how young he was. Rabin started to give him crap, but Lance stopped paying attention. He stepped up beside Gordon. “Thanks for this.”

Startled, Gordon met his gaze. He must not have realized that Lance was close. He recovered quickly and smiled. “You’re welcome. It’s the least I could do.”

So much. Lance wanted so much to wrap his arm around Gordon and pull him in for a kiss. The moment was right there. Perfect. Until Gordon blinked and turned away, spoiling it.

“You could go out with us tonight,” Noble offered, putting his back to Danny and Rabin.

“Thanks. But no. I’ve got a date.”

Just like that, Lance’s heart deflated. But he covered it well. He was pretty sure only Noble saw the arrow hit.

Noble’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe another time, then.”

“Maybe.” As though he hadn’t seen Noble’s reaction, Gordon tossed his plate into the trash. “I’ll leave the rest of the cake for you ladies.” He faced Lance once again. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks.”

Then he was gone, leaving Lance to finish his cake and reassemble his demeanor so he could get through the rest of the day.

Chapter Ten

Past, a few weeks later

“So would you do something already?” Noble whined one night as they sat in the back of a town car. Shelby had called an early rehearsal the next day, so both of them were headed to the estate without any overnight company. “Jesus, neither of you are getting any. You could at least get each other’s rocks off.”

Lance took his eyes off the dark road and tried to focus on Noble. Tried because there was a lot of alcohol in his system and the car interior was dark. As they left the city farther behind, streetlights were fewer. The dark suited Lance’s mood. Gordon had not been at the performance tonight but rather at a party across town. A party held by some of his gay friends. A party where he might meet someone he was interested in. “How do you know he’s not getting any?”

“I asked.”

“You asked? Just like that? Did you offer to help him out?”

Noble glared. “No.” Angrily, he tossed overlong bangs out of his eyes. “If I even tried for Gordon, you’d flip out.” He faced forward, arms crossed over his chest. “But he’s so focused on you, he wouldn’t go for anyone else anyway.”

“He’s not focused on me.”

“Fuck me sideways!” Noble stared at the ceiling of the car, shaking his head. “You two are such fucking idiots, I don’t know why I talk to you anymore.”

“He’s not—”

“Fuck you.” Noble slammed a fist on his thigh. “Fuck you, and fuck him. You spend more fucking time together than with anyone else, including me. You’re practically dating, except you never get to the good part.”

“We’re not—”

“I don’t want to hear it. I really don’t. You’ve both made up your minds that it’s not going to happen, and you’re both too damn controlling to just let it go.”

Lance glanced up at their driver, but Rollo’s eyes were on the road. He certainly heard, but he made no sign, and Noble didn’t care. Lance should just let this go or talk about it when they got home, but… “Controlling?”

“Yeah.” Using his hand, Noble indicated one person on his left and another on his right. “He wants it his way, you want it your way, and since the two don’t really mesh, you won’t let it happen.”

“What the fuck is my way?”

The look Noble gave him said he was completely clueless. “Your way. Where you’re on top, with no strings attached.”

“I’m not like that.”

The look continued.

“I’m not.”

“Do you ever look at the guys I send your way?”

“Of course I do.”

“Ever notice that every one of them lets you call all the shots? That not one of them tries for anything more than a night? Ever notice they’re all submissive?”

No. He’d noticed that they were all cute and…yeah, okay, they all took his lead. Sure, he liked it that way. Sure, he wasn’t into calling afterward. Wasn’t that the way with gay guys? Lance frowned. “I don’t sleep with women who’re particularly submissive.”

Noble shook his head. “Women don’t count. The mere fact you have a penis means you come out on top.”

“Now that’s just sexist.”

“It’s not. It’s a truth of society.” His friend sighed and settled into his seat as he faced forward. “It’s not a bad thing; it’s just what you are. If you don’t feel like you’re in control, you give up. That’s why I never send the”—Noble stared thoughtfully in front of him—“determined ones to you.” He smiled a little at a private joke.

There was so much Lance could ask. A definition of determined would be a start. But Noble’s mood prompted a different track. “Sounds like you’ve given this a lot of thought.”

“I have.” Head back, Noble closed his eyes. “Had to convince myself you weren’t right for me.”

The words stabbed through his heart like ice picks. He stared at his friend’s profile. “Noble…”

A hand fully adorned with silver rings rose, waving in the air between them. “Save it. We both know the friendship is much better.” The hand landed on Lance’s knee, patted it, then returned to Noble’s lap. “But there was a time that I wanted to convince myself otherwise.”

Lance was slow to digest this, watching Noble, who almost certainly realized he was being watched. “Should I say sorry?”

Noble’s smile was genuine, even if it was given with his eyes still closed. “You could, but it’s not necessary. Although if you want to do something with that guilt, you could fucking fuck Gordon already and stop your mooning.” At that, he peeked sideways at Lance.

“Fuck you.” He popped Noble one lightly on the shoulder, then faced forward himself.

Noble just laughed.

Chapter Eleven

Present, Thanksgiving Day

“So.” Noble came up behind him and set a glass of wine on the balcony rail beside Lance’s elbow, then folded his arms right beside it so Lance and he were both staring at the lake view. “How you doing?”

Lance picked up the glass and took a sip of the very good, very dark wine their hosts had provided. “I’m good.”

“Are you?”

Discussion, laughter, and music filled the room behind them. The sliding glass door was open despite the nippy air blowing in over the water.

“Why shouldn’t I be? Here I am, among friends. It’s Thanksgiving. Brent’s cousin and his friends are in the kitchen preparing what promises to be a spectacular meal.” He sipped again, aware that Noble was waiting him out. “I’ve been more creative in the past two months than I have been in my whole career, and I finally feel at home.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Noble nodding. “I have much to be thankful for,” he added.

“Sure.” Noble sipped from his own glass. “And you’ve even got the one man you’ve ever loved in the room behind you with his boyfriend.”

His having expected Noble’s choice of topic, Lance’s heart was shielded from the stab of those words. “Oh sure. You just had to ruin it.”

“It’s my thing.”

“Asshole.”

Chuckling, Noble turned so that his back was propped against the railing. “Leon.” He said the name as though he were tasting it. “What kind of name is Leon?”

Lance kept his gaze on the darkening sky and the way the lake water turned every shade of purple and blue. “Stop.”

“He doesn’t look like a Leon.”

“Noble.”

“‘Gordon and Leon’ just doesn’t have a good ring to it.”

“Hey.”

“What? I’m just saying. You’ve got to think of these things.”

“No. I don’t. You don’t. We can stop talking about them.”

Noble was quiet for all of two minutes before he had to say, “I give it a month.”

“Jesus.” Heaving a beleaguered sigh, Lance lowered his forehead to the balcony railing and wished for his friend’s disappearance.

“They won’t make it past New Year’s.”

With another sigh, Lance turned around himself. Inside the sliding glass doors, people were dressed in festive warmth, drinking wine, and enjoying hors d’oeuvres provided by the three student chefs in the kitchen. A huge table had been set and decorated, just waiting for the meal. Brent and his partner, Heller Witting, were seated on the couch, one talking to Danny and the other chatting with Gordon and Leon. Leon. Tall, with sandy-blond hair styled perfectly. A stately face with a curved jaw, a big nose, and overgenerous lips. Lance had to agree with Noble. He didn’t look like a Leon. He didn’t look like a surgeon either, but he was. He did look older than Gordon, which he also was. Most of all, he didn’t look like he should have his hand rubbing Gordon’s back.

“If Leon makes him happy,” Lance said under his breath so only Noble could hear, “then he should be with Leon.”

Noble made a retching sound. “Gawd, who are you?”

Lance gave him half the smile he was prodding for. He might have said more, but a raised voice from inside called them to the table. Lance followed Noble inside and into the dining room. He headed for the far end of the table. There wasn’t a place setting at the end, so he sat at the last setting. Noble took the seat beside him. He was pleased when Darien Hughes—Heaven Sent’s drummer—and his lawyer boyfriend took the seats across from them. Lance hadn’t had a chance to speak much with Darien, so this’d be good. Danny sat beside Noble, with Rabin across from him. When Izzy finally sat down, he would be beside Rabin, in the seat closest to the kitchen door, with his two friends beside him. Next to Danny was Gordon, then Leon. Gordon’s boss, Gretchen, and her two—yes, two—boyfriends sat across from them. Most interesting placement of all, Lance thought, was Brent seated at the last seat on the side of the table and Hell seated at the end. It gave him new ideas about their relationship. The food was on the table as they all found their seats, Izzy and his friends bustling about with last-minute touches.

Hell remained standing, then raised his glass of wine after everyone else was seated. “Welcome.” For a little guy, he had a rich, lovely voice. Lance would have thought that a high voice came with the pixie look, but he’d begun to realize Hell’s looks were deceiving. Strikingly white hair curled around a face straight from a manga, with purple eyes that looked too big for his face. Hell smiled as everyone raised their glasses. “Thank you for coming to celebrate this holiday with us. I am grateful for you all.”

“Hear, hear.” Brent tried to bring his glass to his lips, but his boyfriend caught his wrist. They shared a look; then Brent groaned softly and set his glass down.

Chuckles broke out, mostly from those who knew the couple well. Lance put down his glass, certain he was about to be entertained.

“I did not grow up in this country,” Hell continued in his German accent, laughing along with his friends at the statement, “but I’ve come to enjoy this holiday. Not only for the food, but for the company of friends and family.” He smiled at Izzy. “I am thankful for a new cousin, who has come to live with us and has filled our house with wonderful laughter and glorious meals.”

Izzy, who Lance knew well enough to know he wasn’t shy, ducked his head and actually blushed.

“I am thankful for Rabin, who came into our lives for the business of music and has joined us by finding love with Izzy.”

Izzy leaned into his boyfriend’s arm and blushed some more when Rabin kissed his cheek.

Hell kept speaking. “I am thankful for my friend Gretchen, who has found love where she didn’t expect it. Owen, Archer, welcome to the family. I hope you don’t regret it.”

More laughter as Gretchen leaned into the young man beside her. She also reached across his shoulders to squeeze the arm of the darkly handsome man on Owen’s other side.

“I am thankful for Gordon—”

Lance perked up, curious to hear. He didn’t think Hell knew Gordon all that well.

“—who has helped to guide Rabin and the Indigo Knights. I know that Gretchen is excited for your success. As are we all. And welcome to Leon.” He chuckled. “I hope we don’t scare you off.”

Noble’s foot nudged Lance’s.

“Last”—Hell indicated the far end of the table, where Lance and Noble sat—“I am truly thankful for the Indigo Knights.”

By unspoken command, everyone raised their glasses higher.

“Rabin, Danny, Lance, and Noble, strange roads have led you together, but we, all of us, are committed to your success.”

Lance’s heart swelled at the wave of support that he felt fill the room. He’d never felt anything quite like it.

“We toast to your future, and I, for one, look forward to the day when I can say I knew you when.”

With a small tip of his glass toward them, Hell finally drank, signaling others to add their agreement, then drink.

“Hey,” Darien called down the table after all the glass clinking had stopped and Hell had taken his seat. “What about me? And Chris?”

Hell looked up, considered Darien for a second, and waved his hand in dismissal. “You I am not thankful for.”

The tone and a truly wicked smile assured everyone he was kidding, and laughter erupted as they started to pass the food.

* * * *

“So, the two of you”—Darien pointed at Lance, then Noble, then back again with the hand that held his fork—“are you into guys or girls?”

Lance blinked, then chuckled. Noble outright laughed.

Beside Darien, Chris shook his head a little and groaned. “You don’t have to answer him.”

“What?” Darien looked at his boyfriend with deceptive innocence. “I’m not allowed to know?”

Chris arched a brow over the rims of his classy glasses. “It’s up to them to decide that.”

“Duh. But they don’t know I want to know until I ask.”

Lance and Noble exchanged a grin. Darien Hughes couldn’t be as clueless as he seemed. After talking to him for most of dinner, Lance thought maybe a lot of his talkativeness was an act. But he could be wrong.

Chris opened his mouth, paused, shut it. He turned back to Lance and Noble with a look of bemused resignation. “I can only say no offense meant.”

“Offense?” Darien sat back in his seat, affronted.

“None taken,” Noble said with a grin. “I’m happy to answer. I’m very much into boys.”

Darien smiled at him. “Thank you.” He gave his boyfriend a little glare and turned his attention to Lance.

“Boys,” Lance answered.

“But he’s also been into girls,” Noble hastened to add.

Now it was Lance’s turn to give his friend an affronted look. When he did, he noticed that Gordon was staring hard at his plate, maybe trying not to listen in. Beyond him, Leon was actively listening and even made brief eye contact with Lance.

“Jesus.” Darien’s soft exclamation got Lance’s attention. He was flicking his glance from Lance to Noble to Danny, then beside him to Rabin. “You do know you guys are gonna get all sorts of shit about us. Especially if you’re all gay too.”

Rabin shrugged. “Fate, I guess. I don’t think I’ll mind the comparison.” It was said with a grin, which Lance, for one, returned. Getting compared to Heaven Sent in any fashion couldn’t be a bad thing.

Darien shook his head and scraped up some more sweet potatoes. “Oh sure, you say that now. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He shook his head. “Weird coincidence, though.” He glanced down the table at Gordon. “Did you plan it this way, Gordon?”

“Me?” Gordon looked surprised but amused. “How could I have possibly have planned it this way?”

They now had the attention of the entire table.

“Planned what?” Gretchen asked.

“Don’t you think it’s weird that they’re all gay?” Darien asked her before Gordon could explain. “The Knights.”

“No more weird than you’re all gay,” Gretchen replied calmly.

“Yeah, but we didn’t start off that way.”

“Well, then”—she grinned at him—“they’ve got a head start, don’t they?”

At that, laughter erupted around the table.

“Besides,” Gretchen continued with a smug smile over her wineglass, “that makes them perfect as an opening band for Heaven Sent’s tour, doesn’t it?”

Things got very quiet. Gretchen met Gordon’s eyes across the table.

“Are you saying…?” Gordon started.

Gretchen picked up her glass and spoke to stop him. “I’m not saying anything yet. I’m just speculating.”

No one else said anything, but Gordon raised his glass toward her. “To speculating.”

At the end of the table, Brent and Hell exchanged amused glances. Darien didn’t say anything, just dug back into the food on his plate. Lance glanced at his bandmates, wondering if he had the same excitement in his eyes that was in theirs. Lots to be thankful for this year.

Chapter Twelve

Past, early April

Lance had just tossed his shirt onto the couch and unfastened the fly of his jeans when the door to the greenroom opened. There weren’t that many people allowed into the back hall at Fletcher’s that led to the small room, so Lance was pretty sure he’d know whomever it was.

He did. “Oh.” Gordon stopped just inside the door, gaze immediately intent on Lance’s bare chest.

Lance paused. He didn’t work out in the gym religiously like Gordon did, but he knew he was fairly well toned. At least his lovers all seemed to appreciate the arrangement of dark gold hair across his pecs and trailing down the center of his flat belly. If he was any judge of reactions, Gordon seemed to appreciate the same.

“I was looking…” Gordon dragged his eyes up to meet Lance’s. There was a heaviness to them that set Lance’s blood to simmering. “Where’s Shelby?”

Experimentally, Lance reached up to comb a hand through his hair, pulling some of the loose strands over his shoulder so they draped the upper part of his chest. “He’s gone.”

“Damn.” Gordon tracked his hand’s movement without trying to hide the fact. “He said he’d stick around to talk with me. Where’s Noble?”

“Out front.” The Might had finished their second set for the night, and Noble had gone straight out to scope the crowd. By the time Lance changed and joined him, he’d have a few guys lined up for Lance to choose from for company for the night.

“Oh.”

Lance hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his jeans and rested them there, letting the weight pull open his fly a little more to expose the gray of his briefs. Sure, he was posing.

A grin blossomed on Gordon’s face, and he shook his head. “You do look good.”

“Thanks. Want to come take a closer look?”

“Yes.” He didn’t move. “But I won’t.” He reached behind him to grab the door handle. “G’night, Lance.”

Lance watched the door close. Damn. Just being friends with Gordon wasn’t working for him. For two months now they’d been toying around with each other, almost flirting and occasionally touching. It felt like the kind of games you’d play in high school, not that Lance ever went to high school enough to have experienced it. Even though he kept telling himself it was best to stay away, he was drawn to Gordon. Didn’t look like Gordon was having better luck resisting.

Thinking about that, Lance traded the jeans he had on for a more comfortable pair and pulled on a long-sleeved V-neck sweater. He left his other clothes in the greenroom, from where one of Shelby’s staff would pick them up, wash them, and leave them in the apartment upstairs. With boots on and hair loose, he headed out front. Heavy prog-rock thudded through the dimly lit room. To his left was the crowded bar area, to his right was the abandoned stage, and in front of him was the sparse dance floor, lit by colorful overhead strobes. He spotted Noble in the middle of the dance crowd, surprisingly dancing with a woman. But he did that sometimes, claiming that women were often better dancers. There was a handful of attentive men around them, though, so he was in his element. Lance considered joining them, but he really didn’t like dancing. He glanced at the bar but didn’t want to fight the crowd. No, what he really wanted was…

Across the room, Gordon was at the bottom of the steps that led to the apartments. The lights highlighted him in phases as he spoke with the bouncer stationed there. His hand was on the railing, and he was already two steps up, clearly headed farther upstairs.

That’s what Lance wanted.

Skirting around the dance floor, he went after Gordon as the other man finished his conversation and mounted the steps. Lance waved at Eli, then hurried upstairs. When he turned the corner at the landing, Gordon had just opened his door. “Hey.”

Gordon glanced up. Saw him. Caution took over his expression. “Hey.”

“Can I talk to you?” Adrenaline had Lance’s heart racing. Hopefully that didn’t show on his face.

Gordon hesitated. “Lance, I don’t think—”

“It’ll just be a minute.” Just a minute if he couldn’t convince Gordon to go with the impulse Lance was riding.

More hesitation, but Gordon nodded. “Sure.” Gesturing inside, he preceded Lance. He hit the lights and dumped his keys on a side table as Lance came in and closed the door. Gordon wore a soft blue pullover with the sleeves pushed up almost to his elbows. His jeans were black, designer, and snug, and those shiny black oxfords probably cost a pretty penny. “What’s up?”

Lance stared at him for a moment, wavering. He’d never done this before. He didn’t act off the cuff, because it rarely went well. But this really seemed like the thing to do. He wanted this. But he’d paused long enough that Gordon started to frown in curiosity. Out with it. “You’re not seeing anybody.” A statement, not a question.

With a sigh, Gordon backed up a step. “Lance…”

“No, hear me out.” He took a breath, willing himself to do this right, wishing he’d taken time for a drink for courage. “Seems to me you’ve been here two months now and haven’t gotten laid yet.” Lance cocked his head to the side. “Unless I missed something?”

Dark brows drew down toward the bridge of Gordon’s nose. “No.”

“See?” Lance tucked his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans. “I think that’s a damn shame.”

Gordon crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Do you?”

“I do.” He let his gaze roam slowly and deliberately down Gordon’s body, savoring every honed curve. “I’m pretty sure you need to be fucked. You can’t go around pent up like that.”

“‘Pent up’?”

“Yeah.”

The corners of his mouth twitched as Gordon gave a lazy perusal of his own. It set every one of Lance’s nerve endings on fire. “I take it you have a solution to my… dilemma?”

“Yeah.” Lance took himself a few steps closer to Gordon, who stayed right where he was. “We should fuck.”

Gordon laughed. There was a nice, warm undercurrent to it. “We decided not.”

“No, sir.” Lance spoke almost before Gordon was finished talking, his focus on Gordon’s lips. “You decided not. I went with it. At the time.”

A pink tongue poked at the inside of Gordon’s bottom lip for a brief second. “And now?”

“And now”—Lance grinned to keep some levity between them—“you need my help. Besides…” Lance made himself look into Gordon’s eyes. There it was. That flash of heat, those glittering green crystals that defied any brown in his irises. “I think you want me.”

Gordon smiled. “You’re sure about that?”

“I am. And it’s okay.” He was less than an arm’s length away now. “I want you too.”

Lance didn’t imagine the flare of nostrils, almost as though Gordon could scent him. Those eyes searched his, but was Gordon looking for a reason to fuck or for a reason not to fuck?

“This is a bad idea.”

“Nah.” Lance reached up to stroke his fingertips along the side of Gordon’s jaw. Stubble had just begun to push through that surprisingly soft skin. “This is the best idea going. I get off; you get off. No harm, no foul.”

He waited. He’d gone this far. Farther than he’d ever gone before without a blatant invitation. The guys Noble sent to him were guaranteed. He’d never tried to pick up a guy on his own.

“I’m done with one-night stands.”

“I’m good with more than one night.”

Gordon started to shake his head. “You don’t understa—”

“Hey.” Lance ran his thumb over the plump curve of Gordon’s lower lip. They were the same height, bodies already perfectly aligned. “I don’t need to understand anything.” He kept his tone light, almost teasing, but also low and, hopefully, seductive. “I want you. You want me. You want more, and that’s cool. You can still find someone else for that.” Although that idea troubled him, he abandoned it for the more immediate topic. “Sex is fun, and we both want it. Enough said.”

Gordon’s gaze dropped with a different kind of heat, one Lance couldn’t identify. For a moment, Lance was sure he’d lost him, as he could almost hear a door shutting between them.

He took a chance and leaned in to touch his lips to Gordon’s. “God, I want to fuck you.” He had to whisper it because he never said shit like this. But this time it was important. “You have to want me too.”

He wasn’t sure where the last sentence came from, but it seemed to do the trick. Only because he was so close did he feel the tremor that shook Gordon just a fraction of a second before lips claimed his. A meeting of skin to skin. A decisive yes. Then their lips opened together for a more immediate oh yes. When tongues became involved, the heat went straight from simmering to inferno. Their mouths met in mutual demand, sensual and ravenous. Lance’s hands found either side of Gordon’s head, holding, tilting to deepen the kiss. He’d rarely kissed a guy who was exactly his height, and he liked it. Gordon’s palms slid up Lance’s sides on their way to spread over his back. Between them they traded the tastes of whiskey and coffee until both merged into a spicy single flavor.

“Fuck, you’re hot,” Lance murmured, words slurred because Gordon had Lance’s bottom lip between his teeth.

Gordon released Lance’s lip and ducked his head to bite at Lance’s pulse. “You too.”

“We need to get naked.”

Gordon sucked at his skin, then popped his mouth free. “Yes.” He grabbed Lance’s sweater and walked backward toward the open door to the bedroom.

They tore at each other’s clothing. Lance got Gordon’s pullover up to his armpits, then attacked his chest with bites while Gordon struggled it the rest of the way off. His skin was so smooth and taut over firm, edible muscle. Lance managed to tip Gordon’s balance and topple him onto the mattress, then followed to pin him down for some hot and heavy kissing and groping for long, glorious minutes. Gordon’s hands shoved up under the hem of Lance’s sweater, finding the bare skin of his back.

Bare skin.

He ripped himself away, pushing up to straddle Gordon’s thighs. Long blond locks of his hair fell forward to sweep Gordon’s shoulders and chest.

As he pulled off his sweater, Gordon attacked his belt and fly. “They say you’ve got a monster cock.”

Lance tossed the sweater aside. “They who?” He thrust his hips forward as Gordon drew down his zipper, and watched when Gordon hooked fingers in his briefs to expose his erection.

Appreciation was evident, both in Gordon’s eyes and the rough grip of his fist. “They were so right.”

Gordon squeezed, and Lance gave up caring who they might be. He let his head fall back to enjoy the pull of Gordon’s hand for a few strokes, rocking his hips for good measure.

Gordon smacked one side of his ass. “Get up here so I can try to put my mouth around it.”

Happy to obey, Lance edged closer and dropped down on all fours over Gordon. Sensual lips smiled as his dick got nearer, and then Gordon’s tongue swiped out across the head.

“Oh yeah.” Lance pushed his dick between Gordon’s lips, letting the grip at the base of his shaft tell him when he shouldn’t go farther. “Man.” Gradually, he pulled his hips back, going cross-eyed as Gordon lashed at him with his tongue. He could only moan as Gordon sucked him back in on the downthrust. Fuck, he could have stayed there all night, letting Gordon suck him. Except he couldn’t. That tingle in his groin warned him he was close, and he had to make a decision: stay, and come down Gordon’s throat; or pull out, find a condom, and fuck his ass.

The latter won.

“Hey!”

On his feet, Lance turned toward the nightstand rather than see the sexy, wet swelling of Gordon’s lips. “Supplies still in here?”

Gordon caught on quick. While Lance pulled open the drawer, Gordon loosened the fly of his slacks. “Yeah.”

Lance pulled out a bottle of lube and plucked a condom from an open box. The fact that there seemed to be just as many condoms in the box as there had been when he’d used the room last confirmed that Gordon hadn’t been getting any. At least, not at home. The bottle of lube was familiar too, but there was less of it than Lance remembered. He chose to think that was because of Gordon’s personal use. A shiny cloth bag at the side of the drawer caught his eye. The shape was familiar. Holding the lube and condom in one hand, he fished into the drawstring opening of the bag and pulled out a black plastic butt plug.

“Nice.” He grinned down at Gordon. “You use this a lot?”

Unashamed and gloriously naked, Gordon lay on his side, watching Lance’s dick. “Enough.”

Now quite sure of himself, Lance dropped the lube and condom on the mattress, set the plug on the nightstand, and reached down to pull off one of his sneakers. “Guess that answers the top-or-bottom question.”

Gordon made no move to help him with his clothes, but he did reach for the condom packet to rip it open. “I go both ways.”

Since Lance had only been with guys Noble had sent him, the top/bottom thing had never been an issue. It belatedly occurred to him that Gordon might prefer to top. As he shed shoes and socks, he watched Gordon with the condom. But Gordon only took the circle of latex out of the plastic, then waited while Lance dropped his pants to the floor. With a smile, Gordon held the condom out to Lance. Relief washed through Lance, and he tried to hide it. He wasn’t sure he did a great job at that. But Gordon’s smile wasn’t troubled, and the languid move of his body as he arranged himself on his back in the center of the bed distracted Lance from his worries.

Condom on, Lance crawled onto the bed so he could approach Gordon from between bent knees. “God, you’re gorgeous.” What was it with him? He wasn’t usually much for compliments. But with Gordon, he had to. Because Gordon really was that gorgeous. Everything about him made Lance’s blood boil.

Gordon’s palms braced either side of his jaw, leading Lance’s mouth to his. “So are you,” he breathed just before taking Lance’s lips in a heart-stopping kiss.

Lost, Lance pushed into him, lowering chest to chest, groin to groin as he fed on Gordon’s tongue. At first all they did was kiss, but Lance couldn’t ignore the need racing through his veins. Blindly, he groped for the lube and managed to wet his fingers. He slid his hand between them, down, under Gordon’s balls, until he could rub the wet into the sensitive, puckered skin of Gordon’s hole. The greedy moan fed into his mouth was a sign that he’d made the right move. Gordon opening his thighs wide was another sign. Lance rubbed around, testing what Gordon might like. When he pushed in a finger, Gordon pressed down hard enough to clue him in that he needed to do more. So he pushed in another finger. Twisted. Stroked. Gordon started a quick, forceful rhythm with his hips, his hole squeezing so hard Lance wondered if his fingers would break off. Imagine what that would feel like on his cock.

Groaning, Lance pulled away from their wet, sloppy kiss. “I need to fuck you now.”

Gordon untangled his fingers from Lance’s hair, sliding his hands down to spread them over Lance’s shoulders. “God, yes.”

Unwilling to put much distance between them, Lance got his knees under him but stayed propped with one arm beside Gordon’s chest. Another squirt of lube, then he reached down to stroke his sheathed cock, Gordon watching him all the while with deep, sexy eyes. Squeezing his shaft as much to hold off orgasm as to aim, Lance managed to work his dick into position. After just a minor shift from Gordon, he got the head of his dick inside. Gordon hissed, eyes shut, and Lance froze. The clench on the tip was breathtaking, and he needed the pause as much as Gordon. Before he knew if he was ready, though, Gordon was rocking his hips, slowly, surely, easing Lance farther into his body.

“God.” Lance dropped to his elbow, letting his head fall forward so his forehead rested to the left of Gordon’s sternum. “You feel so damn good.”

“Mmm.” Gordon wrapped one leg around his waist and continued to push steadily.

They both groaned in mingled relief and agony when Lance was fully seated inside Gordon’s body.

“Jesus.” Lance fought the urge to rut, wanting to give Gordon time to adjust. He knew his size wasn’t that comfortable for some lovers.

Gordon twined his fingers in the length of Lance’s hair and used it to tip his face up for a kiss. “Fuck me now,” he demanded harshly as he jerked his hips. “Give me all you got.”

Lance’d had boys wailing in pleasure, clutching the sheets in bliss, and he’d had quiet boys who pretended to be okay when they were really in pain. He’d become accustomed to differing reactions and thought he knew when to slow down or stop. Only now did he truly appreciate the direct kind of man Gordon was. When he started to thrust, Gordon pushed back, very nearly topping from beneath. It drove Lance wild, prompted him to push and shove while Gordon bit his lips. Lance managed enough sanity to brace on one arm and reach down to pull on Gordon’s cock, which tore a gasp and religious testimonial from the other man. They struggled together, sweat building up to lube bare skin on bare skin. Lance’s absurd pride when Gordon shouted and came was burst when animal instinct took over to throw his hips out of rhythm just before the ether exploded into a million burning sparks that chased down his spine to explode out his shaft.

He collapsed on Gordon’s broad chest, heaving in breaths and sure he was going to die. Not that he minded. If he had to go, that was one hell of a final moment. But God decided to let him live and didn’t explode his lungs, and he eventually began to breathe normally again. He was gratified to find Gordon in a similar state.

“Oh fuck.” Gordon lifted a shaky hand to rub at his forehead.

Lance realized he was probably heavy and pushed up on his elbows.

Gordon’s face, neck, and chest shone with sweat, and his lips were swollen and bruised from kissing. “They were sure right about you.”

“Who are they?”

Gordon wore the most free and satisfied grin Lance had ever seen on him. “I’ve managed to talk to a few of your previous lovers.”

Mildly disturbed by that, Lance flopped over onto his back. “Yeah, well, now you can add to my legend.”

“I don’t fuck and tell.”

“Me neither.”

A beat. Two. “Maybe we should keep this quiet,” Gordon suggested to the ceiling.

“Okay.” Yeah, but… “But Noble will know.”

“Of course.” Didn’t seem to bother Gordon. “But maybe Shelby shouldn’t.”

“I can go with that.”

They lay side by side for a few companionable moments.

“So…” Lance’s mind raced as sanity began to return. “This was a good idea.”

Gordon laughed. “You think so?”

Odd reaction. Needing to see Gordon’s face, Lance rolled to his side and propped his head on his hand. “You don’t?”

At first, Gordon kept his eyes shut. Lance wanted to lick at the tiny smile that curled the corners of his mouth. In fact, Lance wanted to lick at the dark stubble covering Gordon’s strong jaw, at the sweat beaded at the bend of neck to shoulder, at the tiny pebble of a nipple exposed by the dearth of chest hair. Fully satisfied by the sex they’d just had, Lance was astonished at the strength of his desire to snuggle into the other man.

Slowly, as his eyes opened, Gordon turned his head so he could look at Lance. “So…you’re offering to keep me satisfied until I find someone else?”

Lance ignored the twinge at the someone else. “Yes.”

“What about your cute young things?”

Lance shrugged. “Neither of us needs to give anything up.”

“Ah.” Gordon’s gaze slid down his neck to his chest. “Right.”

“I make a terrible boyfriend.” Lance had used the line many times before, but it had never felt so flat.

Surprise brought Gordon’s gaze back to Lance’s.

He forced a big, happy grin. “I make a much better friend. With benefits.”

Gordon smiled for him. “Yeah, well, the benefits are pretty good.”

Lance gave in to the desire to lean closer. He placed his tongue at one side of Gordon’s nipple, then swirled it around and over until he could suck the small, hard nub between his teeth. Gordon liked it, spearing his hand through Lance’s hair to hold him close.

Grinning, Lance lifted his head to look up at his new lover. “Want to go again?”

The answering grin matched his. “Absolutely.”

Chapter Thirteen

Present, New Year’s Eve

“Hi.” The attractive young man grinned up at Lance.

Feeling good, Lance smiled. “Hi.”

Around them, the New Year’s Eve wedding party was in full swing. The ceremony had already occurred, the happy couple was dancing somewhere out on the floor, and their guests were enjoying the facilities at the Genesis resort. Lance had lost track of his bandmates, but it didn’t matter, because he had a keycard to his own room in the east wing and could duck out anytime he wanted.

The guy stepped farther into Lance’s personal space, brushing the front of his blue silk shirt against Lance’s arm. “I’m Alex.”

Leaning with both arms on the balcony rail above the dance floor, Lance considered him. Dark hair, short and straight, large brown eyes, and a killer smile. His behavior suggested that he was not only gay but wanted to share that information with Lance, who got the message loud and clear even though his gaydar had always been faulty. Hard to miss the suggestive lilt to that smile. Besides, the majority of the men present were either gay or bi-curious.

“I’m Lance.”

“I know.”

“Let me guess—you know Noble?”

“Just met him.”

Lance nodded, smiling. How many times had this kind of setup happened? Practically every time Lance had had sex with a guy, it’d been set up by Noble. Not that he regretted it. Most of the sex had been amazing, more than enough to turn him off sex with women.

Alex laid a hand on top of Lance’s on the railing. “Wanna go someplace and…talk?”

He should. What was the harm? Talking was clearly not Alex’s intention, and he was cute enough to spend time with. So, yeah, Lance gave it some thought. Despite what Noble believed, the urges were still there.

But… He pulled his hand free. “Thanks. But no, thanks.”

Alex blinked at him, confused. Lance couldn’t blame him. All around them, guys were hooking up. Sex was freely available, so much so that each room had come with a box of condoms. “No?”

Lance smiled at him again. “I’d be a waste of your time.”

Wrong answer. Clearly that sounded too much like a challenge, because Alex leaned in to brush a kiss across Lance’s cheek. “Oh, I don’t think so.”

His blood surged. It’d been so long. All of his friends were right to claim that his celibacy wasn’t normal. Wasn’t needed. After all, Gordon didn’t give a shit. But the thought of Gordon effectively quelled Lance’s desire for another man. Like it always did. He smiled sadly. “Yeah. I know it.” He met Alex’s gaze. “Good-bye.”

Lance could almost see his thoughts. First, What? Then, Is he kidding? Then, Holy shit, he’s not. And finally, Well, fuck this. “All right.” Alex backed off with a disbelieving smile. “Your loss.”

As Alex left his side, Lance lifted his drink to his lips. “No doubt.” His drink was all fragile ice chips and water by now, no scotch left. He’d run out of drink tickets and didn’t have cash handy. He’d have to go back to his room to get some. Well, nothing was keeping him down here. He liked to people watch, but he’d seen most of what there was to see. He left the railing and ditched his tumbler on a stray table as he wandered toward the food. He wasn’t really hungry, but it was a destination. On the way, he passed by a short hall that led to glass double doors, half of which were open onto a deserted veranda. The moonlight hit the panes just right to give them a diamond sparkle, and he let the shiny lure him outside.

The cold hit him immediately, prompting him to pull his wool jacket closed, but it wasn’t cold enough to chase him back inside. The scents of pine and snow mingled, the trees soaring into the air on either side of the covered pavement. Snow lined the path leading from the main building of the resort. It had fallen earlier today but had cleared long before the wedding party had started, giving Luc and Reese a clear, perfect night to pledge themselves. Feeling mellow, Lance leaned against one of the poles that held up the veranda’s cover, and gazed up at the stars, letting his mind go pleasantly numb.

But not for long. He didn’t hear the scuff of footsteps until they stopped beside him on the other side of his pole. He didn’t look to see who it was. Wasn’t Noble—he would have spoken by now. Might be Rabin or Danny, but they’d probably—

“What are you doing out here?”

He jumped, startled to hear Gordon’s voice. Turning his head, he verified that it was, indeed, the man, with his hip propped on the rail so he could face Lance. His black hair was neatly trimmed around his face and neck, and the longer locks on top still obeyed the product that kept them smooth and shiny in a wave, with one peak toward his hairline pointing to the stars. His arms were crossed over his chest, keeping his deep blue jacket closed against the cold.

“Nothing.” Lance’s answer was reflexive. He glanced back toward the door, but they were alone. “What are you doing out here?”

“I saw you wander off.” Gordon cocked his head. “I also saw you turn down a gorgeous young man who was obviously into you.”

Lance blinked, absurdly delighted that Gordon had been watching him. But he didn’t smile. That’d piss Gordon off, judging from the narrow slant to his eyes. “Nah. Noble sent him.”

“Of course he did.” Gordon well knew that Lance was horrible at picking up guys. Except one. He’d done pretty well picking up Gordon once. “Why’d you send him away?”

“Wasn’t interested.”

Gordon’s frown deepened. Didn’t he know that was a good look on him? The scrunch of his brows just reminded Lance of what he looked like when he was about to come. “He was cute,” Gordon said.

Lance choose to contemplate the stars again rather than keep gazing at Gordon. “Yes, he was.”

“Are you waiting for someone else?”

The real answer to that was too obvious and wasn’t what Gordon wanted to hear, so Lance just gave him the immediate answer: “No.”

“Jesus. Is it true? Have you been celibate?”

Lance closed his eyes and smiled at the sky. “Who told you that?”

“Who do you think?”

The smile dropped off his face as he turned his head back toward Gordon. “Noble.”

“Of course.”

That was slightly alarming. Had Noble been drinking too much to watch his tongue? Sure, his friend was outspoken, but he knew to keep certain things to himself. But if he’d had enough to drink… “What did he say?”

“I asked him if you’d seen anyone.” It was Gordon’s turn to look away, studying the bushes on the other side of the railing as he spoke. “And he said there hadn’t been anyone, literally, in the past year.” A small shake of his head and he was comfortable to look back at Lance. “Why would you do that?”

Lance shrugged, calmer now that it seemed Noble hadn’t said much other than the obvious. “It wasn’t a plan or anything.”

“It’s not going to get me back.”

Lance shook his head and said honestly, “I didn’t think it would.”

Gordon watched him, unconvinced. Lance watched him back, intrigued by the fact that he’d acknowledged himself as the reason.

“Why, then?”

“Why?”

“Why haven’t you had sex in a year? That’s unhealthy.”

Lance laughed, responding to the slight smile on Gordon’s lips. “Yeah, it kind of is. But…I don’t know.” He shook his head rather than tell Gordon that each time he got the urge, it was thoughts of Gordon that stopped him.

“Not even women?”

“No. It’s been longer for that.”

“So you’ve just…what?” He gestured toward Lance’s groin. “Does everything still work?”

Lance had to grin. “Yeah. It all works. My right hand can attest to that.”

Gordon granted him a small laugh. “But why? You had a perfect chance back there. I can’t believe you haven’t had other chances. You live with Noble, for God’s sakes. I know he’s throwing dick at you left and right.”

Lance’s grin remained as he contemplated that visual. “I’ve had chances. I just…don’t.”

“You don’t.” Gordon shook his head. His snort sent a plume of white vapor between them. “You are the most mule-headed man I’ve ever met.”

“Probably.”

“There’s no reason for you not to have a normal sex life.”

Lance shifted on the pole so he could more fully face Gordon. Arguing with this man was achingly familiar, and he was enjoying Gordon’s attention, despite the topic. “Why do you care?”

That tripped Gordon up for a few seconds. Then he frowned. “I care. I don’t love you anymore, but I do care about you.”

That stung. Lance let him see that it stung before dropping his gaze to the pavement between them.

“Jesus, Lance.” Gordon took a step to close the distance between them. He was within reach now but still not touching. Lance could smell the tang of his cologne. “What happened between us happened. But it’s not like I don’t get why you did it.”

Lance raised suspicious brows. “You get it.”

“What? Of course I get it. I know you. I know you fucked that boy to get me to back off.”

As much as it hurt, Lance had to look up. This was new information.

“I pushed you. You resented it. You got me back. I get it.” The ice in his gaze cut Lance to the quick. “Doesn’t mean I can forgive it. Doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re a fucking moron for letting me go.”

“Because you don’t do second chances.”

The words might as well have been lead bars clanging on the pavement between them.

“No. I don’t.”

Not much more to say after that. A couple came outside. Arms around each other, the men wandered to the far side of the veranda, murmuring. Behind them, beyond the door, stood someone Lance would rather not have seen. “There’s Leon.”

Gordon glanced in. He held up a finger and tilted his head in silent communication but stayed where he was. Leon nodded, narrowed his eyes a bit at Lance, then ducked back into the party.

“He’s not worried, is he?” Lance kept his tone light. His back was to the couple, but he could hear their quiet voices, feel their presence. He couldn’t help but resent that closeness a little.

“No.” If Gordon even noticed the couple, he didn’t show it. “Why should he be?”

“Does he know about us?”

“I told him. I also told him it was long over.”

“Good thing.”

Without smiling, Gordon eyed him. “Don’t do this to yourself, Lance.”

“Do what?”

“The celibate thing. Go in there, pick up one of those boys, and fuck him into the night.”

Lance raised his eyebrows. “Don’t you mean morning? Night’s almost over.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah.” Openly, he looked his fill of Gordon’s gorgeous face, letting the other man see the longing within him. The longing that made it impossible to do what Gordon suggested. “I don’t think it’s gonna happen.”

Gordon had said it himself—he knew Lance. He saw what Lance was showing him and physically shut it down by taking a step back. “Suit yourself.” He exaggerated a shiver. “It’s fucking cold out here. I’m going back inside.”

“Have fun.”

They shared a look. Then Gordon shook his head, sighed, and headed for the door.

Lance stayed where he was, turning his back to the door as he listened to Gordon’s retreating footsteps. He wondered what Leon would say when Gordon found him. Wondered if Gordon would ease his fears. Wondered if Gordon would take him to their room so they could fuck into the night. Then Lance let those thoughts go and focused on the one important thing that had just happened: Gordon cared. He let that little tidbit fill him with joy.

Chapter Fourteen

Past, April

Noble was kicking Lance’s ass at a shooting video game when Gordon practically slammed in the front door of the guest house. They both jumped as they turned in their seats to see him stalking toward them. Lance, for one, was instantly captivated by the rush of fire in Gordon’s expression, flaring in his eyes. The top length of his hair dangled over his forehead, teasing the arch of one dark brow. He was pissed—so said the crowding of his brows and the slamming of the door—but he contained it with calm.

He stopped behind the couch, eyes on Lance, nostrils flared in patently obvious anger. But not anger that was directed at Lance. “Noble? Do you mind if I borrow your friend?”

“Uh, no.”

Lance was standing, blindly dropping his game controller so he could keep his gaze locked with Gordon’s. The anger was there, but it was clearly not directed at him. No, there was another type of heat that Gordon directed at Lance.

“Good. Because I need him to keep me from killing Shelby.” Gordon spoke calmly enough, his words directed at Noble, but the eye contact with Lance never wavered.

“Oh?” Noble’s tone was light. No doubt he was having fun watching this. “Anything I can do?”

If Lance weren’t thoroughly ensnared, he might have reached out to slap Noble for that. But Lance was already out of arm’s reach, approaching Gordon, lured by that fuck-me-now glare.

“Afraid not.” Gordon took a step back, reaching up to grab the lapels of his overcoat. “I don’t do groups.”

“Pity.”

Lance heard his friend but was too busy following as Gordon walked backward a few steps, removing his coat as he went. Underneath, he wore a green dress shirt that brought out the same color in his flashing eyes. He ripped off the coat and tossed it over a chair, then spun around to rush up the stairs.

Fuck yeah! Lance sped up to chase him but kept pace so he didn’t catch. Not yet.

With bold assurance, Gordon conquered the stairs and strode down the hall. He stopped between Lance’s and Noble’s doors. Lance had his mouth open to tell him which was his, but Gordon glanced over his shoulder and pointed at the correct door. “Yours?”

Lance nodded and honest-to-God trembled as Gordon practically burst through his door. Eagerly, he followed but wasn’t three steps inside before Gordon grabbed his arm to haul him close. He went willingly, mouth open to receive the demand of a kiss that slammed into him. Wet. The kiss was wet as both he and Gordon tried to bite each other’s bottom lips. Their tongues tangled, and teeth knocked with teeth. Lance threaded his fingers in the thick silk of Gordon’s hair to hold him still, then slid his other hand down and over the smooth wool of Gordon’s slacks to grip one side of his firm butt.

“I want you naked,” Gordon growled, hardly separating their lips. “I want your cock. Now.”

Keeping his hold, Lance stepped toward the bedroom door, forcing Gordon back. “Yes.”

Fumbling backward, legs twined with Lance’s, Gordon slid his hands up under Lance’s shirt, bringing the fabric with them. Lance was forced to let go of him so Gordon could push the T-shirt up his arms until, with a muttered curse, Lance paused to rip the shirt off. Gordon took the opportunity to escape farther into the bedroom. Lance followed and bumped into his back as he was freeing his cuff links.

“Didn’t go well with Shelby?” Lance rasped right before he licked at the skin behind Gordon’s right ear.

“No.” Gordon arched his neck to the side to give Lance better access. “We’re not going to talk about him.”

“Okay.” He nibbled at the side of Gordon’s throat while the man started on his buttons. To be helpful, Lance yanked the bottom of the shirt from Gordon’s pants and reached around to find his belt buckle.

“God.” Shirt open, Gordon sank into Lance. One hand reached up and back to find Lance’s hair, digging in and yanking a little. “I need you to fuck me. I need you to fuck me hard.”

Grunting, Lance shoved his hips at Gordon’s ass so the erection in his jeans could be felt. The damn thing could probably jab through their clothing. “Absolutely.”

Gordon’s belt loose, Lance hooked his fingers into as many waistbands as he could find to roughly guide all fabric to the floor. When the belt buckle jangled on the carpet, Gordon stepped forward to get room to pull off his shirt. The sleeveless white undershirt beneath looked sexy as sin above Gordon’s bare, delectable ass. So good that Lance gave thought to asking him to keep it on, but then Gordon ripped that off too, and the expanse of bare, sculpted back served to chase any thoughts of clothing away.

Gordon glanced up as he sat on the edge of the bed. “You’re not naked.”

Growling, Lance attacked his jeans while Gordon removed low, classy boots and socks. By the time Gordon tossed the second sock aside, Lance stood before him, all clothing gone, cock jutting and begging for Gordon’s touch.

Gordon obliged, wrapping a warm hand around Lance’s cock and pulling to guide it to his mouth. “Oh yeah.” He licked the tip. “I want this.”

Lance groaned as Gordon took him in. He grabbed a handful of hair and watched dusky pink lips sink down his shaft. He could watch that forever.

With his lips surrounding the head of Lance’s cock, Gordon rolled his eyes up to meet Lance’s. Then he let go with a wet pop. “Condoms?”

“Yeah.”

Eyes narrowed and a wicked grin curling one side of his mouth, Gordon crawled backward toward the middle of the bed. “Get them.”

Lance was caught watching him. How could he not watch? Every move Gordon made, even the way he pointed the toes of the leg that he draped to the side—it was all so fucking hot. Eyes blazing fire under lowered lids, Gordon reached down to cup his balls, massaging them, lifting them to give Lance a small glimpse of the heaven below.

“Condoms. Lube. Now.”

“Yeah.” Lance opened the nightstand drawer and tossed supplies onto the mattress.

While he did so, Gordon switched position, rolling onto his hands and knees. He sidled around until he could tilt his naked ass toward Lance. “Do me, baby.”

For the first time ever, Lance had an honest urge to lick someone’s asshole. He’d done it before, but only as part of the entire experience, and not for every lover. In fact, only for two, and both had been women. But right now, confronted with two perfectly rounded halves of an ass parted just enough to glimpse a pink, puckered hole… Yeah. Instead of grabbing the lube, he crawled onto the mattress and smacked both palms on firm butt cheeks, rubbing, squeezing, opening. Between those cheeks, Gordon’s anus taunted him in a manner wholly new to him. Gordon’s hedonistic groan goaded him. Lance leaned in, stuck his tongue out, let saliva gather on the tip, and dragged it up and then down the open crevice before him.

“Ah! Shit!” Gordon’s shoulders sank to the mattress, fingers bunching up the thick bedspread.

Encouraged, Lance kept doing it, up and down, up and down, keeping his tongue wet so soon everything was slippery. Gordon’s thick musk filled his head, more of a turn-on than Lance’s rational mind believed it should be. Then he focused, pointing his tongue to trace the pulsing opening. He only meant to trace, to tease, but when Gordon kept groaning, obviously in heaven, Lance had to go a step further. He pushed in. Sharp, biting, sour, but oh, so worth it as the ass in his hands flexed and Gordon cried out and begged for more. Lance gave him more, probing with his tongue. He released one butt cheek so he could wrap his hand around the cock that dangled below. Gordon went nuts, shoving back at him, nonsensical obscenities pouring from his mouth.

Lance had to decide. He knew Gordon was close. He so wanted to be inside when the other man blew. So he drew away and grabbed a condom.

Gordon’s hand replaced his on the dangling cock, stroking furiously. “Hurry. ’M close.”

Lance hurried, rolling the condom on with reckless speed. He squirted some lube onto his palm, stroked it on his cock, and positioned himself behind Gordon’s rocking hips.

“Fuck!” Gordon gripped the bedspread with both hands as Lance started to push in. Lance could see his profile, features all screwed up in a rictus of pleasure. “Oh fuck, yeah, all, more, shit!”

Now inside, Lance grabbed Gordon’s hips to pull. He didn’t really need to. Gordon was pushing back on his own, rocking and gyrating in a most distracting way. His greedy hole sucked Lance in, and Lance was helpless—and unwilling—to stop it.

“Ah fuck!” Now it was his turn to curse as Gordon milked him. He held on to Gordon’s hips for dear life and was forced to thrust as Gordon shoved back at him.

They cursed and swore, sweaty skin slapping sweaty skin. Lance fell forward at one point, Gordon collapsing beneath him, and he felt like he was jackhammering his lover into the floor beneath the mattress. So hard. He couldn’t hold back and could only hope that Gordon was as lost in it as he was. Lance came first, but a few strokes on Gordon’s cock had him crying his own release.

“Oh yeah.” Gordon stretched beneath him, muffled by the spread. “That’s what I needed.”

Lance kissed the back of his shoulder. “Happy to oblige.”

They both hissed as Lance pulled free, and Gordon sighed a happy sigh while Lance rolled away.

* * * *

They lay in bed, but they weren’t asleep. Lance was on his back, eyes closed, one arm folded up and under his head, the other hand on his chest. Beside him, Gordon lay on his side, his breath wafting over Lance’s shoulder. Outside, the snow blanket on the estate had created a hush that made thoughts loud. Lance could almost track the gears turning in Gordon’s head. Gordon hadn’t left yet, but would he? Or would he stay the night? Confused, Lance couldn’t decide which option he was for.

“What does he want?”

The question seemed nonsensical, given Lance’s current train of thought. “Hmm?”

“Shelby. What the hell does he want?”

Lance was a little put out at being asked about his boss right after sex, but he was too mellow to protest. Especially since anger at Shelby had brought Gordon to him tonight. “Good question.”

“Know the answer?”

“No.”

Gordon snorted. Unexpectedly, he bit into Lance’s shoulder.

“Hey!”

Gordon laughed. “You’re so fucking helpful.”

Lance chuckled, liking the laugh. The anger had been passionate and exciting, but he’d rather have the calm, confident man of humor around more often. “It’s not my fault. I’ve known the guy for years, and I’ve never figured him out.”

Gordon was up on his elbow now. The low lamplight illuminated his face as he stared down at Lance. His perfectly coiffed hair had been mussed, and his lips were still slightly kiss swollen. And he didn’t seem to care a bit. “You must have some idea.”

Lance adjusted the arm behind his head so he sat up just a little on the pillows. “You’ve known him longer.”

Gordon snorted. “I never really knew him well. We hung out with the same people at school. We were both into music. I only got back in touch with him on a whim because I’d heard of The Might and thought he might have some connections.” He watched his hand as he smoothed it up Lance’s bicep. “I never thought he’d ask me to work with him.”

Entranced by Gordon’s soft touch, Lance kept talking. “Was he the same back in school?”

Gordon shrugged, still smoothing over Lance’s skin. “He’s always been a total shit if he doesn’t get his way, but damn if he doesn’t know music. He can be generous to a fault if you’re on his train. But what do you expect from a spoiled rich kid?”

Lance studied what he could see of Gordon’s face. “Aren’t you a spoiled rich kid too?”

Gordon smiled. “Only by marriage. My mom married a rich man, and he carted me off to boarding school to get me out of the way.”

“Oh.” The way Gordon said it, Lance got the feeling it wasn’t a happy subject.

“It wasn’t so bad.” The hand that had been trailing over his arm smoothed up onto Lance’s chest. “I survived. I still talk to some of the guys from school. Not sure I’d call them friends, exactly, but those connections have done me a world of good.”

“That’s…something.”

That made Gordon smile again. “Yeah. Something. I took the money Vince—my mom’s husband—gave me for college and roamed around Europe for ten years. Better education, if you ask me.”

“Sounds like you did okay.”

Gordon shrugged.

“Hey, I’ve never been out of the continental US, so I’m impressed.”

Gordon studied his face, surprise evident. “Really? You’ve never been out of the country?”

“Nope. Only been west of the Mississippi twice.”

“Wow.” Gordon sagged a little as he gave it some thought. “Not even Canada?”

“Nope.” Lance was used to this reaction. He got it all the time when people asked him where he’d been in his life. Given his past, people always assumed that he’d traveled all over.

“I’d’ve thought you’d gotten to California, at least.”

“That’s the twice. But never got out of some pretty shitty parts of LA. I’d been slumming clubs up and down the East Coast for years before I got lucky enough to find Shelby.”

“Lucky.”

“Hey, for a kid who rarely knew if he could afford his next meal, twenty-five K a year plus room and board to play music is amazing.”

Gordon nodded. “Yeah. I guess it would be.” Sigh. He dropped down so his head was resting on his arm. Given the number of pillows underneath him, he was still looking down at Lance. “I suppose I just don’t understand what he wants out of the band. It doesn’t seem that he wants it to go anywhere.”

Lance stared at the ceiling and valiantly tried to explain something he didn’t entirely grasp. “He wants it just so. He’s got this idea in his head, and he just wants that. He’s not real interested in the way things really work.”

“He says he wants to be successful.” Gordon was musing, frustrated but no longer angry. “But he blocks everything I do to make it happen. Then today with Daron…” Today Gordon had brought in a new candidate for replacement guitarist since Shelby had fired the previous one. But Shelby, in true Shelby fashion, hadn’t liked him and hadn’t articulated why. Lance knew firsthand how frustrating that was and felt for Gordon. Gordon shook his head. “I really thought he’d be a good fit.”

Lance just nodded. “Shelby’s like that. He’s got this idea of how to make it work. He was like that with the music too. We butted heads plenty on how some of that album should go, but…” He shrugged and laughed a little. “Damned if he wasn’t right most of the time.” Which was why, despite all odds, the album was something of a success. Other musicians could recognize the genius of the music and sought it out.

“Yeah.” Gordon stroked his hand over Lance’s belly, just above where the sheet draped his hips. “That’s the problem. But it’s my job to get the music out there, and he won’t let me do any of the normal things to make that happen.”

“So you do the abnormal things.” Lance chuckled, enjoying the soft stroking of his skin. “Works for him.”

“Yes. But does that work for you? Or Noble?”

Lance had to pause to make sure he was hearing correctly. “Huh?”

“You guys are so good.” The sincerity in Gordon’s tone was evident, punctuated by the clarity of his gaze. “You deserve to be recognized.”

Touched, Lance smiled. “How can you tell? It’s all Shelby’s music.”

Gordon shook his head. “I can tell. Plenty of people can tell. It’s not so much what you play; it’s how you play it. Despite the fact that it’s not yours, you and Noble make it live. Shelby’s not only a genius at his music; he’s also a genius at finding the right musicians to play it.” Gordon tapped his sternum. “You and Noble should be in a band, touring the world, making your own music, not tagging along in Shelby’s shadow.”

Gordon’s shining faith in him as a musician warmed Lance’s heart. But ruthlessly, he squashed the idle dreams that sometimes took hold of him, dreams of exactly what Gordon was saying. He’d dreamed those dreams too much to believe in them anymore. He had it good right now, especially in this exact moment. He wasn’t going to waste time getting bitter about what might have been.

It was time to nip this dangerous conversation in the bud. Without warning, he rolled toward Gordon. He caught the other man off guard, so it was easy to get him on his back. Lance kissed away the mild protest. “Enough about Shelby.”

Gordon frowned. His one arm was trapped beneath his head still, and the other had slid up around Lance’s shoulder. “No. Seriously, I think we should…”

Lance derailed his train of thought by slipping a hand under the sheet to cup his balls. The sensitive strip of skin just beneath was still wet with lube, so Lance’s fingers slid easily over it toward Gordon’s warm little hole. “Don’t think,” he urged, capturing Gordon’s lips with his.

“Lance, come on. You’re not”—the not stuttered a little as Lance pushed his finger inside to the second knuckle—“seriously going to distract me with sex?”

Lance nuzzled the warmth under the curve of Gordon’s jaw. “Why not?”

Gordon shifted, freeing his trapped arm so he could dig those fingers into the back of Lance’s skull. “You’ll find”—he kissed Lance as he spread his legs—“that I’m not so easily distracted.”

“Okay.” Lance crawled between his legs, finger still rubbing inside Gordon’s hole. “You talk.” He slipped down to kiss Gordon’s collarbone. “I’ll be down here.”

Gordon groaned, his hand on Lance’s head as Lance kissed his way down to the cock that had been poking at his chest as he traveled. He wrapped his lips around the tip and sank down as he pushed another finger into Gordon’s anus. Fingers tightened in his hair, and “Oh. Fuck. Me” spilled from Gordon’s mouth. Lance sucked and pumped until Gordon’s hips were rocking with him.

The crinkle of plastic against his cheek distracted him. Gordon had a condom in his hand. “Put it on and fuck me,” came the hoarse command.

Lance followed the siren song. He pulled away long enough to open the plastic and roll on the latex. Then he was back in Gordon’s arms. Gordon held up his own thigh and helped Lance to aim his cock, and then they were joined, lip to lip, cock in ass. Lance thrust, braced up on his arms. He tried to keep most of his weight off Gordon, knowing the other man was nearly bent double, but Gordon was having none of it. He hugged Lance as close as possible and refused to relinquish their kiss. Lance groaned, turned on as ever by Gordon’s physical demands. He held off coming as long as he could, but that telltale tingle wouldn’t be denied.

“Close,” he muttered.

“Yes.” Gordon clamped down on him, pushing harder.

“Fuck!”

“Yes!”

He came on a strangled shout, frozen over Gordon while he shot into the condom. Distantly he was aware of Gordon beating off. He was almost to the point where his muscles had unlocked and he could think about helping when Gordon emitted a long groan and shuddered as he came.

Lance collapsed on top of him, heedless of the belly coated with cum, ignoring the condom that wrapped his sensitive cock. For a moment, he just lay there and breathed.

A dry hand smoothed over his back. Lips ghosted over his hairline. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten.” Gordon’s voice was hoarse. “But I’m worn-out. We’ll talk later.”

Lance smiled as he pulled his heavy body off Gordon’s so he could clean up. “Yeah.” He’d just have to figure out a way to distract him next time too. “Later.”

Chapter Fifteen

Present, January

If the album hadn’t convinced Lance that he’d absolutely made the right decision signing on with the Indigo Knights, their first few gigs at Jefferson Douglas cemented the fact. In all his years working for Shelby and The Might, in all the failed bands he’d been in before that, he’d never had this much fun onstage.

Danny and Rabin were dynamic performers, true performers who not only paid attention to the music but attention to the audience. Danny was ridiculously smooth, flirting and coaxing the audience to fly with them. Rabin was alternately focused and freewheeling but never missed a beat or a chord. Lance could tell Noble was enjoying himself too, playing it up under the spotlight that gleamed off his purple mohawk. Lance didn’t normally move much during a performance, preferring to remain beside his amps, maybe singing a chorus or two. But being onstage with these guys was infectious. He found himself venturing toward the lip of the stage, playing it up for the girls—and boys—who watched them with shining eyes and huge smiles. It was the best high he’d ever had, and they’d only just begun.

After taking their bows, they rushed backstage in a cluster of hugs and congratulations. Tonight, Fiona and Rusty, their roadies, were not alone in the greenroom. Izzy, Brent, and Hell were also there. As was Gordon, who threw himself into the general hug as soon as the band showed. Lance was so excited that he didn’t realize Gordon was near him until they were face-to-face. There was a moment’s hesitation before Gordon grinned big and grabbed him for a bear hug. Lance was too shocked to do anything but hug back, and once he was touching, heat coursed through his veins.

“Now that,” Gordon murmured in his ear, maybe too low for anyone else to hear, “is a fucking band.” He gave Lance another mighty squeeze before grabbing his shoulders to hold him at arm’s length. “Do you hear me?” he demanded, shaking Lance. “That’s what you were meant to do.”

Lance could only stare in delighted amazement at the joyous conviction that shone on Gordon’s face. Joy and pride. Yes, pride. In the band. In him. Gordon was proud of him. He felt light-headed.

Gordon drew him back to lay a quick kiss on his cheek before releasing him to turn and hug someone else. Lance couldn’t help staring at his back, stunned by what had just happened.

Noble caught him up in a hug and laughed in his other ear. “Well, that was interesting.” He drew back and winked, then turned away.

Noble’s hug did the trick in letting Lance regain his composure. He followed Noble to the table, where Fiona was pouring champagne into big red cups. Lance hated champagne, but he drank anyway in celebration.

“To the Knights,” Brent yelled, raising his cup as they all settled down for him. “May tonight be the first of many triumphs.”

There was a resounding chorus of “hear, hear” and a lot of drinking. The tiny room was stuffed with people, hardly any place to move, so it was easy for Lance to find himself close to Gordon again. Pathetic, yes, to just want to be near him, but in a crowd he could get away with it with no one the wiser.

And it allowed him to hear astounding things.

“Where’s Leon?” Rabin asked Gordon, his arm around Izzy’s shoulders.

“He’s gone,” Gordon blurted without missing a beat. He probably didn’t see Lance behind him.

“Gone gone?” Izzy asked.

“Yeah. We called it quits.”

Lance quickly turned his back so none of them could see his face, even though he knew they weren’t paying him any attention. They broke up?

“I’m sorry.” Izzy again.

“Don’t be. When I told him what my schedule’s probably going to be like for the next year, he freaked out.” Gordon laughed. He laughed. “He couldn’t understand that I’d be out of town for the foreseeable future.”

Lance digested that. He’d heard it before. It was often hard for someone who wasn’t in the business to be in a relationship with a musician. The schedule often sucked, and the rewards usually meant more to the musician than to his significant other. Leon’s gone. He remained where he was when Gordon’s phone rang and he left to answer it. Lance had heard what was important. Not that it meant anything to him personally. It wasn’t like Gordon was going to jump back into his bed. But with Leon gone, that meant there was a better chance…

No. He downed his champagne with a grimace, then went to change out of his sweaty shirt. Time to head out for a real drink. The others seemed to have the same idea. Noble was already gone, as were Brent and Hell. Danny was lingering, but that was probably because he was thinking about the roommate he’d recently started to sleep with. Rabin and Izzy were kissing in the corner. Love. He was surrounded by love in various shapes and forms. It was a new experience.

An experience he kind of liked.

* * * *

Lance caught up to Gordon the next night. “I’m sorry to hear about Leon.” He’d debated even saying anything, but after a night of mulling it over, tonight he’d decided he didn’t have anything to lose.

Gordon looked up. He sat at one of the empty booths, engaged with his smartphone as the band completed their sound check. The club’s doors would open soon. The band wasn’t due to go on for another two hours. “How did you hear about Leon?”

He sat across from Gordon. “I overheard you last night with Rabin and Izzy.”

“Oh.” Gordon shrugged as he glanced down at the phone. “It is what it is.” The last sounded vaguely familiar. Oh yeah, in both words and inflection, it was what Lance might have said in the same situation.

“You’re okay, then?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Lance waited. “So…”

Gordon didn’t look up. “No.”

“No?”

“We’re not getting back together.”

He scowled at the top of Gordon’s head. “Doesn’t have to be that.” He spread his hands magnanimously. “It can just be meaningless sex.”

Gordon snorted. When he tilted his face up, there was a little smile curling his lips. Lance took heart that he was taking this lightly and not storming off in a huff. “I thought you were off sex.”

“No. Just off sex with other people.”

Gordon took the bait. “Other people?”

“You’re not just people.”

He sighed, laying the phone facedown on the table with his hand covering it. “I said no.”

“That was when you had a boyfriend.”

“I still say no.”

“Why? You know the sex was great between us.”

He almost denied it. Lance saw him try. Then he grimaced. “Yes. It was.”

“So? We could have that again.”

“Sure.” Gordon’s smile was bitter, his tone cool. “That’s how it started last time.”

Lance shrugged, trying not to get excited that Gordon was still talking. “It was good.”

“Yeah. Until you decided I was smothering you.”

“I never said that.”

“No, you didn’t. You rarely said anything.”

Lance heard the accusation loud and clear. Okay, so talking things out had never been his strong point. “Yeah. Well, now you know better.” And that, judging by the icy sheet that shut down Gordon’s expression, was the exact wrong thing to say.

“Yeah.” Gordon swiped up his phone. “Now I know better.” He stood. “Not happening.” With that, he walked off.

Lance stayed where he was, staring at the space Gordon had occupied. He couldn’t decide if that had gone well or not.

* * * *

“See?” Noble had to yell to be heard even though he was leaning close to Lance’s ear. “He doesn’t have a problem with moving on.”

Lance didn’t respond, too busy watching Gordon come on to a good-looking blond in a tight sweater and tighter jeans. Seeing him with Leon had been bad enough, but this? He watched as their heads bent close, watched the blond pucker up and brush kisses along Gordon’s jaw. Watched Gordon’s hand splay across the blond’s belly, fingers pointed down.

“Fuck.”

“Maybe you should go home,” Noble suggested, dancing in place beside him. Why he was sticking close to Lance was a mystery, but he’d been there since they’d come out front. By now he should be buried in the dance crowd. Or buried balls-deep in some kid in the bathroom.

Not a bad idea, actually.

Lance stood and leaned into Noble. “Find me someone.”

Noble stilled.

“Find me someone quick and dirty.”

For that he got wide eyes. “You sure?”

“Yes.” Electricity ratcheted inside his chest as he struggled to turn off his brain before rational thought returned. “Quick. Before I change my mind.”

Noble pressed his half-finished drink into Lance’s hands and disappeared into the crowd. With anyone else, Lance might have felt weird about the request, but Noble thrilled at hooking people up, whether for short- or long-term. He was a matchmaking genius when given his head.

Lance downed the rest of Noble’s drink, grimacing at the taste of watered-down vodka. He sat on the bar stool behind him and glared at Gordon, who was now kissing the blond. Kissing! Fuck. Shouldn’t he be schmoozing the crowd on behalf of the Knights? Wasn’t Lance justified in being pissed that he wasn’t working? His mood got worse when the blond took Gordon’s hand and led him away, toward the club’s front door. Lance watched them leave.

He’d worked up a full head of mad by the time an attractive brunet sidled up in front of him. Wicked knowledge shone in deep brown eyes, and a tongue piercing flashed in his open smile.

“Hi.” He stepped between Lance’s thighs and rested his forearms on Lance’s shoulders. “Noble sent me.”

Lance nodded, wrapping an arm around the man’s slim waist to bring them flush. They shared a kiss that was all lust and no finesse. “Quick and dirty.”

The brunet’s pierced eyebrow rose. “Men’s room?”

“Works for me.”

Now it was Lance being taken by the hand to be led toward the rear of the club. He didn’t look around, concentrated instead on the back of this guy’s neck. A nice neck, really. He’d have to bite it.

The men’s room wasn’t communal. No stalls, just one toilet, one door, one lock. It stank of urine laced over with fruity air freshener.

A condom machine was attached to the wall. Lance slapped it. “Do I need to get some change?”

The guy glanced at it, then grinned. “No.” He pulled a wallet out of his pocket and extracted a shiny packet. “Got one.”

“Good.” Lance snatched the condom with one hand and used the other to wrap around the guy’s waist to pull him into a kiss.

Bless him, Noble’s choice understood what Lance needed. Lance didn’t have to think too much because the guy had their dicks out in record time, squeezing them together. “You topping?” he asked Lance between tongue swipes.

“Yeah.”

Hungry kissing as Lance tore the condom open. He managed to roll the latex on without losing contact. Once it was on, the guy pulled back, turned around, and dropped his pants. They were too tight to go far, but the waistband made it to his thighs, which was plenty to expose his naked bubble butt. Lance slapped it once, aimed, then pushed in. The guy’s groan assured him he hadn’t caused unwelcome pain.

“Shit.” It’d been too long. “Not gonna last.”

The guy chuckled, far too calm. He reached back to hook a hand behind Lance’s neck. “Go for it.”

With a horribly weak whimper, Lance did just that. His hips rolled into action, his fingers digging into the bones of the guy’s hips. He wasn’t sure it was more than two seconds before he was shooting his load.

“Fuck.”

“Wow.” The amused voice was still way too calm. “You were pent up.”

Lance staggered back, caught short by the wall behind him. Eyes closed, he rested his skull on the cool tile and breathed. “Yeah. I…” This was embarrassing. “Give me a minute.”

“No worries.” When water sounded, Lance cracked his eyes open to see the guy washing his hands. His pants were already up. “Noble said it’d be fast.” He winked at Lance in the mirror. “I owed him one.”

Yeah, this was really embarrassing. The guy wasn’t even into him. “Sorry.”

“Hey.” He stepped up to Lance, the denim of his jeans pressing against Lance’s exposed cock, rough even through the latex. “You wanna go again?”

“Uh…”

“Didn’t think so.” Grinning, the guy kissed him, then stepped away. “See you around sometime.” He left.

Lance had the presence of mind to lock the door behind him, but he had to take a moment to breathe once he was alone. Well, that was shit. Did he feel better? Not really. Could you even call that sex? Disgusted with himself, he disposed of the condom and washed up. He’d waited all this time for sex, just to give it up in two seconds in a men’s room? Hell, quick and dirty was what he’d asked for; quick and dirty was what he got. And he didn’t feel any better for it.

Noble was at the end of the hall when Lance came out of the men’s room. The brunet guy was nowhere to be seen. “You okay?”

“Sure.” He couldn’t meet his friend’s eyes. “Thanks.”

“Hey.” Noble squeezed his shoulder. “You okay?”

He didn’t respond to the question the second time. “I’m headed out. You good to get home?”

“Lance?”

“Not now.”

Noble paused, then dropped his hand. “I’ll come with you.”

“No. Stay here. Have fun.” He hesitated. “If you see that guy, tell him thanks.”

Before Noble could respond, Lance beat a hasty retreat, face down so he didn’t have to see anyone. He’d taken the train to the club earlier, but now he flagged a cab. He couldn’t be around other people.

Back home, he immediately took a shower, standing under the spray for longer than necessary. Where he was, he could convince himself that all the moisture on his face was from an external source and not the result of tears wrung from his pathetic heart. This was why he’d been celibate. He was a guy—he wasn’t supposed to get all emotional over sex. He didn’t used to get this emotional. But he must have too much estrogen in his system, because he could no longer separate sex and love. Not now that he’d known—and destroyed—love. Since he couldn’t seem to fall out of love with Gordon, he was stuck not liking sex with anyone else.

* * * *

He woke up with Noble in his bed. Couldn’t say they were cuddling, but they were close enough he could smell Noble’s mild morning breath. Noble must have taken a shower; the product was all gone from his hair, leaving him with a fan of vivid purple draped over the shaved side of his head.

Noble woke when Lance stirred, hazel eyes clear of colored lenses. “Mornin’.”

“What are you doing here?”

Noble reached up to stretch, yawning big. The sheet fell back enough to reveal his toad tattoo, which meant he was at least shirtless. “Had to make sure you were okay.”

“When’d you get here?”

“You were asleep.” Noble snuggled back down into the pillow and closed his eyes. “Around three or so.”

“I’m fine.”

Without opening his eyes, Noble flashed him a middle-finger salute. “Yeah. You were great when you ran out of the club last night.”

Sighing, Lance rolled onto his back to regard the ceiling. “That was a mistake. I’m sorry.”

“What? The running or the quickie?”

“The quickie. I should’ve just left.”

“Hey, I get it. I saw Gordon take off with that guy.”

The reminder was like a knife to his heart. Were they waking up together? Were they fucking? Damn it.

As though he felt it too, Noble reached over to lay a warm hand on Lance’s chest. “I’ll find you someone for more’n just a quickie tonight.”

“No.” To show he appreciated the effort, Lance grabbed up Noble’s hand and brought the knuckles to his lips for a kiss.

“You sure? I know just the guy. Name’s Jackson, and he’s like this adorable little teddy bear. Greatest hugs in the world.”

“I appreciate it, but no. It was a mistake.”

Noble sighed as Lance replaced his hand on his chest. “You’re going back to the celibacy thing?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s fucked-up.”

“Yeah.”

He listened to Noble sigh again and had a brief regret that the two of them hadn’t worked out as a couple. He and Noble knew each other inside and out. Which, of course, was why they knew it wouldn’t work. They’d drive each other insane, as they’d almost done way back when they’d given it a brief try.

“Was it so bad?”

“It’s not that. I just… It feels wrong.”

Noble pinched him. “You’re such a girl.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Noble slid his hand down to Lance’s belly. “You want me to…?”

Lance caught his wrist. “God, no. That wouldn’t solve anything.”

“Hmm.” Pulling back his hand, Noble rose to his elbow. “And what will solve everything?”

Lance stared at the ceiling some more. Maybe the answers were up there. “Going on tour. Playing music. Getting that to be my normal thing.” Yeah, he needed a routine again, even if that routine was the hectic life of a traveling musician. “My head’s screwed up. I just need to concentrate on the band.”

Noble considered that. “Yeah. Okay.” He dropped into the pillows, apparently set to go back to sleep.

Noble managed what Lance couldn’t. Instead he listened to his friend’s breathing smooth, took comfort in the closeness even if he couldn’t take comfort in other ways.

The band. That’s what he’d focus on, what he’d pour all his frustration into. Work it into a positive rather than a sad state of life. After all, what else could he do?

Chapter Sixteen

Past, November

“I’d love to sign The Might for one of our series.” Jason Moreno stood at the tall, narrow table across from Lance, his dark features made darker by the strobing lights that surrounded them. Gordon had introduced him as the man in charge of the big-name Boston club. Lance had already known his name. You couldn’t be in music in the Northeast and not have heard of Moreno.

About ten yards away, the dance floor was filled to bursting with people. The DJ played recorded versions of the songs the crowd had just heard an hour ago onstage, further promoting the bands. Members of those bands were milling through the crowd, making connections. Noble was out there somewhere, enjoying himself, and Gordon was networking. Lance had thought by standing in the corner he could just do his normal thing of watching, but so far he hadn’t been very successful. Moreno was the third person to come chat him up.

Lance took a sip of his Jack on the rocks and considered his words. “You’d have to talk to Shelby about that.” Then, after a beat, “Or Gordon, our manager.”

Moreno nodded, dark gaze steady on Lance’s face. “I’ve met Gordon. I took it as a hopeful sign that The Might would start branching out.”

Lance raised his eyebrows and tipped his head in a shadow of a shrug. “It’s possible. I don’t know. I’m just the bass man.”

Laughing, Moreno reached out to pat his shoulder. “And a fine one at that. So who’d you like tonight?”

They chatted some more, both of them watching the crowd. Lance wondered that Moreno spent so much time with him rather than working the crowd, but he wasn’t in charge of the man, so he let it be. After another ten minutes, Moreno shook his hand and excused himself. Lance was left alone with his drink in the middle of a crowd, a comfortable place for him. He sipped and let his attention wander.

This was panning out to be the best birthday he’d had in years. Normally, he and Noble would go out, and Noble would eventually get him laid. This year, Gordon had preempted those nonplans and offered to take him and Noble to Boston for a three-night stand. Four bands a night, three nights in a row, and the club was on the grounds of a pretty swanky hotel, so they got to stay on the premises. Best part, Shelby was footing the bill, since Gordon had sold the weekend as a business expense. Shelby wasn’t thrilled to have Lance and Noble unavailable, but he’d been surprisingly agreeable on the whole.

Eventually, Lance spotted Gordon, who was a gorgeous sight to behold. In a snug green sweater, pristine jeans, and a casual gray jacket thrown over it all, Gordon got almost as much attention as the musicians who had played tonight. After many years in a handful of bands in different cities, Lance had encountered more than his fair share of movers and shakers. He’d grown accustomed to the oily layer of charm most band managers wore like a second skin. It was necessary, after all.

Gordon was different. Or maybe Lance was biased. When a guy was as gorgeous as Gordon, Lance was willing to put up with some slime. But Gordon seemed to just be genuinely good at talking to people. He was actually interested. He watched Gordon charm a woman in a low-cut, shimmery blue halter top. If he hadn’t known Gordon was gay, Lance might have thought to be concerned about losing his bed partner for the night. But he was pretty damn sure Gordon preferred cock, and the woman quite obviously didn’t have one. Or, if she did, she’d done one hell of a job taping it into tight little black shorts.

With that uncomfortable thought, Lance reached down to discreetly hitch his own cock in his loose-fitting jeans, then glanced around to see if he could spot Noble. No luck. He hadn’t seen Noble since after the third band played that night. Curious, he took out his phone and sent a text: Where r u?

He’d finished his drink and ordered a new one from the waiter before his phone buzzed with a response. Backstage. Won’t be back to room tnite. Have good bday fun w Gordon!

Lance grinned. Figured. Noble could find a partner at a Mormon convention. Which meant Lance would have that big suite and Gordon all to himself. Now, if he could just pry Gordon away from yapping, they could get to some serious fucking. The two of them had been at it pretty regularly for seven months now, a whopping record for Lance. They’d still seen other men, but that had been less and less lately. None at all for Lance in the past two months, and he was pretty sure it was the same for Gordon. A little scary, yes, but he chose not to point it out, for fear of ruining a good thing.

He’d just put his phone back in his pocket when Gordon arrived with a fresh drink in hand. “What are you grinning about?” he asked, stroking down Lance’s arm with his free hand.

“Nothing.”

“Hmm.” Gordon took a healthy swig of his drink. “Ah, that hit the spot.” He sighed as he set the glass down. Lance could tell it wasn’t his first. Not that he was swaying or slurring, but his face looked flushed even in the dim lighting, and his eyes had an extra sparkle. Almost the same as when they were having sex. Almost. “So what did you think? See anyone you like?”

Lance looked straight at Gordon’s face. “Yes.”

Gordon grinned. “I meant guitarists.” Shelby still hadn’t found a replacement guitarist, and Gordon had sold this getaway to him as a chance to scope out new people.

“Oh.” Lance shrugged. “A few. How do we know if any of ’em are interested in seeing Shelby?”

“We ask.” He continued to stroke Lance’s arm absently, eyes on the crowd. “Besides, we dangle one of Shelby’s contracts in front of most of these guys, and they’d jump at the chance.” Lance didn’t miss the thinly veiled disdain in Gordon’s voice at the mention of the contracts.

Gordon waved to someone, but Lance couldn’t tell who. “I’m thinking Lew Mercer looked good, and Ben Caselles. I don’t think either of their bands have a future together.”

Lance struggled to remember which men and bands Gordon was talking about. He’d seen eight bands in two nights. “I like the guy in Buchanan.”

“Pete Sanchez.” Gordon nodded. “Great string man. But that band’s locked up. He’s related to three of them.”

“How do you know all this shit?”

Those sharp eyes focused back on Lance with a smile. “That’s part of my job.”

“You’re good at it.”

“Thanks.” Gordon took another sip of his drink. “I just wish Shelby would let me do my job.”

“He lets you do more than I thought he would.”

“Yeah? Well, it’s still not enough.” He gestured around the crowd with one hand. “Look at this. You guys should be playing in this. No, never mind that. You guys should be playing at the fucking Garden, not wasting your time every other weekend at Fletcher’s.”

Lance’s gaze dropped to the table. He quashed the brief dream image of The Might playing Madison Square Garden in front of an audience of thousands. That just wasn’t going to happen.

“Anyway.” Clearly still miffed, Gordon downed the last of his drink. “You seen Noble?”

“He found other entertainment for the night.”

“Did he now?” Lance had all of his attention as Gordon leaned in closer. “Then shouldn’t we be up in the suite fucking our brains out?”

Grinning, Lance stood, deliberately sliding against Gordon’s chest. “We could if you’d quit talking to everyone.”

Gordon snorted and fell back a step to give Lance room to leave the table. “No one else to talk to. Not like Shelby’s interested in what they have to offer.”

Lance thought he might expand on his complaint, but Gordon had obviously moved on to better thoughts. He turned and headed for the entrance to the hotel. Lance left some bills on the table, then followed the man with the spectacular ass.

He told Gordon his opinion of said ass as they entered the elevator.

“‘Spectacular,’ huh?” Gordon asked as Lance backed him against the wall inside. His head thumped lightly on the dark paneling as he tipped it to give Lance better access to the side of his neck.

“Absolutely.”

“Are you gonna fuck my ass?”

After a prolonged, wet kiss, Lance responded with another, “Absolutely.”

The elevator dinged open behind him, so Lance reluctantly had to pull away. Gordon followed him into the deserted hallway and to their door.

“What if,” he asked casually as Lance swiped the keycard, “I wanted to fuck your ass?”

Lance hesitated, some of his ardor cooling, thanks to a jolt of panic. He pushed into the suite in an attempt to hide the reaction, but Gordon saw it.

He grabbed Lance’s arm to turn him. “Hey.” Arms slid around Lance’s waist to hold him close. “No worries. We don’t have to.” Smiling, he brushed lips with Lance. “I was just curious.”

“I’ve never…”

“I know.”

“I don’t think I…”

“It’s okay.” A kiss stopped his words. “Forget I said it. I’ve got no problem getting fucked by that horse cock of yours.” Another kiss kept Lance from commenting. Gordon’s hands slid around so his hands could get busy with Lance’s fly. “We need to get that beauty out and fucking. Now.”

Lance stumbled backward toward the door to the bedroom they were sharing. In the darkness, he ended up trusting Gordon’s direction to get him to the bed. They only had one mishap, when Lance slammed into the doorjamb, but it was a momentary pain on the way to extreme pleasure. By the time his back hit the mattress, he’d forgotten the moments of awkwardness, and he certainly wasn’t thinking about them when Gordon freed his cock and swallowed him down.

But when Gordon pulled Lance’s pants off and crawled back onto the bed with a condom packet held between his teeth, Lance remembered Gordon’s earlier request. He’d wondered if he could do it. Seemed real unfair that he always did the fucking. He’d never before slept with a guy more than twice, so it had never been much of an issue. But since he kept having sex with Gordon—and certainly didn’t plan to stop anytime soon—it seemed only right that he give it a try.

He sat up to stop Gordon from straddling higher than his thighs. “Did you…want to fuck me?”

Gordon hesitated. The only lamp they’d managed to turn on in their haste was behind Gordon, so his face was mostly in shadow, but even then Lance saw the spark of hope before Gordon masked it. “I already told you I’m okay if we don’t.”

“Yeah, but, do you want to?”

“Not if you don’t want to.”

Lance chewed his lip, aware that his erection was flagging. But there was a certain amount of excitement in trying something new. Even if he was pretty damn sure that new thing would hurt. He glanced down at Gordon’s cock, naked and proud. Could he get that inside him? Would he feel the pleasure that he’d seen on lovers’ faces when it was jammed tight in his ass? Only one way to find out. “We could. That is, if you go easy on me. ’Cause I never—”

Gordon cut him off with a dark, positively feline chuckle. Crawling close, he found Lance’s lips with his. “You are too cute.” Before Lance could protest the cute, Gordon wrapped a hand around his cock and pulled. Lips on his kept Lance from verbalizing. “Are you sure?” Gordon murmured once he had Lance melting.

“Yeah.” Lance put on a silly grin. “As a birthday present.”

Tension broken, Gordon laughed. “Which means I have to make it good. Okay. Lie back.”

Lance didn’t so much lie down as ooze onto his back, with Gordon hovering over him. Soft, gentle lips caressed his jaw, his neck, his chest. Gordon abandoned the condom somewhere on the mattress in order to use both hands to caress Lance’s sides and hips as his mouth made its leisurely way down to Lance’s cock. At a gentle nudge, Lance bent one knee and let Gordon ease his leg aside, opening him up.

Was he really going to do this? He’d never had to really prep a lover before. All of the guys he’d fucked had already been around the block. It felt too odd to be the timid virgin. But Gordon did all he could to make it easy. After some mind-numbing suction, he urged Lance to palm his own cock while Gordon fished the bottle of lube out of the sheets. Kneeling between Lance’s legs, he watched Lance work himself as he got his fingers good and wet. As he reached under Lance’s balls, he looked up and caught Lance’s gaze. Smiling, he held eye contact while wet fingers rubbed and probed, finding Lance’s anus. Lance couldn’t help but tense up a little, which made Gordon’s smile widen. He’d better not be thinking I’m cute again, Lance groused inside his head, but no words made it to his lips. Not when the tip of Gordon’s finger slowly pushed inside.

Lance closed his eyes. His hand stilled on his cock. He lay there, feeling it, wondering if he was okay. The answer was yes, he was. This wasn’t so bad. A little weird to feel something coming in that particular hole, but it didn’t hurt. He was, of course, quite aware that the width of one finger didn’t begin to match up to the width of Gordon’s cock. When Gordon slid a second finger in, Lance winced at the stretch.

“You okay?”

Lance opened his eyes to realize that Gordon was back to hovering over him, his lips not far from Lance’s. “Yeah.”

Gordon kissed him. Soft and warm and clearly distracted. His attention was on the fingers he was pushing in and pulling out of Lance’s body. The fingers he started to twist and probe with and… Lance jumped at the heated jolt that coursed through his body. Gordon grunted, deepened the kiss, and pressed that spot again. Lance groaned, squeezing his cock with one hand and reaching up to spear his fingers in Gordon’s hair with the other. The probing still felt strange, but he could definitely go for the G-spot thing. They readjusted when Gordon wedged a third finger inside. That kind of hurt, but it in a way Lance had expected. The stretch was weird, but he thought he was still good to go. “Fuck me,” he demanded, tugging Gordon’s hair. He wanted to get the anticipation over with already. If it didn’t get better than this, he wanted to know now.

“We can just do this for a while.”

“No. Now.”

Needing no further prompting, Gordon eased his fingers from Lance’s body, wiped excess lube on his cock, then searched for and found the condom he’d earlier abandoned. “Get on your knees,” he advised as he was busy. “It’s easier the first time.”

All for easy, Lance twisted over onto his belly and rose up on his knees. By that time, Gordon had more lube ready to slather between Lance’s cheeks and over his hole. Clearly Gordon believed in making things as wet as possible, and Lance appreciated the thought.

Then it was the moment of truth. Gordon kneeled behind him, and the tip of his cock was rubbing Lance’s anus. He didn’t ask again, and Lance bit his lip against a last-minute bailout. He could do this.

It hurt. Damn it. He hissed as Gordon pushed in, and gripped the pillows beneath his head as he tried to convince himself that his asshole wasn’t ripping. Gordon’s hands brushed soothing circles over Lance’s back. Lance wiggled his hips a little, then hissed again. Fuck, Gordon did this every time?

“Need me to pull out?” Gordon murmured.

“No. Just…gimme a sec.”

“All the time you need.” Lips pressed his shoulder, and the heat of Gordon’s chest warmed Lance’s back.

He could do this. He took a slow breath in, then pushed back toward Gordon. More of Gordon’s cock slid in, and it stopped feeling like his anus was going to rip. He kept pushing, slowly, until Gordon’s thighs met the backs of his. There wasn’t any more.

“Fuck,” Gordon murmured, breath wafting over the back of Lance’s shoulder. “You feel so fucking good.”

Encouraged, Lance rocked his hips. Still hurt, but less. Now he could relax into it. Now he could probably… He groaned when that spot made itself known. Because that felt a helluva lot better than before. He began to rock a little more, starting to appreciate the thrust as Gordon kept muttering encouragement into his back. Then Gordon reached around to stroke his cock. The pain had made him go soft, but Gordon’s hand helped with that situation.

Soon enough, Lance was ready for more. “Move,” he demanded, cheek pressed to the arm he’d bent under his head.

“You sure?”

He reached back with his free hand to grip Gordon’s thigh. “Yeah.”

Gordon took him at his word. He abandoned Lance’s cock in order to grip his hips with both hands, bracing for better thrusting. Lance let out a groan as tingling warmth filled his veins. Eyes closed, he took up where Gordon had left off with his cock and concentrated on the novel concept of being fucked. He squeezed his ass just to make Gordon wild and smiled at the ragged groan that filled the room. He knew that feeling.

“Lance, I…”

“Go ahead and come in me.” He grunted, shoving back.

Gordon was trying to make it last, but he lost the game. With a helpless curse, the rhythm of his thrusts faltered, and he came on a few short jerks. “Shit.” He kind of rolled off Lance’s back to rest on his side.

Watching Gordon with a grin, Lance kept stroking his cock as he nudged Gordon onto his back and straddled his thigh. Pressing as close as he could while still jerking his cock, he opened his lips on Gordon’s. Lazily, Gordon wrapped his arms around Lance’s neck and shoulders. He bent his knee to give added pressure underneath Lance’s balls. He sucked in Lance’s tongue as Lance got close, closer, then came in heated spurts all over Gordon’s belly.

It was Lance’s turn to crumple on his side, freeing Gordon to roll out of bed and head for the bathroom to clean himself up. While Gordon was gone, Lance took stock. The well-lubed and stretched ass was new, but otherwise he felt well and truly fucked. Sated. Good. That had been an entirely new sexual experience, and a sentimental part of him was very glad he’d shared it with Gordon.

Smelling of the hotel’s sandalwood soap, Gordon slid back into bed and into Lance’s arms for more lazy kissing. “How do you feel?” he asked when they came up for air.

“Okay.” Lance bit Gordon’s bottom lip. “Not sure I want to do it every time, but I could do it again.”

Gordon chuckled, head back to bare his neck for Lance’s kisses. “That’s okay. I’m fine with the other way around.” He lowered his head and waited for Lance to look at him. “It’s your birthday, and you’ve given me a present.” He brushed his lips on Lance’s. “Thanks for trusting me.”

“’Sokay.” Lance couldn’t help the ridiculous grin that curled his lips. “Thought if we were gonna keep doing this, it was only fair.”

Gordon quirked one dark brow and matched the grin. “Fair?”

Feeling the flush that colored his cheeks, Lance averted his eyes on a shrug. “Well, yeah.”

Gordon nudged, and Lance rolled obediently onto his back, welcoming Gordon’s weight and lips immediately. The kissing quickly progressed from lazy to hungry, building toward urgent as Gordon’s hands slipped down Lance’s chest. “You ready to keep doing it tonight?”

Back to grinning, Lance put a hand on top of Gordon’s head and pushed. “I think I can manage.”

* * * *

“Hey.”

Lance grunted and burrowed farther into the pillows beneath his face.

“It’s almost noon, and I’m hungry. You interested in food?”

Lance’s stomach didn’t growl at the suggestion, but it was a near thing. “Yeah.”

“How about I order a coupla burgers from room service?”

“Yeah.”

The bed jounced as Gordon moved to get off it. “Anything special for yours?”

Lance made the effort to raise his head. “Rare.” He dropped his face into his blissfully soft pillow again. He almost managed to go back to sleep, but the mention of food had ruined the possibility. A few minutes later, he sighed and pushed himself to his knees.

A chuckle sounded behind him. “You’re one of the worst morning people I’ve ever met.”

Without looking, Lance aimed a middle-finger gesture at Gordon.

Which just made him laugh. “By the way, Noble left a text on your phone. He’s got a ride home. It’s just you and me on the drive back.”

Lance nodded as he crawled to the edge of the bed. “Awesome.” He noted that he was just tired and not hungover. Novel. He cracked his eyes open to find the most pleasant sight of Gordon in gray-and-black plaid sleep pants and nothing else. His hair was shiny and sleek, indicating a recent shower, and all that skin was healthy and golden over firm muscles. Lance held out his arms. “C’mere.”

Intrigued, Gordon approached, then chuckled as Lance gathered him close and laid his cheek on Gordon’s belly. Fingers combed through Lance’s loose hair, gently working through mild tangles. “Just so you know, I’m too hungry to fuck yet.”

“’Sokay.” And it was. He just wanted to hold Gordon and soak in the warmth. He could get used to this morning feeling. They didn’t often have a morning after. Gordon, being an early riser, was almost always gone or at least up and moving around by the time Lance was awake.

“Aren’t you a cuddly bear this a.m.? I should fuck you more often.”

A little embarrassed, Lance snorted and rolled his head so his nose pressed into Gordon’s navel. He smelled of soap and gorgeous, sexy male. Gordon’s words reminded him of the surprisingly pleasant ache in his ass.

“Hey.”

“Hmph?”

“You awake?”

“Getting there.”

Hands tipped Lance’s head, braced to either side of his jaw to tilt his eyes up to meet Gordon’s. The hazel of Gordon’s eyes gleamed green this morning. “I’ve been thinking about what you said last night.”

Lance kept his eyes open and steady as he tried to clear the cobwebs from his thoughts enough to remember what that might have been.

Gordon took pity on him. “About us and…continuing.”

When had he said that? Oh yeah. He had, sort of.

A thumb traced Lance’s bottom lip, the look on Gordon’s face lazy. Contemplative. “I love fucking you.”

The mention of the L-word sent off a spark under Lance’s heart, even if the context was removed from dangerous territory. He ran his hands over Gordon’s bare back. “Me too.”

Gordon’s smile warmed Lance’s blood. “I’m thinking we’re pretty good together.”

“Yeah.”

“And we’ve been doing this for a while.”

Lance couldn’t help stilling. This was that talk?

Gordon saw his reaction but only narrowed his eyes a little. “I haven’t been with anyone else in months. Neither have you.”

“No.”

“I’m thinking this thing between us needs to be exclusive.” He tapped a finger on Lance’s bottom lip. “Just you and me.”

Lance’s blood ran cold. Where had this come from? Just because he let Gordon inside his body, he thought that was it for them? That they should be a couple? He opened his mouth but didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to make promises he didn’t know he could keep.

He took too long to answer. Gordon’s smile chilled. “What?”

Lance stared into Gordon’s eyes. Swallowed as he tried to summon words that wouldn’t piss Gordon off. “I’ve never dated anyone like that. I’m not good at it.”

“How do you know if you never have?”

With no answer, Lance let his gaze drop. Why did Gordon have to knock that particular hornet’s nest? Things had been going so well.

“Hey. I have dated before. It can be really good.” Gordon leaned down to brush lips with Lance. “All I’m asking is for more of what we’ve been doing.”

Lance licked his lips, his tongue touching Gordon’s too. What they had was good. It wasn’t like he wanted anyone else. And he got the feeling this was important to Gordon. Really important. “Okay.”

Gordon pulled back enough to see Lance’s eyes. “Okay?”

Lance slipped his hands down to cup either side of Gordon’s tight ass, gripping to hide the fact that he was shaking a little. “Right. I say no, I lose you. Not happening.” He had to make himself believe that.

Gordon blinked, and his smile took on an endearing, childlike happiness. “Good.” He bent over so they could kiss. Then, groaning, he lowered so his knees were on the mattress to either side of Lance. Lance balanced him on his lap and drank in all he could of this gorgeous man. Gordon wanted him exclusively? He had him.

Chapter Seventeen

Present, May, on tour

Yes! Lance’s gamble paid off. He walked up behind the chair in the little motel diner. “Okay if I join you?”

Startled, Gordon glanced up from reading the local newspaper. His mouth dropped open. “What the hell are you doing up?”

Shrugging, Lance pulled out the chair and sat. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

He accepted the waitress’s offer of coffee. She confirmed that Gordon was waiting for his breakfast, then took Lance’s order. Gordon watched this with slightly narrowed eyes.

“You do realize it’s eight o’clock in the morning?”

“Yeah.”

“What time did you get to bed?”

“Early.” Lance exaggerated a yawn over the rim of his coffee cup. “One or two.”

“You should be getting some sleep. Who knows when we’ll get beds again?”

Too true. They’d been sleeping on the bus for most of the tour. But occasionally they could find a motel to put them up and stay within Gordon’s tight budget.

“I’ll sleep on the bus.” It was a travel day anyway. “You work out this morning?”

“I went for a jog.” Gordon must have showered, because he now wore slacks and a nicely snug polo.

Lance looked out the window. “Looks like it’ll be hot again.” He didn’t know this area of the South well enough to know if this was an unseasonably warm spring or if summer came early in these parts. It didn’t matter anyway since he was just searching for something innocuous to say.

“Most likely.”

The waitress arrived with Gordon’s food. Waffles. Lance smiled, having correctly guessed what Gordon had ordered.

“Go ahead,” he prompted when it looked like Gordon was going to wait for Lance’s food to arrive. He watched as the stream of syrup was applied, and chuckled.

“What?”

“You always make a mess.”

Gordon paused, and an expression Lance couldn’t fathom flashed over his face before he could prevent it. “I guess I do.”

“It’s cute.”

“Lance.” The warning was soft, but it was there.

“Sorry. I’ll stop.” Lance sipped, then looked back out at the street. The scene wasn’t exactly picturesque, as they were in the middle of a city, but there were a few trees that looked nice. “So. How’re we doing?”

“The Knights?”

“Yeah.”

“Very well, actually.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s not like we’re making a profit.” Gordon picked up his fork and dug into his soggy mess. “But we’re not too far over budget.”

“That’s good.”

“That’s great.”

“Is word spreading?”

“It is. I’ve gotten calls from a number of the venues, asking if we’d add on another night.”

“Hey.” Lance sat back as the waitress set his eggs and bacon in front of him. “That is something.”

Gordon grinned. He really did love this kind of stuff. He started to tell Lance about some of the calls, then rolled into discussions he’d had with Gretchen about videos and scenery for a new tour. He had sketchy plans for the future that all sounded terrific, but Lance really couldn’t have cared less about the topic. Oh sure, it was great to hear that his band’s prospects were looking up, but he was happier to be having a normal, pleasant conversation with Gordon. Even if he had to get up far too early to do it. Gordon didn’t have to know that Lance had been trying to set up this casual encounter for a few weeks now.

Because he wasn’t getting over Gordon as he’d hoped. The tour had started, and he had more opportunity than usual, with willing bodies of all varieties making themselves readily available. He’d been tempted often but hadn’t taken anyone to bed. Hadn’t even taken anyone to a bathroom or closet. He remembered the quick and dirty too well to want to repeat that. Besides, Gordon was so damn close. He wasn’t always on the bus with them, but he was there often enough, and he was at nearly every gig, before and after the show. He was in his element, working the crowd, networking, ushering press to the members of his band. He worked hard, and he loved every moment of it. And Lance loved to see it. He wanted to be close to Gordon to just soak in his vibe, get a contact high.

“You seem to be doing okay.”

Lance froze, fork on the way toward his mouth. “Huh?”

Gordon smiled. His plate was empty, and he’d sat back to nurse a fresh cup of coffee. “I said, you seem to be doing okay these days. I wasn’t sure you’d take to touring. It’s not what you’re used to.”

Gordon’s tone was light, so Lance matched it. “Yeah. It’s not so bad.”

“You miss Shelby?”

“Fuck no.”

That made Gordon laugh. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Lance chewed, then swallowed. “I kind of did the touring thing a little before The Might, you know.”

“Yes. I remember. But it wasn’t anything like this.”

“No. Nothing like this.” He let Gordon see his smile. “It’s fun. And I’ve got you to thank.”

“Only a little. Fate has brought us all together.” There was a tiny emphasis on all, so Lance didn’t think he meant just the two of them.

“Fate. Luck. You.” Lance shrugged, raising his fork again. “Same thing.”

Gordon smiled, gaze dropping. “And have you taken advantage of the fanboys in the crowd?”

Lance coughed over his food, caught off guard.

Which made Gordon chuckle. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Lance let his fork clatter to his plate, then thumped his chest to try and clear it. “You’d be wrong,” he said as soon as he could.

“What?”

He lifted his napkin to wipe tears from his eyes. “I haven’t had sex with anyone.”

Levity melted from Gordon’s expression. “What?”

Now that he could breathe and see again, Lance put the napkin down. “I haven’t slept with anyone.”

“Still?”

“Still.” He didn’t need to know about the quickie in the men’s room. Lance didn’t count that.

Carefully, Gordon put his cup down. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Lance laughed. “No.” He picked up his fork. “But I don’t want anyone else.”

“This isn’t my fault.” Gordon kept his voice low even though there was only one other couple in the place, and they were seated at the counter.

“No one said it was.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

Lance paused to chew and swallow. “Probably.”

Gordon shook his head, the sharp bite of anger making his eyes glitter. “We’re not getting back together.”

“You’ve made that clear.”

“I don’t want you.”

“Ouch.” Lance kept his tone light and his eyes averted so Gordon couldn’t see that the pain was real.

“I mean it, Lance. Stop this celibacy nonsense.”

He snorted. “Why do you care?”

Gordon raised his hand in the shape of a claw, aimed at Lance’s neck. His teeth showed in a grimace. Then he shut his eyes, shook his head once, and relaxed his hand. “You know what? I don’t. If you want to be celibate, that’s your own problem. Not mine.”

“Exactly.” Lance made himself smile brightly when Gordon opened his eyes to look at him.

“I don’t understand you.”

Lance let his smile fade. “You understand me better than anyone else. You understand that I did a bonehead thing and I deserve to be punished for it.” He hadn’t intended to say any of this, but the time was here, and it felt right. Adrenaline cleared his head but made his hand shake. Carefully, he put his fork down, not breaking eye contact. “But you understand why I did it too. You know I was scared. You said it yourself.”

Emotion shut away from Gordon’s expression. Lips pressed together, he sat back in his seat.

“So.” Lance laid his forearms to either side of his plate. “You go ahead and put all the walls you need between us, because now you refuse to see that I’m not the guy who hurt you anymore.”

“Bullshit.”

“Let me prove it.” That was huge. Only as he said it did he realize that he meant it. He wanted Gordon back. He wanted a second chance at the relationship he’d torn apart.

But Gordon didn’t do second chances.

He watched Gordon lift his chin, studying Lance down the length of his nose. He watched the wheels spinning behind those smart hazel eyes. For a few seconds, he thought he might have gotten through, that Gordon might relent. But then the shield slammed into place. “No.” Gaze dropping, Gordon pushed out his chair to stand.

“Gordon.”

“No.” He tossed his napkin on the table. “I’ll pay for breakfast on my way out.” He wouldn’t meet Lance’s eyes. “I’ll see you on the bus.”

Lance took a deep breath, refusing to watch Gordon walk out of the diner. “Well,” he told his plate as he picked up his fork yet again. “I tried.” It hadn’t done any good, but he’d tried.

Chapter Eighteen

Past, September

Move This was a pretentious acid-rock band with a lead singer whose voice could shatter glass. Lance cringed and waved at the bartender for another drink to fortify himself as the singer shrieked through another chorus of an unintelligible song. Gordon had drafted him into auditioning bands for the nights The Might didn’t play. He tried to be fair and open-minded, and he succeeded with most, but this band had to stop before the woman made his brain bleed out of his nostrils.

Finally the assault on his ears came to a close, and Lance downed his scotch and seven in celebration. Exchanging a glance with Tom, the bartender, he knew he wasn’t the only one who was grateful for the relative quiet. The club wasn’t due to open for hours yet, and only a handful of staff were there to help with inventory. It made for a good audition time.

“So.” Reid Górzyński, the band’s manager, slid onto the bar stool next to Lance. “What did you think?”

Lance stared into his empty glass, composing his thoughts.

Reid chuckled as he signaled for a drink. “Don’t bother. JD?” The last was for Tom. Then back to Lance. “I know they suck.”

Lance gave him a new look. “Yeah?”

Reid was a dumpy man in his late fifties who didn’t try to look anything but his age. Lance respected his experience, though, having heard his name a few times over the past few years connected to a number of bands. “Janit wasn’t my ideal for a lead singer, but she’s fucking Dar, the guitarist, so what can I do?” Reid shrugged and accepted his drink from Tom. “They go over big at dance clubs where we can drown her out some.”

Lance laughed. “So why’d you bring them here?” Although there was a dance floor, Fletcher’s was more of a sit, drink, and listen club than dance.

Reid’s eyes sparkled as he looked at Lance over the rim of his glass. “Dar idolizes you.”

Lance blinked. “Me?”

“Yeah. Thinks you walk on water.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. I think he’d fuck you if he wasn’t straight and you weren’t taken. And I’m not sure the straight part would mean a lot to him.”

Lance discreetly peeked toward the stage, where the members of the band were helping to stow their equipment. Dar was good-looking. Too much dyed-black hair and too much kohl around the eyes, but the strong jaw and sleek cheekbones meant he shouldn’t ever want for company if attraction was just based on looks. The chest he bared under a long tunic vest was marvelously sculpted and worth a look or five.

“He thinks you’re the best damn bass player there is.” Reid’s musing cut Lance’s perusal short.

“That’s cool. But they’re not playing here.”

Reid grinned, clearly expecting the answer. “But since I’ve got you here, can I make an offer?”

Surprised, Lance nodded.

“Dar’s thinking of putting together another band. More your type of sound.”

Lance raised his eyebrows.

Reid smiled. “Dar’s got some good contacts, despite…” He waved a hand to indicate his present band. “And he’s got some good ideas. You think you’d be interested in joining?”

“I’ve got a band.”

Reid nodded. “I know. But your contract’s up next year, yeah?”

“Where’d you hear that?”

“Common knowledge.”

It wasn’t. Not unless you talked to Gordon. Lance narrowed his eyes. If he had one complaint about his boyfriend, it was this. This wasn’t the first time he’d casually suggested Lance for another band. Or Noble, for that matter.

Lance shook his head. “No. Thanks, but no.”

“Listen, I swear he sounds better without the girl. Why don’t we hook the two of you up? You can jam. All casual-like.”

Lance was shaking his head halfway through Reid’s spiel. “No, thanks.”

“Well, shit.” Reid set down his empty glass. “Can’t blame us for trying. Will you at least come meet Dar? It’d mean the world to him.”

“Sure.”

So Lance met Dar, who didn’t say anything about the new offer, but hope bolstered the smile he gave Lance. Strange. Lance couldn’t be that much older than Dar—a few years, tops—but the hero worship that shone through Dar’s bravado made Lance feel a million years old.

Before they parted company, Gordon emerged from the hallway to the storeroom in the back. Any attraction to Dar paled at the sight of Gordon in a snug, dark green polo and relaxed black jeans. Even the smudges of dirt that marked his hands and left cheek couldn’t mar the masculine beauty of the man.

Apologizing for his grimy hands, Gordon greeted Reid, Dar, and the rest of the band. He admitted to having heard their audition from the back, and even Lance couldn’t tell if he thought it sucked. The singer, Janit, turned into a flirt machine despite the presence of her boyfriend. Gordon handled it like the pro he was and managed to extricate both himself and Lance before things could get too weird.

He was chuckling as Lance followed him into the office. “Wow, she’s something else, isn’t she?”

“Yeah.” Lance handed him a white hand towel he’d swiped from behind the bar on the way. “Did you really hear it?”

“Are you kidding? Thanks.” Gordon took the towel and perched against the edge of the desk as he wiped his hands. “I think you could hear her in Jersey.” They shared a laugh. “Please tell me you’re not hiring them.”

“No way.” Lance lowered himself to the couch. “But I did get an interesting offer from Reid.”

Gordon’s gaze was on his hands as he scrubbed off dust. “Oh?”

“Yeah. He said the guitarist is looking for a bass player for his new band. Says he likes me for it.”

If Lance hadn’t known in his gut that Gordon had set this up, he would have believed the surprise on Gordon’s face. “What? That’s great. What did you tell him?”

“Gordon.”

“Yes, dear?” The endearment was patently fake, something Gordon liked to call him when he was being snide.

It sparked Lance’s annoyance higher. “Did you know about this?”

Calmly, Gordon dropped the towel behind him on the desk. “No.”

“Did you talk to Reid before he got here?”

“I talk to Reid a lot, actually.

“So you knew.”

All surprise wiped from his face as Gordon faced him, arms crossed. “Yes.”

“Goddamn it.” Lance pounded his knee with his fist. “I’ve told you not to do that.”

“I didn’t do it. And I didn’t tell him to talk to you.” Gordon raised a hand to study his fingernails. “I just didn’t tell him not to.”

“Damn it.”

“Listen.” Gordon sighed, dropping his hand. “You said no. That’s it, right?” The distant resignation in Gordon’s tone had become too familiar. This pattern was too familiar. Gordon pushed, Lance called him on it. Then, after some sharp words on how Lance was missing out, Gordon gave in. This had happened too much in the past few months.

Lance tried to rein in his anger. “Yes.”

Gordon shrugged. “So what’s the use discussing it?”

“What if Shelby found out?”

“He’d be thrilled to hear how loyal his bass player is to him.” The disdain in Gordon’s voice was thick as syrup.

Lance gritted his teeth. It was September. Gordon had been with the band nine months, and he’d yet to find peace with Shelby’s way of doing business. Oh, he’d finally managed to find a guitarist Shelby accepted. He didn’t argue with Shelby as much, and he was careful to pick and choose his battles. But he still battled. He still made suggestions he knew Shelby would reject, and he still prodded Lance every chance he got about branching out on his own. “You have to stop.”

Gordon raised one eyebrow. “What?”

“Trying to hook me up with another band. Trying to get me away from The Might.”

There was every reason to find Gordon’s snort insulting. “Why? Because it’s such a great gig? Because you’re gonna go far with Shelby’s opus?”

Lance lowered his head, wishing he could jump to Shelby’s defense. But he couldn’t. “Don’t call it that.” The rock opera had yet to coalesce into a whole and was more of a mess than before. Shelby went on about his “vision” and his “quest.” He was currently in Germany for at least a month, conducting “research” that he wouldn’t elaborate on. The whole mess had soured the boss’s relationship with Gordon to an all-time low. “I’m asking you to lay off. I’m fine where I am.”

“Yo—” The exclamation cut off, and Lance looked up to see Gordon literally biting his tongue as he stared at the wall, composing himself. After a tense moment, he shook his head. “Fine. I’m not having this argument again. If you want to waste a golden opportunity—”

“I’m not—”

Gordon held up his hand and kept talking. “—to keep playing Shelby’s games, far be it for me to try and point out how moronic that is.”

“What does it matter? The money’s good.”

“The money’s good. But what about your soul?”

“When did you turn into such a romantic?”

“When I fell in love with you.”

Everything stilled. Lance was pretty sure traffic stopped outside. He stared at Gordon, felt his eyes wide and eyebrows up.

Gordon let him stare for a few heartbeats, then frowned. “This can’t be news to you.”

“You’ve never said…”

“Of course I haven’t.” He waved a hand to indicate Lance up and down. “I knew what your reaction would be.”

This had been coming. Lance had known it was coming. Despite the recurring arguments, he and Gordon had become close. Really close. For the first time in his life, Lance felt like he was part of a couple. It was scary as hell.

He stepped closer, cautious since Gordon was wound tighter than the strings of his bass. “I…” He slid his hand up Gordon’s arm to his shoulder. “Love you too.”

Gordon reached up to grasp his wrist. “Don’t say it if you don’t feel it.”

“I think I do. Feel it.” This had to be love, right? Nothing but love could be this overwhelming. So simple and so complicated. “I just… I’ve never been in love before.”

With one finger of his free hand, Gordon hooked a belt loop on Lance’s jeans to pull him closer. “If it’s any consolation, neither have I.” Unless Lance missed his guess, the same confusion he felt shone in Gordon’s eyes. “Not like this.”

Lance wound his arm around Gordon’s neck, raising the other hand to trace his jaw. “I’m not good at this.”

“You’re doing just fine.”

They shared a strangely hesitant kiss. Lance felt like a helium balloon, ready to rise or burst or both.

Gordon melted into him, sliding his arms around Lance’s waist. “So now you know why. I’m trying to look out for you.”

Surprisingly, it was a relief to return to the familiar argument. Lance pressed his forehead against Gordon’s. “I’m fine where I am.”

“You’re too good to be Shelby’s sycophant.”

“Oooh. Big word.”

“Idiot.”

Lance kissed him. “Your idiot.” That sounded kind of good.

“Oh, man, you do know what to say to get your way.”

“I try.”

Chapter Nineteen

Present, July

“Do you mind…?” The girl held up her phone.

Lance smiled. “Sure.” He stood patiently while the girl handed off her phone to her friend and stood beside him. He put his arm around her and leaned in a little so he wasn’t towering over her, then smiled as the friend snapped the picture. Around them, there were a few dozen more—

“Lance! Over here!” He glanced to the left, and a flash blinded him for a second.

—fans hanging out in front of the club, waiting for the Knights to emerge. Rabin and Danny were near, but Lance couldn’t see where they were through the crowd. He could see the spikes of Noble’s hair, the shining purple thrusting toward the glittering marquee above them. A security guard hovered at his back, keeping people from pressing too close, but Lance did as he’d been instructed and pretended not to notice him. Rather, he smiled for the people, signed whatever they put in his hands, and let them snap all the pictures they wanted. Somewhere out there, Gordon had a guy taking more pictures with a fancy digital camera to post officially on the website.

The Indigo Knights had arrived!

The club tour was almost done, and the crowd just kept getting bigger. It wasn’t Heaven Sent proportions, but it was a respectable size. The security guards had become a must in just the past week, and Gordon had had to hire on a second bus to ferry their entourage. The record company was finally fully on board and talking to Gordon daily about progress and next steps. The Knights had reached a level of popularity that was entirely new to Lance. None of his other bands had been popular enough to have fans pushing to get close, not even The Might. Oh, he’d signed autographs before, but The Might’s fans were far more laid-back because they knew where and when to get at the band. Tonight Lance was in the middle of shit that he’d only seen on television.

It was great!

They stayed until the crowd had mostly died out. Lance signed his last CD, then let his guard usher him toward the bus that awaited them down the block. He was the first of the band to make it on board, so he got to glance out the window to see Rabin get ambushed into a lip-lock with a girl a head shorter than him and Noble get crushed in a hug from a girl twice as wide as him. Danny was the last through the door.

“Where’s your shirt?” Rabin laughed at him, still wiping crimson lipstick from his mouth.

Danny’s eyes were wide, barely focused. He grabbed the back of a seat for support. “Fuck if I know.” He waved at the crowd beyond the now-closed door. “Got ripped off back there.”

Lance turned to Gordon, who was just ending a phone call he’d been having at the back of the bus. “You need to get Danny a shirt allowance.”

Gordon grinned. “Happily and gladly.” He held up a hand to the driver. “Whenever you are.” Then he looked to the four of them. “Guys, sit.”

They settled in the center seats as the bus left the club. A few of the crew sat up front, and the guy who’d been hired to feed them—no shit—sat reading beside the kitchenette, toward the back. Gordon leaned in, elbows on knees as he spoke. The six center seats all swiveled so they could form a rough circle around the aisle. Gordon filled them in on the latest: the next few dates were sold out; they’d added an additional night in Boston.

“We’ve been signed on for the Wade Jenkins show in August.” Gordon grinned as he let them react to that. He looked to Rabin. “He says he’s looking forward to seeing you again.”

Rabin gave a thumbs-up. “Awesome.”

“We’ll need to practice for that one.” Now Gordon looked at them all. “Judging from how Rabin’s last appearance went, Jenkins is going to ask the gay question.”

Noble propped his feet on Danny’s knee. “It’s not like we hide it.”

“And I’m not suggesting we do. I’d just like you to have some ready answers when he does ask. This is one of the things we knew would happen riding Heaven Sent’s coattails.”

They all agreed.

“We’ve added a few more dates in New York. Plus a few industry parties we should seriously think of going to. There’s a Roommates cast party that sounds interesting.”

“Nice.” Danny poked at Noble’s shiny green boots with interest. “These new?”

“Yep.” While Noble held one foot up for admiration, he asked, “What’s Roommates?”

Gordon opened his mouth to answer, but Danny slapped his foot down instead. “Don’t you ever watch television?”

Noble blinked, his bright orange lenses a bit disconcerting in the dim lighting. “When the fuck would I watch TV?”

“It’s been on for years.”

“I’ve got better things to do than sit around at home at night watching TV.”

Lance shook his head, amused. “It’s a big-deal nighttime soap.”

Noble shrugged. “Why do they want us?”

“One of the new couples in the show is gay,” Danny answered, looking to Gordon for confirmation.

Gordon nodded.

“So we get to be the gay band?”

“At least for a while.” Gordon sat back. “We can only keep pushing the music and hope that takes over as the main draw.”

“Fuck yeah.”

The bus pulled in to a hotel parking lot. Their venue for the next night was on-site. “We’re here. You guys stay put. I’ll go and check us in.” Absently, or so it seemed, Gordon patted Lance’s shoulder on his way past. Lance tried not to concentrate on it. No one else seemed to have noticed. Rabin stood and went to talk to the food guy. Danny headed the other way to join the guys at the front of the bus.

Noble was another matter. He leaned in and nudged Lance’s other shoulder. “What was that?”

Lance didn’t look at him. “What?”

“Right.” At least Noble stayed close and kept his voice down. No one else could hear him. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed the two of you getting chummy.”

“Chummy?”

Noble blinked over those orange contacts. “It’s a good word.”

Lance smiled. “Don’t read into it. We’re just trying to be friends again.”

“Mmm. And how are the breakfasts going?”

Lance frowned at him.

“Jesus, do you really think I don’t keep track of you?”

He had to laugh. “Have you got someone watching me?”

“Several someones.”

“Nosy bastard.”

“You know it.”

Lance shook his head. “I just wanted to get on even ground again.”

“Have you?”

He considered it for a few seconds, then slowly nodded. “Yeah. I think so.”

Noble clapped him on the arm. “That’s good.” When Lance looked at him, he had a genuine smile on, nothing mocking about it. “It is. You should be friends.”

“Thanks.”

“That means you’ll get over him sooner and get laid already.”

At that, Lance could only groan, laugh, and slap his palm to his face.

* * * *

Lance swiped his keycard and entered the quiet sanctum of his hotel room. His room, not one he had to share with Noble. When they’d started the tour, they’d had to double up, but now Gordon was comfortable enough with how things were going to spring for the luxury of separate rooms. For the band, at least. Lance had almost forgotten how terrific it could be. He’d even started looking forward to enjoying the silence after a night of playing.

Relieved to be alone while his bandmates were still out partying, he dropped his wallet and keycard onto the dresser, kicked off his shoes, changed into comfortable gray sweats and a faded blue T-shirt, then picked up his e-reader from the table. He’d just downloaded a new book he was excited to read.

An hour later, he was completely absorbed in the novel, so the sound of a knock at his door made him jump. A glance at the alarm clock told him it was 12:45 a.m. Too early for any of his friends, wasn’t it? When the knock sounded again, he turned off his e-reader and went to open the door.

Gordon?

“What are you doing here?” Lance asked without thinking.

Gordon glowered at him. “Why aren’t you out having fun?”

“I was reading.”

When Gordon advanced, Lance felt compelled to back up. Gordon had been drinking. Not that you’d know it if you didn’t know the signs. Gordon held his liquor exceptionally well. Lance could only tell because he’d seen that deliberate mode of movement before, as though Gordon had to think carefully how to move his body. It was quite graceful, actually, even if it only occurred when his brain was addled from too much scotch or bourbon. His eyes had taken on the daring glitter that signaled alcohol or sex in his system. The buttons of his dress shirt were undone at least halfway down his chest. He stopped in the narrow entryway and placed his hands on the walls to either side of him, blocking Lance’s way out of the room if he’d been inclined to make a dash for it. “Why aren’t you out having a one-night stand? You used to do it all the time.”

Lance sighed, crossing his arms over his chest as he propped his butt against the desk. “We’ve been over this.”

“We’re going over it again. You’re a fucking rock star. You should be fucking everything that moves.”

He raised a brow at Gordon’s intense insistence. “I don’t do that anymore.” There—he’d tried new words for it.

“Oh.” Gordon pursed his lips and glanced around the room as he nodded, as though he were considering the words. “You don’t.”

“No.”

“Fuck you.”

Oh goody, Gordon was that drunk. Only when he was truly beyond his limit did Gordon ever get that belligerent. He advanced, reaching up to take two handfuls of the front of Lance’s shirt. He brought their noses so close together that they almost touched, hazel eyes blazing with what looked like anger but what felt, to Lance, like lust. “You’re not supposed to be like this.”

Lance could smell the bourbon now as Gordon’s breath wafted over his lips. “Like what?” He had trouble with the words when Gordon was so close.

Gordon shook him, rattling his brain. “Like this!”

Lance grabbed Gordon’s wrists to stop the shaking. “Quit that.”

“You’re supposed to have moved the fuck on!” Gordon tipped his head so he was glaring through his lashes at Lance. He opened his hands to let Lance’s shirt fall back into place, but his fingers remained up and splayed for a moment before he clamped his palms on either side of Lance’s head. “You never, ever do what I want you to do.”

Lance kept his hold on Gordon’s wrists but lightened his grip. What was this about? Where had this come from? Gordon had been as cool as usual earlier tonight. “What do you want me to do?”

Gordon’s eyes shuttered until Lance could only see sparks of green beneath heavy black lashes. His focus dropped to Lance’s mouth. “I want you to go on with your life.” His fingertips dug into Lance’s scalp. “I want you to fuck someone so I…” Another little shake. His voice had gone low and husky. “I don’t want you to wait for me.”

So he what? Lance badly wanted to hear the end of that aborted sentence. He let his palms slide down Gordon’s forearms. “I’m not waiting for you.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Am I?” He was taking advantage, he knew. Gordon wasn’t thinking straight. But the contact, however hostile, had fired Lance’s blood. He was already hard, his cock straining for Gordon.

“You are.” Gordon tipped Lance’s face up a little, still gazing at his lips. “Stop it.”

Lance parted his lips, then deliberately licked them. “Make me.”

Gordon took his mouth with punishing force, and Lance let it happen, open for the tongue that invaded. He grabbed hold of Gordon’s waist to yank him closer. The fingers digging into his scalp slipped back into Lance’s hair, yanking his head to tip it to the angle Gordon wanted. Teeth clashed. Lance barely registered the taste of blood from a cut lip.

Just as roughly as he’d started, Gordon pulled back. But not too far. He dropped his head forward, pressing his forehead to Lance’s chin. “Fuck.”

Lance squeezed his ass, not sure when his hands had found home. “Yes.”

“No.”

He palmed Gordon’s ass, squeezing through the thin cotton of his slacks. Lance tried twisting his head, fighting to regain their kiss. “God, yes.”

“Fuck.” Gordon’s fingers slid down his neck to dig into the meat of his shoulders. “I don’t want you.”

Lance kissed his temple, ducked his head closer to Gordon’s mouth. “I want you.”

“I’m not doing this.”

He nibbled at the corner of Gordon’s mouth, lapped at the crease between his lips. “Do it.”

Something between a growl and a moan burbled in Gordon’s throat. Lance tipped his head and managed to seal their lips again. The kiss this time was one-sided, him pushing, Gordon just accepting. Lance stepped closer, embracing the body he needed so much. “Kiss me,” he demanded, biting at Gordon’s lips.

A weaker version of the growl vibrated in Gordon’s mouth. His head fell to the right, his mouth opened, and the kiss grew wings. Lance’s hands found Gordon’s ass again, fingertips purposefully teasing the crease between cheeks. Gordon sighed and wrapped his arms around Lance’s neck, pressing closer. The soft slacks did nothing to contain the arousal pressed against Lance’s.

“Shit.” Gordon drew his head back, face up. Lance dipped his head to bite the strong cord of Gordon’s neck. “Lance.” That sound, that gorgeous sound Gordon made when he was on the way to being too far gone… Lance brought a hand around to squeeze Gordon’s cock. “God, fuck, Lance.”

Lance maneuvered them around so he could push Gordon onto the bed. The man sat without a fight. Lance knelt between his knees and grabbed a foot to relieve him of shoes and socks, during which his mind raced. Did he even have a condom or lube around? Yeah, there was some in his suitcase, the fruit of some hope that his libido would wake up again.

He got the second shoe and sock off just as Gordon wrestled off his dress shirt. Anxious hands caught Lance’s shoulders and pulled him into another desperate kiss. “Fuck me,” he demanded, lips against Lance’s. He tugged Lance’s sweats down to his knees, dragging his briefs with them. “God.” A strong grip circled Lance’s cock and gave it a gorgeous pull.

Lance hissed and caught Gordon’s wrist. “Careful. Been too long. I’ll come too soon.”

Gordon bit at his jaw. “Then do me. Now.”

They broke apart, Lance stumbling toward his suitcase, Gordon standing so he could be rid of his pants. Lance managed to struggle out of his sweats before reaching the case, then miraculously found the condom and a small bottle of lube in an easy pocket of his luggage. He met Gordon on the mattress and had no time to marvel at the perfection of Gordon’s physique. He had to get inside that body before Gordon took it away again. The most beautiful man in the world was on his knees, ass toward Lance, with his hand busy on his cock. Lance rolled on the condom in record time and took his place behind Gordon as he popped open the lube.

“Now.” Gordon glared over his shoulder. “Goddamn it.”

Lance poured lube into his palm and slathered it over his sheathed cock. He rubbed the wet tip against Gordon’s little pink pucker, knowing he should probably go slower but fully unable to do so. He pushed in, only managing to slow a little as Gordon hissed and arched his back. Trusting Gordon to throw him if it really was too much, he pressed steadily inward. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth against the flush of agonizing pleasure that washed through his veins. He was going to come, dammit it, and he wasn’t even halfway in! Panting, he dug the fingers of his free hand into Gordon’s side and kept a death grip at the base of his cock to hold it in. Gordon might not have noticed his hesitation, because he pushed back, forcing more of Lance’s cock into his impossibly tight little hole.

“Fuck.” Lance curled forward until his forehead met the back of Gordon’s shoulder.

Gordon’s tiny growls of pleasure were too damn familiar, even after all this time. The way he rolled his hips was perfect. Lance would have been transported back in time, back to when this was normal, if it weren’t for the very real fear that he was about to lose it.

“I…can’t…”

Gordon reached back to yank at Lance’s loose hair. “Don’t you fucking dare come.” He shoved back, his ass thumping against Lance’s fist. “Fuck me.”

Could he do anything else? Grinding his teeth, Lance pulled back and shoved forward. He struggled with anything he could think of not to come. That Gordon kept pulling his hair helped, the small pain taking off some of the edge. When Gordon started to moan for real and lose himself in the moment, Lance let go his prick, grabbed Gordon’s hips, and started thrusting. With any luck, Gordon’s desperation matched his and he’d come soon.

“Godshitfuckdamngod…” Gordon gripped the pillow beneath his head, face buried in it. “More, damn you, more!”

Lance’s hips snapped, his thighs strained. He had no ability for finesse, just mindless pounding. He draped himself over Gordon’s back, crushing the man into the mattress, and let as much skin as possible rub between them as he rocked.

“Ah!” Oh yes, glorious sound from Gordon. That meant he was close. Lance picked up the pace, sweat dripping into his eyes. “Ah fuck!” Gordon’s hands punished the pillow as a flush started down his neck and back. “Ahhhh!” He shuddered, and Lance’s heart soared. Gordon was coming, his ass clenching Lance’s cock.

He’d made it! Triumph shattered Lance’s control. He was coming before he could even think to let himself do so. Colors crashed about him in waves as marvelous phantasms exploded just outside his ears.

Out of practice after not having had sex with another person in so long, Lance barely managed to roll off Gordon’s back. His thighs shook. His blood sang. Yes! That was why he could barely think about being with anyone else. What could possibly compare to that? Even quick and rough, it was the best sex he’d had since he’d last been with Gordon. Lying on his side with his head pillowed on his arm, he forced his eyes to remain open so he could watch the other man. Was this it? Was the drought over?

Once Gordon caught his breath, he rolled…away from Lance to the edge of the bed. He sat up, back to Lance, and didn’t move for a few moments.

“This,” he finally said, turning his head so Lance could see his profile, “was a mistake.”

Although he’d hoped for better, Lance had expected as much. Tamping down anger, he stared at Gordon’s back, at the marks his digging fingers had left behind. “Why?”

Gordon stood, avoiding eye contact as he stepped into his underwear and slacks. “It was a mistake.”

“I don’t think so.”

Looking around, Gordon bent to pick up his shirt off the foot of the bed. “Think what you want to think.”

Irritated, Lance pushed up to sit. “I think we just fucked our brains out. I think you came to me.”

Buttoning his shirt, Gordon shook his head. “Yes.”

“So why did you come here? Feeling horny?”

“That.”

Lance thought he might say more, but he didn’t.

Lance launched himself at Gordon and managed to catch his wrist. Lance was still naked, wet with sweat, with a condom drying on his dick, and he wanted Gordon to see it. “Fuck this. You’re gonna stay and talk to me.”

Caught off guard, Gordon glared at Lance’s hand, then at his face. “Talk? You don’t talk.”

“I’m trying something new. Tell me what’s going on. You owe me that.”

Gordon bristled at the word owe. “I told you. Nothing. This is not your second chance.”

Lance’s thoughts tried to keep up with the words. “Why not?”

Gordon pulled away. “We’re not doing this.”

“It doesn’t have to be more than just sex.”

Gordon’s laugh was sharp and cruel as he sat on the chair by the table to put on his shoes and socks. “Oh, it’s more than just sex.”

Was it bad that Lance took heart in that? “What is it, then?”

After firmly tying his shoe, Gordon finally looked up. “I don’t trust you.”

“Okay. Let me prove—”

“No.” He stood and snatched up his jacket. “You needed to get laid. Fine. So did I. I wanted it to be bad. It wasn’t.” The cold look in his eyes stalled Lance’s protests. “But I’m not letting you take over my life again.”

“What?”

“When I was with you, all I thought about was you. I wanted you to fucking shine. I tried everything I could to help you do that, but you pushed back at me every time.”

“I didn’t—”

“Every. Time.” Gordon pointed. “You needed to get away from Shelby, and you fucking refused to listen to me.”

Taken aback, Lance actually retreated a step. “That was my job. I couldn’t—”

“Look at what you have now. The Knights. That’s what I was working for.

“I know. But—”

Gordon was on a roll. “You should have trusted me. But you never trusted me.” He turned and headed for the door. “And I just can’t trust you.”

“Gordon, wait.”

“No. I’m not falling into the trap of loving you again.” He shook his head, hand on the doorknob. “Not again.”

Unable to think of a comeback, Lance stared at the door long after it shut behind Gordon. Only the fact that the air-conditioning was blowing on his naked skin got him moving into the bathroom. He cleaned up with angry, jerky movements, Gordon’s words repeating in his head. Trust. Don’t trust. Can’t trust. What the hell?

Debating with himself, using an occasional mumble for emphasis, Lance paced his hotel room until fatigue took over. Irritated, he crawled into bed and turned off the light, aware he had a ten o’clock call the next morning and really should get some sleep. But his mind kept turning over the problem. It was well after two in the morning before his exhausted brain finally shut down.

Chapter Twenty

Past, November

Lance’s mother took a turn for the worse the day before Thanksgiving. His sister called, and although it wasn’t what he wanted to do, he knew it was right to get on a plane to Detroit. So he did. Gordon and Noble wanted to come with him, but he forbade them both.

“I’m fine,” he told them. “I’ll be better off on my own.” Although his sister knew he was now pretty much gay, she’d yet to really accept it. He didn’t need to bring his boyfriend into this particular scene.

The three of them stood outside in the cold next to the Lincoln that would take him to the airport. One of Shelby’s drivers had already put his bag in the trunk and was waiting in the driver’s seat.

“This is going to be confusing enough.” Lance stared at the manicured row of snow-covered pines that lined the drive toward the edge of the estate. He felt strangely numb and kept wondering how long it would last. “It’ll be easier if it’s just me.”

Noble caught him up in a fierce hug. “You call,” he insisted, voice gruff with emotion. He’d cried more than Lance. It turned out Noble didn’t take impending death well at all.

Lance patted his back. “You bet.”

Noble let him go, and Gordon stepped close to wind arms around him in a gentler but no less heartfelt hug. “I love you,” he whispered into Lance’s ear.

That filled Lance with more emotion than the news from this morning. He squeezed Gordon tighter, trying to keep down the swell, sure if he started feeling, it would make this trip unbearable. “Love you too.”

Their kiss was quick, and then Gordon let him go. Gordon had been his rock all day, from the moment Morgan’s call had woken them up, all through making arrangements for Lance’s trip. Shelby never showed, but Lance had talked to him and agreed he would only be gone for a few days.

* * * *

Two days later, he came back. His mother had passed before he arrived, so he’d stayed with his sister at their mother’s home, making arrangements while Morgan’s husband, Jake, carted their kids to his parents’ for Thanksgiving dinner. Lance and Morgan ended up having their own dinner at a coffee shop near Morgan’s house, an uncomfortable occasion that Lance wasn’t eager to repeat. He’d stayed the night at her place and left the next morning. He barely felt like he’d spent any time with family. His sister was a different person than he remembered, and his lifestyle was certainly one she didn’t understand. He offered to keep sending her money, but she declined the offer.

“You’ve done enough,” she told him seriously. “We’re fine. You should keep your money for yourself.”

He’d hugged her then and gotten in the hired car to the airport. He still wondered when he’d talk to her again.

His reception back at the Fletcher estate was far warmer than anything he’d gotten at home. Gordon and Noble were there with a modest Thanksgiving feast for three.

“Since you didn’t really get one,” Noble explained when Lance pointed out the day itself had passed.

Between them, his boyfriend and his best friend made him feel more comfortable and loved and at home than he could ever remember feeling.

That night, Gordon warmed his soul with long, slow lovemaking, then spooned him as he fell asleep.

* * * *

On Saturday, Shelby called Lance in for a private meeting. After an uncomfortable offering of condolences, Shelby got to the heart of the matter.

“Lance, I know this band isn’t what you’d hoped for.”

Lance blinked, startled. They sat in what passed for Shelby’s office in the big house. There was a desk in the room, but that wasn’t where they sat. Instead they sat on two facing love seats across a low coffee table. He was pretty sure all the furniture was antique and probably worth more than he’d ever made in his life.

“I know it’s not what any rock musician wants. But”—Shelby leaned forward, elbows on his knees—“it’s what I’ve wanted. I have a vision.”

“I know.” And he did. Shelby had explained that things would be different when he’d hired Lance. It wasn’t like he’d gone in with blinders on.

“I have this music…” Shelby continued as though Lance hadn’t spoken. “So many melodies and harmonies in my head, and I just want to record it. To play it.” He shook his head. “I’m not sure anyone else really knows how I feel.” The faraway look faded, and he looked at Lance. “But you might. Out of everyone, I think you understand what I’m talking about.”

Lance couldn’t possibly hide his surprise anymore. He felt his eyes widen and his brows rise, and he consciously shut his mouth, which had fallen open.

Shelby smiled. “You think I don’t notice. That I don’t know they say I’m weird. I notice.” He leaned forward a little. “I just don’t care.” He let that sink in a little, then sat back. “But I get that it’s probably hard to share my vision.” He picked up a sheaf of papers from his desk and held them out toward Lance. “That’s why I want to renegotiate your contract.”

Frowning, Lance took the papers. There was a lot of legal mumbo jumbo, but he was able to skim and get the gist. “A hundred thousand dollars?”

“Yes.” Shelby smiled as he folded his fingers primly on his knee. “I want to raise your yearly salary. The room and board still stands. I also want to hire you on to help manage the club. Gordon’s doing a fair job, but I’m sure he would appreciate the help. And he obviously trusts you. That job, of course, would have its own salary.”

Two salaries? Lance kept skimming the contract, his mind racing. Why this? Why now? Was Shelby just being benevolent, or was there something behind this? Then he saw something that made his heart stop. He looked up so he could see Shelby’s face. “Writing credits?”

Shelby nodded. “I think I can trust you and Noble now with my music. You’ve proven that you’re not just out for yourselves.”

Lance noted that the wording ensured Shelby still received the bulk of the credit, but any credit would ensure that Lance and Noble were entitled to royalties. “You’re giving the same offer to Noble?”

“Yes. I wanted to talk to you first. In case we had to negotiate.”

Lance blinked. Noble would be thrilled. Probably. Wouldn’t he?

“So? What do you think?”

Lance realized he’d been quiet for a few moments, staring blankly at the contract in his hands. “I… Wow.”

“I take it you think it’s acceptable?”

“Um. Yeah. Sure.”

“You’re welcome to take the contract to look it over. Have Gordon read it.” The last was said casually, but it made the hair on Lance’s arms stand.

He found himself nodding. “Yeah. I’ll do that.”

“Good. We can talk about it tomorrow.” Shelby stood. “I’ll come over early for rehearsal.”

Lance rose to his feet, hearing the dismissal in Shelby’s voice. He startled when Shelby’s hand landed on his arm.

“You’ve done right by me, Lance,” he said, face as sincere as Lance had ever seen it. “I want to do right by you.”

Lance could only nod again. Then he left Shelby’s company. His mind whirled as he walked the path, so much that he barely noticed the spattering rain. When he got back to the guesthouse, his hair and jacket were dripping.

“Hey!” Noble caught him as he was taking off his jacket. “You okay?”

The contract papers were safe and dry. He mutely handed them to Noble.

Clearly concerned by Lance’s quiet, Noble scanned the document. “What’s this?” Lance just waited. He pulled a hand through his ponytail to get most of the water out, uncaring that he left a puddle in the entryway. “Holy shit.” Noble gave Lance wide eyes. “Is this for real?”

Lance strode toward the couch, needing to sit. “As real as it gets.”

“Seventy-five K,” he muttered and papers shifted, “and writing credit?”

“Yeah.”

“Did he say why?”

“He said I’d done right by him, and he wanted to do right by me.”

Noble dropped onto the couch beside him, looking as poleaxed as Lance felt. “Holy shit.”

Lance pointed at him. “He’s going to offer you the same contract.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“You think it’s a trick?”

“A trick? What kind of trick?”

“I don’t know. It’s just… Right on top of what happened this week?”

Lance passed a hand down his face. “Yeah. I guess it is weird timing.”

“Unless…”

“What?”

“You think Gordon had anything to do with it?”

Lance blinked at him. “What do you mean?”

“You think Gordon told him that we needed a new contract? He’s always talking about how we should get more credit.”

“I…don’t know.”

“You should call him.”

Nodding, Lance sat forward so he could dig his cell out of his jeans pocket. He hit the speed dial for Gordon’s number.

“Hey, babe.”

“Do you know anything about Shelby offering me a new contract?” Lance blurted.

“What?”

“Shelby just called me to the big house to offer me a new contract.”

“What’s in this new contract?”

“Seventy-five K a year plus writing credits for the new album.” He didn’t mention the separate job at the club, just in case Gordon wasn’t aware of it yet.

Silence on the other end of the phone. “Well, I’ll… That little shit.”

“What?”

Gordon laughed, but it wasn’t a good laugh. “Nothing.”

“What do you know about it?”

“Nothing.”

“You sure?”

“I swear. I did not know he was going to renegotiate your contract.” That heavy twist of cynicism colored his voice.

“But…?”

“But…” Gordon sighed. “He knows you’ve been getting offers.”

“What?” Lance sat forward, aware of Noble watching him like a hawk. “What did you say?”

“Just the truth. That you’ve been recognized. That more than a few people have asked me about you. And Noble.”

“You what?”

“Oh, don’t get mad. I didn’t say anything that would have sent him off the deep end.”

“Bullshit.”

Lance imagined that he heard Gordon’s teeth grinding. “I said nothing but the truth.”

“Fuck.” Lance fell back into the embrace of the couch. He held up a hand to stall Noble from saying anything and closed his eyes. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I don’t know what you’re pissed about,” Gordon said, far too calmly. “Obviously he now realizes what he has and is willing to give for it. For you.”

“You shouldn’t have done that. I asked you not to do that.”

“Why not? Isn’t it my job to look out for the interest of my band and its members?” Then, in a lower tone, “Shouldn’t I look out for my boyfriend?”

That stuck a pin in Lance’s anger. He expelled a breath and let it all go. Gordon was looking out for him. It was good. He just wished Gordon would fucking stop.

“Lance?”

“Can you come over tonight? I…I’d like you to look this contract over.”

“It would be my pleasure. Give me an hour or so.”

“Right.” He ended the call.

“What was that all about?” Noble demanded.

Lance filled him in.

“Well, damn.” Noble chuckled. “That’s sweet.”

“What?”

“Oh, come on. It is sweet. He’s like a mother hen protecting his chick.”

“Hey. Let’s not forget you’re one of his chicks.”

Noble puffed up his chest. “And damn proud to be so if he’s going to do shit like this.”

Catching Noble’s gaze, Lance shook his head. “You don’t think this is trouble?”

“Was Shelby pissed?”

“Well…no.”

Noble shrugged. “Then, no. We didn’t ask for a change, and it’s not like either of us have threatened to bail on our existing contracts. Although…” He stared thoughtfully at the wall for a few seconds. “After what happened with your mom”—he kept his voice low in deference to fresh wounds—“maybe he thought you needed another reason to stay.”

“You think that’s it?” Now that Lance thought about it, it probably was. The timing was too perfect. Shelby knew one of Lance’s main reasons for staying was to pay for his mom. Now that she was gone, he certainly did have less reason to stay. He stared at his knees. “Shit.”

Noble patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry so much. Whatever the reason, it’s a sweet contract.”

“You gonna sign it?”

Pause. “Aren’t you?”

“Yeah. Probably.”

“Then me too. We’d be insane not to, right?”

* * * *

“I think you should bring it down to six months,” Gordon proclaimed, setting the contract down on the coffee table.

They sat in Lance’s sitting room rather than downstairs, and surprisingly, Noble had afforded them some privacy. Lance had chosen to sit across the low table from Gordon as he read.

“Six months?”

“Yeah. That leaves you open.”

“Open to what?”

Leaning elbows on knees, Gordon met his gaze. “To leaving.”

“Not this again.” Lance threw out his hands. “Why would I leave?”

“There’s no reason for you to stay anymore.”

He stared. “So that’s it? My mom dies, and you think I’ll leave Shelby.”

Gordon opened his mouth, then clearly decided against what he was going to say and shut it again. He stared at the papers between them. “I’m just saying you should keep your options open.”

Lance shook his head, gritting his teeth. “What is it with you? What have you got against Shelby?”

“As if you don’t know.”

“No. I really don’t get it. It’s not like he abuses our deal. It’s a damn good deal.”

“Yeah.” Gordon poked the contract with one finger. “And he just sweetened the pot because one of your reasons for taking it is now gone.”

“You mean my mom.”

“I mean your mom.”

“So what? Why wouldn’t I want to stick around?” Lance gestured to indicate the room around them. “I get a roof over my head, money in the bank, and the chance to play on a regular basis. I think I get a lot.”

“Yeah, and at the end of the day, that creative part of you, the part that other musicians admire, dies.”

Pissed, Lance leaned forward. “Did you not see the part about writing credits?”

“I saw it. How much say do you think you’ll actually get? The Might is as Shelby does, remember?”

Lance dug his fingertips into his knees in an attempt to hold in his anger. “I knew what I signed on for.”

“Yeah. You had bills to pay. I know.”

“And now that I don’t, you think I should just abandon him?”

Gordon scoffed. “Abandon. You’d hardly be abandoning him. He can find someone else in a heartbeat.”

And that really hurt. “Glad to know I’m easy to replace.”

Gordon’s eyes widened, and Lance was willing to believe he hadn’t thought what that sounded like. It hurt a little less to know it wasn’t meant to stab. “That’s not what I mean. But he doesn’t need you for the opus.”

“Fucking quit calling it the opus. And he seems to think he does need me for it.”

“Does he.” The sarcasm could not have been thicker.

“Yeah. That’s why he’s renegotiated the contract.”

“That’s not why.”

“Then tell me why.”

“He knows you have less reason to stay now, so he’s given you more.”

“Gee. Sounds to me like he doesn’t want to lose me.”

“Fine.” A flare of annoyance flashed through the calm facade Gordon wore. “What happens when Shelby’s done with you?”

“What?”

“Shelby’s attention doesn’t stay on one thing forever. Sure, he’s stuck with The Might this long, but how much further can it go? He doesn’t want to tour; he’s barely interested in releasing an album. As for the opus…” Gordon’s bitter laugh told what he thought of that. “How long before he gets bored and shuts it all down?”

“Then it’s over.” Lance wasn’t stupid. He’d thought of that. He saw the same signs Gordon did. But Shelby seemed so earnest when he talked about his music that Lance was pretty sure they had years yet to come.

“And what’ll you do then?”

“I haven’t thought about it.”

“Why?”

“Because it hasn’t fucking happened. Because I’m doing okay now. I’m doing more than okay. And I don’t see a reason to shit all over what I’ve got now because of something that may happen.”

Gordon’s eyes narrowed.

“Look.” Lance spoke before Gordon had a chance. “I know you think you’re looking out for me, but how about you stop trying to make decisions about my life.”

“Your life.” Gordon’s emphasis on that part of what he’d said had more significance than Lance could fathom at the moment. His boyfriend was struggling. A muscle worked at the back of Gordon’s jaw, and his eyes glittered as any number of thoughts flitted behind them. Then his gaze dropped, and he took a deep breath. “The contract’s pretty much the same as your last,” he said, voice too even. “I’d suggest holding out for a better deal on the writing, but”—he shrugged—“it’s better than you had before.” He got up and started for the door.

Lance stood. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to get something to drink,” Gordon answered, not looking back. His voice was too calm, too cool. “You want something?”

“No.”

Without another word, Gordon walked out of Lance’s suite. Lance stared after him, feeling the chill in the air. Something had just gone very wrong, and he wasn’t sure what it was.

Chapter Twenty-One

Present, next morning

By the time they knocked on his door at eleven o’clock to call him to lunch before they got on the bus, Lance was calm. Tired but oddly wired, he packed his stuff, then went down to join the others.

“Hey,” Noble bumped shoulders with him before they sat down.

“Hey,” Lance replied. But he was distracted. Gordon sat at the table, looking fresh and cool, and he didn’t bother to look up to greet Lance.

“What’s up?” Trust Noble to see where Lance’s attention lay.

Unable to help it, Lance glared at Gordon, then blanked his face to turn it to Noble. “Nothing.”

Noble’s eyes narrowed, but Lance didn’t give him a chance to say more. He turned to Danny to ask about the party last night.

That was how lunch went. Lance talked to everyone but Gordon, and Gordon talked to everyone but Lance. They sat two seats from each other, but there might have been a stretch of tundra there instead. Gordon spent a lot of time messing with his smartphone. Danny and Rabin did most of the talking, seemingly oblivious to Lance’s drama. Noble was aware, but he kept his tongue about it. After they ate, they split up to pack their things and board the bus.

When Lance came down to the lobby with his bag, he saw Gordon through the hotel’s glass front doors, talking to the bus driver, Ted, and jingling a set of keys. An SUV rental sat at the curb behind them. “Son of a…” Lance muttered under his breath. Quickly he caught a roadie’s arm and asked him to take his bag to the bus. Once rid of it, Lance stalked straight to Gordon.

Gordon saw him coming with a cool glance but showed no other sign.

“Can I talk to you?” Lance asked when he reached Gordon’s side.

He thought Gordon might say no, but after a moment’s hesitation, Gordon nodded and excused himself from Ted. Once Ted was walking away, Gordon turned to face Lance. Dressed simply in a green polo and crisp khakis, he looked like a rich businessman on the way to the country club rather than the manager of a rock-and-roll band. “Talk.”

“You’re not riding with us?”

“No. I’m going to drive ahead and see about another gig.”

He looked good, damn him. Freshly fucked and showered. Lance wondered if his own looks had improved because of last night. He sure enough felt like shit, and he wasn’t into Gordon’s games. “Running away?”

Gordon’s eyes narrowed. “No.”

“Bullshit.”

“Look, do you have something to say, or may I leave?”

He hated Gordon’s uncaring tone. Hated the mildly irritated look on his face. “You’re wrong about me.”

That caught Gordon off guard. Clearly trying to keep his cool, he turned his head to stare through the glass doors.

“You’re wrong about us.”

He startled back to face Lance. “It’s us now?” Then he shook his head. “No. We’re not having this conversation now.”

“Then when? Because we need to have it.”

“No. We don’t.”

“Yeah.” He grabbed Gordon’s wrist. “We do.”

Immediately, Gordon snatched his arm away and stepped back. “No. We don’t.” He unhooked his sunglasses from where they hung at the collar of his shirt and put them on. “You need to go. The bus is leaving soon.” He turned and hurried around to the other side of the car.

Lance stayed where he was, feeling impotent, frustrated, as Gordon kept his gaze averted. It was never good to have that gnawing pit in his gut when Gordon was walking away from him. He should go and make Gordon talk to him. Instead, he watched as Gordon got in the car and drove off without another glance.

Fuming over an aching heart, Lance headed for the bus. He’d fucked things up again because he couldn’t find the right words. What Gordon had said felt final, but it couldn’t be. He kept his head down and put his sunglasses on, unwilling to talk to anyone. He boarded the bus, glad to see that Danny and Rabin had already settled in the back cabin with a guitar and a portable keyboard. He wouldn’t have to worry about putting on a face for them. The three other passengers were up front playing cards.

Noble was a different story. He abandoned his seat by the kitchenette counter as soon as Lance committed to a seat. “What happened?” Noble asked, dropping down across the small table from him.

Lance considered ignoring him but knew it wouldn’t work. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit.” Noble leaned on the small table between their seats. “You got laid.”

“What?”

“You know I can always tell.” He kept his voice low. When he was satisfied that everyone was out of earshot, “It was Gordon, wasn’t it?”

Lance didn’t want to talk about it. But when he glanced around to make sure there still wasn’t anyone paying them any mind, he sighed and nodded. “Yes.”

“Tell.”

He folded his hands on the table and stared at them. “Not sure what to tell. He came by last night, pissed at me.”

“Pissed?”

At a halting pace—because he was trying to figure it out himself—Lance described Gordon’s demeanor the previous night. It had to mean something. It couldn’t have just been sex. Gordon wouldn’t have been so mad if it didn’t mean anything.

When he was done, Noble stared at the many rings on his fingers, although it didn’t look like he was really seeing them. “That’s fucked-up.”

“Yeah.”

“He’s wrong about the trust thing. You’re the most trustworthy guy I know.”

Lance stared out the window. “He’s going off what I did.”

“Okay, yeah, I get that. But it’s not like you do that all the time.”

“Just when it counts.”

Noble sighed. “That was a weird time. It’s different now.”

“Apparently not to him.”

“That’s him being an asshole. A stubborn one. But, hey. He came to you. That’s gotta mean something.”

“Does it?”

“Sure. Why not?” Noble patted his arm. “What are you going to do?”

“Haven’t decided yet.”

“Want me to talk to him?”

“God, no.”

“Might help.”

“No. Absolutely not.” Lance met Noble’s gaze. “Stay out of it.”

“Okay. Okay.” Noble sat back in his seat, grinning. “But if you want I should rough him up,” he continued in a really bad impersonation of a mobster, “you just let me know.”

* * * *

Doug, Gordon’s assistant, had called a band meeting on the bus and told them that Gordon wasn’t coming back for a while.

“Gretchen’s got him tied up with some meetings for the Heaven Sent tour.” Doug held up his hands to calm objections that hadn’t yet come. “Don’t worry. It’s all about both bands, but with their new album and us getting more popular, there’s more to do. So Gretchen’s called him back to Chicago.”

Doug kept on talking, but Lance only listened with one ear. He exchanged glances with Noble and grimaced. Noble sighed and nodded.

Lance dug out his phone and sent a one-word text: Coward.

It took three hours. Then a text came back: Fuck you.

Lance had to laugh. Three hours to come up with that? With an evil grin, he texted back: hard to fuck you when you’re in Chicago.

After a few hours, he realized Gordon wasn’t writing back.

I don’t trust you. Gordon’s words from the previous night spun through his thoughts. He could understand that, after what he’d done. There were people in this world who simply couldn’t bring themselves to trust again once their faith had been broken. But Gordon had come to him. That fact kept him thinking, kept him from losing all hope. Gordon liked him. Understood him.

The trick was getting Gordon to trust him again.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Past, early December

Something changed after Lance signed the new contract. Gordon didn’t say anything about it, but that was kind of the problem—he didn’t say much at all. He found a reason to be out every night, leaving before Lance was free of rehearsal and returning much too late to come to the guesthouse. Lance wasn’t spending time at Fletcher’s, because Shelby caught one of his creative streaks and kept Lance, Noble, and Howie—their new guitarist—at the house. When Lance called Gordon, the discussions were always short because Gordon was on his way to something. All of a sudden, he’d gained a lot more friends and associates.

Lance finally saw Gordon when he showed up on Saturday night. He was in the main room of the guesthouse when Shelby let them out of rehearsal.

“Hi.” Lance saw him and went to give him a kiss.

“Hi.” Gordon kissed him back, but quickly. His attention switched immediately to Shelby. “May I talk to you?”

Lance looked from Gordon to Shelby and back again. He didn’t think Shelby knew what Gordon wanted to talk about. Shelby just nodded and led the way back into the studio.

Noble and Howie looked at Lance.

“What was that all about?”

Lance watched the closed door, a sinking feeling in his gut. “I don’t know.”

Twenty minutes later, they came out of the room, Shelby leading the way. Neither of them looked happy. Shelby glanced at the members of his band, then back at Gordon, to whom he nodded. Then Shelby left. Gordon stood with his hands in the pockets of his wool slacks, watching Shelby go.

“What’s going on?” Lance asked.

Gordon glanced at the guys behind Lance, then finally met his gaze. Too calm. Something was going on. “We should talk privately first.”

That did not sound good. Lance followed as Gordon headed back into the studio. The studio, not upstairs to Lance’s suite.

“Okay,” Lance said, closing the door behind him. “What’s going on?”

Gordon turned to face him from the middle of the room. He almost smiled. “I quit.”

“What?”

Gordon’s hands were in his pockets again. “I quit. Shelby and I both agree that he doesn’t need me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said. All I’ve been doing for him for months is running the club, and that’s not what I signed on for.” The smile finally bloomed, and it wasn’t a particularly nice one. “And he wants you to run Fletcher’s now.”

Lance shook his head, miffed at Gordon’s snide attitude. “He just wanted me to help you, not take over.”

“But you could. And you should. He trusts you more than he does me.”

Scowling, Lance stepped up to Gordon. “What is this about?”

Gordon shrugged casually. “I quit.”

“Why?”

“I just told you.”

“What’s the real reason?”

“Why can’t that be the real reason?”

Lance glared into Gordon’s eyes, trying to gouge the truth out of those brown-green depths. “So you’re leaving?”

“I’m leaving the club. And Shelby. I’m staying in New York. For now.”

Lance closed the short distance between them, sliding his hands up Gordon’s arms. “You’re not leaving me?”

This time the smile warmed Gordon’s eyes. “No.”

“Okay.” Lance let his relief show as he leaned in for a kiss. “Okay.” He was almost able to breathe again. “What are you going to do?”

“First, I’ve got to find a new apartment. Shelby’s given me to the end of the month. Then”—another shrug—“I’ve got some offers.”

“Offers?”

“In all the time I was pimping you, you didn’t think I had an ear out for myself?”

“I wish you didn’t think you had to.”

Gordon drew one hand out of his pockets to wind his arm around Lance’s waist. “Well, I do. I can’t take Shelby’s crap anymore.”

“Okay.” Lance took another kiss to make himself feel better, to feel Gordon’s presence. “Stay with me tonight?”

More kissing, but Gordon drew back. “No. I’ve got stuff to do.”

Why did Lance feel like a wedge was working its way between them? Gordon was right there, pressed against him. The kisses were warm. Still… “Tonight?”

With a small smile, Gordon kissed him one more time. “No. Now that I’ve talked to Shelby, I want to set some things in motion.” He reached up to stroke Lance’s jaw. “Tomorrow? Come to my place?”

“Okay.”

He drew Gordon into a kiss he hoped would change his boyfriend’s mind, but after a few moments, Gordon stepped back out of arm’s reach.

They left the studio, Gordon in the lead. He lingered about ten minutes to tell Noble and Howie what he’d done, and then he left.

Noble looked to Lance, showing the shell shock that Lance felt. “What the fuck?”

Lance shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“I didn’t know he was so unhappy,” Howie mused, watching the door.

“He and Shelby have different ideas,” Lance said.

“Guess so. Who’s going to plan things now?”

Lance tamped down his irritation, aware he was antsy. “Shelby’ll take care of it.”

“Yeah.” Noble’s tone was dry. “It’ll be just like before.”

“Aren’t you guys dating?” Howie asked. He knew a little about their relationship but was too new and, frankly, too spacey to have caught many details.

“Yes. It’s not like he’s leaving town or anything.”

“Right.” Noble was watching him.

“What? Everything’s fine. Gordon just needs to move on.” He hoped by putting more conviction in his tone, he’d start to feel it. “It’s not like Shelby had him doing much.”

“Right.”

“Shut up.” Lance put his back to them and headed for the stairs. “I’m going to bed.”

He knew Noble would follow him, so he wasn’t surprised to hear the voice behind him once he passed into the suite. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. Why shouldn’t I be?”

“Did he say why he was leaving?”

“He’s not leaving.” Lance was jumpy and didn’t like it, but he couldn’t stop himself. And he couldn’t meet Noble’s eyes. “And he told you.”

“He say anything about the two of you?”

“He said he’s not leaving me.”

“He said that.”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Then I guess it’s not really a big deal, then.”

“No. It’s not.”

“Cool.” But Noble didn’t sound convinced.

* * * *

Over the next two months, Lance could feel Gordon drawing away even more than before. Their time together was less and less. Shelby didn’t give Lance any leisure to spend at Fletcher’s, and Gordon refused to come back to the estate. Once Gordon moved into an apartment in the Village, it got much worse. While Shelby ran Lance into the ground with writing and rewriting new material, Gordon was going to parties and meeting new people. On their increasingly infrequent phone calls, he filled Lance’s head with names Lance couldn’t remember and made more excuses to be somewhere else. Lance got to see his new apartment once, but only briefly, as they were on their way out to a club. That night they went their separate ways because Gordon was leaving town for a few days, early the next morning.

“I miss you,” Lance murmured, lips brushing Gordon’s as they stood just inside the alley beside the club.

“I miss you too.” Gordon watched his hand as he brushed strands of hair from Lance’s face.

“Come stay with me.”

“I’m not going there ever again.” Gordon raised an eyebrow. “Tell Shelby you need a day off.”

“I…” Lance closed his eyes and shook his head. “He’s really on a roll.”

“Mmm.”

He opened his eyes but couldn’t gauge Gordon’s expression, since the other man had moved in for another kiss.

Tongues twined. Gordon moaned a little. Then he drew back, stepping away. “I guess we’ll have to figure something out when I get back.”

Except that Gordon’s trip got extended from a few days to a week, and he neglected to call Lance every night. Wasn’t that what a boyfriend was supposed to do? Didn’t he want to talk to Lance? Lance needed to see to him, touch him, but the time was never right. Worse, it started to take a few messages from Lance to get Gordon to even call back. Then when he did, he made lame excuses about being busy while rushing to get off the phone. It was maddening. The less Lance saw of Gordon, the more Shelby kept them isolated, the more pissed Lance got.

It wasn’t a good excuse for what he did that night in early February, but it was his only excuse.

He’d slept with Shaun before. He remembered the big smile, soft brown hair, and tight ass. Noble was distracted that night with his own pursuits, and Shaun had approached Lance. Shaun was cute; he was attentive; he was there—a few things Gordon was not. Lance liked to remember that he was drunk, to use that as another excuse, but he really hadn’t had that much to drink. If he had, he wouldn’t have remembered the sinking feeling he’d ignored while fucking Shaun or the waves of guilt that had buried him afterward.

He wasn’t drunk enough to be hungover when Gordon found them just a few hours after they’d come upstairs from Fletcher’s.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” His deep voice had cut through the hazy sleep that had taken Lance.

Shaun shot up, confused. Lance didn’t, but he opened his eyes to watch Gordon’s silhouette in the bedroom door. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“Tina called me,” Gordon continued, voice far too even for the situation. “Said she couldn’t believe it. Said I should get down here. Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Uh.” Shaun scrambled next to Lance. “I think I should…go.”

“Yeah.” Gordon kept his attention on Lance.

Who slowly drew himself up to sit. They both waited for Shaun to quickly gather his clothes and retreat to the next room.

“So?”

Lance dragged his hand through his hair. “So?”

“Care to explain this?”

“What? Should I apologize for dragging you away from your party?”

“Is that it? You’re so pissed I’m at a party without you that you fuck someone else? Has this happened before?”

“No.”

“Why now?”

“You haven’t been around. I have needs.” It sounded awful when it left his mouth, but he felt pretty awful.

Gordon was apparently dumbfounded. He simply stared, lips parted, for a good two minutes. “You. Have. Needs.”

“What do you care?”

“Seriously?”

“I haven’t seen you for a week. You never call me anymore.”

Gordon’s mouth clicked shut, and his eyes narrowed. “So you pick up some boy toy instead of talking to me?”

“When am I supposed to talk to you? You’re never around.”

“You ever think of coming to me?”

“You know I can’t get away.”

“Oh, right. Because Shelby’s way more important than me.”

“It’s my job.”

“And Shelby’s opus is so time sensitive.”

Lance felt awful. For what he’d done, for how he’d felt to make him do it. For what it did to Gordon. But he couldn’t bring himself to apologize. The lonely hurt was too in-his-face. “Fuck you.”

“No.” Gordon held up one hand, index finger up to make his point. “Never. Again.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Present, July, near end of club tour

Now this, Lance could get to enjoy. He wasn’t a fun-in-the-sun type of guy, but this fancy, upscale lounge with its balcony overlooking the Atlantic was pretty nice. Besides, there was plenty of shade, both inside as well as under huge, colorful umbrellas that protected small tables of fake bamboo. Or, hell, maybe it was real bamboo. What’d he know? There were attendants to bring him free drinks, and music playing. There were quite a few people around, but most of them were inside, working.

The Indigo Knights were spending the day with Heaven Sent for a combined photo shoot Gretchen and Gordon had arranged. Lance considered himself lucky that he hadn’t had to deal with makeup yet. He was to take photos with Luc Sloane, who’d yet to arrive. Last he’d seen, Darien and Noble were driving the photographer and her staff crazy because they couldn’t stop giggling during their shoot.

When someone sat down next to him, Lance discovered that the giggling must have stopped, because it was Darien. He still wore makeup that made his brown eyes even bigger than they normally looked. His straight gold hair shone as the breeze lifted it to swipe some of it across his face. “Hi.” Darien grinned, wiping at the hair.

“Hey.”

Darien accepted an attendant’s offer of a mai tai to match Lance’s, then scooted his chair closer to Lance. “Dude, I know it’s rude and all, but fuck it—I gotta ask.”

Lance’s eyebrows went up in mild concern. The guy had, after all, just come from spending time with Noble.

“Have you really been celibate for the last year?”

He had to laugh. Darien’s horror was palpable. “Pretty much.”

“What’s ‘pretty much’?”

Lance cocked his head and considered the underside of the rainbow umbrella shading them from the harsh summer sun. “I think it’s been twice in the last year.”

Darien’s mouth dropped open.

Because he was amused, Lance raised his right hand. “Just been me and this otherwise.”

“Why?”

Lance shrugged, still smiling as he sipped his drink. “There’s only one guy I want.”

“So go the fuck and get him.”

“He doesn’t want me.”

Shock turned instantly to sympathy. Darien glanced toward the sliding doors that led inside. “Okay, not my business, but is it…?”

“It’s not Noble. Everyone always thinks that, but it’s not.”

“Nah, you’re right. That doesn’t make sense.” Darien grinned. “Noble’d do you in a heartbeat.”

They chuckled as the attendant set down Darien’s drink.

Darien took a sip, then considered Lance again. “So who is it?” When Lance hesitated, he grinned again. “I know it’s not my business. You can say, ‘Fuck off,’ and I will.”

About to say a less direct version of “fuck off,” Lance stopped himself. Maybe it was the mellow atmosphere; maybe it was those understanding brown eyes; maybe it was the three mai tais he’d already had. Fuck it. “It’s Gordon.”

Darien’s eyebrows flew up, and he whistled. “Okay, yeah.” Then he frowned. “But, wait, aren’t you guys friends?”

“We were a lot more than friends once.”

“What happened?”

“I fucked it up.”

“How?”

“Long story.”

Darien drew his chair closer to the table so he could prop his elbow on it and rest his temple on his palm. “Luc won’t be here for another two hours. We got time.”

Lance glanced inside.

“I’m a terrific listener.”

He laughed. “It’s a boring story.”

“So bore me. C’mon, maybe I can help.”

“Help what?”

“Get you two back together.”

Lance plucked the pineapple from the rim of his glass and brought it to his lips. “Oh no, I don’t think that’s gonna happen.”

“Dude, you’ve been celibate for a year for him. He knows that?”

“Yes.”

“He’s got to be impressed. I would be.”

Lance sucked on the sweet fruit. “He was one of the two.”

“Wait.” Darien leaned closer and lowered his voice. “You guys’ve fucked?”

“’Bout a month ago.”

“So…” Darien shook his head with a frown. “…what?”

“I don’t know. I don’t get it either.”

“Was it bad?”

“No way. It was awesome. For him too.”

“You’re sure?”

Lance sat back in his seat, cradling his mostly empty glass on his lap, letting the condensation cool his fingers. “Yeah, pretty sure.”

“And he just bailed on you?”

“Yep.”

“Whose idea was it?”

Lance had only discussed this before with Noble, who was too close to everything that happened. Talking to Darien, for whom all of this was new, brought up a new set of feelings in Lance. Chief among them felt like resentment. “His.”

“Wait. It was his idea to fuck, and then he bailed on you?”

“Yep.”

“That’s fucked-up.” Darien’s heated tone matched the catch in Lance’s chest. “He say why?”

“He admitted he liked fucking me.” Lance tried to keep his voice even and calm. “But he said he couldn’t trust me.”

“’Cause of what happened before? When you were together?”

“Yeah.”

“Geez, what happened?”

“I cheated on him.”

“Oh.” Darien considered that over a sip of his drink. “Okay, yeah. I can see that. Was it an ongoing thing?”

“What?”

“The cheating.”

“Once.”

“Once?”

“Yeah.”

“You cheated on him once?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’ve been basically celibate ever since?”

“Yeah.”

“How long ago did you break up?”

“Two and a half years ago.” Give or take.

“Why’d you stop having sex?”

Lance shrugged, looking out over the ocean. He set his empty glass on the table and nodded at the attendant who appeared to ask if he wanted another. “I thought about him every time. Every time. Even with the women.” He shook his head. “It was fucking weird.”

Darien laughed. “Not so weird. I don’t think I could do anyone else without thinking about Chris.” He laughed again. “Actually, I don’t even want anyone other than Chris.”

Lance nodded. “Yeah, that’s it. I don’t want anyone else.”

“You tell Gordon that?”

“Yes.”

“You tell him you love him?”

“I have.”

“Lately?”

“He hasn’t given me a chance.”

“Maybe you need to tell him.”

“He doesn’t want to hear it.”

“Fuck him. It’s true. And he’s got to feel something for you. He called you to come join the Knights.”

“Yeah, that just kind of worked out ’cause they needed a bass player and a drummer.”

“Bullshit. He could have found other guys. There are plenty of guys just dying to work with Brent. Believe me; I know.”

Lance conceded the point as the attendant put down his fourth mai tai. He didn’t normally drink rum, but man, these were good.

“Plus he slept with you.”

“We were always good at that.”

“Yeah, but Gordon doesn’t strike me as the cruel type. If he knew you were cold turkey because of him, that’s just fucking mean to fuck you, then leave you hanging.”

Lance stared at Darien. Yes, Noble had said much the same thing, and Lance had been simmering over it for a month, but to hear Darien say it aloud gave the words new meaning. Okay, maybe the profundity was helped by the mai tais.

Darien chewed on his straw, thinking. “If I didn’t know better, I’d call him a controlling bastard.”

“He is a controlling bastard.” The words were blurted, but that didn’t mean they weren’t true.

“Is he?”

“He likes to be in control.”

A dark little smile. “In bed too?”

Lance laughed. “Some of that too. But mostly out of bed.”

“Hmm. See, there’s nothing wrong with a controlling bastard. I’ve got one of those, and I love it. Love him.” The tone and glow to Darien’s face underlined his feelings. “But Chris and me’ve got an understanding. We talked about what he can control and what he’s got no business in.” He shrugged. “There’s not much, because I know he’s smarter’n me, so I like to get his take on things. But there’s gotta be some talk about it, y’know?” He cocked his head and searched Lance’s eyes as if to see whether his point came across.

Lance nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah. We never really talked about shit like that.”

“See, ya gotta do that. ’Cause that’s where the misunderstandings come in, and that’s never any good. Chris and I almost never got together, because he wouldn’t talk to me. He didn’t trust me.” Judging from the frown that darkened his features, it hadn’t been a pleasant time. Lance could relate. “But I made him listen. I had to.” Brown eyes locked on his. “Because I had to be with him. You feel me?”

“Yeah. I hear you.”

“You fucked up. Sure. But I think you proved yourself since.” Darien reached over to pat Lance’s shoulder. “You paid your dues. You gotta make him see that.”

“Lance?”

Startled, he turned to see the photographer’s main assistant a few feet away. She smiled. “Luc just got here, so we’re ready to take you to makeup now.”

“He’s here?” Darien laughed as he sat back in his seat. “Well, shit, he’s early. Will wonders never cease.” He raised his glass to Lance in salute. “Have fun, man. And don’t forget what I said.”

Lance stood, ready to leave his drink behind. His brain percolated over Darien’s words. “I won’t.”

“If you need to talk again, just let me know. I love to talk.” Anxiously, he grabbed Lance’s arm. “But I won’t say anything about this to anyone. Promise.”

Lance smiled. Darien acted juvenile much of the time, but Lance never did doubt that he was a smart man. He’d known Noble too long to let someone’s demeanor fool him. “Thanks.”

“No worries.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Present, August

When Noble came home, he turned on the light to find Lance sitting in the dark. “Jesus!” He crossed from their apartment’s front door to stand beside the couch where Lance sat. “What are you doing sitting here in the dark?”

Lance kept staring out the window, like he’d been staring out the window for a while now. “Thinking.”

“Where’s Danny?”

“He got a text from Cash.”

Noble sat on the coffee table beside Lance’s feet. “Oh?”

“Yeah.”

“What’d it say?”

“Dinner invite to his new apartment.”

“Wow. That sounds promising.”

“Yeah.”

“So why are you sitting here in the dark?”

Lance shook his head, looking down at the long-flat beer he cradled in his lap. “I’m jealous.”

Noble sighed. “Gordon’s not gonna text you.”

“I know.”

“He’s back in town, though.”

“He is?”

“I talked to Doug. He got back last night.”

“He wasn’t due back for another week.”

Noble just stared at him. “I know.”

Lance stared back. He’d been doing a lot of thinking during the last part of the tour. Hell, he’d been doing a lot of thinking for the past year or so. “I’m done thinking.”

“Huh?”

He shook his head and stood. “I’m done thinking.” He took his beer to the kitchen, not surprised when Noble followed. “I’m going to see him.”

“You sure about this?”

“No. But I gotta do something. I can’t do another tour like the last one.” Lance took a deep breath, settling his decision. “We gotta talk it out.”

Noble was leaning on the other side of the counter, looking at him. “You guys aren’t real good at talking.”

“I know.” He strode past his friend to scoop up his keys from the table beside the door. “That’s gotta stop.”

* * * *

Lance took it as an excellent sign that he found a parking space halfway down the street from Gordon’s townhouse. Bolstered by that good fortune and the litany he’d been repeating to himself on the way over, he pocketed his keys and climbed the cement steps to Gordon’s front door.

He considered it an even better sign that Gordon was there to answer the door. Looking good. He wore a faded blue-and-white soccer T-shirt that Lance recognized from way back, jeans, and no shoes. His glossy black hair was mussed and not styled, just the way Lance most preferred it. He frowned when he saw Lance. “What are you doing here?”

Without waiting for an invitation, Lance crossed the threshold. “It’s time for us to talk.” He took advantage of Gordon’s surprise and slipped past him into the foyer. The small space was crowded with boxes and pieces of furniture. Judging from the odd arrangement of furniture in the living room and the conspicuous presence of cleaning supplies, Lance guessed that Gordon was cleaning house.

“Who decided that?” Gordon asked from behind him.

Lance turned around and stepped backward into the cleared space, oddly buoyed by all the room around him. Only a large brown suede couch sat in the midst with him. “Me.”

Releasing the door to let it close, Gordon crossed his arms over his chest. “Do I have a say?”

Lance stopped at one end of the couch. “About us talking?” From this angle he could see a glass of wine on the sidebar just inside the open door to the dining area. Another staple of Gordon’s cleaning habits. “No. You don’t.”

Scowling, Gordon stood in the arch that separated the foyer from the living room, arms still crossed. “So? Talk.”

Lance pushed his loose hair back. “I’m done waiting for you.”

Gordon snorted. “No one asked you to wait.”

“No. But I have. And I’m done.”

“Good.” Gordon’s gaze fell, and only because he was looking did Lance see his fingers tighten on his arms. “Are you leaving now?”

“Oh hell no.” Deliberately, Lance dropped onto the couch and spread his arms over the back. “I’m here to stay.”

Gordon’s head came up, eyes big. “What?”

Good. That had caught him off guard. Lance had done some thinking on the way over, and he’d decided that if Gordon wanted him out of his life, he’d have to push Lance harder. “You and I belong together.”

Gordon took two steps toward him, arms and jaw dropping. “Who the fuck are you to decide that?”

“I’m the only one who’ll put up with all your bullshit.”

“How do you know that?”

“How many boyfriends you chase off lately?”

Thinly pressed lips and narrowed eyes. “I haven’t had a boyfriend for months.”

“Right. Because I’m the guy you’re in love with.”

“The fuck I am.”

“You dating anyone else?”

“Just because I’m not dating—”

“You fucked anyone since me?”

Gordon froze. Lance’s heart soared. He hadn’t known for sure that Gordon hadn’t been with anyone since their night together, but he’d figured it was worth a shot. Luck was with him, as he seemed to have hit pay dirt.

“Sex doesn’t make a relationship,” Gordon growled, reeling back to regain composure.

“No. But it makes it a hell of a lot sweeter.”

“Fuck you. Get out of my house.”

“Make me.”

Gordon stood two feet away, hands fisted at his sides. He was stronger than Lance, and both of them knew he could force the issue. It was clear to Lance that the problem was touching. Gordon didn’t want to touch him. Or maybe he wanted to touch too much. So Lance stood. Gordon fell back a step. Lance took a step, which forced Gordon back farther.

Standing his ground, Lance met Gordon’s eyes, reading the conflict in those gorgeous depths. “You know we need to hash this out once and for all.”

Gordon’s jaw locked. “We already have. We’re done.”

“Sure. Until you decide we need to fuck again.”

Shaking his head, Gordon turned to circle around to the back of the couch. “That’s not going to happen again.”

Lance followed a few steps behind. “Why? Because you’re afraid I’m gonna fuck around on you or some fucked-up thing?”

“Some fucked-up—”

“All your reasons for us not being together are shit. None of them hold water.”

“You son of a—”

“Talk to me!” In a rush, Lance caught up to him and grabbed hold of his arm to turn him around. Gordon jumped like he’d been struck by lightning, and met his gaze. “Say what you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinking you fucked someone else.”

“I did. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry’s not enough.”

“Then what is?” Gordon tried to shake Lance’s hold, but Lance dug his fingers into firm biceps. “Tell me. What do I have to do to prove to you that I’m sorry and I won’t do it again?”

“There’s nothing you can do.”

Lance let go with a hard shove that backed Gordon up against the wall. The strength of the move surprised both of them. “You know what I think? I don’t think you’re pissed that I slept with someone else.”

Gordon rubbed at his arm as he glared. “No?”

“No. You’re pissed I didn’t do what you said. That I didn’t come running after you when you left.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Do you even remember what was happening then?”

“Of course I remember.”

“You wanted me to leave Shelby.”

“I always wanted you to leave Shelby.”

“Yeah, but you thought after my mom died that that was it. That you’d finally get me away.”

“What are you going on about?”

“You left. You quit Shelby, and you moved across town. You weren’t taking my calls. You had millions of reasons not to see me. Do you remember that?”

“I was putting together a new life.”

“Without me.”

“You were more than welcome in my life.”

“As long as I came running. Begging for it.”

“I never asked you to beg.”

“Nah, but you wanted the running. Didn’t you?”

Gordon glared for a few seconds, then turned away, headed for the kitchen. “Get out of my house.”

“Why?” Lance followed on his heels. “Why push me away now? Here I am. I came running.”

His back to Lance, Gordon shook his head as he lifted his glass of wine. Lance was close enough to see his hand shake.

“You want me on my knees? You want me to beg?” Lance dropped to the tiles with a grunt.

Visibly shocked, Gordon rounded on him. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m begging.” He even folded his hands together. “Please. Take me back.”

“Get up.”

“No.”

“This is insane.”

“Fine.”

“It’s not what I want.”

“What do you want?”

Gordon opened his mouth, but no words came out. Lance feared the delicate wineglass might shatter from the force of Gordon’s fingers holding it.

“I’m here. I won’t leave. I’ll never look at anyone else besides you.”

Gordon’s jaw worked side to side.

“I haven’t wanted anyone else in the last two years. I tried. I tried to go back to my life before you.” Lance shook his head, keeping eye contact. “It was horrible.”

Gordon shut his eyes like he was trying not to listen.

“I fucked someone a few months ago.”

His eyes flew open at that.

Lance kept talking. “It was fast and furious in a bathroom at a club. You’d just broken up with Leon. I was pissed. I fucked some guy and never learned his name. It. Was. Awful.”

The admission let Gordon turn away from him. It had been a gamble, but he wanted to be upfront.

“I get more satisfaction jerking off when I’m thinking about you.”

Gordon stared at the wall.

“I don’t want anyone else.”

In profile, he saw Gordon’s lips press together. He shook his head slightly as though negating a thought.

“You said you don’t trust me. But that goes both ways. I may have slept with someone else, but you effectively left me before it happened. How do I trust that you won’t do it again?”

It was small, but Gordon flinched.

Lance took the opportunity to stand. “The way I see it, we keep working our way back to each other. You didn’t want us to get together in the first place, but we did. I didn’t want us to get exclusive, but we did. We had a horrible breakup, but you cared enough to call me when you found a place for me.”

Still staring at the wall, Gordon opened his mouth as though to answer. Then closed it with a click.

“It’s too much work to stay apart,” Lance continued, softening his tone. “I love you, and I really do believe that you love me too. Let’s have an actual relationship. Let’s talk about this.”

They stood less than an arm’s length apart, but Lance didn’t feel right closing the distance. Not yet.

Gordon took a deep breath, eyes still fixed on the damn wall. “I don’t always need to call the shots.” There was an odd strangle in his voice. “I just… Sometimes I can see so clearly…” His jaw worked again. Then suddenly he was looking at Lance, eyes shining with unshed tears. “I couldn’t find a way to get you to listen.”

Lance nodded. “Wasn’t you. I wasn’t going to listen. Not then. But my ears are wide open now.”

Gordon licked his bottom lip. Bit it. “I thought if I kept my distance, if we kept it just business… But you… God, I never expected that you’d…”

It hurt to stay where he was when he wanted to take Gordon into his arms, but Lance wanted to let Gordon get the words out. It felt important.

“You should have just moved on.” The sentence came out in a rush. Impatiently, Gordon reached up to dash moisture from his eyes. “If you’d just moved on, we would have been fine.”

“We wouldn’t have been fi—”

“We would have been fine. We could be friends. But every time you push closer…” His words broke off, his head tilting down.

Closer. Yeah, he had to be closer. Lance moved in but didn’t touch, didn’t reach. He bent his neck just enough to get a better look at Gordon’s face. “I have to get closer to you. I did then. I do now. I love you.”

Gordon pulled his upper lip between his teeth. A tear dribbled from the eye Lance could see. “We’ll just hurt each other again.”

“Not if we talk.” Now he slid his hands up Gordon’s arms. “Not if we finally listen.”

Gordon leaned in to rest his forehead on Lance’s shoulder. “Fuck.”

“Yeah.” He flattened his hands on Gordon’s back to slowly inch him nearer. “We can do that.”

Laughing, Gordon let himself be gathered close. “I thought you wanted to talk.”

“Well, we definitely need to do that, but we’ve got time.” Lance kissed the side of Gordon’s neck. “Just say you love me, and we’ve got all the time in the world.”

Gordon’s hands were light on Lance’s hips. He was being hugged but didn’t hug back. Lance could hear him breathing, could almost hear him thinking. “What if I push too hard again?”

“I’ll tell you you’re pushing too hard.”

“What if I know that I’m right?”

Lance had to laugh at that. “Then you need to tell me why.”

“I told you before. I gave you dozens of reasons.”

“And I didn’t really hear them. I was where I needed to be.”

Gordon’s hands came up between them and flattened on Lance’s chest to push him away. Not far, just enough so they were comfortably face-to-face. “So what happens when where you need to be isn’t where I need to be?”

“Where I need to be is with you.”

“What if the Knights break up? What if we all go our separate ways?”

“Then I’ll miss the other guys.”

A black brow arched over one of Gordon’s still-watery eyes. “Even Noble?”

Lance gave that the beat of thought it deserved. Then shrugged. “I’ll miss him. But he’d understand.”

“He would?”

“Noble’s a romantic. He’d accept that love won out.”

Gordon shut his eyes and shook his head. “This is absurd. I’d never ask you to leave Noble.”

“Which makes you even more perfect for me.” Sensing that Gordon was trying to draw away, Lance caught the hands on his chest. “Look. We can make up breakup scenarios all day, but it doesn’t change the fact that I love you, and I need you to say you love me too.”

Fingers dug into his sternum. “I love you. I just—”

Lance cut him off with a hungry kiss, clapping his palms to either side of Gordon’s face to hold him there. Gordon kissed him back, hands slipping up to curve around Lance’s neck. After a moment of pure indulgence, he used those hands to nudge Lance out of the kiss.

“Lance…”

“No. Kissing now.”

Gordon chuckled through another lip-lock. “Lance, you said you’d listen.”

Groaning, Lance stopped trying to occupy Gordon’s lips with his, but he didn’t step back. “Okay. I’m listening.”

Hazel eyes had never looked so open, so serious. “Promise me that if you start to feel us falling apart, you’ll tell me?”

“Promise.” Lance nodded. “But that needs to go both ways.”

A thumb stroked his jaw. “Promise.” Gordon tried a little smile. “It won’t be easy. I’ve still got to travel, and your life is about to get ridiculous.”

“I just spent the last few months on a club tour with groupies offering themselves to me, and I didn’t want any of ’em, because I was hung up on someone who insisted he didn’t want me.” Lance leaned forward to touch his forehead to Gordon’s. “That was hard. If I know you’re with me, nothing can be that hard.”

Gordon twisted a little so he could kiss Lance’s cheek. “I did miss you.”

“How much?”

A kiss at the corner of his mouth. “So much.”

“You’ve been miserable without me.”

Gordon snorted.

“And I’ve been miserable without you.” Lance turned his head just enough to brush their lips together. “At least now we’ll be having sex regularly.”

Finally, Gordon laughed, a deep, sweet sound that melted the ice cutting Lance’s heart. “I thought you’d gotten used to being celibate.”

Lance stroked the backs of his fingers over the stubble on Gordon’s jaw. “I’m used to it, but that doesn’t mean I like it.”

Gordon drew back to look at him. Lance was encouraged to see the careful hope in those changeable eyes. “This is probably a bad idea.”

“No.” He brought his other hand up to cup Gordon’s chin. “This can’t be a bad idea. We’re the best idea there is. I swear.”

Resistance drained as Gordon’s hands slid over Lance’s shoulders to his back. “You should have just moved on.”

Lance leaned in to touch his lips to Gordon’s again. He kept the kiss light, rewarded when Gordon mirrored his feathery touch. Gordon’s arms pulled him closer, and Lance groaned. “Can’t move on from you,” he whispered, brushing his lips over Gordon’s cheek. “Too stubborn. Remember?”

“Yeah.” Gordon turned his head, reclaiming their kiss. “Stubborn.”

They stood there for who knew how long, holding and kissing. It just felt so good to have Gordon with him, in his embrace.

Eventually, it was Gordon who drew away from the kissing so their eyes could meet. “Are we going to fuck or what?”

Lance grinned. “I’m game if you are.”

Matching his grin, Gordon stepped back, but he slid his hand down Lance’s arm so their fingers could entwine. “If we’re going to try this, we’re going to do a lot of fucking.”

Lance let Gordon pull him toward the narrow staircase in the foyer. It was the first time he’d been to Gordon’s place, but it was a pretty good guess that the bedroom was upstairs. “Schedule permitting, you mean.”

Gordon glanced over his shoulder. “Right. But since I make the schedule, we’re in good shape.”

They had to let go of each other’s hands to get up the staircase. Lance reached up to pat Gordon’s ass as it led the way up the stairs. “Yeah. You are.”

Chuckling, Gordon pulled off his T-shirt when he reached the landing. Lance’s breath caught at the sight of all that golden-brown skin stretched over taut muscle.

“Why aren’t you a model?” Lance asked, not for the first time.

The old joke made Gordon laugh as he walked into a fully furnished bedroom. “What?” Gordon started to unfasten his jeans. “Do you only want me for my looks?”

“Well, yeah.” Lance had his shirt off and sat in a familiar chair to tug off his boots. “I thought that was obvious.”

The easy, familiar banter had him rock hard. He fumbled over his boots and socks, mainly because he refused to take his eyes off the gorgeous skin Gordon was revealing.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Gordon said, his voice far calmer than his erection might suggest. He disappeared through a door that led to the bathroom and was back by the time Lance had stood to remove his jeans. He tossed condoms and lube onto the neatly made bed, then came to stand in front of Lance. With quick fingers, he helped Lance to push jeans and briefs to the floor, then wrapped warm, strong fingers around Lance’s shaft.

“Oh yeah.” As he leaned in for a kiss, Lance did some wrapping of his own, squeezing Gordon’s dick just the way he knew Gordon liked it.

It was great, but it didn’t last long. Through confused stumbling, they made it to the bed, collapsing into each other’s arms to simply embrace and kiss and rut against each other.

“Ah!” Gordon groaned, tipping his head back, the better to arch up under Lance. “Fucking fuck me. Now.”

“My command,” Lance grunted, disentangling himself from Gordon’s arms to push up onto his knees.

“Wait.” Gordon sat up and grabbed his wrist just after he picked up a condom.

Lance looked at him, struck by the open emotion he saw on that face he loved. Gordon did love him. “What?”

Gordon plucked the packet from his fingers and looked at it. Then looked back up at Lance. “I’m clean.”

Lance’s heart stuttered. “I’m pretty damn sure I’m clean.”

They laughed. Gordon considered the packet again. “I…think we can do without?” His eyes met Lance’s again.

Lance knew what that meant. Even when they’d been dating, it’d taken months before they hadn’t used a condom. He licked his lips. “It’s up to you.”

Smiling, Gordon tossed it away. “All I want is you.”

He pulled Lance into a kiss, which made it difficult for Lance to find the bottle of lube. Gordon held on while Lance fumbled the lube open and managed to slather his dick. Then Gordon lay back and spread his legs, giving Lance room to stroke wet fingers under his balls to find his tight, clenching hole. Lance slid a finger inside, then two, thrusting slowly and scissoring them apart, more to make Gordon squirm than to stretch him. After all this time, Lance knew he’d fit. When Gordon reached down to dig strong fingers into the side of Lance’s ass, he took the hint and shifted his hips in between Gordon’s thighs. After a little maneuvering, he was stroking the head of his cock against Gordon’s anus. This was the only man he’d ever gone bareback with. The only person, in fact, male or female. But then, this was the only person he intended to have sex with ever again.

Drawing away from the kiss, he met Gordon’s eyes as he started to push into Gordon’s body. Hazel irises were shadowed by heavy black lashes, but Gordon met his gaze and pushed back. They breathed each other’s breaths as Lance steadily worked his cock deep into Gordon’s clutching channel. When he could go no farther, he stopped to savor the moment of being as close to Gordon as he could possibly be.

“No one else but you,” he whispered, willing Gordon to hear and believe him this time. “I love you.”

Gordon’s palms pressed his jaw, fingers cradling the back of his skull. Moisture leaked from the corners of his eyes, but he didn’t break their shared gaze. “God. I love you too. So much.”

Slowly, Lance pulled his hips back, taking his time, watching Gordon watch him. This was important. He couldn’t have said how he managed to take it slow. The squeezing heat of Gordon’s body around his sorely neglected cock should have had him shooting off in seconds. But as he kept watching Gordon, he managed to hold back, managed to extend their pleasure as he dragged his cock almost out, then pushed back in.

“Lance…” Gordon tipped his chin to connect their lips, but it wasn’t really a kiss, more of a magnetic attraction of skin to skin.

As they rocked together, Gordon lifted one leg to wrap around Lance’s hip, trying to pull him closer even though there was nowhere else to go. Lance picked up the pace, sliding easily now, losing some of the spell that kept his climax in check. He bit at Gordon’s jaw, then found the pulse at his neck to suck on. Gordon’s fingers dug into his scalp, and that gorgeously deep voice muttered encouraging obscenities in his ear. Oh, how he’d missed this.

“Gordon,” he groaned, signaling the electricity that was about to burst from him.

“Yeah.” Gordon freed one hand to worm it between them, going for his own cock.

“No.” Without complete thought, Lance grabbed that hand, then grabbed the other. Roughly, he pinned them to the mattress, bracing above Gordon as he pumped into a shattering orgasm.

Gordon moaned underneath him, writhing as he watched. Lance jerked through the throes of his climax, took one deep, cleansing breath, then slithered down Gordon’s body and gulped Gordon’s cock.

“Ah fuck!”

Lance gagged around the length of flesh that shoved against the back of his throat, but fought to hold on, wrapping his fist around the base of Gordon’s cock so he could suck properly. He knew it couldn’t possibly take long. Gordon was full and hard, pleading at the ceiling as his hips pumped against Lance’s face. Fingers tugged at Lance’s hair. He let Gordon pull him off, held Gordon’s cock and aimed it so he could see his cum splatter Lance’s face. Lance’s open mouth caught plenty of warm seed, and he met Gordon’s heated gaze as he licked it up and swallowed what he could.

“Fuck.” Gordon launched at him, and they rolled to eventually end up lying side by side diagonally on the bed with their heads toward the foot. Gordon licked at the cum Lance had missed, then shared the taste with him in a deep, sucking kiss.

“Damn.” Finally, Gordon ran out of steam and collapsed, half lying on Lance. He curled close to bury his face in the bend of Lance’s neck. “So. What now?”

Lance smoothed his hand up the skin of Gordon’s thigh toward the curve of his ass. “What now what?”

Gordon slowly drew himself up. He rested a balled fist on one of Lance’s pecs and used it as a prop for his chin. “Us. What now?”

“If you give me a few minutes, I think I can get it up again.”

It was meant as a joke, but Gordon only gave it a passing smile. “After that?”

“You’re the one with all the plans. I’m the follower, remember?”

Gordon snorted. He considered Lance for a long, quiet moment. “Are you going home?”

Now Lance thought he knew what this might be about. “If you want me to.”

“If I don’t?”

“Then I stay.”

“For how long?”

“Forever.” The answer was out before he thought about it.

“You’re moving in?” No censure, just seemingly mild curiosity.

“Sure.”

“Just like that?”

He dug his fingers in for a good squeeze of Gordon’s ass. “I want to be with you. I want to sleep with you, with or without sex. I want to have breakfast with you in the morning.”

“And when we’re on tour?”

“I want us to be together as much as we can.”

“And if we can’t?”

“I’ll miss you until we’re back together.” He spoke over Gordon’s next question. “I love you. However I can get you.”

Gordon nodded. “We need to do some thinking.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

Then Gordon smiled. “I meant logistics. I’m not sure this place is right for both of us. I bought it small on purpose.” Still smiling, he snuggled closer. “Maybe we should switch places with Noble.”

Happily, Lance gathered his lover close so they could rest forehead to forehead. “So you’re in this with me?”

Gentle fingers stroked his jaw as hazel eyes devoured his. “Yeah. We’re in this together.”

“Hey?”

“What?”

“Say the words for me?”

Smiling, Gordon brushed his lips over Lance’s before he drew back to say, “I love you. God help me, I really do.”

~ * ~

Chapter One

“So that’s Donny Foxy, huh?”

Hollywood had moved to New York for the cast party surrounding Noble. The movie was due to come out in a few months, some sci-fi, pseudo-fantasy flick about wizards or some such. Criminea was a “new adult” Harry Potter, he was told—whatever that meant—also based on a series of books written by some woman he’d only recently begun to hear of. He hadn’t seen it yet, since this was a last-minute invite and he’d missed the screening. Sounded like it was a good movie if you liked the fantasy-action type.

The real draw, as Noble heard it, wasn’t the well-known actors playing key roles, but the gorgeous young stars, all relative newcomers. One of those stars—Donald Foxley—had come to be known as Donny Foxy in the press. There’d been enough hype that Noble had heard his name, if not much about him. If his acting was half as good as his looks, he’d be an instant hit. Early twenties, tall, gave off the impression of being shy, which Noble found fascinating since he was surrounded by a crowd of adoration. Soft brown curls were left to toss artfully around the face of an angel with heavy-lidded dark eyes and a mouth with a smooth, thick bottom lip just made for sucking.

“That’s him.” Reine Withers stood beside Noble at the railing overlooking the main floor of the club. As part of the supporting cast, Reine had invited Noble to the party with the clear intention to impress him and get in his pants. Reine was cute, with sandy hair and big green eyes; plus, he was cheerful, so Noble thought his chances were pretty damn good, party or not. About five-four, with barely any muscle tone to speak of, Reine would forever be cast as a nerd or a geek, especially with his freckles. But there was a shrewd mind in there that Noble had come to like in the very short time they’d known each other. Reine knew who he was and made the most he could of it.

“Is he as quiet as he looks?” Noble raised a glass of wine to his lips. He wasn’t a fan of wine, but that was all they had at this party, as that was a focus of the club. Luckily it was more than decent wine. He’d even given some thought to buying a case. Gordon would love it.

“Strange enough, yeah, he is.” Reine’s arm, bare under the short sleeves of a shiny green button-down, brushed Noble’s. “This is the most social I’ve seen him off set.”

“Excuse me.” A pretty little woman in a tight, hot-pink dress tapped Noble’s shoulder to get him to turn around. When she had him facing her, she grinned big and even batted her eyes. “Aren’t you Noble Welbourn?”

He smiled at her, including the taller blonde girl behind her. “I am.” He was dressed the part of the rock star he now was, and she wasn’t the only person who’d recognized him. He hadn’t spiked the mohawk tonight, instead letting the wide swath of purple-dyed hair drape over the shaved left side of his head, tickling his ear. He wore two silver rings in his earlobes to match the rings in his left nostril and right eyebrow. A sleeveless purple dress shirt was unbuttoned enough to show a hint of the horny-toad tattoo across one pec. Snug black microsuede pants and slick new pointy-toed boots completed the outfit.

The little one squealed. “I knew it. This is gauche, I know, but…” Rolling her eyes, like she was above what she was about to ask, she produced a cocktail napkin and a pen. “Could you sign this for me?”

“Absolutely.” If Gordon had taught him one thing, it was to always be nice to the fans. They were the reason he got paid. Besides, Noble liked the fan attention. Signing autographs, taking pictures, chitchatting—those were little things he could do that made others happy.

Two signed napkins, a smartphone pic, and some meaningless babble later, the girls floated away, and he was mostly alone with Reine again. He smiled at his date for the night, letting their bare arms rub as they stood at the railing. Normally at one of these types of parties, Noble would have been all over, meeting people, but tonight he was content to talk to just a few and concentrate on Reine. The acting world wasn’t so much his scene, and he let tonight be part of his education. “Where were we?”

Reine handed him back his wine. “You were asking about Donny Foxy.”

“Right.” Noble sipped, noting that Reine had made use of the tiny bar just to the right of them to get him a refill. “Didn’t you say you were part of his crew?”

Reine laughed. “His ‘pact,’” he explained, using air quotes. Which meant that was part of the lexicon of the movie. Noble had read comic books and sci-fi novels; he knew what was what, even if the universe of this one was new to him. “I had a lot of scenes with him, but he mostly kept to himself. Nice enough guy, but it’s tough to get him talking.”

Quiet or not, Foxy was certainly a joy to look at. A crowd of people thought the same thing. “He’s doing okay now.”

Reine snorted. “Look carefully. He’s not saying much.”

Noble had noticed that. The guy was surrounded by people, all chattering to and around him. He smiled and listened, nodded and shrugged, but his lips spent more time with his glass than spilling conversation. It worked for him. At least four women were visibly trying to attract him. “He got a girlfriend?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Reine slide him a sidelong glance. “A few.”

“Really?”

“Okay, I don’t know if any of ’em are official, but he was always surrounded.”

Feeling a pleasant buzz from the wine, Noble thought of the prettier-than-girls guys he’d seen on magazine covers. He knew a good number of the ones in the music scene were gay but hiding it. No reason to believe the same wasn’t true in the acting side of the world. Because he knew Reine was starting to get concerned that his affections were wandering, he slid his arm across the shorter man’s shoulders and murmured near his ear, “You ever try for him?” He entertained brief thoughts of him, Reine, and Foxy on a bed together. Nice.

Reine laughed away his dream. “No way. He’s the one all the girls flock to. The panty wetter for the teen scene.”

“So?”

“So? Guy like that can’t be gay.”

“Even if he is?”

“Even if he is.” Reine twisted a little so he fit more snugly against Noble’s side. “Besides, I was warned off him before I even met him.”

That deserved a look, so Noble pulled back a little so he could see Reine’s eyes. “What?”

“No joke.” Reine grinned up at him. “They found out I was gay and so much as told me to stay away from him.”

“No shit?”

“No damn shit.” Reine returned his attention below, sipping from his glass. “The studio’s got a major investment in this guy. They watch him like he’s a national treasure or something. You remember Urbano Young?”

Noble frowned, thinking. “Sounds familiar.”

“He was a big deal a few years ago. Same production team that’s behind Criminea had him lined up for a series.”

“Oh, wait, I remember. Some sci-fi thing about robots?”

Reine nodded. “That’s the one.”

“Didn’t he crash and burn big-time?”

“Big-time. They caught him with a teenager and heroin. It hurt the production and killed the franchise. That’s why they’re watching Foxley and all the principals in Criminea so close. It’s like the stuff I’ve heard about in the fifties when studios owned their actors.”

“Being gay isn’t such a big deal these days, is it?” Sure, it was in some circles, but for actors?

“You wouldn’t think so, but for him, it is. They’ve got him signed up all tight in his contract.”

Eyes still on the chatting crowd around the actor below, Noble ran a beringed hand through the softness of Reine’s hair. “Huh.”

Reine snuggled close. “There’s even a guy who’s paid to hang out with him.”

“Really?”

“Truth. He’s paid to hang out with him and be his friend. The guy standing beside him? That’s Zach, his handler.”

Zach was about a foot shorter than his charge. A little stocky but not in a bad way. Dark hair was cut short, and glasses made him look smart. Even as he talked, he watched everyone around Donny Foxley, clearly ready to step in if needed.

Noble shrugged, downing the last of his wine. “Cushy job if you can get it.”

“I’ll say. So…” Reine abandoned his glass on a nearby table, then twisted so he could put both arms around Noble’s waist. “How about it? You and me? Tonight?”

Noble smiled. He’d thought that was a foregone conclusion. “What? Don’t you have a rep to protect like Foxy?”

Reine snorted. “Right. Like anyone even notices me.”

Noble stared straight in his eyes. “I noticed.” Reine had shown up last night at one of Noble’s favorite clubs in the area and quickly become part of Noble’s group of new friends. He hadn’t been Noble’s chosen partner then, but he’d managed to extend the invitation for tonight before they’d parted ways. For that—and for being cute and funny—Noble had given him his phone number.

“Yeah.” Reine squirmed, his grin broad. “That’s what’s so sexy about you.”

“Aw.” Noble tightened his fingers in Reine’s hair, pulling just a little. “And here I thought I had the whole rock-star thing going.”

“You got that going in spades,” Reine assured him, that hungry look in his eyes.

Since Reine seemed so open, Noble went ahead and brushed a kiss across his lips. Just lips, no tongue, but there was definite promise for later. “Isn’t it early for you to leave? Thought you had to work the crowd?”

The hand that had slid down to squeeze the left side of Noble’s ass paused. “I…” Then Noble saw the hunger cloud a bit with reason. Reine cast a hesitant glance over the crowd. This was, after all, something of a working night for him. He’d explained that to Noble right from the start, and Noble was the type to remind people of stated intentions.

He chuckled, kissed Reine again, then released him. “Go.” Noble picked up his glass. “I’m gonna refill and walk the crowd. Find me later.”

“But…”

Under cover of the railing and the relative dark around them, Noble moved in to put his mouth near the guy’s ear. “I’m all yours tonight. Promise.” He blew seductively into Reine’s ear before he straightened, then savored the momentary bliss that had closed Reine’s eyes and put a silly grin on his face.

Green eyes dragged open over that grin. “An hour. Two. Tops.”

Noble nodded. “Go.”

Reine left his side. Noble took another look at the crowd, both up here in the balcony and below. This wasn’t his regular scene. He was normally surrounded by musicians, record execs, and groupies, but this wasn’t so different. Same idea, slightly different focus. The feel was a little less raw, a little more subtle, probably because actors were typically better at schmoozing than musicians. But Noble was never alone for long. Like his favorite aunt, Frieda, always said, a stranger was just a friend you hadn’t met yet.

He took his glass to the bar behind him and struck up a conversation with a tipsy older lady. His first instinct was that he’d seen her before, and he was right. She was Jane Archer, a character actor who’d been around forever. She proved to be a font of knowledge about the people around them and had soon introduced him to a new group of friends. A few of them recognized who he was and were full of questions.

“Oh, the Indigo Knights.” One of the women had a nasty tone to her voice that didn’t match up with her friendliness. “Isn’t that the famous gay band?”

He arched a brow, smiling as he heard his new friends go quiet with interest. Yes, you could hear a hush descending. Noble had witnessed this phenomenon a number of times. “You’re probably thinking of Heaven Sent,” he said smoothly. “We’re the new gay band.”

Her jaw dropped a little, unsure what to say next.

“I love Heaven Sent,” said Jane. She put a hand on his arm to pull his attention around to her smiling face. “Is your music like theirs?”

He shrugged and half nodded. “Yes and no. Brent Rose is our producer, so he’s influenced us a lot.”

“And he’s the…?”

Noble smiled, thoroughly charmed by Jane. “Guitarist.”

“And you’re a…?”

“Drummer.”

“Ah yes. I can see that in your arms.” Although she’d already established that he was gay, she still smoothed a hand down his bare arm, letting her appreciation show. Harmless flirtation. Noble loved it. “Are you playing in town? I’d love to come and see you.”

They had an avid crowd of seven hanging on their words, including Aimee, the woman who had outed him. “Sorry, no. We’re headed overseas about a week from now.”

“For a tour?” asked Jane.

“Yeah.” He purposely didn’t glance at Aimee. “We’re opening for Heaven Sent, in fact.”

That got everyone’s attention. You had to be a rabid homophobe these days to denounce Heaven Sent, and Noble would be willing to bet good money that no one in this crowd could afford to openly be a homophobe. The floodgates opened on questions about his band, his music, touring, and Heaven Sent. A few more men joined their group, clearly interested in him for more carnal reasons. He smiled and flirted, but he was faithful to his promise to Reine. He might not be a boyfriend, but he could be faithful within certain boundaries.

Time passed. He didn’t mind at all, enjoying himself, learning about the people around him. He turned the conversation around to the movie industry and was fascinated by what they—particularly Jane, who’d been around awhile—knew. They gravitated to the ground floor of the club at some point, but he avoided the dance floor. With as much wine as he’d had, he wasn’t sure he could fend off advances if someone got him grooving. He loved dancing far too much. He managed to stay closer to women as he chatted, using them as a shield against the invitations he saw in dozens of male eyes. I’ll have to try actors more often, he told himself, glimpsing a whole new realm of possibilities.

He convinced Jane to take his bar stool as a fresh bottle of wine arrived for their group. She fussed but accepted. Then her eyes brightened as she looked over his shoulder. “Donny!” she called, waving her hand and proving she had mastered the art of projection with the volume of her voice. Still beckoning someone beyond him, she spoke to Noble. “Dear boy, have you met Donny Foxley yet?”

For this, Noble put down his newly filled glass. “No.” He turned and backed up a step to keep Jane at his side. “No, I have not.”

Tall. Yes. Donny Foxy was maybe an inch taller than Noble. His artfully messy curls looked more black and less brown in the colorful lighting that splashed off the dance floor, and his sleepy eyes definitely looked black. But that mouth… Oh, sweet Lord in heaven, the things Noble could do with that mouth. Foxy smiled as he bent to brush a kiss on Jane’s weathered cheek, then turned that smile on Noble. Confident but quiet, not quite shy but almost. Intriguing.

“Noble, this is Donny.” Jane touched each of them on the shoulder. “He plays my apprentice in this movie.”

Donny held out his hand, eyes locking on Noble’s. “Hey.”

Noble took the hand. “Hey.” They didn’t so much shake as squeeze.

“Donny, Noble is a bona fide rock star. Do you know the Indigo Knights?”

Noble barely heard her, caught up in the magic of Foxy’s eyes. Damn, if those eyes did to the camera half of what they were doing to him, it was no wonder this boy had women creaming their seats in movie theaters. Heavy lids, maybe just a little Asian since they tilted up at the corners and the lids were closer to flat than deep set. Thick black lashes curled away from rich, dark irises that promised dreams come true.

Then the lids blinked. “Yeah, I’ve heard of the Knights. I’ve got your album. Love it.”

Noble heard praise for the album often, but coming from this particular mouth, it made something in his heart hum. He couldn’t swipe a goofy grin from his lips. “Thanks.” Noble slowly drew his hand from Foxy’s, aware they’d been holding overlong. That might normally be a signal, but it couldn’t possibly be. “Glad you like it.”

“Noble’s band is opening for Heaven Sent on tour next month,” Jane interjected. The sound of her voice allowed Noble to look way, picking up his glass as an excuse to draw back from the pull of Donny Foxy.

“I’ve heard.” Noble chanced a look to see Foxy gracing him with a warm smile. “I plan to catch a show when you’re back stateside.”

Really? Noble fought the urge to look down at Foxy’s crotch. Damn, he hadn’t felt this kind of attraction in years. Not where he wanted to rub into a guy like a cat in heat. Instead he took a strengthening sip of his wine, then nodded. “Let me know. I’ll see what I can do about getting you good seats.”

“I’ll do that.” Holy horny toad, the subtle purr in that voice was intoxicating. “I…”

“Hey.” A newcomer crowded Foxy’s side, all smiling face with glasses and a black pencil mustache and chin strap. He held out his hand to Noble. “I’m Zach. You’re Noble Welbourn, right? I’ve heard your music, man. Awesome stuff.”

He shook the hand, noting that the guy took the opportunity to ease between him and Foxy. “Thanks.”

“I’ve seen Heaven Sent, like, a dozen times,” Zach proclaimed. “Did I hear you’re opening for them?”

Noble met his eyes and saw it. Zach knew what he was, what he liked, and was protecting his boy Foxy from the bad gay rock star. It was amusing. But Noble accepted it. Zach actually seemed like a fun guy and was very easy to talk to. Almost as easy as Noble. Between them, they drew the others around them back into a group conversation that even included some brief commentary from Foxy. But Zach was very careful to stick close to the younger man’s side, very careful to bolster anything Foxy said, and very careful to steer Foxy clear of Noble. Noble had to hand it to the guy—he was worth whatever they paid him. When a nameless starlet with obvious fame lust wandered close, Zach edged her into Foxy. In no time, she was tucked under Foxy’s arm and had clearly staked her claim for the night, if not longer. Noble wished them well.

Reine joined the group, and Noble helped him filter away from the others. Soon it was just Noble, Jane, Reine, and an empty bottle at the end of the bar.

“Well, my dears,” said Jane, polishing off the last of her wine, “it’s been a marvelous night, but it’s time for me to leave.” She set down her glass, then reached over to squeeze Noble’s arm. “It’s been lovely meeting you. I do hope to see you around when you’re back in town.”

“Absolutely.” He laid a fond hand over hers and squeezed back. “We need to make arrangements to go wine tasting. You promised.”

She laughed and patted his cheek. “You’re such a charmer. If I were only twenty years younger and a man.”

Chuckling, he gathered her into a hug that smelled of wine and lilacs. “I’d be all over you.”

She hugged him, patting his back. “Darling boy.” Drawing away, she stood. Both Noble and Reine were ready to catch her if needed, but she was steady on her feet. She hugged Reine, then toddled off into the crowd.

“She’s awesome,” Reine proclaimed.

“That she is.”

Reine looked at him, and that hunger was back. “You’re awesome.”

“Mmmm.” Noble finished his wine, then crowded Reine by hovering over his seat. “How about we go so you can find out just how awesome?”

“We’re out of here.” Reine hopped down from his chair, turned, and led the way.

Grinning, Noble dug his thumbs into the tight pockets of his pants and followed. He didn’t get very far before he had to pause to say good-bye to some other new friends. He did his best to make it quick, aware of Reine’s impatience. To be honest, he was impatient too. Despite the passing of time, he was still primed from those brief moments in front of Foxy. Foxy, whom he could not possibly think of as Donny or Donald or even Foxley. No, he was Foxy in more ways than one.

Thoughts of him drew Noble’s attention to the dance floor, where Foxy played catnip mouse to the starlet’s kitten. She was all long leg and pale skin wrapped around him, not that he seemed to mind. He moved well, with the sleek grace of a big cat. Noble let himself briefly imagine what it’d be like to be that starlet, to rub up against all those muscles. He let himself imagine further that Foxy felt him watching and that was the reason the man looked over and caught Noble’s eye. Even as Foxy tucked the girl’s head against his shoulder, he smiled and waved his free hand at Noble. At least, Noble thought so, though he wasn’t the only one in his vicinity who waved back. Laughing at himself, he turned away from dreamy Foxy to follow Reine out of the party.

Chapter Two

“Who?”

“Donny Foxley. Remember him? From the party?”

Of course Noble remembered him. He’d had a few wet dreams about the man over the past week, not all of them while he was sleeping. With a finger in his opposite ear to drown out the sound of the city street, he turned to face the storefront and huddled over his phone. “I remember.”

Danny stopped at his side, watching the passersby. The New York afternoon pedestrians moved around them without a second look.

“He’s having a party tomorrow.” Reine kept his voice calm, but Noble heard the plaintive note even though the connection wasn’t that great. He wanted to see Noble again. “He asked me to invite you.”

“He asked you?”

“Yeah. Called me up. Shocked the hell out of me ’cause he doesn’t talk to me much.”

Interesting. Donny Foxy called Reine to invite Noble to a party. “This another movie thing?”

“Nope. Just a party at his place. It’s his birthday, so it’s a big one. A ton of people will be there. He said you could invite the band if they wanted to come.”

So it could be that Foxy wanted some names at the party. The Knights weren’t as huge as Heaven Sent yet, but their name was growing. And Foxy had proclaimed himself a fan. “I’ve got rehearsal tomorrow.”

“It’ll be going all night. You can come late.”

“Yeah. Okay. Text me the info. I’ll try and come.”

“Awesome. Hey, maybe we could hook up again.”

“Maybe.” He didn’t make promises. Reine had been fun, but Noble didn’t like to limit himself.

“Okay. See you tomorrow.”

“Later.” He clicked his phone off but stared at it, still facing the storefront.

“Hey.” A hand on his shoulder broke him out of his thoughts. Danny stepped around into his sight. “You okay?”

Noble glanced up at his friend. Danny’s dyed platinum-blond hair was mostly hidden underneath an LA baseball cap, the signature stripe of indigo tucked up inside. Black sunglasses hid his bluer-than-blue eyes, almost concealing his identify. They were in a part of town that wasn’t much impressed by celebrity, so they hadn’t taken great pains to disguise themselves.

“I’m okay.” Noble tucked his phone into his pocket, then reached up to tug at the gray knit cap that hid all but a few stray strands of his hair. His sunglasses shielded him from the August sun. “You busy tomorrow?”

They started walking again, blending into the sparse afternoon crowd.

“After rehearsal?”

“Yeah.”

“Nothing.”

“Want to check out a party at an actor’s place?” Noble’s phone vibrated.

“What actor?”

“You’ve seen the trailers for Criminea?”

“Yeah.”

He took out his phone and thumbed through his pass code to get to the text Reine had just sent. “You know the main guy? The one with the wand that sets fire to that gargoyle thing?”

Danny thought about it while Noble read the text. They stopped at a corner to wait for traffic. “Oh yeah, the gorgeous brunet.”

“That’s the one.”

“Shit, man. Where’d you meet him?”

Noble tucked his phone away again as they joined a crowd crossing the street. “At that party I went to the other night.”

“You didn’t tell me about him.”

Noble grinned. “Wasn’t anything to tell. I barely talked to him.”

“So he’s straight, then.”

“Seems to be.”

“Pity.” They laughed. Two girls crossing the street froze and gaped at the sight of them, but Danny and Noble kept moving on. “So why’s he inviting you to a party?”

“Please. You know even straight boys can’t resist my charm.”

Danny snorted.

Noble chuckled. “I don’t know. He said to invite the band, so maybe it’s one of those status things. ‘Get a rock star to your party.’”

“Could be that.”

“So, you up for it? Looks like it’s in Brooklyn.”

“I don’t know.” Danny’s boyfriend, Cash, was back in Chicago. It was both sickening and sweet how much in love Danny was with him and how faithful Danny was. Much to Noble’s dismay, each one of his bandmates was hopelessly in love with someone. It left him as the sole single member of the band.

“Oh, come on. Keep me company.”

“Like you’ll be hurting for company.” They turned in to their destination, a trendy boutique Hell and Johnnie had recommended to them.

“You need to get out,” Noble declared, holding the door open. “Meet people.”

“I meet plenty of people.”

“What happened to you?” He gave his friend a playful shove farther into the shop. “Oh, wait, you fell in love.”

Danny caught his balance, then gave him the look. “Just wait until you fall for someone.”

Noble made the sign of the cross. “Don’t jinx me like that.”

Two attractive young men came forward to introduce themselves and ask if they could help. Noble couldn’t be sure if they were recognized or not, so he kept his peace and spent the next hour letting his guy show him some clothes.

“So, how about tomorrow?” Noble asked Danny when they were alone in the dressing room.

“The party? Yeah, okay.” Danny turned to check out his ass in the floor-to-ceiling mirror. “I’ve never been to a Hollywood party in New York.”

“What?”

“Hello? Hollywood? Actors? Me?”

“Right.” Danny had been born and bred in Los Angeles. He claimed there was no way to be in the music business there and not overlap with movies. “So should be old hat for you.”

“With one big difference.”

Noble saw Danny’s grin in the mirror and shared it. “This time, you’re a star.”

Facing front, Danny smoothed a hand down the expensive silk of the shirt he wore. “This time, I’m a star.”

* * * *

The apartment was everything Noble would have expected for a rich young star to have. A loft on the top of a brick building in a trendy part of Brooklyn. The apartment wasn’t huge, but it had rooftop access; plus, the apartment across the hall was open as well. A paid bartender made a kitchen counter work as a bar, and music filled the air. All the windows were open, but the bodies made the hot summer night even hotter. Movie and classic band posters covered the walls, some lit by neon. Noble and Danny waded into a crowd and were recognized almost immediately. Noble recognized a few of those who stopped them.

Noble lost track of Danny pretty quickly. One minute, he was reacquainting himself with friends from the other night; the next, Danny was gone. After Noble got himself a drink, he spied the platinum locks by a door that probably led to a bedroom, where Danny stood chatting with a bunch of girls, so he was fine. Surrounded by friendly people, Noble enjoyed the hell out of the vibe. This was his kind of party. Now he was sorry it had taken them until one in the morning to arrive. He could tell that, as big as the crowd was now, it had waned. But although the remains of the birthday cake on a table at the other end of the room had been abandoned, there was still food, and the bar remained fully stocked.

It was three o’clock before he followed a new friend upstairs to the roof for a breath of fresh air. Not so many people up here, in spite of the fact that it felt a little cooler. The view was worth it, but the guy trying to shove his tongue down Noble’s throat was not. Not that he didn’t enjoy tongues, just not without a little warning. He and the drunk came to terms that ended up with the guy taking off in a huff. Noble shared some laughs with the small group of smokers who saw it happen, then introduced himself and spent some time in the breeze that didn’t quite dispel the heat of the night.

The smokers came and went—most in pursuit of alcohol or something else mind-altering—and Noble found himself alone with two new friends. From the sounds of it, the party was winding down. On the street below, Noble could see a trickling stream of partygoers either walking away or climbing into cabs that magically appeared. He was starting to wonder if he should look for Danny, when the host himself showed up. Noble had spied Foxy through the crowd earlier but had managed to avoid him. No, not avoid. He was being a good boy and leaving the straight guy alone. Alone because he didn’t trust the melty feeling he got in his gut when he looked at the guy. Foxy was entirely too enticing, with the loose brown curls that framed his oval face. He was simply dressed in a light blue BIRTHDAY BOY T-shirt over light jeans. The shirt was clearly new, but he’d cut the neck, exposing a collarbone area that Noble itched to explore.

Foxy greeted Holly with a hug and a kiss and Derrick with a mutual arm slap, accepting their birthday wishes with a sheepish smile and thanks.

“Happy birthday,” Noble offered when it came his turn.

Foxy glanced at the hand Noble held out, then took it. There was that squeeze again, just a tad beyond friendly. “Thanks.”

“Terrific party.” Noble pulled his hand back and leaned against the half wall that separated him and a plummet of four stories. He’d looked, but Zach wasn’t in the apartment. Was that an oversight on the handler’s part? Or maybe Zach had found another pastime for the night. “Sorry I missed most of the festivities.”

“Nah.” Foxy pulled out a pack of cigarettes and took one out. “You didn’t miss anything.”

Noble watched him light up from a lighter Holly held for him. Noble had never had been a smoker himself, but he had to admit he did like the look. In that brief moment when the lighter illuminated Foxy’s face, he was the image of an old-time movie star. The kind who’d talk you into bed with charm.

The four of them chitchatted for a bit. All the while, Noble tried desperately not to stare at the actor. Tried not to cozy up to his side. He couldn’t believe how hard it was, and was glad for the loose tails of his shirt, which hid his crotch. Everything in him wanted to rub on Foxy and mark him with scent. That low voice soothed him, and the easy laugh excited him. He wanted to do things to the man to hear what it sounded like when he came. Then Holly had to leave, and Derrick went with her. Just like that, Noble was alone with the younger man.

“So is the roof part of your place?” Noble asked, looking at the metal table and chairs about ten feet away from them.

“I don’t really know.” Foxy leaned against the half wall with arms crossed over his broad chest. The first cigarette was long gone, and he hadn’t lit another. “I’m subleasing the place from a friend. I’ve only had it a few weeks.”

“New to New York?”

“Kinda.” Foxy turned so he could brace both arms on the wall, looking out over the street below. Noble couldn’t help but notice the gorgeous curve to his biceps. Not huge but nicely shaped. “I went to school here, but I never really lived here. Couldn’t afford it before.”

“And now?”

A small smile. “Now I’m doing okay for myself.”

Noble chuckled, elbows on the wall so he too could look out at the street. “Um, yeah. You must be doing really well. With two more movies guaranteed, even.”

“Yeah. It’s okay.”

“When do you start the next one?”

A roll of one shoulder substituted for a shrug while Foxy stood up straight. He tossed a surreptitious glance toward the door. “I head back up to Vancouver next month.” He turned to face Noble, one arm supporting his weight. “You head out pretty soon, right?”

“Yep. We’re off for a stupid-long trip across Europe and Asia.” He couldn’t help but smile. “It’ll be awesome.”

“I’ll bet. What’s it like, being a rock star?”

Noble told him, not sure Foxy was really interested. Oh, he paid attention and asked questions, but part of his attention was also on the roof door. Was he looking for Zach? Had he slipped his handler’s leash? They had somehow migrated to the far corner of the rooftop, just out of quick viewing of anyone who might come up. Noble noted the move but didn’t comment on it. Other than the occasional glances, though, Foxy didn’t veer from his conversation with Noble. If he was at all uncomfortable with the openly gay guy, he didn’t show it.

“So…” Foxy glanced down at the street, the one word heavy with implication that his next question meant more than he wanted it to seem. “How do you deal with the whole gay thing?”

Noble hummed, gazing up at the stars. “Pretty good. Since I am gay.”

“Oh, I know. I didn’t mean… Sorry.” Foxy ran a hand through his hair. “I meant the…notoriety, I guess. Doesn’t, like, everyone ask you about it?”

“Well, yeah. It tends to come up a lot.” Interesting. Noble shrugged. “Not much I can do about it. It’s not so bad.”

Big eyes latched onto him. “Really?”

Is someone in the closet? Noble punched down his hope. “Nah. There were a couple of towns where some assholes protested, and we get letters and shit, but mostly we’ve got really great fans.”

“Girls?”

“Lots.”

“And they don’t care that you’re gay?”

Noble laughed. “Some of ’em prefer it.” He laughed harder at the comical confusion that crossed Foxy’s face. “I know, doesn’t make all that much sense, but it works.”

Foxy considered his words, slowly nodded. “That’s pretty cool.”

“Most of the time. Yeah.”

Foxy fingered the box of cigarettes he took out of his pocket, the silence settling between them.

“You can go ahead and light up,” Noble assured him.

“What? Oh.” He looked at the pack. “Actually, I don’t smoke that much.” He gave Noble a sheepish grin. “I use it as an excuse to get away from crowds.”

Noble laughed. “Who cares if you get lung cancer, right?”

“Right.” Still grinning, Foxy tossed the pack onto the metal table. “So did you mean what you said about getting me some seats when you guys get back in town?”

“Sure.” Noble ran a hand through his hair, wondering just where Foxy’s ramblings were taking them. “Maybe you and Reine can come.” Although Reine had invited Noble to the party, he’d texted during rehearsal to send regrets that he couldn’t make it.

“Reine? Oh, right.” A tiny frown wrinkled his brow as he stared at the street below. “Are you and he…?”

“Are we…?”

“Together? He’s gay.”

“Oh yes. I know.” He was oddly reluctant to say they’d fucked, but he’d never been one to hide what he’d done. “We’ve had some fun together.”

“But you’re not a thing?” It seemed important to Foxy to confirm that.

Noble was deciding how to answer—whether to tease, blow it off, or tell the man it was none of his business—but almost on cue, Zach came through the door, clearly looking for someone. That someone was Foxy. “Donny!” he called, heading in their direction. “What’re you doing? Everyone’s been looking for you.”

Judging by the way Foxy’s face fell as he turned away, Zach was indeed the person he’d been waiting to see. Noble was shocked it’d taken Zach this long to track him down.

Zach reached them with a big smile, which he turned on Noble, not at all surprised to see him. “Hey, Noble.”

“Hey, Zach.” He suppressed laughter as they shook hands. Clearly, Foxy was being rescued.

“Everyone’s been looking for you,” Zach told Foxy again.

“I’ve been right here.”

“People are leaving.”

Foxy gazed down at the street rather than at Zach. “I see that.”

“Don’t you want to say good-bye?”

“Why?” Foxy shrugged. “Most of ’em are gone, and I didn’t know half of them anyway.”

A small sigh raised Zach’s chest, together with a tiny eye roll that Foxy didn’t see. Clearly Zach’s charge was not all Zach wanted him to be. But the annoyance was slight and quickly dropped. He smiled again for Noble. “So, when are you guys headed overseas?”

Foxy grunted. Abruptly, he turned to retrieve the cigarette pack from the table.

Pretending he didn’t notice the very interesting dynamic, Noble returned Zach’s smile. “This weekend.”

“Wow, that’s soon. How long will you be gone?”

“Most of the year. We’ll be all over Europe; then we’ll hit Hong Kong, Korea, Japan…some others I can’t remember.”

Zach nodded eagerly, happier with each destination Noble mentioned. “That sounds awesome. I’ve always wanted to tour with a rock band.”

“Me too.”

Behind Zach, Foxy expelled smoke in a huff, his eyes on the building across the street.

“So.” Noble checked his phone for the time. “It’s probably time I got the hell out of here.”

That got Foxy’s attention. “So, uh, hey. Shouldn’t we exchange numbers or something?”

Caught off guard, Zach’s surprise was too obvious. “What?”

But Foxy spoke to Noble. “You know, for those tickets.”

“Oh.” Amused, still holding his phone, Noble was ready to comply. “Sure—”

“Oh, there’s no need.” Zach was being really blatant now. He stepped in front of Foxy to block him. “I’m sure I can get in touch with your people.”

“My people. Right.” Noble smiled to let him know he saw what was going on, but despite it all, he didn’t want to rock the boat. If Zach didn’t want him close to Foxy, so be it. Was probably a better idea anyway. “You do that.” He gave Foxy a smile that was probably too warm. “Nice to see you again.”

“But…”

Noble turned his back and walked away from the hissed discussion that erupted behind him. Laughing to himself, he took the stairs and went looking to see if Danny was still around. He was, one of a half dozen people left in the apartment’s main room.

“Hey!” Danny called from his seat on the couch. The girl seated next to him was pretty but not fawning. “I was just going to go looking for you.”

“I’m here. Headed out. You?”

“Yep.” Danny stood and began saying good-bye to those around him.

They’d called for a cab and were about to go down to meet it when Foxy showed up at Noble’s side.

“Hey.” Bumping his chest up against Noble’s shoulder, he smiled past Noble at Danny, extending a hand. “Hi. You’re Danny Champion.”

Danny’s quick blue eyes noted the contact between Foxy and Noble, but he looked up from it to smile as he took the offered hand. “I am.”

“I’m a big fan,” Foxy proclaimed. “I didn’t want you to go without introducing myself.”

Another new friend came forward to say his good-byes. This one was drunk, so they were jostled a bit when he ran into Danny. Then Noble felt a hand slide into the back pocket of his jeans. Very subtle. He doubted anyone else noticed as his—and Foxy’s—back was to the wall. It was a very quick touch, not a grope. Foxy had put something in his pocket.

“Well, thanks for inviting us,” Noble said, shaking Foxy’s hand. “We’ll have to hook up when we’re back in town.”

Foxy met his eyes, and Noble could swear that sparks scattered between them. “Yeah. Please. Do.”

Noble got them out of the apartment and back onto the street in record time. A cab was waiting for them, but Noble took a moment to dig a card out of his pocket before climbing in beside Danny.

“What’s that?” Danny asked. Noble held up the card.

A business card. Fancy linen. One side had a publicist’s and an agent’s numbers embossed in shiny black. On the other side was a handwritten note: Call me, please. Donny. Then a number.

“Is that from who I think it’s from?” Danny asked, leaning over to look.

Noble tapped the card against his lips. “Foxy slipped it in my pocket when we were leaving.”

Danny’s face lit up. “Oooo. And what were we up to on the roof?”

Noble laughed. “I wish it was that juicy.”

“Juicy enough for him to slip you a card. Do we need to drive around the block until the rest of his guests leave?”

Noble clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, sliding the card into his pocket with his wallet and phone. “No. I don’t think his handler would let me back in the building.”

“His handler?”

Noble spent the rest of the ride telling Danny about Zach and about the two conversations he’d had with Foxy that Zach had interrupted.

“So you think Foxy’s closeted?”

“Probably.” Noble paid the cabbie before getting out at their hotel. “But there’s no way Zach’s letting him near me.”

“Too bad.” A doorman opened the door to let them pass into the heated lobby. “That is one beautiful man.”

“That he is.”

* * * *

Noble gave thought to waiting until the next day to call, but his resistance just wasn’t that good. He called when he was finally alone in his room. He hadn’t even taken off his shoes yet, but he was dying to know what Foxy wanted. It could be nothing. Could be that he just wanted to hook up for tickets. Could be he wanted to introduce Noble to one of his gay friends. Could be he wanted Noble to come back and teach him the joys of giving a blowjob. The possibilities were far too intriguing.

“Hi.” Foxy’s voice was breathless, barely audible. “Hold on a sec.” The murmur of Foxy’s voice suggested he was talking to someone else.

Noble smiled in amusement as he sat on the love seat to remove his shoes. Only a single lamp was on, but the one big window let in plenty of moon and city light for a cozy blue-white haze that Noble loved. He had both shoes off and had propped his socked feet up on the low coffee table before the talking stopped and what sounded like a door closed.

“Hi.” Foxy’s voice was normal this time. “Noble?”

“That would be me.”

“Hey. I was hoping you’d call.”

“You slip a card in my pocket all secret-like. How can I not call?”

Foxy chuckled. “Yeah. I guess.”

Pause. Noble grinned in anticipation. “So…?”

“Right. I, uh…” A breathy laugh. “Geez, I don’t know what to say now.”

Languidly, Noble pulled his T-shirt up to expose his abdomen to the air-conditioned room. “How about you tell me why you slipped me the card?”

“I wanted to talk to you some more.”

“You just wanted to talk?” Noble deliberately put a purr into his voice.

Pause. Would Foxy try and talk around it? Would he get right at it? Straight boys were so much fun sometimes, especially when they might not be so straight. “That. And…more.”

“Oh.” Noble smoothed a hand over his flat belly, watching his silver rings catch shine and shadow. “Tell me about the ‘more.’”

“I…just thought…”

“Yes?”

“Well…I…”

“Mmmm?”

“You’re not going to make this easy, are you?” It was muttered.

“Make what easy, sweetheart?” Noble fingered the hair that grew below his navel.

Frustrated sigh. “I like talking to you. I thought we could get together again sometime. Alone.”

“Alone.”

Noble could just about hear the swallow. “Yeah.”

“To…talk.”

“Sure.”

Noble probably shouldn’t enjoy the wordplay, but he did. “Sounds like you had more in mind than just talking.”

“Uh…”

Slowly he stroked himself from navel to waistband. “Won’t Zach mind?”

“Why would Zach mind?”

“He was pretty set on keeping the two of us apart tonight.”

“Oh. That.” Then there was an actual growl. Not huge, but it was there. “Fuck, Zach.”

“Have you?”

“What?”

“Fucked Zach?”

“No!”

“Because he might be up for that.” Teasing himself, Noble slid his hand up to circle a nipple with one fingertip. “You never know.”

“Zach?”

“Sure. Us gay boys don’t always flaunt it like me.” He let Foxy hear his carefree laugh as he plucked at the silver bar through his other nipple. “For all you know, Zach is sneaking in to watch you while you sleep.”

“Shit. What? No. That’s fucking creepy.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah.”

“Mmm.” Fingers spread, Noble let his palm slide down toward his fly. “Does he live with you?”

“No.”

“No? He must be nearby.”

“He, uh, he’s staying with me. But he sleeps in the other room.”

“Close enough.” He fingered the happy trail just above his waistband. “He watches you like a hawk.”

“Yeah. Well. He’s paid to do that.”

“He earns his keep. Keeping you away from dangerous gay men.”

“Yeah.” That sounded rather melancholy. It also wasn’t a denial.

Flipping open his fly, Noble took pity on Foxy. “So. Is this what you wanted? To talk? Like this?”

“Uh…”

“Or were you thinking more like fucking?”

“I…”

“Because I’m up for that.”

“Shit.”

Noble hummed. “But I get the impression you’re not supposed to be. You’re like the American girl’s teen dream, aren’t you? Your people will flip if they found out you’d come all alone to a gay man’s hotel room.”

Silence. Had Foxy seriously not thought of this? “Does it matter to you?”

“To me? No. I’m thinking of you, sweet thang.” He let his Tennessee drawl fill with the pleasure that filled his cock as he squeezed it.

“You’re right. I, uh, can’t. Be seen.”

“So what’s the plan, sexy?” Noble kept his tone light, as though they made plans to meet all the time. He didn’t let on that he was now massaging his junk. “Because I’m on a plane to good ol’ England on Monday.”

“So soon?”

“Yep.”

“And you’ll be gone all year.”

“Yep.” He let his hand still, just resting on his cock as he waited for a response that didn’t come. “So…?”

“Can I come see you before then? At your hotel?”

Good boy. He had actually asked. “You really think you can get up here without being seen?”

“Oh. Right.” Foxy took an audible breath. “I’ll figure something out.” Said with a certain determination. Noble had to resist the urge to applaud.

He laughed softly, squeezing his cock and letting the sizzle in his blood warm his tone. “You so sure?”

“Yes.”

“All right, then. When?”

“Now?”

He laughed louder. “Afraid not. It’s almost five, and I’ve got a photo shoot later today. They’re gonna kill me for not getting any sleep as it is.” Although, truth be told, he was sorely tempted.

“Tonight?”

Noble pretended to think about it as he swiped his thumb through the wet that oozed from the tip of his cock. He already knew the right time, but the game was too much fun. “I can be back here by seven.”

“What’s your room number?”

He gave it, smiling. Foxy sounded rather eager. “Are you sure you can get in without being seen?”

“I’ll think of something.”

“You do that. Meanwhile, I should be getting my beauty rest.” But first, I come, he thought as he started to pump his hand.

“You don’t need it. Beauty rest.”

The surge of pleasure at hearing that actually made him squirm. How novel. “What a sweet thing to say.” He rushed on, realizing he needed to get off the phone before Foxy heard more than he’d bargained for. “Tell you what—you’ve got my cell number now. Text me when you figure things out.”

“Okay.”

Noble stilled his hand for a moment, tormenting himself. “G’night, pretty boy.”

Foxy laughed softly. “G’night, drummer man.”

It wasn’t the best comeback, but Noble was willing to let him slide. Amused, he cut the connection, then sat back to finish his handjob.

Chapter Three

“Are you kidding?” Lance, of course, sounded skeptical.

“Nope.” Noble dug into the fried eggs and hash browns before him. “I’m not kidding.”

Lance gave him a searching look, trying to decide if he was telling the truth. He grinned back, letting Lance come to his own conclusions. “Donny Foxy?”

“Yep.”

“Isn’t he just a kid?”

“Hardly. He just turned twenty-three.”

“I thought he was younger.”

“That’s his character in the movie.”

“Right.” Lance chewed, thinking. Then pointed with his fork. “How the hell did you get to Donny Foxy’s birthday party?”

Noble grinned. “I know people.”

Lance waited.

“I was with this actor last week, and he took me to a cast party for that movie.” He was going to have to remember the movie title sooner rather than later. “Then he asked me to go to this thing last night at Donny Foxy’s. Danny was with me. You can ask him.”

Except that he couldn’t right now, because it was only the two of them for breakfast. Danny and Rabin were likely still asleep in their own rooms. After only a few hours’ sleep, Noble had checked in on Lance, and the two of them had decided on brunch. The hotel’s cafe was mostly deserted, and their little table was tucked away in a quiet corner.

Lance cut into the rare steak that had come with his eggs. “So. What? Are you saying something happened?”

Noble smiled.

Lance snorted. “Come on. Isn’t he straight?”

“Do you even know me?”

Rolling his eyes, Lance started to take a bite, but then his phone blipped. After a quick look, he put the phone down and went back to his food. “Gordon’s on his way down.”

“Good. He’ll believe me.”

Lance shook his head. “So what happened?”

Noble smiled at their waiter as he poured coffee. Cute, but very straight. After the man left, “He came on to me.”

“Get out.”

“He did. He wasn’t very good at it, but we talked; then he slipped me his cell number before I left the party. Okay, wait, he came on to me after that, when I called him from the hotel.”

“He slipped you his cell number?”

“On a card. Slid it right into my back pocket.”

“Come on.”

“Ask Danny. He was there.”

“Hmm.” Lance considered that as he chewed. “So you called him?”

“I did.”

“And?”

“And he wants to see me tonight. In my hotel room. Alone.”

Lance put down both fork and knife and just stared at him in disbelief.

Noble grinned as he chewed and swallowed.

That’s how Gordon found them. “Good morning.” He leaned over for a quick kiss for Lance, then another for Noble, before he sat on the chair between them, facing the entrance to the café. Lance’s lover, who was also the manager of the Indigo Knights, looked perfect, as always. A dark blue dress shirt brought out the green in his hazel eyes, his black hair was perfectly moussed, and he smelled divine. Noble didn’t begrudge his best friend the love of his life—especially after all they’d been through to be together—but he still wished he’d at least gotten one chance at Gordon before he was off the market.

Lance picked up his utensils. “Noble was just telling me how he’s turned Donny Foxy.”

Gordon paused with his hand in the air to flag the waiter. “Donny Foxy? Isn’t he straight?”

Grinning, Noble raised an eyebrow. Lance rolled his eyes again.

The conversation paused as Gordon ordered his breakfast. It gave Noble a chance to realize why he smelled so good. He’d just showered. He must have been working out. When they were alone again with a fresh cup of coffee for Gordon, he gave his attention back to Noble. “So? Tell me.”

“There was a party last night that I was invited to. You would have been proud of me, by the way. I talked to two different producers and dropped hints about the band doing soundtracks.”

Gordon’s brows rose as he poured creamer into his coffee. “I am proud of you. Names?”

Noble got sidetracked giving Gordon information, names he’d been careful to commit to memory.

Gordon took in what Noble told him, pleased, then brought the conversation back on topic. “Now, about Donny Foxy…?”

Lance, by now, had finished his steak and was poking through his eggs. Gordon’s omelet had arrived, and Lance swiped a cube of cantaloupe from the fruit side.

“Right. We managed to start talking, alone. He was obviously attracted to me—”

“Obviously,” Lance drawled.

“Hey, I know your gaydar is broken, but mine is fully functional, thank you.”

Gordon chuckled. “Go on.”

“I was going to leave it. I was.” That in response to Lance’s snort. “But just as Danny and me were leaving, he came up and slipped a business card in my back pocket.”

Gordon’s eyes sparkled. “How intriguing.”

“Isn’t it?” He sat back in his seat, coffee cup cradled in two hands. “Don’t think I’ve had that happen to me before.”

“It doesn’t have to happen.” Lance shook his head, eating more of Gordon’s fruit. “No one needs to be subtle with you.”

“True. True. Anyway, I had to call, didn’t I?”

“Of course,” Gordon agreed, picking up the cup of fruit to move it from his plate to set it in front of Lance.

“So I did. He asked to meet me.”

“Where?”

“Well, that’s up for debate. Since he obviously doesn’t want to be seen with me.”

Lance scowled.

“Oh, quit it. It’s not a big deal. He’s a teen fucking poster boy. He can’t be seen with the big, bad gay drummer.”

“Danny’s a poster boy.”

“And Danny’s been gay from the start. This one’s probably never touched another cock in his life.”

“Poor man,” Gordon mused with a wicked smile.

Noble grinned at the comment.

“So how did this conversation go?”

“It was kind of cute. He wants to see me, but he’s not sure how.”

“How romantic.”

Lance snorted again. Gordon gave him a withering look.

“So I told him to think about it and text me today.”

“He knows you’re getting on a plane on Monday, doesn’t he?”

“Yep. Kind of sad, that.” He mused over his cup. “Might be nice to see where this goes.”

“Where this goes?” Lance’s jaw dropped. “This isn’t going anywhere.”

It was Noble’s turn to roll his eyes.

Lance shook his head. “I don’t get why you’d even waste time with him.”

Noble’s brows crowded down. “What’s got you all worked up? Since when do you care that I do a straight boy?”

“I care about this one.” It was clear that he did. More than Noble thought was warranted. “This one’s famous. This one’s a little girls’ heartthrob.”

Gordon lifted a shoulder, casually sitting back in his seat. “He’s not entirely wrong, Noble. This one has potential to blow up rather spectacularly.”

Noble finished off his coffee. “There’s nothing to worry about. I’ll see him one night. Maybe. If he doesn’t run scared. Which he probably will.” He shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”

* * * *

Got a room 2nite. Ur hotel

Noble grinned at the text. Room #?

1550 starlite

I won’t be back til 7

Am here now. Will be all night. Come when you can

Noble smiled, thinking of coming immediately. But that wouldn’t do when he was in the middle of a photo shoot on a grassy knoll an hour out of the city. Will text in a few hours

K

“That him?” Lance asked when Noble wandered back to their spot on the grass.

“Yep.”

Danny turned toward them, the wind plastering platinum hair to his face. “Who? Foxy?”

“Yep.”

“So?” That from Rabin. Noble had filled in his other two bandmates on the previous night’s call. Both were far more intrigued than Lance.

Noble tucked his phone back into his pocket, then tugged at the collar of his T-shirt. It was hot despite the shade of the tree they were stationed under. Currently, everyone was waiting for the setting sun to be just right. Or so said Turner Waite, the photographer. “He got a room at our hotel for the night.”

Danny beamed. “So. Guess you’ll be staying in tonight.”

“Looks like it.”

Lance turned away. Noble ignored him. Lance was and always had been a moody son of a bitch, one of many reasons they were better friends than they ever could have been a couple.

Rabin patted his shoulder. “Hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I know.” Noble fingered the studded leather bracer that dominated his left wrist. “Believe me, I know.”

* * * *

The Weiss hotel had two towers: Serenade and Starlight. Bridges connected the towers on both the tenth and fourteenth floors. Noble and his bandmates were staying in suites in Serenade. The fourteenth and fifteenth floors were designed for celebrities, with all sorts of security to keep out those who shouldn’t be there. The hotel’s owner was none other than Johnnie Heaven’s husband, so he knew firsthand how to guard a famous person’s privacy.

Noble was all by himself as he crossed the higher walkway, hands in the pockets of his sleeveless olive-green cargo jacket. He’d stuffed supplies—a small bottle of lube and a strip of five condoms—in a couple of the many pockets. He’d considered bringing the whole box but decided that it probably wouldn’t be necessary. He still wasn’t sure this was going to pan out. He got a text from another friend as he made it to the Starlight Tower, asking if he wanted to meet up later. He texted a decline as he waited for the elevator, amused with himself. Normally he’d be out. Especially since he was leaving town in a few days. He had a bunch of friends he should probably talk to before he left. But this…this was a special occasion.

Back on the fifteenth floor, he headed for the end of the hall, impressed that Foxy had secured a suite for a single night. But then, Noble shouldn’t be surprised, should he? The boy was a big star. He could afford it. Standing before the double doors, Noble took a brief moment to comb his hands through his loose purple hair, letting a little fall in a sexy wave over his brow. He wiggled fingers sans all but two rings—he’d left them behind because they got in the way during sex—then curled them into a fist to knock.

He counted eight before Foxy opened the door. Dressed in a simple black button-down and dark jeans, he looked good enough to eat, from the tips of his bare toes to the top of the mess of curls on his head. Those heavy-lidded eyes blinked as he smiled. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

Foxy stepped back to allow Noble to enter. The suite was approximately a mirror image of Noble’s, except that the color scheme was blues and greens instead of browns and reds. The first room consisted of a couch, a large-screen television, a small bar, and a big window overlooking the river. The door to the bedroom beyond stood open. The television was on, showing some sitcom. “Looks like my room,” Noble said as he passed through the door. “But I like your color scheme better.”

The door closed without any response. Noble kept walking toward the window, then stopped by the little two-seater dinette. A covered platter sat on it, along with a few unopened bottles of water. Being a curious man, he lifted the cover to see what was there. A platter of sliced fruits, cheese, and crackers alongside smoked salmon.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be hungry,” Foxy said from behind him.

Noble glanced over his shoulder. Foxy had moved toward him but stopped a few feet away, hands dug deep in his pockets.

“I ate.” Before he put the cover back, Noble swiped a plump strawberry. “But fruit’s always good.”

Foxy watched his lips as he bit into the berry, just that assuring Noble that Foxy had no intention of backing out of tonight.

Noble grinned as he threw the stem in the little sink in the bar. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“So.” He sauntered over to stand before Foxy, liking the inch that the other man had on him. He was almost always looking down on his partners. It was nice to find someone of the same or greater height. He reached up to finger the collar of Foxy’s shirt. “What did you have planned for tonight?”

Foxy’s lips parted, but no words emerged. Noble lifted a brow, waiting.

Then Foxy frowned. “Your eyes were blue last night.”

Noble blinked, then laughed and dropped his hand. “They were. Tonight they’re green.” A deep, emerald green he thought was particularly sexy.

“You wear contacts?”

“I do.”

Foxy glanced up at his hair, then back at his eyes. A small smile curled the corner of his lips. “You’re awfully colorful.”

“That I am. Good thing I’m a rock star.”

“Yeah.”

Noble cocked his head to the side. “So. You gonna avoid the subject much longer?”

A full-blown flush raced up Foxy’s neck. “I’ve never done this before. With a guy.”

“I pretty much guessed that. Here’s the great part—you can just tell me what you want.” He winked. “I’m a sure thing.”

“I just never—”

Noble pressed two fingers to those succulent lips and waited for Foxy’s eyes to focus on his. “I don’t care what you’ve never done before. I care what you want to do tonight.” Focus dropped to his lips, so he licked them to fan the flames.

“I want to kiss you.”

He slid his hand around the back of Foxy’s neck and tugged. “We can start with that.”

Noble started light, went slow, with just a brushing of lips. It was Foxy who tipped his head and pressed closer, although he still kept it to lips. Light touches, then a little more, like their lips were flirting, gently getting to know each other. Then hands came up to cup either side of Noble’s jaw, and Foxy’s tongue joined the game. Again, tentative at first, licking Noble’s lips, testing, tasting. Normally Noble would have pushed the issue by now, but he was captivated by Foxy’s style. He couldn’t ever remember a lover starting off with exploration like this, and he damn well liked it. He wrapped an arm around Foxy’s torso, loving the feel of hard muscle under his hand as he pulled them closer together. Foxy just kept tasting him, teasing him, although he wasn’t sure Foxy knew it was a tease. Noble was beginning to think Foxy would be perfectly happy to stand there all night, just kissing.

Noble, however, was not so patient. It took him a few minutes to disengage, but he finally got his lips free of Foxy’s. Almost. He managed to insert some words in the fraction of an inch between them before Foxy took his mouth again. “Hey. We should”—another brief kiss—“we should move this to the other room.”

“Right.” Except Foxy kissed him again, stole his tongue to suck on it. Noble was astounded how much that got to him. His fucking knees were weak.

Foxy finally let him go, pulling back just enough so their eyes could meet. Then he smiled, and Noble would have sworn that a torch was lit somewhere between his heart and his navel.

Noble stepped back, needing some space to breathe, since Foxy’s heat had sucked the oxygen out of the room. He headed for the bedroom, trying to pull himself back together. What the hell? He wasn’t normally this shaky. Then he froze just past the doorway, his heart crushing. On the top of the wide headboard, on each of the nightstands, and on the dresser were candles. Thick red candles that smelled of berry compote to provide the only light in the room aside from that coming from the main room. The green duvet and white sheets had been neatly folded down near the foot of the bed, and extra pillows were plumped up at the head.

“Holy shit.” The words were out before he knew they were coming. He felt Foxy behind him but couldn’t face him. Because that would reveal a deep appreciation that he hadn’t expected to feel and wasn’t willing to show a one-night stand. Instead he forced a laugh. “You didn’t need to do this.”

“You don’t like it?”

Noble managed to pull on his normal demeanor—even if it was a mask over something mushier—and tossed a grin over his shoulder. “Silly boy, I don’t need the romance.”

Foxy shrugged, then leaned on the door frame, his broad shoulders portraying casual strength. “I like romance.”

Oh shit. No fucking wonder little girls wet themselves over this guy. He oozed this crap. The candles went with the kissing, and suddenly Noble was wondering if tonight was such a good idea after all. Then he took in the sweet little V of the man’s collar, hinting at the satin skin beneath, and he knew he couldn’t go anywhere before touching that. He made himself laugh, made it light. “I appreciate the sentiment. How many girls have you pulled this on?”

Foxy grinned, just enough wicked in it to make Noble’s gut flip. “Not as many as you’d think.”

“Right.” Noble forced himself to turn away, slipping out of his jacket. “Girls eat this shit up, I’m sure.”

“Guys don’t?”

“Sure.” No sense lying. It was effective. He dropped his jacket over the chest at the foot of the bed. “But it’s not necessary.”

Foxy had managed to sidle up behind him and gently laid hands on his shoulders. “It made me feel a little more…comfortable.”

Ah. Good. Noble could work with that. The ambience was for Foxy, not for him. “Oh. That’s okay, then.” Feeling better, he let himself sink back into Foxy’s chest, let his head fall to the side when the man nuzzled his neck. He almost fucking purred. “As long as you’re…comfortable.”

“Mmm.” Fingers tugged aside the collar of his pullover so teeth could gently bite into the bend between neck and shoulder.

Jesus. Noble was not accustomed to melting. Sometimes, sure. All lovers were different, and some were more cuddly than others. He could appreciate a good melt. But never so damn soon. He was unraveling, and they still had their damn clothes on.

Determined to take control of things, Noble turned and captured that dangerous mouth in a kiss. He devoured, and Foxy let him, moaning down his throat. Unwilling to linger, Noble unbuttoned Foxy’s shirt, yanking it out of his jeans in the process. He spread his hands over skin as smooth and satiny as he’d expected and dug his fingers into deliciously hard muscles. Foxy helped by shedding the shirt but didn’t reciprocate. He left it to Noble to pull away so he could yank the pullover over his head and toss it to the floor.

“Nice tattoo.” Foxy traced his fingers over Noble’s left pec.

“My horny toad,” Noble said with a grin, refusing to succumb to the tingles the man’s light touch created. Instead he started on the fly of his jeans.

“Do you have any others?”

Noble backed away to sit on the bed, having forgotten his shoes. “No. Just the one.” With his fly wide open, he bent to tug the shoes off, thanking himself for not wearing his boots. “Do you?”

“Nah. My agent said it wasn’t a great idea.” Right. An actor never knew what kind of parts he’d get, and a tattoo might not fit with certain roles. “I’ve always wanted one, though.”

Shoes and socks off, Noble glanced up at the man who now stood before him. “Are you going to get naked?”

“Yeah.” But Foxy didn’t make any moves to do so.

Noble sat up straight, focusing on Foxy’s eyes rather than the acres of exquisite skin before him. “You do want to do this?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Because I don’t want any shit later about me forcing you.”

Foxy shook his head, dislodging a fall of curls over the side of his face. “You’re not forcing me.”

“You must have done this before.”

“Only with girls.”

“You sure? Because you’re awful calm.”

Foxy turned and sat beside him. Inches separated their forearms from rubbing, and Noble wondered at how heated the air between them was. “I’ve sucked a guy off before. But that’s it.”

At least that was something. Noble had been with guys who’d done far less. He’d been with guys who wouldn’t admit to being even a little bit gay after fucking him up the ass repeatedly.

Foxy grinned at the floor. “Can I make a confession?”

Noble wasn’t sure. That sounded dangerous. But it was probably best to let Foxy get this out. “Sure.”

“I’ve been a fan of yours for a while now.”

Yep. Dangerous. “Of mine?”

“Yeah. I saw you back when you were in The Might.”

Noble blinked. “Hell. Really?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve been to Fletcher’s?” The one place where Noble and Lance’s former band had ever played before their last summer together.

“Yeah.”

“When? I never saw you.” Noble had been pretty good at meeting people who came to Fletcher’s. He couldn’t have forgotten a guy who looked like Foxy.

“It was before I moved to LA. Way before my first part.” Noble knew from looking him up that Foxy was now twenty-three and had gotten his first part two years ago, which meant he’d been jailbait when he’d seen The Might.

Noble stared at the candle on the dresser. “Well. Shit.”

“I thought you were awesome.”

“How could you tell?” All the music by The Might had been written and managed by their lead singer and very rich benefactor.

“Are you kidding? Anyone could tell.”

He had to smile at that. Always nice to know his talent was appreciated. “So…?”

“So when I saw you the other night, I really wanted to meet you.”

“You knew I was gay.”

“Oh yeah.”

Noble faced him. “So what’s this, then? Some kind of fan thing?”

“What? No! Well… No.” It was cute the way Foxy shook his head, the smooth Casanova momentarily shaken. “I think you’re hot. I’ve always thought you were hot. When I got the chance, I…I really want to be with you.”

Noble watched him flush, torn. Part of Noble thought he should probably back off. Some kind of misguided fan adoration could lead to something that might mess with the guy’s head later on. But another part of him was incredibly flattered. He was still getting used to having fans—the Indigo Knights kind of fans as opposed to the fans of The Might. The latter, he’d become good friends with because the group was so small. The former were widespread and largely unknown. “You sure about that?”

Even though Foxy was clearly embarrassed, he managed to look at Noble again. “Yes.”

“You’re not going to get all weird with me after we’ve fucked?”

“No.”

“We are talking about fucking, right?” He didn’t usually insist on this much talking before sex, but it felt important to get this out of the way.

Foxy’s hunger clearly kicked right back in, lowering his voice an octave. “Yeah.”

“Then say it.”

“Huh?”

“Say it. Say you want to fuck me.”

That seemed to bother Foxy some, because he frowned. “I…”

“Say it.”

“I want to fuck you.” Automatic response.

“You want to put your cock in my ass. Or do you want my cock in your ass?”

This time Foxy flinched.

“If you can’t say the words, I’m leaving right now.”

He startled when Foxy swung off the bed to land on his knees at Noble’s feet. “I want to suck your cock dry,” he said, gaze locked with Noble’s. Hands on Noble’s thighs, he inched closer. “Then I want to put my dick in your ass and fuck you till I come.” Now he was close again, putting his lips just below Noble’s. His hands were hot and high on Noble’s thighs, his thumb so very close to Noble’s growing erection. “Is that what you need to hear?”

Noble wrapped his arms around Foxy’s neck. “Works for me.”

Then they were kissing again. This time, Foxy made use of his hands, reaching inside Noble’s open fly to squeeze his cock. Noble was a goner. He could only hope Foxy meant what he’d said, because Noble wanted every one of those words to come true.

They had to pull apart long enough for Foxy to help Noble out of his clothes, but then Noble was naked and flat on his back in the center of the bed, with Foxy hovering over him, bestowing kisses on his belly. For sure Foxy was teasing him, kissing all around his stomach, hips, and thighs, avoiding the cock that was now fully hard and needing attention. With a growl, Noble grabbed it and slapped it against Foxy’s cheek. “Suck.”

After a heart-melting, gleeful grin, Foxy did just that, wrapping warm fingers around the base to point the tip just right to slide between those succulent lips. Groaning, Noble shut his eyes and gave in to the wet warmth of that mouth sucking him down. He was well acquainted with the fellatial arts, both giving and receiving, but this one was special. Namely because Foxy took the same special care in a blowjob that he had with kissing. His tongue explored every inch, reintroducing Noble to parts of his cock that he didn’t much think about. Foxy sucked on Noble’s balls and lapped at the sensitive strip of skin just behind before licking back up the shaft to swallow Noble down. He didn’t deep throat, but he didn’t really have to. He had Noble sweating and writhing and ready to come long before Noble was ready. “Shit. I’m…” At Noble’s note of desperation, Foxy set to serious sucking, pulling, forcing the orgasm that Noble was fighting with everything he had. It came in an explosion that had Noble seeing stars.

“Fuck.” He managed to gaze down his body to see Foxy kneeling there, wiping spunk from his lips. “Oh fuck.”

Foxy crawled onto the mattress, making Noble aware that the other man still wore his jeans. Braced over him, Foxy lowered his lips for a cum-flavored kiss. Moaning, Noble captured his head and kept him long enough to lick his mouth completely clean and then some. “That was awesome,” he told Foxy, letting his voice be breathless. Boldly, he hooked fingers into the man’s waistband, tugged. “Now it’s time for the fucking.” Because as much as he loved coming, Noble held a high regard for being fucked.

Foxy retreated to stand, hands busy with his fly. Noble rolled toward the foot of the bed to rummage through his jacket.

“There’s lube and condoms in here,” Foxy told him, pausing to open the nightstand drawer.

“Then we’ve got more than enough.” Noble dropped his bottle and packets on the mattress beside him. Then he busied his hands with arranging pillows while Foxy sheathed himself. He got a glance at the weapon Foxy was sporting, and started to salivate. Such a gorgeous cock, sprouting up from a neatly trimmed thatch of nearly black hair. Noble dearly wanted to worship it as it deserved, but he wanted it inside him more, so he stayed away. He squirted a handful of lube on his hand, then met Foxy at the edge of the mattress. “How do you want me?” he asked, winding one arm around Foxy’s neck while wrapping the fingers of his wet hand around that beautiful, sheathed cock.

Foxy’s eyes rolled up, his lips parting on an appreciative sigh. Noble bit the lower lip gently, then asked again as he squeezed the tip of Foxy’s cock.

“Any way,” Foxy answered, hands restlessly roaming up and down Noble’s sides. “Every way.”

Good answer. Noble bit Foxy’s lip again and rewarded him with another squeeze. Then he let go and turned around. “How about this?” he asked as he settled onto elbows and knees.

“Oh yeah.” The dark tone in Foxy’s voice sparked the flame that he coaxed higher by sliding his palms from Noble’s waist to shoulders and back again. The weight of his cock thumped Noble’s ass, then gained purpose when he grabbed it to rub some of the wet against Noble’s hole. “Am I going to hurt you?”

“Oh no, sweetheart,” Noble assured him, happily pulling pillows up under his chest. “You go ahead and shove that gorgeous dick all the way in.”

Foxy took him at his word. Slow but steady, he breached Noble’s entrance, then sank in deep. Regardless what he’d said, Noble felt the pinch as the girth of a new cock opened him, but he was a big fan of that feeling. He groaned, enjoying the luxurious plunge of every precious inch inside him until Foxy’s thighs were pressed against his.

“Fuck.” Foxy, draped over him like a heavy blanket, laid his cheek against the back of Noble’s neck and dug his fingers into either shoulder. “Fuck, you feel amazing.”

“Mmm.” Noble squirmed, loving the tight fit, loving the weight of this man. “Move.”

Foxy did. But just his hips. He pulled away marginally, then pushed his entire body forward, shoving Noble into the mattress. Foxy seemed to like that, because he did it again—and again—while twisting so he could nibble Noble’s neck.

Noble hugged his pillows, eyes closed, feeling enveloped, feeling far more comfortable than he should feel with a new lover. But how could he not, with the care Foxy took? Every touch was a caress designed to make Noble intensely aware of his skin and the blood that raced just beneath it. Every moan was pitched to assure him that Foxy relished his touch. His knees slipped to the sides as Foxy rocked, with the end result of his cock pressed to the firm mattress as it tried to perk awake.

Foxy picked up speed, pushing up on his arms to get a little more leverage. But he was still close enough that Noble was wrapped in his heat. Fingers on Noble’s chin turned his head for a sloppy kiss that was all tongues and moans. Foxy burrowed under Noble and found his hand, twined their fingers, hands pressed between Noble and the bed. He murmured Noble’s name as his rocking changed to thrusting. He cried out, sweaty forehead pressed to the back of Noble’s shoulder. “Fuck!” he cried, shuddering as he came. Noble shook underneath him, managing to orgasm without coming.

Well. Shit. That was amazing. Noble lay in a liquefied puddle of happy underneath a blanket of Foxy, and he would have been perfectly content to stay that way for a year or two. He caught his eyes closing, felt sleep creeping up on him. Which would’ve been fine, but he didn’t want to do that. He didn’t sleep over. Not the first time. Hardly ever. Occasionally a lover would sleep over at his place, but that was not the case here.

“That was amazing,” Foxy murmured into his neck, echoing the exact words in Noble’s head.

“Mmm. Yeah.” He wiggled out from under Foxy, turning enough so that they could share a kiss. He didn’t want to be rude, and the man did deserve a reward for a truly terrific fuck. But Noble kept it quick, rolling away before Foxy could catch him in a hug. “Bathroom,” he muttered, not turning back on his way to the john. He shut the door and faced himself in the mirror. He looked freshly fucked. He was mussed and flushed, and holy hell, when had Foxy managed to bite his shoulder? He didn’t remember feeling anything like that—not that he would’ve minded. Jesus. Bewildered by his reaction, he took care of business and considered himself in the mirror again as he washed his hands. Should he leave now and cut his losses? Or stay and enjoy Foxy? Or should he quit thinking too much? This wasn’t like him either. Second-guessing really wasn’t his thing. Foxy just hit a different chord with him, and it threw him off.

Foxy stood from the bed as Noble emerged. He too looked freshly fucked and managed to be more gorgeous because of it. The sweat had dried, but parts of him still looked shiny. His hair was tangled, his lips were swollen, and his cock looked like it might be about ready for another round. Noble was so not going to leave that behind. Foxy kissed him briefly as they passed each other, then disappeared into the bathroom. Noble shook his head at himself and went to the other room, seeking out the fruit and some bottled water. Refreshments, yes, that’d clear his head. The show on the television had become the news, so Noble searched out the remote control to shut it off.

Foxy came into the room laughing. “Should my fingers be purple?”

Surprised, Noble spun to face him. “Huh?”

Foxy held up his hands, and Noble relaxed. The purple stains on Foxy’s fingers were familiar. “Oh.” Noble raised a hand to his hair. “Sorry. I just did the hair last week. It does that for a while. It’ll wear off quick.”

“I don’t mind.” Now beside him, Foxy picked up a chunk of melon and brought it to his lips. “It’ll remind me of you.”

“Zach might mind.”

He’d purposely put the wet blanket between them, but it still hurt to see Foxy flinch a little. “Yeah.”

“What did you tell him about tonight?”

“That I needed some time alone.” Foxy munched on the melon as he opened a bottle of water. “They let me have that every once in a while.”

“Did you have to sneak in to avoid the paparazzi?”

Foxy downed most of his water in a few big gulps. “Sort of. It’s cool once you get inside, though. This hotel’s one of those that gets paid to keep the press out. Isn’t that why they have you here?”

Noble laughed. “Well, yeah. That’s true.”

Foxy’s hand sliding up Noble’s back gave him goose bumps in a most marvelous way. “You sticking around?” Foxy brushed a kiss over the back of Noble’s shoulder. “Or do you need to go?”

That was his chance. Foxy handed it to him on a silver platter. He should get dressed and go back to his lonely hotel room and the cold bed that hadn’t been warmed by some of the best sex he’d ever had. Right. He should open his mouth to say he was leaving. And he would. Just as soon as Foxy stopped sampling the sensitive skin at the side of his neck. Damn, that felt nice. “Hey,” was what he said when he finally found words. “I thought I was the experienced seducer here.”

“You are.” Foxy’s hands slid around from behind to pluck at his pierced nipple. “You’ve completely seduced me.”

Noble fought the urge to squirm. Foxy was playing him like a master musician. “I think that’s the other way around, pretty boy.”

“Is it?” Teeth nipped at his earlobe right behind the single hoop. “Can I seduce you back to bed?”

He thought about it while Foxy’s tongue explored his ear. His concentration was torn between that and the rising cock brushing his ass. Right. Like he could leave. “How can I resist?”

* * * *

Noble’s ringtone roused him from a deep sleep. Befuddled, he spent the first round of rings trying to pull his eyes open and raise his head. Then the ringing stopped, but he was awake now. Somewhat. A mound of pillows blocked half his vision, and silky sheets cocooned his legs. The familiar heat of someone else’s body warmed his left side, and he turned his head. He knew who it was. Foxy was slowly waking beside him, eyes not yet open but brows and nose twitching. All the candles were out, and the light-blocking curtains were drawn, but the open door to the other room let in enough light to assure Noble that it was well into morning.

“Shit.” Groaning, he rolled toward the edge of the bed just as his phone started to ring again. Damn. He’d slept over. He very, very rarely did that. Never with a new lover. Shit. Shaking most of the sleep from his head, he grabbed at the jeans he’d left on the floor, to pull out his phone just as it went to voice mail again. Foxy stirred as Noble unlocked the phone. A beep told him a second message had been left. Two messages—not so bad. Making sure the speaker was off, he listened to the first message.

Gordon. “It’s eleven o’clock. Where are you?”

Second message, Gordon again. “Your phone had better not be off. Call me.”

Just then, the phone rang again. Noble clicked on the call. “I’m up. I’m on my way.”

“How far away are you?”

He rubbed carefully at his eyes, trying to moisten the colored contacts. “I’m in the hotel. Give me ten.”

“Do you need a shower?”

Noble blinked. Smiled. Took a sniff of himself. He stank of sweat and sex. “Yes.”

“Take one. Be here in thirty.”

“You bet.”

He ended the call and dropped the phone back down on his pants. Yawned.

“You’ve got to go.” The voice behind him was deep and gravelly and hit pleasure points at the base of Noble’s spine.

He glanced back. Foxy’s eyes were open, but not by much. Tangled hair framed his face, and dark stubble shadowed his jaw. The white sheet covered him from the ribs down but left broad shoulders and bare chest out for admiration. He looked warm and edible.

“Yeah.”

One hand flopped over so fingers could trace Noble’s forearm. “Sure you can’t stay awhile?”

Noble glanced down, certain there was an erection under the blanket, but no. Bad enough he’d stayed. “Sorry. Mind if I shower here?”

“Can I join you?”

“God, no.” He stood. “I’ll never leave.” He laughed and held out a hand when Foxy started to get up. “That was not an invitation. I’ve really got to go.”

With a longing sigh, Foxy sank back into the pillows.

“Stay,” Noble told him as he turned toward the bathroom.

He wasn’t sure if he was glad or disappointed when Foxy obeyed him and didn’t invade his shower. He put the twinge of disappointment out of his head and washed quickly, drying himself with a big, fluffy white towel as he left the bathroom. Foxy was still lying in bed. He yawned and stretched as Noble tossed the towel on a chair and picked up his clothes.

“Sure you can’t stay?”

“Can’t.” Noble yanked his briefs up. “I’ve got tons of shit to do today.”

“What about tonight?”

Pulling on his jeans, Noble let himself look at the man still lying among the sheets that they’d fucked in. “Tonight I’ve got a dinner with some people from the record company.”

Foxy rolled so his head rested on his bicep, the hand hovering over his curls. “What if I keep the room for another night? Will you come back?”

Noble grinned as he yanked on his pullover. “It’d be late.”

“I don’t care.”

“I get on a plane tomorrow afternoon.” The statement, which had caused great joy over the past few months, rang flat to him this morning.

“I know. That’s why I want to see you tonight.”

“How do you know I don’t have someone else to see?” Rotten question, he knew, but this conversation…last night…was entirely too cozy.

Foxy frowned but did the best shrug he could in his position. “I don’t. But it couldn’t hurt me to try.”

Noble bounced on the mattress when he sat to pull on his socks and shoes. “Well. I don’t. Yet. I usually find someone at whatever thing I’m going to.”

“Just come back here.”

One shoe in hand, he turned to face Foxy. “You know, for a guy who’s never had gay sex before, you’re sure eager to do it again.” Usually the straight guys needed to take a breather and think on what they’d done.

Foxy put on a heart-melting grin. “You’re just that good.”

“Oh, you smooth talker.” Laughing, Noble dropped his shoe, then threw himself down beside Foxy, facing him. “Okay, truth: I’d like to come back here tonight, if it works out.”

Foxy hooked a hand around his neck to pull him closer. “Then make sure it works out.”

His kiss was drugging in spite of the fact that they both had morning breath. Noble instantly relaxed into it, opening himself up for exploration. It took a minute, but he managed to drag himself back to sanity. “Quit it.” He rolled away. “I’ve gotta go.”

“You’ll come back?”

“Persistent.” Bent over the edge of the mattress, Noble searched for the shoe he’d abandoned. “Yeah. Sure.” Found it. Shoved it on. Stood. Foxy started to pull off the covers. “Jesus, don’t get up. It’s hard enough for me to leave.”

Chuckling, Foxy jumped out of bed, completely naked and completely perfect.

Noble wanted to trace every delineated muscle with his tongue and sample that golden skin. “Asshole.” Manfully, smoothing back still-damp hair, he left the room.

“Can you stay for breakfast?”

“No.” At the dinette, Noble stared at the platter that had held fruit and cheese the night before. It was now completely empty, having supplied sustenance for the four times they’d fucked the previous night. Four! Noble was most pleasantly sore in all the right places. “They’re waiting for me.”

Gentle but firm hands turned him around to face the gorgeous body he wanted to devour yet again. “Last night was awesome.” Kiss. So sweet. Full of promise. “Thank you.”

“Entirely my pleasure.” Another kiss. “I gotta go.” One more kiss. “Shit.” A brief touch of lips and then he pushed away. “Get the fuck away from me. You’re dangerous.”

They both laughed as Noble sped out of the suite. He made it to Gordon’s door in the other tower in record time. His hair had wet his collar, and his hands felt naked without most of his rings as he knocked.

“Oh wow.” Rabin answered the door and so was the first to see him. “You look thoroughly fucked.”

Noble threw his arms around his friend’s neck and planted a wet kiss on his lips. “That I am.” Releasing Rabin, he faced the other three, who sat on the couch and love seat in Gordon and Lance’s room.

“Did you really fuck Donny Foxy?” Danny asked.

“Not as far as the press is concerned.” Noble sat, then immediately dug into the bagels and cream cheese set before them.

“How was it?”

“Pretty good for a straight boy.” He felt Lance’s stare and looked up to meet it. “What?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Yeah. And your silence is real loud.”

Feigning indifference, Lance raised his hands and shrugged. “Your bed, your business.”

“Damn straight.”

“All right,” Gordon intervened, sitting back. “Can we get on with the business at hand? We’ve got a lot to cover today.”

Noble ate his breakfast and listened to his manager, trying to pay attention. But memories of last night kept coming up to warm his blood. Damn it. Fuck the universe and its timing to drop such a treat in his lap at exactly the moment when he didn’t have the luxury to enjoy it.

Chapter Four

Still up? Noble sent the text from the backseat of a town car at two thirty in the morning.

I’m up.

Back at the hotel in 10. Should I come? He stifled a yawn, beat. Little sleep in the past few days had made him loopy. Combine that with a few drinks and a spectacularly boring business dinner, and all he really wanted was to curl up and sleep for the few hours he had before they left for the airport. But he’d been thinking of Foxy all night, and he wasn’t the type to leave anyone hanging if he could help it.

Absolutely, came Foxy’s reply.

K c u soon.

“Seriously?” Lance, seated between him and Gordon, saw the text thread. “You’re off on a booty call now?”

“Sure.” Noble tapped his phone on his leg, trying to keep his eyes open as the streets flashed by the window. Tonight, at Gordon’s behest, he’d gone without the colored contacts and hadn’t spiked his hair. In a light summer suit in deep lavender, he looked as normal as he could get.

“You need to be ready to leave at ten,” Gordon warned calmly.

“I’m all packed. Just got the one overnight bag. I’ll be there.” He grinned over Lance at Gordon. “And I’ll leave my phone on. You can wake me up.”

Gordon shrugged, unconcerned. Lance, however, was bothered.

“What?”

Lance shook his head. “This isn’t like you.”

Noble laughed. “What? Going to have sex? Have you met me?”

“No. I mean going to meet some guy in a hotel room two nights in a row. Alone. You’re usually with a bunch of guys.”

Noble shrugged, returning his gaze to the window. “I don’t have time for a gang bang. You heard Gordon.” Manfully, he tried not to yawn again.

“You had a group at the party.”

Yeah. He had. That was his typical MO. He made friends easily because he liked talking to people. Eligible gay men gravitated to him. It was rare that he didn’t find at least one in a crowd. Then he and that guy would go somewhere, usually where he was staying, to fuck for part of the night. Then they’d part ways before the sun came up. On the few occasions someone did sleep over, he was usually up way before them. Oversleeping this morning had been quite an anomaly, and Lance had known him long and well enough to see it. Add the fact that he was now going back to be with Foxy a second night in a row, and Noble was behaving very strangely.

“Too much work. This one’s already hooked, and it was really good last night.” He chuckled, smiling back at his friend. “Don’t worry. I’ll be on a plane tomorrow and won’t see him again.”

And wasn’t that kind of sad?

* * * *

Shit. He wasn’t going to make it. This sucked. He dragged himself out of the elevator. He’d pushed it this week, knowing he had some downtime on the plane. He hadn’t counted on Foxy’s draw.

Again there was no one around to see Noble as he walked the upper halls of the Weiss. He started to wonder if there was anyone else even up here except for the Knights and Foxy. But that was ridiculous. The Weiss was a very popular hotel, especially with celebrities. He was just out at odd hours.

Since he’d texted he was on his way, Foxy was right there when Noble knocked on the door. In one move, Foxy’d opened the door, yanked Noble inside, and wrapped him in a kiss while the door shut itself. The kiss was every bit as thorough as any from the previous night, but it was far more urgent. “I’ve been thinking about this,” Foxy said, voice a little muffled as he kissed his way down Noble’s neck. “All. Fucking. Day.”

“Aww.” Noble sighed happily, lifting his chin to give Foxy better access as he allowed the man to walk him backward toward the bedroom. “Did you jerk off, or did you hold it?”

“Both.” At the door, Foxy lifted his head. His eyes were wild over a manic grin. “Holding it didn’t work, though. I started playing your music, and I couldn’t keep it in.”

Immensely flattered, Noble struggled out of the suit jacket he’d worn to the dinner. “Maybe I can help you with that.”

Foxy stopped Noble’s backward motion by grabbing the knot of his tie. Foxy used it to yank closer so they were eye to eye. “I’m counting on it.”

Kissing again. They concentrated on getting Noble naked, since Foxy was mostly there—he wore red lounge pants and not much else. Thoughts of this man languishing all day, stroking his cock while he thought about Noble, made Noble’s head spin. He tripped backward over the suit pants Foxy had let fall to the floor, and toppled onto the bed. His shirt fell open to reveal the tank he’d worn underneath for warmth. Foxy knelt to get Noble’s shoes and socks while he struggled out of his shirts and tie.

He didn’t realize he’d sighed until Foxy was standing up, leaning over him. “You okay?”

Noble’s eyes were closed, and it was rough getting them open. “Huh? Yeah. I…” Up on his elbows, he rubbed his eyes with one hand. “I’m beat.”

“Long day?”

“Long week.”

“You up for this?”

Groggy, he still managed to focus on the tent in Foxy’s pants. “Yeah.” He heaved himself up and reached for the man’s hips. But all he could manage for the moment was to rub his cheek against the soft flannel that covered the rock-hard erection.

Fingers stroked through his hair. “You sure?”

Eyes closed, he dragged Foxy’s waistband down, freeing his cock. Noble used his mouth on it, sucking on the tip like the salty candy it was—a better answer than anything he could have verbalized.

Foxy’s groan filled Noble’s head as the fat, smooth head of Foxy’s cock filled Noble’s mouth. Tasty. A tiny bit soapy. Aww, Foxy had showered for him. Lazily, he sucked, letting Foxy’s fingers gently guide him. He smoothed his hands up and down Foxy’s hips and thighs, enjoying the texture changes.

Hardly aware of how long that went on, he was a little startled when Foxy pulled him back, tipping his head so he could open his eyes to see Foxy, who was smiling. “Wow, you’re really tired.”

Mortified, Noble tried his best to hide a yawn. “I’m sorry.”

Chuckling, Foxy pushed him onto his back and crawled over him. “How about I fuck you, then let you fall asleep?”

He wanted to protest, but he knew he was beat. “That sounds awesome.”

He lay mostly limp as Foxy got him out of his briefs. His cock was up and willing to play, but the rest of his body wouldn’t back it up. He managed to roll over while Foxy suited up with the latex. “Oh God, yeah,” he groaned as Foxy slid in and lowered the rest of his body to blanket Noble as he had the night before. It was exciting and oddly comforting. Foxy pressed him down, finding both hands to weave their fingers together. Then, just by rocking, he brought Noble to the most gentle orgasm he’d ever had in his life. Noble would have commented, but he lost awareness before Foxy even came.

* * * *

The phone woke him again. This time, he found the offending square of plastic within arm’s reach on the nightstand.

“Yeah.”

“You awake?” Gordon, of course.

“No.”

“It’s nine o’clock. If I don’t hear from you in ten minutes, I’m calling again.”

“Right.” He clicked the call off, then let the phone fall into the sheets. The blankets were nice and warm, but the body spooned up behind him was warmer. All he wanted to do was burrow in and get some more sleep.

“Hey.” A low, sexy voice filled his ear. “You need to get up.”

“No.”

“Yeah.” A hand shook his shoulder. “C’mon.”

While he would have liked it if he weren’t conscious yet, he was. Although he was still tired, his brain had clicked on even if the rest of his body wanted to keep sleeping. “Shit.”

Lips caressed his shoulder. Neck. “You awake?”

He sighed. “Yeah.” He rolled onto his back. Foxy leaned over him for a kiss. “I fell asleep on you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Was kind of weird but wasn’t bad.”

Noble yawned. “Maybe I can make it up to you sometime.”

Lips met his again as Noble realized what he’d said. “I’d like that.” Foxy pulled back after another, briefer kiss. “But you gotta get going.”

Noble sighed, rubbed his eyes, then pushed up to sit. “Right.” He dragged his ass out of bed and got dressed while Foxy watched. It was weirdly comfortable, and he was kind of glad that he’d be putting some distance between himself and this guy. No sense getting attached, no matter how good the sex was.

Leaving his tie draped around his neck, he knelt on the bed for a final kiss. “Thanks.”

Foxy drew a soft line from his ear, down his jaw, to his chin, smiling a very dangerous smile. “Thank you.”

Refusing to read into it, Noble pushed away and left the room.

Two hours later, he was tucked up in a first-class seat on a huge jet plane that was taking him away from the good old United States for only the second time in his life. His bandmates surrounded him, a gin and tonic sat by his elbow, his feet were up, and a blanket covered him. Content, he shut his eyes, ready to sleep. But that’s when thoughts of Foxy returned. Foxy’s hands, Foxy’s lips, that subtle scent of sandalwood that surrounded him. Foxy’s cock sliding in his mouth or in his ass. Foxy’s groans. Every bit of the experience surrounded Noble as he tried to find sleep.

Yeah, it was a good thing he would be away from that for many months.

Chapter Five

Just saw your movie. I’m impressed. Ur pretty good. Noble sent the text, then tucked his phone back in his pocket. It was late in Glasgow, which meant it was morning or early afternoon in Los Angeles. Since he had no idea what Foxy was even doing these days, he didn’t know when the text would arrive. Two weeks into the tour and he was still thinking about the actor who’d filled two clandestine nights with him.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t slept with anyone since. Of course he had. He was young and single and in a new fucking country. He had to try out the local cuisine, as it were. Many of the locals he met were happy to spend time with him, in and out of bed. The Indigo Knights were riding Heaven Sent’s coattails on this one, but who the hell cared? Both bands were getting attention, and the guys in Heaven Sent were being incredibly generous by including the Knights in many of their events. Even if they weren’t part of the focus, they were invited to attend signings, interviews, photo shoots, and any number of other events. Since both bands were out, tons of eligible gay men flocked to see them. Noble found himself in the very enviable position of being the only one from either band who wasn’t in a long-standing relationship. There was lots and lots of cock, and it was all for him.

Even so, he found himself thinking about Donny Foxy. The man had made an impression on him in such a brief time.

He and Danny sat in the backseat of a limousine with Darien Hughes, waiting while the car crawled through a screeching crowd of fans.

“Good movie,” Darien said, leaning back in the plush seats. “Not as good as the book, but not too bad.”

“You read the book?” Danny asked, unable to keep disbelief from his voice.

Darien dipped two fingers in a nearby ice bucket to get a cube to throw at Danny. “I read, asshole.” He flicked his fingers dry with a smile. “Gotta do something on long plane rides.” He sighed, looking at the faces trying to press against the tinted windows. “It wasn’t like this before.”

“What?”

“Glasgow. It was mellow last time we were here.” The three of them had snuck out to see the movie rather than be cooped up in their hotel rooms for an odd night off. But word had spread while they were in the movie, so much that they’d had to call a car and security to get them out.

“That’s what you get for being a big star,” Noble mused.

“Yeah.” Darien snorted. “You get to feel my pain now.”

Noble exchanged a smile with the other drummer. “Gladly.”

His phone buzzed, so he pulled it out. Glad you liked it. I’m on my way to a fitting for the next one.

Noble chuckled and relayed the message.

Darien gave him a funny look. “You know Donny Foxy?”

Noble didn’t glance at Danny, whom he knew was grinning. “A little. Met him right before we left the country.”

“So that’s why you suggested this movie.”

Noble shrugged.

Danny laughed, but Darien let it go.

Phone still out, Noble texted Foxy a question and then spent the rest of the ride back to the hotel in the conversation, completely ignoring what Danny and Darien were saying.

* * * *

Two weeks later, he was at dinner in Dublin and received a text from Foxy. This one was accompanied by a selfie of the man in a voluminous purple robe embroidered with silver stars. Keep this one secret. No one’s supposed to see it.

Noble smiled. The robe was a part of the plot of the second movie, and there was much speculation on what it would look like. How did Noble know this? He’d started following feeds about the movie, just to stay informed about Foxy’s whereabouts. Just because he was curious. Awesome. Part of him wanted to text back some snide remark about the new girl Foxy was dating, but he decided not. No point.

Almost indigo yeah? Foxy texted. Then, U could b my knight.

He suppressed a laugh and texted back. Dream on, magic boy.

* * * *

Next day, he had to text Foxy. Smooth move getting caught in that club. The news feed this morning had included an item about Foxy’s being arrested for drunk and disorderly at a bar in Vancouver, where they’d started shooting the movie.

Not my best moment, came the reply a half hour later.

U ok?

Yeah. No charges just a warning. Last time I go out with Sara.

Noble told himself he didn’t mind the mention of the girlfriend. But the press says ur so close.

Right. Not. That was her publicist, not mine.

Bad of Noble to feel good about that. U working?

Waiting. Bored. U?

Going on in a half hour.

Wish I was there to see. Rock on.

* * * *

Noble was in Paris the following month with two naked men and a porn video playing. He’d just gone to the wet bar for some water when he saw the text light up the screen on his phone.

You awake?

He glanced at the guys busy with each other on the couch, then picked up the phone. He’d been doing more watching than joining in anyway. Yeah.

Time to talk? I have to tell someone.

Intrigued, he texted back a yes, then took his phone and his water into the bathroom and shut the door. His phone rang just as he sat on the wide edge of the raised tub. “What’s up?”

“You’re not going to believe this.” Foxy was not only amused, he was excited. Laughing. “I don’t have anyone else I can tell this.”

Noble tucked the phone between his ear and his shoulder so he could open the water. “Tell.”

“I caught Zach with a guy.”

Noble nearly dropped the phone. “What?”

“Yes! He’s in the room next to me. I went to get him ’cause he was late, and some guy was in his bed. Naked.” Foxy crowed, probably crying from laughing so hard. “He didn’t want to let me in, but I saw the guy—and I had to see.”

Noble was as amused by the story as he was by Foxy’s reaction. “Was he hot?”

“What?”

“The guy. Was he hot?”

“Oh. Yeah. Kinda.” Clearly Foxy was less interested in the guy than in catching Zach.

“So. Zach’s gay?”

“I don’t know. He threw me out. I really should get going, but I really had to tell someone.”

“Happy to provide.” Noble sipped his water. “I guess he can’t stop you from seeing guys on the side now.”

He actually heard Foxy sobering a little, laughter cut short. “What?”

“Well, if he’s got a secret, he’d better keep yours, right? Or is he coming out?”

Pause. “I didn’t even think about that.”

Not surprising. Foxy didn’t seem to be the manipulative type, even in something this minor. “So you haven’t been doing guys all over Vancouver?”

“No. I haven’t been with a guy since you.”

That fell between them as Noble overheard moaning from the next room.

“Just a few girls,” Foxy added as a delayed afterthought. “Two. No sex, though.”

“You don’t need to report to me.” Noble kept his tone light, but he was oddly disappointed Foxy had been out. But that wasn’t remotely fair when he had partners in the next room. “And now you can broaden your horizons, and Zach will have to keep your secret.”

“Yeah.” Foxy’s tone sounded flat. “So. You off tonight?”

“Yeah.” Noble wasn’t going to volunteer what he was doing until he had to. No need to flaunt his activities.

“Cool. Tour going good?”

“Great.” He probably should say more, but what?

“Cool. Uh, I guess I gotta go. I’m late.”

“Right. Don’t be late. Say hi to Zach for me.”

That made Foxy laugh. “Right. Later, Noble.”

“Later, Foxy.”

* * * *

Noble dropped onto the uncomfortable couch in the minuscule green room of Miada, a huge club in… “What the hell city are we in?”

Partaking of the sandwich tray set before them, Rabin tossed him a tired smile. “Lisbon.”

Noble closed his eyes, pretending to think hard. “Portugal?”

“That’s it.”

He sighed, sitting back on the couch. Live Heaven Sent music piped in through truly terrible speakers in two corners of the room. “Weren’t we just in Sweden?”

“That we were.”

“This shit’s exhausting.”

Still munching, Rabin sat back to regard him. “Wanna quit and go home?”

“Fuck no.”

On a second couch across from them, Danny was curled up with his eyes closed. Maybe sleeping, maybe just resting. The travel had been harder on him than the rest of the band, and he was petrified that he was going to lose his voice. Since the Knights had already gone on, he had the rest of the night and a travel day tomorrow to rest.

“Where’s the master and his pet?” Current travel arrangements and security wouldn’t let any of the band leave unless all of them were there.

Rabin chuckled. “Gordon went out front to check out the show. Lance went with him.”

Noble nodded. Didn’t matter. They could leave soon enough.

“You gonna join them?”

He settled back into the couch, digging into his pocket for his phone. “I don’t think so.” He could feel Rabin staring at him. “What?”

“You’re not going out front?”

“No.”

“There’s people out there.” Said with a wry grin.

“I know that.”

Rabin narrowed his eyes, thinking, then sat forward, gaze intent. “What’s with you lately? You okay?”

“I’m fine. Why?”

“When’s the last time you went out?”

Noble rolled his eyes. “Give me a break. We’ve been on planes every third day for the past two weeks.” Not quite, but almost. “Even I have issues with that kind of schedule.”

Rabin wasn’t convinced. “You didn’t let that stop you on the club tour.”

“Please.” Noble checked his phone. No messages. “On the club tour, everyone in the clubs spoke English. It’s a little harder to socialize when you don’t know the language.”

That seemed to mollify Rabin, but he was still watching too carefully. “Okay.”

“What?”

Clearly having second thoughts, Rabin sat back. “Nothing.”

“Out with it.”

He glanced at the other couch. Noble did too, finding out that Danny’s eyes were open as he listened.

But it was Rabin who spoke, with a raised eyebrow. “When’s the last time you heard from Foxy?”

Again Noble rolled his eyes. “Fuck you both.” He wouldn’t mention that he’d hoped for a text message just now.

Danny snickered.

Rabin laughed. “What? No message? He’s slipping.”

“Screw you.” He slapped his phone, facedown, on his thigh. “Stop making something out of what isn’t.”

“Right. So you don’t text the guy every day?”

“No.” Yes. Fuck him.

“He actually talks to him sometimes,” Danny put in, voice soft.

Noble flipped him a middle finger.

Rabin laughed harder. “C’mon, man. Even you have to see that this is strange behavior for you.”

He did. Which just made Noble more irritable. “Okay. So? I like him. Not like it does me a lot of good.”

That sobered them up quick.

Since he never liked to be the downer, he tried to change the tone. “Y’all are just jealous I got an international pretty boy hot after my ass.”

Again Rabin and Danny exchanged glances, but Noble chose to ignore them in favor of looking at his phone. Just looking. Wasn’t anything on there that hadn’t been a few minutes ago. An hour ago. Jesus fuck! He really was checking his phone too much lately.

* * * *

The text came the next day. How was Lisbon?

The phone lay on the mattress beside Noble on his upper bunk in the sleeper car of the train from Lisbon to Madrid. Because Danny was fast asleep on the bunk below, he didn’t turn on the light as he propped himself up to answer.

Fuck if I know. Hardly saw it. Where u? Filming in Vancouver was done. Foxy had been due back in Los Angeles, scheduled to do some talk shows and interviews around shooting some scenes on a guest shot he was doing on a popular television crime drama.

Cali. Leasing a house. You should see it. Malibu.

On the beach?

Yeah.

Noble had to smile. Sand. Uck.

Don’t like the beach?

OK to look at.

Heathen.

Noble suppressed a laugh. This was why he liked talking/texting with Foxy. They didn’t like all the same stuff, but that was okay. Over the past few months, they’d bonded over aversions to vegetables, pet birds, and snow, and agreed to disagree about reptiles—Noble loved them, but they creeped Foxy out—and country music.

You get to go home in 2 months, right?

Noble blinked at Foxy’s text. He’d been keeping track of the time? Noble hardly knew the answer and had to do some quick calculations to confirm. Yeah. Just about.

Back to NY?

Chicago. That’s home these days. Got a house, even. Well, a town house, but it was the same difference.

Nice.

Probably. Haven’t seen it much. Got it right b4 left for tour. Noble yawned. It was just after six in the morning. They were due to arrive shortly after eight.

Will you get time at home after tour?

Some. We get a few months before we start the US dates.

Some life.

Rock on.

They texted a little more about nothing in particular until Noble heard Danny stir. It was almost seven.

Gotta go. Breakfast soon.

Enjoy.

Later.

He always felt he should add more after that, but couldn’t think of anything that wasn’t sappy. They were just friends who’d fucked, nothing more than he’d been with any number of other men. Why did he tend to want to think of this one as special? Maybe he should wean himself off Foxy for a while?

But later that day, when he got a picture of a tiny lizard Foxy found in his new backyard, Noble couldn’t help but laugh out loud and text his reaction. Fuck weaning. It wasn’t necessary. They were just friends.

Chapter Six

The end of the overseas tour was surprisingly anticlimactic. Maybe it was because there was so little going on in the near future. Both Heaven Sent and the Indigo Knights were off for a few months to recover and rejoice in a successful tour. Rabin and Danny were very glad to be back in Chicago, because they had boyfriends to spend time with. Lance and Gordon dived into doing stuff for their new house, planning to enjoy their first quality time together as a couple. Noble? He had a new town house he hadn’t gotten a chance to fix up before they’d left for the tour. He had some vague plans to get some new furniture, get a room or two painted. But nothing special. He threw a party for himself the night after he got home, inviting a handful of friends who were local. There was much drinking, much sex, and two of the guys stayed through the next day. But after they’d gone home, Noble was reluctant to call anyone else over. He went out a few times over the next week, but his bandmates would have died of shock to know that he’d gone home each night alone. So he didn’t tell them.

A week into the first month off, he sat in his living room, staring at his cell phone. Outside, the July sun heated the muggy air, but inside, the air conditioner was working fine. The television was on, surround sound all around him. A new laptop sat open beside him on the new couch, and a tablet was perched on his lap, displaying an array of bookcases he was determined to select from.

He was bored out of his mind.

He should call some friends. That was his plan when he’d picked up the phone, but he stalled in deciding whom to call. Lance and Gordon were busy with their own life. He’d just seen Rabin and Danny and their significant others in the last few days. He didn’t want to see anyone in a relationship anyway. Anyone else—anyone single—he invited would want to stay the night, even if he invited a group, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to deal with people that long. Strange feeling. He was bored and lonely, but he didn’t want to spend time with anyone. Odd. And not quite true. There was one person he wanted to spend time with. But he didn’t want to call that person. He didn’t know where that person was, to be honest. They’d texted since he got back home but had yet to have a conversation. That was good. He wasn’t going to appear needy. Because he didn’t need. He just wanted.

An hour later, he hadn’t made any progress and was thinking maybe he should just go out, when his phone rang. Caller ID identified Foxy. A ridiculous thrill rushed through him, enough that he had to consciously calm himself before opening the call. “Hey.”

“Hey. What’re you up to?”

“Nothing much.”

“Good. Can I see you?”

Noble’s heart stopped. He stared at the carpet between his bare feet. “Where are you?”

“O’Hare.”

Suddenly Noble was on his feet. “What the hell are you doing at the airport?”

“Coming to see you?”

His heart raced. “What?”

“I came to see you.”

“What the fuck?”

“If you don’t want to see me, I understand.” Foxy sounded uncertain. “I just thought—”

“Are you even allowed to see me?”

“Huh?”

“I thought we were secret? I mean, I’m assuming you’re coming for sex, right?” Okay, that was blunt, but sometimes you just had to go there.

“Well…yeah, it’s secret.”

“And the sex?”

“That too. I mean, that’s if…”

“Are you crazy?”

Foxy laughed softly. “Probably. If you don’t want me to come—”

“Don’t be stupid.” Noble snatched up the remote to mute the TV. “I’ll text you directions to my place. But…” He went to the single window that overlooked the postage-sized stamp of a front yard and parted the curtain enough to see. No one stood on the curb beyond the fence, but that didn’t mean no one was out there. He lived in a very cool, very small community. There were a dozen town houses arranged in a U around a lush courtyard shaded by trees. Modern but built to look like old brick brownstones. Trees and bushes made the sidewalk shady and green. Everyone had money, so security was pretty good. The rent-a-cops they paid to patrol the area were top-notch, but some groupies and at least one photographer had gotten through since he’d been home, although the paparazzi could have also been there for the actress who lived across the courtyard. “What if someone sees you?”

“I’ve got a hat, sunglasses, and wig.” Foxy sounded amused. “Or we can meet at a hotel?”

“Hold on. Lemme think.” Noble got up, needing to move. In the kitchen, he looked into his gated backyard. There was a space to park two cars, both empty since he didn’t drive. The back alley was more private than the front. “I’ll text you directions. Call when you’re here, and I’ll let you in the back.”

“Awesome. Hey?”

“What?”

“Thanks.”

His fucking heart shouldn’t expand like that. It wasn’t right. Noble rubbed at his chest to try and relieve it. “Don’t thank me, fool. You’re the one who flew across the country. Now hang up.”

“Yes, sir.” Clearly amused, Foxy obeyed.

Quickly, Noble sent his address to Foxy. Then he had to wait. What the fuck was Foxy doing here? He couldn’t possibly have flown in just to see Noble. He must have some kind of business in the area. Suddenly agitated, Noble flew into action. He changed his clothes but kept it casual at a T-shirt and ripped denim shorts. He considered putting in contacts—what would be Foxy’s preferred color?—but discarded the idea because he couldn’t be bothered. He lamented that he hadn’t shaved or dyed his hair recently; his naturally dark blond roots were showing under a strip of blue that now looked like a washed-out purple, while the sides of his head were a little more than peach fuzz. He checked for drinks and food, of which there were plenty because he’d been stocked by a service Gordon had provided. He called to get a rent-a-cop to clear the street of any groupies and, hopefully, photographers. It wouldn’t last long, but it might last long enough to get Foxy inside.

He was snacking on potato chips, staring at his bare feet on the light tan kitchen tiles, when his phone rang. “I’m down the street.”

Staying on the phone, he gave Foxy directions to the mostly private alley that ran behind a row of the town houses, using a fob to open the gate. A few minutes later, Noble stood in the mudroom between the kitchen and the back door, watching a dark blue rental sedan turn in to the carport. As Foxy got out, Noble snickered. The hat was a baseball cap, pulled low over a thick-framed pair of glasses. Straight black hair that couldn’t be his own fell over the shoulders of a bulky black hoodie that made him look bigger than he was. A backpack slung over one shoulder and a slightly hunched-over walk completed the disguise. Noble sure wouldn’t have recognized him.

“Hey.” Familiar brown eyes shone at Noble over the rims of unfamiliar, unflattering sunglasses as Foxy hurried up the steps. At least two days’ worth of sparse, dark brown stubble obscured his chin and upper lip, aging him a little.

“Hey.” Unable to suppress his grin, Noble waved him inside. “Get in here. You’ve got to be cooking in that getup.”

“Yeah.” Foxy brushed past, the full backpack bumping Noble on the way. Noble shut the door and was barely inside the kitchen before Foxy swept him into a kiss. Arms swathed in thick sweatshirt squeezed him close, and gloriously warm, soft lips pressed to his, stubble tickling his skin. He’d forgotten just how thorough Foxy’s kisses were but quickly became reacquainted as a tongue that tasted of coffee and mint explored his mouth. He kissed back with more zeal than he could help, cupping either side of Foxy’s head as though he held a special relic that contained the secret to eternal life.

They drew away from each other gradually. Noble belatedly realized that Foxy had shed the hat, wig, and glasses. Sweat shone on his forehead along a red band that showed he’d worn the ridiculous hat for a while.

“Hi,” said Foxy, luscious mouth curled into a sinful grin.

Noble brushed his thumbs along the facial hair to either side of that mouth. “Hi.”

“Nice place.” Foxy didn’t take his eyes off Noble.

Noble snorted. “It is. But you haven’t seen it.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re here.”

Noble had to laugh. He had to pull away, look away, lest the mushy warmth that filled his head show in his eyes. “Dork.” He watched his hands fold into Foxy’s, noting a few bulky silver rings on those lovely fingers. Odd to see when he was without his own rings. Odd to even notice. “You hungry?”

“Not for food.”

He grinned and dropped one of Foxy’s hands. “Then follow me.” Putting his back to the temptation of the man, he led the way out of the kitchen and up the stairs to his bedroom. Early twilight had settled in because the only windows up here were shadowed from the setting sun. Satellite radio pumped classic rock through the speakers throughout the house. His bedroom was the most completely furnished room, with a huge California-king bed with an extra-thick pillowed mattress. The dressers were dark wood, and the accents were all clashing colors that went with the framed classic-rock posters that dominated the walls. He’d tossed lube and condoms in among the pillows and drawn all the covers down to the foot of the bed.

He faced Foxy as the other man let his backpack slide to the floor. “Take this off,” Noble commanded, grabbing the waistband of the hoodie.

Foxy let him help push the thick fabric up to his armpits, then took over to pull it over his head and off. While Foxy’s hands were otherwise occupied, Noble ran his hands down his Def Leppard T-shirt, noting that it was damp. “You’re sweaty.”

Foxy chuckled as he tossed the hoodie aside. “It’s hot.”

Avoiding a kiss, Noble bunched his fists in the T-shirt and yanked up. “Then let’s get you naked.”

While Foxy obeyed, Noble took care of his own clothing. Foxy had been smart enough to wear sandals, so it wasn’t much longer before they were standing at the edge of the bed, wrapped in each other, skin to skin. Noble couldn’t get enough, nipping at Foxy’s lips while smoothing his hands over the warmth of Foxy’s back. I missed you. The words tumbled through his head, trying to get out of his mouth. He had to keep on kissing to stop himself from saying them. Then he thought of even better things to do with his mouth. Grinning, he tugged Foxy around and pushed him onto the bed. “God, you’re sexy.” Those words were safe enough.

Foxy laughed, up on his elbows in the center of the bed. “Lots of people tell me that.” He twitched a shoulder in a casual shrug. His chest was broad and lightly furred, his nipples tiny and hard, his belly on the way to a six-pack, and his cock… Dear God, Noble could wax philosophic about his cock for days. “But I believe you when you say it.”

Noble stared at him—hair flat from the wig, unfamiliar facial hair, and a smile that wouldn’t quit. Was he even real? Maybe this was a dream and it wasn’t really happening. To convince himself of reality, Noble lowered to sample the tufts of dark brown hair that led from Foxy’s navel to his groin. He tasted real enough, a little bit salty, more so the farther down Noble went. He smelled real, a man who’d been sitting in jeans on a long flight. Noble pushed apart Foxy’s thighs so he could shove his nose into the crevice between thigh and groin, breathing Foxy in. Licking at his balls. Swiping his tongue up the shaft of his cock to that thick head. Noble loved sucking cock anyway, but somehow this was an extra-special treat. He got comfortable between Foxy’s thighs, stretching out for a good, long blowjob with Foxy’s gorgeous moaning to fill his head.

But it couldn’t be long. Seemed like Foxy was just as pent up as Noble. Soon enough he was tugging at Noble’s hair, trying to get him to stop. “I’m gonna come.”

Noble took a second to decide, then popped his mouth off his treat. “Stay there,” he warned as he drew up to his knees. He snagged a condom, then opened the packet while he straddled Foxy’s hips.

Foxy watched, licking his lips as Noble rolled the latex onto Foxy’s cock. When he started to sit up, Noble stopped him with a palm at the center of his chest.

“I’m gonna ride you this time,” Noble explained, picking up the bottle of lube.

Excitement shone in those dark eyes as Foxy lay back. Noble swiped lube over Foxy’s cock, then placed himself over it. He was good at this position. Countless hours working his drums had given him thighs of steel. Foxy’s cock sank inside as Noble lowered himself and threw his head back, enjoying every inch. He took it slow as he pulled up and dropped back down, prepared to let this one take a good, long time.

Foxy’s hand slid up from Noble’s belly to his chest, fingertips flicking the bar through Noble’s nipple. “Fuck.” Propped up in the pillows, Foxy could explore all he wanted while Noble gyrated in his lap.

Eyes closed, captivated by the exquisite draw of flesh within squeezing flesh, Noble was caught off guard when Foxy wrapped both hands around his neck to pull him in for a kiss. Not that he minded, but the angle was wrong to keep Foxy inside of him. Foxy took it in stride, keeping their lips latched together as he flipped them over. Noble was impressed with the move, gasping when he landed on his back, head in the pillows. Foxy shifted, grabbing Noble’s thighs to push them up to his chest, then sank back home with a solid thrust. Noble’s eyes rolled back into his head, and he clutched the wood of the headboard above him. Foxy had him bent in half and split his ass in two, and he loved it, crying out for more. Foxy gave it to him, now hugging one of Noble’s legs to his chest, holding him open for rapid thrusts. Their skin was slippery with sweat, and Foxy looked like he might be blind thanks to the thick, loose hair that hung over his eyes. The rhythm changed, and Noble reveled in the shudders that wracked Foxy’s body as he came. Noble reached down to pull his own cock, to bring up his own orgasm, but Foxy slapped his hand away. Hand wet with spit and sweat, he wrapped his fingers around Noble’s shaft and pumped. Noble groaned as Foxy leaned over him, capturing his mouth to swallow his cries as he came, striping his belly in cum.

“Shit.”

Foxy collapsed, hard belly pressing Noble’s spent cock. He rested his head on the horny-toad tattoo, his ragged breath wafting over Noble’s nipple. They lay like that forever—or maybe it was a few minutes—catching their breath.

“Shit.” Noble felt the sentiment bore repeating. He lifted a hand to push faded purple hair from his forehead and left it there, too weak from satisfaction to move the hand anymore. This was entirely too good. He’d had sex since Foxy. Perfectly acceptable sex. Why was it so much better with this man? And why did it have to be this man? The one he really had no business wanting so very much.

Foxy recovered before Noble did, pushing up on his arms to smile down at Noble with that ridiculously boyish smile. “That was worth flying across country for.”

Noble had to laugh. He balled his hand into a fist and punched at the thick, smooth muscle of Foxy’s shoulder.

Still grinning, Foxy dropped a quick kiss on his lips, then left for the bathroom.

With Foxy’s warmth gone, lying there in the stink of sex wasn’t an option. Noble sat up and got to his feet. “You hungry?” he called, plucking his lounge pants from the floor.

Foxy appeared in the doorway, completely unself-conscious about being naked. Noble liked that in a man. “Starving.”

“How about I order in?” Noble stepped into his pants, not bothering with underwear. It was fine to be naked, but he wanted the pants on.

“That’d be awesome.”

“What do you like?” Where was his phone? Probably downstairs in the kitchen, where he’d left it. “Chinese? Indian? Greek? There’s an awesome Italian place.”

Foxy approached, snagging his backpack up from the floor. “Oh, man, how about some real Chicago pizza?”

“Ah. A connoisseur.” Noble tried not to be distracted by the easy grace of Foxy’s movements. “I approve. I know just the place.”

He found his phone in the kitchen, as he’d thought, and placed the order while Foxy was upstairs. Because he didn’t want to think too hard, Noble checked a few apps on his phone, shopping for music he didn’t need and flipping through Twitter. He thought maybe he should call Lance but realized that was only because he was agitated. If he talked to Lance, his friend might make him see that having Foxy here was a bad idea, and he wasn’t ready to accept that. Not after sex that left his blood thick and warm.

Foxy came downstairs wearing black sweatpants with a white stripe down each side. His feet and chest were bare, and his hair was slightly damp, pushed back from his face.

Noble sipped at the soda he’d taken from the refrigerator, leaning against the kitchen counter. “What’s the deal with the beard?”

Foxy reached up to scratch at his cheek. “I don’t always shave it when I’m not working. Helps when I don’t want anyone to recognize me.”

“Hmm.” Noble tipped his head, eyeing it critically. “Makes you look older.”

“That too.”

Without much thought about it, Noble held up the soda can in Foxy’s direction. The younger man came forward to take it and stood right in front of Noble as he tipped back his head to pour liquid into his mouth. It gave Noble a prime view of his long neck melting into strong shoulders, of his beautiful profile. God! Noble had been with beautiful men, but that didn’t dampen his appreciation of this one.

Finished drinking, Foxy set the can on the counter and stepped into Noble, pressing him against the counter. His kiss closed Noble’s eyes, bent his neck back, opened his mouth to accept a tongue that had proved it could both drive him crazy and entrance him. Warm hands slid over Noble’s shoulders before settling on either side of his neck, thumbs caressing his jaw. Noble kept his hands on the edge of the counter, resisting the urge to explore.

“Mmm.” It was he who pulled back before they got carried away. “Food’ll be here soon.”

“Oh.” Foxy took a step back. “Right.” He picked up the soda can. “There more of these?”

“Help yourself.” Noble left the warmth of Foxy’s presence to stand in the kitchen doorway, watching the concert footage he’d found on the television. The food arrived, so the next bit of time was filled with retrieving and setting out their meal at the table in the kitchen.

“So why the toad?” Foxy asked after his first few appreciative bites of what Noble considered to be the best Chicago-style pizza in existence.

Noble glanced down at his bare chest, running fingers over his leering toad. “When I was little, I always thought they said ‘horny toad’ instead of ‘horned toad.’ Pissed off my teachers and my mom when I kept saying it. I was too young then to know why, but it stuck with me. A friend of mine sketched this one in high school, and I knew I had to get it as a tattoo.”

“How old were you?”

“Sixteen.”

“Boy friend or girl friend?”

“Girl. I didn’t have many boy friends in high school.”

Foxy eyed the toad with its ridiculous grin. There were horns sticking out of it all over, with two prominent devil’s horns right behind the eye bumps. The tongue managed to waggle out of its mouth in a delightfully nasty way. “My mom’d never let me do something like that, even now.”

Noble knew his eyes went flat. They usually did when talk turned toward his family. Because he really should say something about his mother right about now. “Mine didn’t give much of a damn what I did.”

Foxy heard his tone, thought about it, then let it pass. Most smart people did. “Think you’ll get any other tattoos?”

Doing his best impression of the toad’s grin, Noble leaned a little closer. “Why? Want to see more art on my body?”

Foxy matched his grin. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Noble enjoyed the rush of pleasure that brought him. “I’ll keep that in mind. But I’m not in the market for another one at the moment. Just the toad.”

They talked more of tattoos and stupid things they did as teenagers. Noble was good at straying around the topics he didn’t like to discuss. Besides, there had been a few good moments for him during school. He found out Foxy had grown up in Los Angeles but stayed in New York for college to study acting. Turned out he was a real thespian, not just some guy who wanted to be famous.

“Did you get any parts on Broadway?” Having lived in New York and met many actors, Noble knew how some of that life worked.

“Nothing worth mentioning,” Foxy told the pizza under his nose. “I got a part in an off-off-Broadway play, but it only lasted a week.”

“The part or the play?”

He relaxed at Noble’s playful tone. “Both.”

“Hey, for some actors, that’s the summit of their career.”

They both laughed, and Noble steered the topic to New York in general, sensing that Foxy didn’t really want to talk about it.

But there was something delicate they did need to talk about. He waited until they were both full before asking the question he needed to ask. “So. How long are you in town?”

Foxy sat back, tossing a well-used napkin onto his empty plate. “How long you willing to let me stay?”

Noble blinked. “Didn’t you come here for something?”

“Yeah.” Dark eyes lifted, full of simmering heat. “You.”

Noble tamped down on the butterflies of pleasure that flittered around his chest. “Oh, come on.”

Foxy shrugged.

“You didn’t come all this way just for me.” He made it a statement.

Which Foxy denied. “I didn’t?”

Noble stared, an awful misgiving trying to net all those butterflies. “Why?”

The boyish smile he received tried to melt his heart. “What we did upstairs wasn’t enough?”

Fuck. Yes. Yes, it was. But it shouldn’t be. Not for either of them. Good as he was, Noble had never had a lover travel to fuck him. “That’s a hell of a booty call.”

Foxy grinned. “I wasn’t doing anything, and you said you weren’t doing anything. I thought we could do nothing together.”

“Holed up in my house.” Some bitterness Noble couldn’t help bled into his tone, and the next words came out before he could stop them. He welcomed it because it made the glowing pleasure a little easier to bear. “Because it’s not like we can be seen together.”

Foxy’s gaze dropped under lowered brows, focused on the toad again.

“Right?”

“Right.” Foxy sighed, ran a hand through the curls atop his head. “You want me to go?”

God, no! Yes. Fuck. Noble couldn’t answer immediately, and Foxy was clearly reading all sorts of things into the moment of silence. “No,” Noble finally said, sitting back in his chair. “I don’t.” It was the truth. “But we’ve got to be clear what this is.”

“What is it?”

“Nothing. We’re nothing.” A rule of his was to straighten these things out from the start. He should have done this on their first night together.

Anger. He’d yet to see that emotion take over that beautiful face. Was it wrong that he found it sexy, even when it was directed at him? “We’re more than nothing.”

“Okay. We’re friends. I think we’ve become that.”

Some of the anger lessened.

“But we’re not much more than that. We can’t be. Right?”

“Why not?”

“Why not? Um, let me think. Because you’re straight.”

Foxy snorted. “That’s debatable.” Well, at least he wasn’t one of those who denied it in private.

“Not in public it’s not.” In spite of the fact that it didn’t work in his favor, Noble felt oddly protective of Foxy’s reputation. Just because he was somewhat deluded didn’t make him a bad guy. “Or did something else change while I was away? Something that hasn’t reached the press? You visit some gay bars without me? Take Zach to your bed?”

Clearly, Foxy didn’t appreciate the line of questioning. “No.”

Which meant this could be Foxy liking sex with a guy and traveling halfway across the country to the only one he’d ever had rather than trying for someone new. Not outside the realm of possibility. “Right. So you’re not out, and I’m so far out I can’t even see the closet anymore. Do you get me?”

Foxy scowled.

“Donny.” Noble used the name he’d never said aloud to make a point—one that hit home, to judge by Foxy’s dark expression. “Tell me you get why we’re not more than friends.”

“I get it.” Foxy groused like a seven-year-old deprived of a favorite toy as punishment. It was cute, but Noble tried not to be affected. “I just…”

“What?”

Foxy thought about it. Hard. Then sighed and sat back, looking resigned. “I get it.”

Noble stood, willing to let it drop now that they’d gotten it settled. “Good.”

Foxy surprised him by standing with him. The slightly taller man pushed close, trapping Noble against the side of the table as he reached up to wrap a hand around the back of Noble’s neck.

“But let’s get something else straight,” Foxy said, voice low, intense as he locked gazes with Noble, his fingers twining in the hair at Noble’s nape. “I came here because I can’t stop thinking about you. I want to be with you every minute of every fucking day.”

Floored, Noble could only stare, lips parted.

“I tried to go on. I tried to just think of you as a friend, but I was only happy when I was talking to you or texting you. When something happened, my very first thought was to tell you about it. And at night, when I was alone, all I could… Fuck. Noble…” Sighing, he pressed their foreheads together, eyes closed, fingertips digging into Noble’s skull. “It’s not like I wanted this to happen. I knew I was attracted to some guys, but I’ve always had a handle on it. I know it’s me and my career that’s screwed if we’re seen together. I know you’re not the problem.” Another sigh. “Just let me be with you for a while?” His eyes opened, and he pulled back just enough that they could get a good look at each other. “Let me have this, have you, for another day. Or two?” He tried a smile, but it was strained. “Please?”

Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Coherent thought wasn’t truly possible as Noble stared into those eyes, Foxy’s words bouncing around in his head. All that Noble had been feeling, Foxy had been feeling too. How was that even possible? They’d only had the two nights together and such a long time apart. How could their feelings align so perfectly, so fast?

He felt Foxy’s fingers, now stroking the side of his neck. “Say something.”

Noble swallowed. “I…” He blinked, then laughed a little. “Shit, I don’t know what to say. Do you know how rare that is?”

Foxy laughed, the sound lifting an awful chill between them.

“Okay.” Noble laid his palm on Foxy’s warm chest. “We can do this for a few days.” Hell, who was he kidding? He’d do this as long as he could get away with it. “But reality is gonna come back. You know that, right?”

“I know.” Foxy leaned in for a soft kiss, all lips and promise. “I just want a little while.”

They wrapped up in a deep, involved kiss that eventually led them upstairs. Normally Noble wouldn’t agree to pretend. Normally Noble was the one who tried to live in reality. But Foxy was proving to be an exception to every rule he’d ever had.

Chapter Seven

Noble clapped wildly from his seat on the couch. “Encore!” he shouted, laughing.

Seemingly embarrassed but probably quite pleased, Foxy ducked his head and ran a hand through his curls. “Quit it.”

“No, no. That was terrific! Sing another.”

For Foxy had just treated Noble to an a cappella version of a show tune Noble didn’t recognize from a recent Broadway musical he didn’t know. Didn’t matter. Foxy’s voice was strong, not deep but clear as a fucking bell. Through that one song, Noble could tell that he had at least some voice training, and a natural ability to perform shone through. No wonder he was an actor.

Instead of complying with Noble’s request, he slunk back to the couch to drop down beside Noble. “No.”

Noble got to his knees on the couch and snuggled up to Foxy, stroking the sparse hair on his chest. “Please?”

Laughing, Foxy grabbed his hand. Held it. “Quit it. No.”

“Maybe later?”

“All right. Maybe.”

“Yes.” In a long-practiced move, Noble spun and fell, ending up with his head on Foxy’s thigh. They both wore shorts, only because Foxy had refused to sing for him if they were naked. Noble didn’t see what difference it made, but he’d complied to get what he wanted. He was quite happy that he had. “So why don’t you do that?”

Fingers stroked the stubble at the side of Noble’s head. Foxy seemed to have developed a fascination for stroking. Not that Noble minded. “Do what?”

“Sing, dance.” The performance had included a few promising moves. “Act on the stage.” He peeked up to see the pensive look on Foxy’s face.

“Because I get to be a film actor.”

“You don’t sound thrilled about it.”

“I am.” Still didn’t sound it. “But it’s different.”

“Why not do both?”

“I plan to. But I can’t yet. There’s so much going on with Criminea, and I’ve already signed on for two other projects.” He sighed. “I’m gonna be too busy for the next three or four years.”

Noble kept his gaze on Foxy’s face, intrigued by the nearly depressed tone that went with what should have been astounding news for the career of a young actor. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing.” Another shrug. Foxy did that a lot. “Just…”

“What?”

“It’s gonna sound dumb.”

“I say dumb stuff all day, every day.”

That got him a smile. “I hate film acting.”

Noble digested that. “There’s a difference?”

“There’s a huge difference.” Noble got the impression Foxy had only discovered that after it was too late. “You’re acting in front of a stupid camera instead of a live audience. You get to do scenes in pieces and over and over again instead of running the whole thing through.” Foxy grimaced. “You ever been on a movie set?”

“No.”

“It’s fucking boring. You sit around and wait more’n you do anything. And even when you do get to do something, it’s so cut up that it barely feels like acting.”

“I hear the food’s good,” Noble joked.

That got him the smile back. “Yeah. It is.”

“I’ll bet it’s even better when you’re the star.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll bet there’s all sorts of people fawning all over you to get you what you want.”

“Wasn’t that way at first.”

“But it is now.” Noble reached up to run his fingers along the unshaved beard.

“Yeah.”

“Bet there’s a ton of girls hanging around, just waiting for you to notice them.” He couldn’t help the prodding. The words were even a little to remind him that Foxy wasn’t all his. “How many of ’em have made it to your bed?”

Foxy scowled, his fingers stilling in Noble’s hair. “Quit it.”

“What?”

“I’m not talking about girls with you.”

“Why not? Just ’cause you’ve had my dick in your mouth?” Noble watched the conflict on Foxy’s face, wondering how he’d handle this.

Foxy watched him back. “I like girls too. Is that so bad?”

“Not at all.” Noble meant it too. “I believe in bisexuality.”

“You ever sleep with a girl?”

“Yes.”

Foxy’s jaw dropped.

Noble laughed. “Why does everyone react like that? I lived in a little town in Tennessee where there were no gay people. Of course I tried to fit in by being with girls.” He kept his tone light. “Trouble was, except for one determined night, being with any girl was more like being with a friend than a lover.” Because he saw Foxy struggling with this, he continued. “I can see that a woman is attractive. I understand what I’m supposed to want. But…” His turn to shrug. “I prefer hard muscles and”—he turned on his side, sliding his elbow under him as he did—“big, hard dicks.” In prime position, he buried his face in Foxy’s crotch.

He heard the intake of breath, felt a reaction beneath the shimmery fabric of Foxy’s shorts. He would have pursued, but Danny’s voice suddenly filled the silence of the room, singing a line from one of the Indigo Knights’ songs. Noble froze.

Foxy laughed. “That’s my phone.”

Still a little stunned, Noble let himself be moved aside so Foxy could get in his pocket. “God, that was weird.”

Foxy was still laughing as he fished his phone out. The smile died when he looked at the screen. “It’s Zach. I should take this.”

Noble sat back. “By all means.”

Foxy left the room as he opened the call. Noble thought about being offended but decided not. Foxy was entitled to his privacy. He should probably call Lance anyway. Check in. No. No real reason to do that, and he didn’t quite want to talk about this yet. But Foxy’s call reminded him he had a phone too, so he fetched it from the table. A dozen voice messages since he’d checked yesterday. All from friends but none close friends. Normal call volume for him, but he didn’t usually let them all go to voice mail. There were a bunch of texts too, all except two of a similar nature. Texts from Rabin—a picture of a cake Izzy had made that looked mouthwatering—and Lance, just quips about what he and Gordon were doing. Noble spent a few minutes answering the texts and listening to the messages—all invitations to do something tonight, exactly as he’d thought—but didn’t call anyone back. Now that was strange.

But, he thought as Foxy strolled back into the room, you don’t normally have a distraction like this. “What’d Zach have to say?”

“Linda’s asking where I am.” Linda was Foxy’s publicist.

“What’d he tell her?”

Foxy dropped onto the couch, then immediately leaned in to kiss Noble’s neck. “That I was staying with a friend and staying out of trouble.”

Noble laughed, setting his phone aside. “The last part’s debatable.”

Pushing, Foxy maneuvered Noble onto his back. “You’re not trouble.”

Ha! Foxy was the first person to ever deny Noble was trouble. “Bet Linda would disagree.”

“Fuck Linda.” Foxy’s response was muffled in Noble’s neck but still understandable.

Noble laughed, both because of the sentiment and because Foxy hit a ticklish spot that he seemed to favor. “No, thanks. She’s not my type.”

Foxy rose up over him, grinning like a dog over his favorite treat. “Good.”

They were too occupied for talk for quite a while after that.

* * * *

Noble lay in bed, in the dark, staring at the murky gray of his ceiling. Beside him, Foxy slept, his arm draped over Noble’s midsection, his nose brushing Noble’s shoulder. It was unbearably cute, and noticing had occupied Noble for a ridiculous amount of time as he’d tried to fall asleep. But sleep still eluded him because now he was thinking, and when his mind got going, it didn’t stop.

He hadn’t been out of his house in two days. That was strange itself, but what was even stranger was that he didn’t mind. He usually got a penned-in feeling that only went away if he either went out or invited people over. Having others around kept him diverted from his thoughts. He’d spent so much time alone in his childhood that once he’d learned to make friends, he’d kept them around him at all times. He could be alone when it was needed, but he didn’t generally choose to be alone.

Of course, he wasn’t alone, was he? There was definitely someone with him. Someone special. And that bugged him, which was stupid. With Foxy, he felt relaxed. He felt wanted. He didn’t doubt that Foxy was interested in what he had to say, and he’d so far been very interested in what Foxy chose to tell him. They meshed in a way he’d only meshed with one other person, and things had been very different with Lance. With Lance, all the romance and sex had been false, forced when they’d tried it. He enjoyed—no, cherished—Lance on a different level. Lance was his very best friend, the guy he could always talk to, no matter what. Foxy was… What the hell was he?

Noble sighed, reaching up to rub his eyes. He wasn’t going to think it. It was stupid. It couldn’t be true. He couldn’t have fallen in love. He didn’t fall in love. And there he went ahead and thought it. Because it might just be true. Foxy was special. To deny it would just be stupid. Foxy made him feel good in a way no one else had ever made him feel good. If he believed in such things, he’d say Foxy was his soul mate. But he didn’t believe in such things, because the idea was preposterous. He’d slept with too many men to believe that one could hold his heart. Love was one thing, but what he felt bordered on obsession, which just couldn’t be healthy. He sighed again, irritated.

“Wha’s wrong?” asked a sleepy voice.

Noble jumped. “You’re awake?”

“No.” Foxy pulled Noble closer, tucking his chin up on Noble’s shoulder. “Wha’s wrong?” he repeated.

Was it ridiculous to be soothed by the soft breath that wafted up his neck? “Nothing’s wrong.”

“You’re thinking too hard.”

Noble turned his head to try and see Foxy’s face. He could only manage to see half, with the eye closed and barely visible under the shadow of dark curls. “How do you know that?”

A glint in the change of shadow suggested that Foxy’s eye was now open. “You’re tense.”

“I’m not.”

What he could see of that luscious mouth curled in a smile. “You sure?” Fingers dug gently into Noble’s side. “You seem tense.”

Noble squirmed because it tickled. “Stop that.” To make sure it stopped, he turned on his side, facing Foxy. He could see both eyes open now, although they looked drowsy. “I don’t usually sleep all that long.”

“Since when?”

He shrugged, sliding one leg up over Foxy’s hip so they could scooch closer. “I don’t need that much sleep.”

“You’ve slept pretty hard when we’ve been together.”

That gave him pause. It was true. Probably had to do with that comfort thing he didn’t want to think about. “You wore me out.”

With a happy murmur, Foxy brushed lips to lips. “I didn’t tonight?”

“You did.” Noble swiped another kiss. “I guess I’m just getting used to you.”

Their gazes met, so much unsaid. Was Foxy getting used to him too? Everything Foxy said and did indicated he felt the same things Noble did. Noble tried not to tense up, tried not to look apprehensive.

Foxy took pity on him—or didn’t want to talk about it either—by pushing Noble onto his back and crawling half on top of him. “I’ll have to try harder.”

Noble laughed through their kiss, relieved to have dodged that bullet. Also relieved to have Foxy up and active, because that meant Noble didn’t have to brood. “I’ve got an idea.” He pushed, and they rolled so that he was on top. He wedged his knees between Foxy’s thighs to spread them, then, while kissing, slid his hand down Foxy’s belly and past his cock and tempting balls so he could gently rub the hidden entrance between two firm butt cheeks. “How ’bout we try something new?”

Foxy hesitated just a little. Then he bit at Noble’s bottom lip. “What?”

Noble got up on his knees but stayed bent over his lover. Yeah, his lover. Hard to deny that one. “Knees up,” he ordered as he rummaged under the pillow for the lube.

Mild apprehension all over his face, Foxy obeyed, watching as Noble sat back on his heels, tossing all the covers toward the foot of the bed.

Noble looked closely at the bottle in his hands. “Huh.”

“What?”

In the dark, Noble couldn’t see very well, but the weight of the bottle told him something. “We’re almost out of lube.”

“Oh.” Such disappointment in that one syllable.

“Never fear. There’s enough for this.” He poured some on his fingers. He’d make it work, damn it. “We’ll need some more tomorrow.”

How? an errant thought asked him. He ignored it. Instead he lowered to his belly between Foxy’s knees so he could pay homage to Foxy’s growing erection while playing in his ass. He took his time, paying attention to Foxy’s reaction. He was fine as Noble’s finger circled his hole, but he tensed when Noble pushed in. Noble was gentle, willing to make this right. Needing to make this right, for Foxy. Because… Stop thinking. Foxy rocked with Noble as he got used to the finger. Almost everyone liked one finger, especially when Noble found the good spot that made Foxy hiss and twitch. Licking Foxy’s balls, Noble introduced another finger and worked slowly until Foxy was rocking with him again.

“Hey?” he said, lips against the tip of Foxy’s cock.

“Wha’?”

“Find a condom.”

It was amusing to watch Foxy fumble at the dresser, completely distracted by Noble’s mouth and fingers. But he did eventually manage it, and Noble rewarded him by taking his cock deep to the back of his throat.

“Oh fuuck. I love when you do that.”

Noble did it again, then pulled away. He plucked the condom from the mattress where Foxy had dropped it. “You’ll love this too.” He gestured. “On your knees.”

Maybe a little trepidation on Foxy’s face. Noble accepted that. But he knew he could make this good, and he was confident that Foxy wanted it. Noble was all sheathed up by the time Foxy settled, his arms bunching pillows up under his head. God, what a sight he made. Noble wished they’d turned on the light so he could see that long, bare back better, see the cap of unruly curls for what they were instead of just darker shadows. But he could see the man’s perfect, pert ass, all smooth and sexy right in front of him, Foxy’s balls tempting baubles dangling between his thighs. Using the last of the lube, Noble inserted his fingers into Foxy’s hole again, making him groan, making him want it, waiting until he pushed back before Noble positioned himself, rubbing the tip of his dick against the puckered, wet opening so he could start to push in. He took his time, pushing in a little, then drawing out, letting Foxy have all the breathing time he needed to get used to what was happening. The head of Noble’s dick eased past the tight ring of muscle, and he had to pause to enjoy the feel of it.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“More?”

“Yeah.”

Noble smiled in the dark and leaned in so more of him sank into Foxy’s body. The man groaned, shifting his hips to take in a little more. The small of his back dipped, creating the sexiest arch. Noble smoothed a hand up his spine, up and over to grip the meat of his shoulder. Noble eased inside, more and more, until his thighs met Foxy’s. He draped himself over Foxy’s back so he could get his mouth close to Foxy’s ear. “I’m all in.” He tugged soft curls. “God, you feel awesome.”

Foxy whimpered. Noble managed to pull his head back for a really messy, badly angled kiss, but the sentiment was what was important. He thrust his hips, reminding his lover that they were attached, that he was deep inside. Foxy thrust back, so Noble pushed him harder.

“Good?” He was close enough to see Foxy’s lips parted, saw him lick them.

“Yeah.”

“Real good?”

Just the slightest pause. Understandable. “Yeah.”

To test it, Noble drew up so he could pull out some to properly shove home. Foxy flinched but groaned on the next thrust. Oh yeah, he was digging it. Noble readjusted, shoving Foxy’s thighs wider. Hands on Foxy’s waist, he rolled his hips into Foxy in a slow, steady rhythm. Foxy writhed, clutching pillows to his face to muffle sexy-as-fuck moans.

“Hey.” Noble paused, leaning over Foxy.

It took a moment, but Foxy pulled his head up, listening.

“Jack your dick for me. I’m kind of busy.”

As though the idea were completely new, Foxy scrambled to comply. Noble knew the second Foxy’s hand found its place, because his ass clenched around Noble, drawing a groan out of him. Noble thrust. And thrust. And thrust. Losing himself in the gorgeous heat of the body beneath him. He curled over that long back, grabbed hold of strong shoulders, and used them as leverage when he had to start pounding, when the imperative to be as deep inside as he could get was undeniable. Foxy was crazy beneath him, hidden hand busy, free arm throttling a mound of pillows. Noble heard his name in a litany of “fuck me” that he couldn’t deny. He fought the culmination as long as he possibly could, but it took him anyway, rushing heat and bright white lightning through his body, then deep into Foxy’s.

He collapsed, dimly aware that he needed to get back up, that he needed to finish off his lover. Beneath him, Foxy’s body was squirming, moans hard in his breathing. Noble needed to help him with that, needed to… But then there was a pained series of grunts that went with the jerking of his muscles as Foxy brought himself off.

They lay in a tangle of sweaty limbs, Noble with his nose pressed into the back of Foxy’s shoulder. Christ, his heart shouldn’t be this warm. He shouldn’t have this expanding feeling that assured him he’d just experienced something precious. Foxy was just fucking different, and Noble wished to God he could figure out why it had to be this man.

He was still struggling with his thoughts when Foxy managed to worm his way around. He had to be lying on a huge wet spot, but he didn’t seem to notice as he sought out Noble, arm wrapping around his neck to bring him into a kiss. A soft whimper escaped Noble’s throat as their lips met, and he had to clutch at Foxy to keep him in the kiss rather than draw back. Noble didn’t want to explain. He wouldn’t explain. Foxy did not need to know that every fucking thing he did was perfect. He did not need to know that he’d taken possession of Noble’s wretched heart.

Chapter Eight

Late morning Friday, Lance called. Noble took the call in the kitchen while Foxy was upstairs taking a shower.

“Hey. Gordon’s cooking tonight and told me to invite you over.”

Noble was tempted. Gordon was a pretty good cook. And it’d been days since he’d seen or really talked to any but one person. Truth be told, he was going a little stir-crazy. But… “Sorry. Can’t.”

“You can’t miss clubbing for one night? He finished the second bedroom, and he’s all excited about it.”

Noble grinned. Once Gordon and Lance had finally settled down with each other, Gordon had become downright homey. He was determined to make their new place a proper home for them both to come back to after travels. It was sweet. “I’m not going out. I’ve got a friend over.”

“Kind of early for that, isn’t it?”

Noble briefly considered being coy, but this was Lance. Even when he was annoying, Lance was his best friend, the person who knew him best. Noble didn’t think it was prudent to keep things from him. Well, big things, at least. And this thing with Foxy? Yeah, this was big. He left the kitchen for the office in back. From there, he could hear Foxy coming down the stairs before Foxy could hear him. “Foxy’s here.”

“Foxy? When did that happen?”

“Tuesday.” He sat on the chair of the desk he never used. Gordon had left behind a lot of furniture when he’d moved in with Lance. The only contribution Noble had made to the room was the drum kit in the corner.

“He’s been there since Tuesday?”

“Yep.”

“Do I need to ask what you’ve been doing?”

“Exactly what you think.”

Lance took a moment to process that. “So, is this a thing now?”

“I don’t know. We haven’t left the house.” Noble snatched a pen out of the holder and twirled it through his fingers.

“You haven’t been out of the house? For how long?”

“Tuesday.”

Lance’s pause this time was significant. Noble couldn’t blame him. Noble’s present behavior was very unlike him. Not to mention that warmth he’d finally acknowledged last night was still there, although in the light of day he’d managed to compartmentalize it so it wasn’t so overwhelming.

“So, wait—he flew across the country to spend time with you? Or is he in town for something else?”

With the pen, Noble tapped out a rhythm. Tika tika too, tika tika too. “The first one.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Yeah.”

“But you haven’t left the house.”

He changed the rhythm. Tika ti tika tika. “No.”

“So no one knows he’s there?”

“Just his handler.” His other hand itched to get another pen to pursue the rhythm, but he was holding the phone. True, he could put it on speaker, but then Foxy might sneak up and hear something he maybe shouldn’t.

“And you’re okay with that?”

“The sex is fabulous.” Noble kept his tone light, but he was paying very close attention to Lance’s reaction, aware of many times when Lance had pointed out his ever-changeable moods regarding sex partners. Offhand, he couldn’t think of one who’d lasted more than two consecutive days.

“Well, then, it’s all right.” The sarcasm was heavy. “Where is he now?”

“Upstairs.”

“How long’s he staying?”

“Don’t know.” Abruptly, Noble stopped his fingers, halting the lure of the beat. The pen’s tip hovered in midair, waiting. “As long as we can get away with it?”

“Are you okay?”

“Actually, yeah.” He was. He knew a shit storm was likely coming, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret any moment of the last few days. “That’s weird, huh?”

“Very. Yes.”

A silence fell between them. He set down the pen. Usually it was Noble who’d fill the void, but he honestly didn’t know what to say.

“If you were me, would you ask anything else?”

Noble had to laugh. Lance wasn’t good at this, and Noble appreciated that he was trying. “Nothing I haven’t already asked myself.”

“Care to share the answers?”

He sighed. I really like this one. “No. Not…yet.”

“Okay.” Lance clearly wasn’t full of sage advice. He was much better as the shoulder to cry on. “Call if you need me. If you need us.”

Noble smiled, glad that Lance felt close enough with his lover to include him like that. “I will.”

Noble had just returned to the kitchen when his phone rang again. This time it was Gordon. He went ahead and took it there, aware that the shower had stopped upstairs. “Hey.”

“Do I need to be concerned as your manager or as your friend?”

Noble hummed happily. “Why, darling, I’m touched you’re concerned about me at all.”

Gordon wasn’t in the mood to respond in kind. “Lance says you’re okay. Are you?”

Staring into the refrigerator, Noble sighed. “I think so.”

“Has anyone seen him with you?”

“I don’t think so. He came in a rental car, wearing a hat, glasses, a wig, and a big old hoodie. I don’t think anyone could have recognized him.”

“So he does realize this is a big story if it gets out?”

“He does.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“But you’ll let him stay.”

“The sex is awesome.”

“Strange. Sex with a straight guy is awesome. What a novel concept.” There was a decided bite to Gordon’s sarcasm.

“What’re you mad at me for? I haven’t done anything to hurt the band.”

“The band’ll survive if this gets out. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’m fine, Mom.”

“Are you?”

Was he? “It’s weird, I know.” Not an answer, but he didn’t have a fully honest answer.

“How long is he staying?”

Noble closed the refrigerator without pulling anything out. Footsteps sounded above. A door opened. “I don’t know.”

“I’m calling a band meeting tomorrow.”

“Just to get me out of the house?”

“Partially. We need to discuss the tour also. You do remember the tour?”

Noble scowled. “Yes, Mommy, I remember.”

“Good. You know you’re going to be pretty busy in the next year or so.”

“I know.”

“So, tomorrow?”

“Okay.”

“You’ll be rid of your houseguest?”

“He has to leave?”

“Don’t you think it’d be best?”

Probably. Noble grumbled.

Gordon took that as his answer. “Good. Be here at six.”

“Okay.”

Scowling, Noble switched off his phone and walked into the hallway. Right into Foxy. Clean and sexy Foxy of the bare chest, damp trimmed beard, and almost dripping curls.

Noble pulled his scowl up into a grin. “Hey.”

“Hey.” The look Foxy gave him made Noble wonder how much he’d heard of the last part of the conversation. What had Noble said? Unable to remember, he ducked back into the kitchen rather than sink into the man’s embrace like he wanted to. “So, listen. We need lube.”

“Okay.”

“So”—Noble swiped keys from the table and held them up—“can I take your rental?”

Foxy had his fingers tucked over the door frame so he was sort of hanging from them in the doorway. It made his arms bulge real nice. “Do you drive? You don’t have a car.”

Noble grinned. “I don’t usually, but I can. And the goodie shop’s less than a mile away.” He shook the keys. “Alternative is for you to go or for us to go together, and…”

He let that hang between them. Foxy eyed him, then nodded. “Okay.”

“Awesome.” Noble stepped closer because he really wanted to kiss the man. “I’ll be right back.”

He’d meant for it to be a quick kiss, but Foxy dropped his arms to trap him. Foxy’s mouth opened over Noble’s, and his magic tongue got involved.

“Shit,” Noble breathed when he finally managed to push away. Or had Foxy released him? “Where did you learn to kiss?”

Foxy graced him with that grin that needed to be outlawed. “Natural talent, I guess.”

“Fuck.” Before Foxy could trap him again, Noble took his wallet and the keys and escaped the house.

* * * *

Noble sat in the parking lot, staring at the graffiti on the brick wall of his local porn shop, unwilling to go in just yet. He thought about the man he’d left in his house, thought about their time together, thought about the phone calls with Lance and Gordon. He was acting strange, and he knew why. He needed to snap out of it, but to do that he had to get rid of Foxy, and just the thought of that tore a hole in his heart. He didn’t want Foxy to go. He wanted Foxy to stay. He wanted that something awful. But what good would it do? They couldn’t hole up in his house forever.

Without answers, and oddly despondent, Noble left the car. He put on a bright grin as he pushed open the painted glass of the door, determined not to show his mood.

“Noble!” The slightly feminine shriek filled the shop as a slim man rushed from behind the main counter to hurtle himself down the dildo aisle toward Noble.

Laughing, Noble caught Dexter in both arms, his mood lifting a little thanks to this reception. Dexter was small and boyishly beautiful, much older than the fifteen he looked. He hugged Noble close, tucking his head into the bend of Noble’s neck to breathe in.

“Oh, it’s been so long! Where have you been?”

“I been over in Europe, sweet thang,” Noble answered, letting his native twang through. He patted Dexter’s firm rump. “You knew that.”

Dexter pushed out to arm’s length, clutching Noble’s shoulders. His pouty little mouth rounded under high-flying eyebrows. “That’s right! Oh my God, how was the tour?”

“It was terrific.” Noble slung an arm around Dexter’s shoulders, walking him toward the counter.

“And now you’re a big star,” Dexter cooed, cuddling close.

“I’ve always been a big star. Just, others are starting to figure it out.”

He was aware there were three women toward the far end of one aisle trying to surreptitiously watch them while fingering bottles of lube. So when Dexter and he reached the counter, he cupped one side of Dexter’s jaw and gave him a hello kiss that was perhaps a tad longer than necessary. The shorter man kissed back with enthusiasm, opening his mouth for further exploration. Noble deepened the kiss but was dismayed at his own lack of reaction. It was nice. Dexter was nice. He’d even fucked Dexter before, in the back room of this very shop. But that wouldn’t be happening today.

Noble drew back, wearing a smile he didn’t feel.

Dexter tried to keep him close. “Want to go out back?”

“No.” He pulled away, caressing Dexter’s smooth jaw. “Not today.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Thanks. But no.” Noble turned and started walking toward the curious women and the colorful array of lubrications. “I just need some supplies.”

The women looked panicked, but then the bravest of the three grinned at him while her friends blushed and ducked their heads. He smiled at the brave one and waved. “Hey, pretty lady. You find the lube you like?”

That made all three of them titter. The brave one kept grinning. “Not yet. Maybe you could help us?”

“Why, sure.” He picked up what had to be a half-gallon-sized pump dispenser. “This one has always been one of my personal favorites.”

He spent nearly an hour messing with the ladies, thrilled when they gave as good as they got. Turned out they were in Chicago for a conference and had taken the afternoon for themselves. They were clearly fascinated with him as a gay man, then truly fascinated when Dexter informed them Noble was a rock star. All of them had heard of—and loved, of course—Heaven Sent, and two of the three had heard of the Indigo Knights. So then he just had to sign autographs, the best one on a gay-porn magazine. To avoid another invitation from Dexter, he procured his own supplies while chatting with the ladies and paid as they did so he could leave the store with them. They parted ways in the parking lot, and his heart felt much lighter as he got into the rental car.

But it all came back as he drove the short distance home. Foxy was waiting for him, and that both thrilled and upset him. He wanted to be in the man’s arms way too much.

He found Foxy in the living room with his laptop—one of the few things that had been stashed in the backpack that had come with him. The television was tuned to a baseball game, but the sound was muted. Pop rock pumped into the air via the stereo. Noble liked his guests to feel comfortable in his domain, but Foxy damn near looked like he lived there.

“Baseball?” Noble asked, dropping his bag of goodies on a chair.

Foxy was on his feet, coming for him. Noble fancied he could feel the heat of Foxy approaching. “Yeah.” Arms slid around Noble’s waist, yanking him close. Foxy kissed him with disturbing ease, and Noble melted into it with matching familiarity. It was moments before he could force himself to break free.

“I didn’t know you’re a baseball fan,” he said, managing to walk away toward the kitchen.

“I grew up a Padres fan.” The team name meant little to Noble, but he was pretty sure that was a West Coast team. “I don’t get to follow it much anymore.”

Noble opened the refrigerator. “Go ahead and watch the game. You hungry?”

No answer prompted him to glance behind him. Foxy was watching from just inside the arch that led to the living room. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just hungry.”

“Okay.”

“You?” Noble asked.

“What?”

“Hungry?”

Foxy still wasn’t at ease. Could he really sense Noble’s anxiety? “No.”

“Suit yourself.” Noble faced the refrigerator again, aware when Foxy left the room.

He hummed to himself as he made a sandwich, avoiding the issue at hand. That wasn’t like him. He was a rip-the-Band-Aid-off sort of guy.

With that in mind, when he brought his sandwich and a cola back to the couch, he addressed the problem. “So, you’re going to need to head out of here.” He took a bite while Foxy sat up straight. “I’ve got a band meeting tomorrow.” He kept eating, eyes on the television so Foxy could absorb what he was saying. So it looked like it was no big deal. “And we’re probably going to start getting into crap we need to do for the tour.” Yes, he was aware he was making excuses, giving a valid reason instead of just tossing Foxy out.

“Oh.” Foxy sat forward to pull the open laptop toward him. “Okay.”

Noble squashed the ridiculous urge to apologize. He had nothing to apologize for. He’d made no promises. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Foxy brought up a browser for e-mail, then abandoned it. Sitting back, Foxy picked up his phone and made a brief call. Noble assumed Zach was on the other side of the call when Foxy asked him to make arrangements. “Tomorrow okay?” he asked Noble.

Was it bad that Noble was glad they’d have another night? “Yeah. That’s fine. My meeting’s at six.”

Foxy conveyed the information, then shut off the call. “Zach thinks he can get me on a flight tomorrow.”

“Cool.” On-screen, the batter hit a home run, and Noble cheered.

“You like baseball?” Foxy asked, leaning in close to snag the other half of Noble’s sandwich.

It bothered Noble that he didn’t mind the theft. That he liked it. “I don’t follow much, but I know what’s happening. I played for a while in school.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I really was a normal kid. At least on the outside.”

Foxy chuckled, putting the sandwich half back on the plate, minus the huge bite he’d taken. “When did that change?”

“High school.” Noble wiped his mouth. “I finally realized I was gay and wasn’t interested in hiding it. My dad wasn’t keen on the idea.”

“When’d you start playing drums?”

He sighed, staring at the plate. “That’s the one thing my dad and I shared. He played in a band at a honky-tonk on weekends, and he taught me when I was little. We had a whole setup out in the garage, where we wouldn’t bug anyone.”

Foxy’s hand smoothed over his back, the touch warm through his T-shirt.

Noble put down the last two bites of his half of the sandwich, no longer hungry. “I was in high school when I started playing backup for a few bands. That’s where I finally discovered dick.” He’d tried to make the last sentence light, but it didn’t come out that way.

Foxy’s hand found its way underneath the hem of Noble’s shirt, pushing it up. Edging closer, Foxy kissed the back of the shoulder he exposed. “Did you leave?”

“Had to.” Obliging, Noble pulled his arm out of the T-shirt, then tugged it over his head. Foxy’s touch felt too good, and soon he’d be without it. It’d be stupid not to enjoy what was here. “I dropped out of school and ran away to New York.”

“Alone?”

“No. With a guy.” He turned in to Foxy, arms up to pull him close.

“What happened to him?”

“He didn’t last long.” No one ever has. Sinking back onto the couch, he brought Foxy’s weight with him, ending the conversation in favor of more amorous activities.

Chapter Nine

The next morning, Foxy dragged Noble into the shower with him. This after waking him up to sex. This after they’d slept a few hours after having sex. Noble had yet to count, but he was pretty sure he’d had more sex with one person in the past few days than he’d ever had. His body was sore and rejuvenated at the same damn time, and he’d never felt better.

Damn it.

Showering was interesting because even though the town house was state of the art, there was only so much room in the tub. Two guys, both who topped six feet by a few inches, didn’t fit very well. But they managed to jerk each other off around a lot of kissing and laughing, and they even got clean.

Noble stumbled out of the tub soaking wet and dripped on the tiles as he grabbed a towel, then threw one at Foxy. “Well, that was an adventure.”

“Everything with you is an adventure.”

Noble laughed, leaning over to dry his legs. “I aim to please.”

Foxy followed him into the bedroom and scooped up his backpack while Noble rummaged in the dresser. When Noble had stepped into some shorts and turned around, Foxy was still standing there naked, the towel draped over his shoulder. He was watching Noble with a dangerously pensive look on his face.

Noble’s first instinct was to run, but he fought it. “What?”

“I don’t want to leave.”

Trying to ignore the seriousness in Foxy’s eyes, Noble grinned. “Yeah, it’s been fun. But back to work.”

Foxy kept staring at him. “I mean, I don’t want to leave you.”

“I’m pretty irresistible,” Noble said lightly, stroking the bar through his left nipple.

“You’re completely irresistible.” Said with a mournful, puppy-dog look.

The grin was hard to maintain, so Noble rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s not melodramatic at all.”

With a sexy little growl, Foxy whipped the towel off his shoulder and threw it onto the mattress. “I’m serious.”

“Don’t be. There’s nothing to get serious about.”

“Yes, there is.” He rounded to face Noble, absolutely splendid in his damp nudity. “I think I’m in love with you.”

Noble froze. Foxy froze. The words were out, and they were stupidly hard to ignore or take back. Noble absolutely ached to accept the words, to say them back. Hearing that confession from Foxy rivaled the sound of any sexy groan or shout he’d made during sex.

What should he do? Laugh it off? Ignore it? Say it back? He cut through the air with his hand. “No.”

“What? I said—”

“I know what you said.” Keeping his tone brutally level, “How do you think what you’re saying would go over with your adoring public?”

Foxy’s eyes squeezed shut. “I don’t care—”

“Right.”

“I don’t.”

“Fuck you. You care. Or you wouldn’t have come to see me in a fucking disguise.”

“Okay, yeah, there are problems but—”

“Problems? Problems!” Anger surged up like someone had lit a fuse. No way Noble could contain it. “How the fuck do you think you can love me in secret? Huh? ’Cause I’m not exactly a secret kind of guy.” He reached up to tug at his faded indigo hair. “I’m a fucking rock star, man. I’m kind of in-your-face obvious, and you’re in the fucking closet!”

Foxy’s jaw clenched, matching his fists. “Okay, yeah, but—”

“But not one goddamned thing.” Again Noble slashed the air, this time adding a flippant hand toss at the end. “It’s been fun. Real fun. And under different circumstances, who knows?” He could say that because he didn’t have to face a reality that didn’t—couldn’t—exist. “But I’m sure as fuck not gonna be your ongoing dirty little secret. I’m not built that way.”

“I’ll come out.” Foxy’s bravado was woefully transparent, fear underlining the determination in those dark eyes.

The laugh that burst from Noble was anything but amused. “Sure you will. That’ll go over real well with the horde of little girls who made you famous.”

“I don’t care—”

“Bullshit! You care. If you didn’t care, you would’ve come out already.”

“It’s not that easy. If I do something like that, they can fucking fine me. I don’t have that kind of money.”

“So what the hell are you saying you’ll come out for?”

Foxy clawed the air, stepping forward to assert himself. “There’s never been a reason before. There’s never been anyone before you. I’ve never fallen for anyone the way I’ve fallen for you.”

Noble only realized he was rubbing his heart when Foxy’s attention dropped to see it. Angrily, he fisted his hand and shoved it down to his side. “Doesn’t change anything. We can’t happen.”

“Why not?” Two more steps in Noble’s direction. “We can work it out—”

Noble sidestepped him. “No. We can’t. You said it yourself—you’ll get fined. Get fired?” Foxy’s snarl affirmed that guess. “And it’s just not worth it.”

“I—”

“No. The last few days have been fun”—now he was repeating himself—“but I won’t do it. It’s not me. I haven’t been out for days. I haven’t seen anyone else. I’m not made like that. I need to be around people, lots of different people, not holed up behind closed doors as someone’s closet fuck.” He glared at Foxy, freezing him in his tracks. “I won’t.”

Foxy swallowed, unclenching his hands. “Okay. I get it. But we—”

“No. No we.”

“I’ll come out. For you.”

Beneath the determination, Noble could plainly see the fear in Foxy’s eyes. “Fuck you. Don’t you do that for me. I won’t be that responsibility.”

“But—”

“But what? You think you’ll come out, and it’ll be all peaches and cream? Fuck you. It’ll be hard and fucked up. You have a fucking contract that denies what you’re saying. And it’s not like you can just come and be with me, because I’ve got a fucking life, sweetheart. I don’t have time for your drama.” Anger built up around frustration and uncertainty. Noble really hoped those awful words that had just spilled out of his mouth did the trick, because his resolve was crumbling fast.

“Fuck you,” Foxy spat, turning toward his backpack.

“Yeah. Done that. Moving on.” Noble escaped the bedroom and further discussion, anxious to put some distance between them before he broke down and took everything back.

That Foxy would even offer the possibility of outing himself to be with Noble was both thrilling and terrifying. He didn’t want Foxy to go through what he was sure to go through. Sure, being a gay celebrity wasn’t as bad these days as it had been even a few years ago, but it could still be pretty bad. Had to be worse for attractive young men who stood in for the ideal in thousands—if not millions—of young girls’ hearts.

Downstairs, unable to sit, Noble grabbed up his phone and texted Lance. U there?

He turned on some music and paced the living room, reliving the argument with Foxy until his phone chirped. Here.

He said he’d come out for me.

Is that good?

No!

He still there?

Packing. Leaving.

U ok?

No. He started to type more, then erased and typed simply: No.

His phone rang, but he denied the call, texting: Can’t talk. He’s still upstairs.

What can I do?

Nothing. Wait.

Foxy’s footsteps were heavy on the stairs. Stashing the phone in his pocket, Noble watched Foxy’s feet appear, followed by legs covered with jeans, then a body hidden by the hoodie. His bearded jaw was set in a scowl, and his natural curls were damp and free of the baseball cap he held in his hand. He saw Noble watching, and his scowl grew, gaze dropping as he reached the end of the staircase. “I guess this is it.”

Noble leaned against the wall in the hallway, just a few feet away. “Yeah.”

“Are we done?” Foxy asked Noble’s knees. “We’re not even friends?”

He should be strong. He should say no. But he prided himself on being friends with everybody who’d ever been in his life, even the ones who’d hurt him. “We can be friends.”

“Friends.” Foxy’s jaw worked, gritting his teeth again. “Just like you’ve said all along.”

Noble hated this, hurting Foxy. But he wasn’t going to let either of them hurt more by trying to deny the truth. “Yeah.”

Foxy nodded shortly. He took a deep breath, then shut his eyes as he slowly let it out. When it was done, he opened his eyes to face Noble. Raw pain and longing was there for him to see—surely on purpose, since Foxy was a good enough actor to hide it if he wanted to. “Can I at least kiss you good-bye?”

Noble had pushed away from the wall before he was conscious of doing so. His arms came up as he approached. “Yes.” He let his own anguish show. No sense in letting Foxy think he was alone in hurting.

The kiss was awful and wonderful, soft and careful. Foxy sighed into him, hugging him close, and he let his arms tighten around Foxy’s neck as he sucked on Foxy’s tongue. Noble took what he needed out of the kiss because it was a painful ending for him too.

It was Foxy who pulled away. Much of the tension was gone from his face, leaving behind only sadness. “Bye, Noble.”

Noble lowered his arms, amazed at how hard it was to do so. “Bye, Foxy.” I’m sorry.

Foxy’s lips parted as though he’d say more. Noble willed him not to. As if he heard, Foxy snapped his mouth shut and turned away. He shouldered his backpack and pulled up his hood as he went through the back door. Noble stood where he was, heard the car door, heard the engine, heard the gate opening. He didn’t move until the sound of the gate closing completed.

He dialed the phone. “He’s gone.”

“You okay?”

“No.” To his horror, his voice broke. His eyes burned. His heart hurt. What was up with that?

“Shit. Noble?” Lance sounded worried. For him. That wouldn’t do.

Noble rubbed at his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

“I’m not. But I will be.”

“You need me to come over?”

“No.” But then… “Yes.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen.”

* * * *

Lance came, but there wasn’t much talking. Noble actually fucking cried, let Lance gather him into a hug and sit him on the couch. He was horrified to find himself sobbing on his best friend’s shoulder like some girl in a romantic movie.

“Shit.” He pushed away from Lance and blew his nose on the tissue the other man presented to him. “Fuck.” Sitting forward, elbows on knees, he rubbed at his heart. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Want me to say it?”

Noble stared at the blank television screen. “Yes.”

“I think you’re in love.”

“That’s stupid.”

“But true.”

The fight went out of him. Hearing Lance say it made it real. Noble hung his head. “Shit.”

Lance sat forward beside him, rubbing his back. “Is it a lost cause?”

“Yeah.” Noble wiped his nose. “I mean…” He sighed. “Shit. Yeah.”

“He said he’d come out for you.”

“Ha. Yeah. That’d be fun, huh?”

“Hey, if you want to be together…”

“Why would I want to be with a guy who can’t even be honest about who he is?” Noble stood.

“Because you love him?”

“Right.” Noble opened the blinds over the window facing the front yard, opened them wide. If he could have, he would have opened the window. “Lot of good that does me.”

“Don’t write it off yet. You never know what he’ll do.”

“It doesn’t matter, does it?” He spun to face Lance, the sun behind him lightening the room. Had it been so muted for the past few days? Had he been living in a dream? “How the hell could someone like me ever make it work with a guy who can’t admit that he’s gay?”

Lance watched him calmly. “Did he deny it to you?”

“No. Kind of hard to deny it when I’ve had my dick in his ass.”

Lance’s eyebrows rose marginally, and Noble let him imagine that Noble had done most of the topping. “Did you talk about his situation?”

“Some.”

“And?”

“And if I’m going to be with anyone, he has to be proud of what he is. I’m not going to be with someone who hides it, for whatever reason.” Noble ran a hand through his hair. A lock fell forward, and he fingered it. He needed to get a new dye job, like, yesterday.

“So even if he came out…?”

“It’s his problem. Not mine. I was kidding myself the last few days.” Reaching up, Noble pulled the long tail of his hair back. “Let’s go back to your place.”

“You sure? We got time.”

“I’m sure.” He started for the stairs. “I’m gonna change. Then I need to get the fuck out of this place.”

Chapter Ten

When he was in the groove, Noble didn’t have a care in the world. He hardly thought at all. It was just him, his sticks, his drum kit. Alone in the studio, he closed his eyes and let his instrument play him. No one else to pay attention to, no melody to underline, just him and raw beats filling the soundproof room.

Having completely lost track of time, he wasn’t surprised to see that three hours had passed since he’d shut himself alone in the room. His arms were sore, and sweat plastered loose hair to his head. It felt good. Damn good. But as soon as he stopped, reality poured back in, and thoughts of Foxy filled his head. It’d been three days since Foxy had left, the same since Noble had heard from the man. Usually the one who pushed beyond the pettiness of hurt feelings, Noble hadn’t bridged the gap between them, chickening out each time he pulled out his phone to call or text the one person who was constantly in his thoughts.

Coward, he called himself for the millionth time as he made his way to the studio’s bathroom. He gave himself what for as he pulled clothes out of the duffel he’d brought, then made use of the shower. After the first day, Gordon had made a call to Brent and rented the studio space for the rest of the month. Although Gordon said it was for the rest of the band as well, Noble didn’t see him call Rabin or Danny to let them know it was available. Noble would have called him on it, but he chose not to. Instead he made use of the special treatment and took advantage of the time to be alone. It was good for him, or so he told himself.

All clean, all alone, Noble stared at the screen of his phone. Even with his extended solo session, it was only two o’clock on a Monday afternoon. He’d never in his life had so much trouble filling his time. Of course, he usually wasn’t trying to avoid thinking about someone. It hadn’t even been this hard when he’d convinced himself that he wasn’t in love with Lance oh-so-many years ago. Compared to this, that’d been child’s play. He’d never been in love with Lance, not like this.

He did love Lance. He wasn’t even sure Lance was aware of how much he’d helped Noble in a really rough time. Finding a place with The Might had not been nearly as crucial in Noble’s life as finding a true, best friend. On his own in New York, this country boy had hit a streak of luck. If not for Lance and The Might, his life would have spiraled into oblivion. That was the darkest time in his life, and he’d vowed then never to go back to that. Thus the carefree, ever-friendly Noble had been born, and he hadn’t looked back. With Lance always there as a lodestone, Noble had easily resisted temptations. His life was so much better for it.

But now, as much as Lance wanted to, he couldn’t help Noble. He’d tried. In just a few days, Noble had done his share of whining and crying, and Lance and Gordon had seen him through it. Their now solid relationship served as a balm to help calm him. It was good to see them as a couple. But it could only go so far. While he was over the moon that Lance was finally happy with Gordon, seeing them together made Noble want the same for himself. With Foxy. Always with Foxy.

So although he had a standing invitation to stay with his friends, as well as a new text from Lance inviting him back for dinner, Noble decided he wouldn’t go. He needed to get his head straight, not hide at their place. He texted that he wasn’t coming, then scrolled through his contacts for the number of the hairdresser he’d found in Chicago. What luck, she was free for the next few hours. Time to get his hair redone.

* * * *

“I like the hair.”

Smiling, Noble reached up to run his fingers through all that remained of the hair from his mohawk. It was still about two inches long in a wide swath on top from his hairline just to the back of his scalp, but now it blended into a shorter but allowed-to-grow section that covered the right side of his head. The left side was cleanly shaven. “Thanks.”

“But I thought you were into colors. Why black?”

“It’s not black.” Noble rubbed a lock between thumb and forefinger. “It’s a really dark blue. Just looks black in this light.”

Glen leaned close, pretending to get a good look. Really, he was just edging closer to Noble. They were seated at the bar in a terrific Italian restaurant. The furnishings were all dark wood accented with red and gold, and the air was redolent with garlic and spice. The man beside him was the sommelier of the place and had recommended the wine that was going to Noble’s head. Noble knew little about wine, but he did like the muzzy feeling clouding his thoughts.

“Mmm.” Glen didn’t quite nuzzle Noble’s neck, but he managed to suggest that he was thinking the action. Noble wondered if he held back because he was technically at work, or if he wasn’t out of the closet. Which made Noble think about Foxy, which killed a little of the buzz. Which also meant he didn’t lean into the man to encourage him. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”

Noble lifted his glass to drink, using the moment to try and remember what Glen was talking about. Oh, right, his hair. Three hours at the salon had killed much of Noble’s day and given him time to convince himself to go out instead of going back to Lance and Gordon’s. He needed a little time. Just…he wasn’t so keen on time to himself. He’d been to the restaurant before and knew the bartender from other circles. Juan had introduced him to Glen soon after arriving. Now the plate of gnocchi he’d ordered was nearly empty, and the sommelier was clearly offering company for the remainder of the night. All Noble had to do was ask what time the man got off work. But he didn’t want to. He’d been trying for much of the last hour to want it, but it just wasn’t happening. The thought of screwing this guy was a pleasant contemplation and nothing more.

Sure now that he didn’t want the man, Noble backed off. With a twist and a smile, he put some air between them and locked gazes with Glen. Not going to happen, he said with his eyes. “Thanks for the tip on the wine. Can I buy a bottle?”

Not all guys got it. Some deliberately misunderstood the rejection and kept trying. But Noble saw Glen accept it as he backed up a step himself. “We don’t sell the bottles here, but let me write it down.” Facing the bar, he reached inside his jacket to pull out a billfold. He wrote on the back of a business card, then held the card out to Noble. “That’s the name of the wine. The number’s for a private merchant I know. Use my name, and he’ll take good care of you.”

Noble took the card and put it down next to his empty plate without looking at it. “Thanks.”

“And feel free to call me anytime.” Glen stared at him a moment, seeing if he’d change his mind.

“Thanks.” Noble just smiled and extended his hand to shake. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too.” Releasing Noble’s hand, Glen tapped the card. “Anytime.”

Noble nodded, then watched him walk off.

“Not your type?”

He looked up at Juan, the bartender. Short and plump, with an easy smile. “Not right now.”

Juan’s dark eyebrows shot up. He wasn’t gay—divorced with three kids and working on his next bride—but his brother was, and it was the brother who’d introduced them. “Not something I’ve heard from you before.”

“Not something I say often.”

In a time-honored bartender move, Juan whipped out a white towel to wipe down the already spotless surface of the bar. “There’s a couple guys here I could hook you up with.”

“Nah. Thanks.” Noble tapped his empty plate. “I’ll just pay for this and go.”

He felt weird. He should have taken Glen home. He should have invited a friend or two to dinner with him, with the plan to take at least one of them home. He should have gone to a club instead of coming to a relatively quiet restaurant. He should be getting his life back on track.

He shouldn’t be missing Foxy.

After paying his bill, he thanked Juan, then left. Muggy air hit him outside. He shoved his hands into his pockets and started down the busy avenue toward…toward where? He didn’t want to be alone. He never did. But most of his accustomed methods of finding company all seemed to end with sex or the possibility of sex, and he just didn’t want it. Not from anyone who was readily available.

Frustrated, at a loss, he took out his phone and dialed Danny.

“Hey, Noble.” That wasn’t Danny’s voice.

“Oh. Hey, Cash. Did I get Danny’s number wrong?”

“Nope. This’s his phone. He’s in the shower. What’s up?”

Although he knew Danny’s boyfriend, he hadn’t gotten to know him well. Suddenly Noble wanted to rectify that. “What are you guys up to tonight?”

“I’m doing some work. Not sure what Danny’s up to. Want me to ask him?”

“No. Mind if I come over?”

“Sure. I’ll tell him you’re on your way.”

“Cool.”

Cash. Such a sweet, clueless boy. No, not entirely clueless, just about some things. Put a computer in front of him, and he was the smartest guy Noble had ever known, hands down. Start talking about sex, and those big brown eyes opened wide in ignorance. But Cash was learning. Danny made sure of that. On the way over, Noble wondered if it was a good idea to spend time with another happy couple, but he actually took heart in it. Lance and Gordon, they were working. Danny and Cash were new but solid. Rabin and Izzy acted like they’d been a couple for ages instead of just over a year. Happy couples enjoying each other. If Noble couldn’t have that for himself, he’d soak in his friends’ joy.

Did he want it? He thought about it seriously after he’d flagged down a cab. If Foxy wasn’t in the closet, would he even want something like that with him? Noble had only ever contemplated a serious relationship three other times in his life. Once as a wide-eyed teen who’d just discovered the joys of men. Once in his early days in New York. Then, once with Lance. Since Lance, no one had come close to capturing his heart. He’d become sure that a relationship just wasn’t in the cards for him. But then came Foxy. A few days alone with him had Noble’s emotional life upside down. They’d been comfortable together. That was the scary part. Talking with Foxy had been easy, fun. There had been no awkward pauses. Their beliefs and joys weren’t the same, but they hadn’t clashed either. Waking up with Foxy had felt good, had felt normal. Noble could easily see himself waking like that every morning. And if they were in different states, well, hadn’t they already proved they were pretty good at keeping touch long-distance?

So, did he want it? Sure. If Foxy didn’t have problems, would Noble have pursued it? Maybe. But Foxy did, so the point was moot.

Noble reached his destination and paid the cab driver. Danny had moved into Cash’s new apartment just a week or so before the Knights had left on the tour. It was a big, fancy complex that suggested inhabitation by people who might not be rich but certainly weren’t poor. Noble called up so Danny could buzz him through the front gate, then took the elevator to the right floor.

“Hey, you,” Danny greeted, opening the door for him. Dark-rooted platinum-dyed hair was pulled back in a wet tail, and he was bare-chested, wearing shiny black-and-red basketball shorts. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at some club somewhere?”

There was more furniture than when Noble had been there last, and the cream-colored walls were now occupied by some of the art pieces Danny had picked out in Europe. The forty-inch television was on, and a laptop was open on the coffee table in front of a tan microsuede couch. There was even patio furniture on the balcony past the glass doors. Noble tried to decide if his surroundings felt more like Cash or more like Danny and was pleased to decide that it felt like them.

“I could ask you the same,” Noble replied, setting his duffel by the door. “I was at the studio.”

“All day?”

Noble shrugged. “Got my hair done.”

“I see that.” Danny checked out the back, nodded. “Nice. Did you eat?” Danny led the way toward the kitchen.

“Just did.”

“Want a drink?”

Noble stopped in the door of the kitchen, then glanced behind him. “Where’s Cash?”

Danny snorted as he opened the refrigerator. “Is that a real question?” It was said with mock exasperation behind a very fond smile.

“Ah. At the computer?”

“Of course.”

“Good.” Putting his back to Danny, Noble headed for the hallway. “I need to ask him something.”

Aware Danny was following him, Noble headed right into Cash’s sanctuary. It was remarkably clean, especially given the wall of bookshelves stuffed to bursting with comics and colorful paraphernalia. The keyboard master himself sat staring at the middle of three monitors perched across a broad desk. He wore a faded orange tank top that revealed pale, slim arms. His dishwater-blond hair barely covered his ears and didn’t cover his neck, which was long and oh so tempting to kiss. Or so Danny had assured him. Thick-rimmed glasses were perched on his nose, and Noble couldn’t be sure Cash was even reading what he was typing as his fingers flew over the keys.

“What ho, Cassius.”

A jerk of Cash’s chin made Noble aware that Cash had heard him, so he waited patiently for the man to finish typing. Then Cash blinked myopically from behind his glasses and raised his head. Recognizing Noble, he smiled big, which warmed Noble’s heart. “Hey, Noble.”

“Heya, cutie.” Charmed, Noble crossed the room to plant a kiss on the top of Cash’s head and muss his hair. Soft. Yes, Danny’s fingers had to love that. “I have a favor to ask you.”

After a quick, questioning glance toward Danny—who stood just inside the doorway—Cash focused on Noble. “What is it?”

Noble pulled another wheeled chair up beside Cash’s and sat. “I want to set up a news feed.” He dug into his pocket. “On my phone.”

“Oh.” He could feel just a little bit of tension ease out of Cash. Give him a computery task, and he was instantly all business.

“I could figure it out, but you probably know some tricks. I just want one topic. We can do that, yeah?”

“Sure. Just a matter of putting in the right keywords.” After Noble had cleared the screen with his password, Cash plucked the phone from his hand. “What app do you want to use?”

With a fond smile, Danny wandered away. Cash asked questions; Noble answered, then asked a few of his own. Cash pulled out his tablet to show Noble some options, and they got a little sidetracked when Noble saw a restaurant tracker that Cash showed him. Finally they decided on the right app, and Noble let Cash do most of the setting up while he wandered the room looking at action figures and painted keepsakes.

“Okay.” By the tone, Cash sounded like he was ready for new input. “So what do you want to follow?”

“Not what. Who. I want to know what Foxy is up to.”

“Oh.”

Noble turned to find Cash watching him openly. Frankly. For the first time, his eyes weren’t on a screen. “What?”

Cash’s lips parted as he blinked. “Danny told me what happened with you and…him. I’m sorry.”

Noble grinned. How sweet. They might not know each other well, but Noble was fully in love with Cash. For Danny, of course. “It’s not your fault.”

A little bit of a blush. “I know, but…”

“No, I’m being a dick.” Noble resumed his seat beside Cash with a small stuffed…something in his hands. He’d taken it from one of the bookshelves. It was about the size of a softball and clearly a character from Japanese anime, but Noble was at a loss to name the plump yellow thing. “Thanks.”

Cash ducked over Noble’s phone, typing. “Sucks that it couldn’t work out.”

“Yeah.” Noble tossed the ball-shaped toy in the air to catch it. “But maybe not. I’m not a one-man kind of guy.” Or so he’d come to think.

“Yeah.” Cash frowned, thumbs pausing. “He’s got other names, doesn’t he?”

They spent a few moments discussing Foxy’s various aliases. Then Cash presented the phone back to him. “There. That should work.”

Noble scrolled through a list of headlines, all of which seemed to mention the man in question. Most of them were about the Criminea series. He laughed as he stopped on one that wasn’t an article. “Oh, I’ll have to read this later.”

“What?”

“There’s fan fiction for Criminea.” He clicked the link, then snorted. “Looks like it’s heterosexual.”

Cash grinned. “That’s weird for fan fiction. It’s usually all gay.”

“Yeah. It is.” Amused, Noble closed the app, then put his phone to sleep. “Thanks. For this.”

“Sure thing.” Cash’s eyes were back on his monitor, his finger trailing over his trackpad as he moved stuff across the screen. For another person, the inattention might have seemed rude, but Noble could tell that Cash wasn’t inattentive. He was just able to pay attention to multiple things at once.

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

Cash startled, then faced him. “Sure.”

“Are you okay with being gay now?”

Cash blinked. “Uh…?”

“Tell me to go to hell if that’s too personal. I won’t mind.”

“No. No. It’s okay.” Cash scratched the back of his neck. “I’m okay.” He met Noble’s gaze. “I love Danny.”

“Oh, I know.” Noble squeezed his knee for emphasis. “That wasn’t my question.” He put the stuffed toy on the desk. “See, I came out when I was a teenager. I’ve never been an adult who suddenly changed his whole sexuality. I was just wondering what it’s like to think you swing one way, only to find out you swing the other way.”

“Oh.” Confusion cleared as Cash sat back in his chair to think. “Yeah. It was an…adjustment.” He smiled a little as he thought about it. “I didn’t really want to be part of the whole gay”—he waved his hands in the air—“thing. Y’know?”

Noble nodded. He’d been out and proud for much of his young life, but he wasn’t running out to join every gay rally and parade either.

“But…” Cash was thinking hard. So cute. “I never dated much anyway. Or ever. I only thought of myself as straight because that’s just how I grew up. It wasn’t because I was really attracted to women.” From the gravity in Cash’s voice, Noble got the impression that Cash had spent a lot of time thinking about this himself. “When I fell in love with Danny, it was more a mental shock than an emotional one. I didn’t really have much of a life adjustment to make. It wasn’t like I was bisexual; I just hadn’t realized I was gay yet. That make sense?”

“It does. Lots of sense.” Noble sighed, snatching up the yellow thing again because he needed something to play with. “I don’t think that’s Foxy’s problem. He’s attracted to women.”

“You sure?”

“He’s dated enough of them.”

Cash shrugged. “So did Rabin. Heck, so did Luc Sloane.”

“True.” Too bad Luc wasn’t in town. Noble was in enough of a mood to track him down and ask the same questions. Luc had made a life change similar to what Foxy would be facing. Except that Luc had been a member of a band where their sexual leanings had already been in question.

“You think he doesn’t love you?”

Noble had to shake himself, his first thought that Cash was asking if Luc Sloane was in love with him. Amusing, but clearly wrong. “Who? Foxy?”

“Yeah.”

“He said he does.”

“You believe him?”

“I don’t know what to believe.”

“But he said it.” Such an innocent, open gaze as Cash spoke directly to Noble’s heart. “That’s a good sign, isn’t it?”

“Maybe. But he’s still in the closet. There’s no way we could make it work and keep it secret.”

“Yeah. That’d be hard. Maybe he’ll come around.”

“Maybe. But I’m not going to hold my breath.”

Chapter Eleven

Donny Foxley and Maritza Wesker are definitely an item. The couple were seen kissing at Pritzi’s downtown Thursday. Neither will comment, but Mari’s big smile as she hung on Foxy’s arm spoke volumes…

Grimacing, Noble thumbed to the next story. This week, they were all pretty similar. The rags were all full of near confirmation that the two stars of Criminea were an item.

Now that the tour had started, Noble’s schedule was blissfully full, leaving him little time to himself. Which was just the way he wanted it. He volunteered for every interview, photo op, press appearance, or marketing function Gordon could throw at him. He even did a guest blog shot for a drumming magazine. As long as he went to events and viewed them as business affairs, he could be social. He could talk up the Indigo Knights for hours without a sweat. The veneer of business let him keep invitations for sex at bay. He would flirt, certainly; that was part of his persona. But it didn’t have to go anywhere, and he had a built-in excuse to turn anyone down. It was perfect.

However, despite a full schedule, he still managed to keep up on news of Foxy. Having Cash set up the news feed might not have been his best idea. The rumors about Foxy and his costar had started over the weekend, and new sightings had started during the week. Maritza was pretty. Of course she was pretty. She’d been cast as the lead actress in a series that the producers hoped would become as big as Lord of the Rings. She was short, barely to Foxy’s shoulder, with an abundance of curly brown hair that framed an adorable round face. She looked like a porcelain doll, but that image was wrecked after seeing her in the first movie, because she fought and tumbled admirably along with her costars. She had a gorgeous smile and seemed to laugh a lot. If Foxy were just about anyone else, Noble would be happy for him.

But he wasn’t. “Gotta be a publicity stunt,” Noble muttered to himself as he rode alone in the back of a limo.

Noble’s transportation options now involved limousines complete with bodyguards, instead of cabs or trains. At the moment, the Indigo Knights were getting nearly as much press as Heaven Sent. The album was selling, girls were screaming, and Gordon didn’t have enough hours in the day to keep up with everything. News from Europe had reached the States, and the West Coast press had begun to notice them. Gordon and Gretchen and their currently combined team were working furiously to arrange event after event to showcase the bands. The original tour dates had all sold out, and new dates were being added.

Noble should be over the top. He should have bedded the handsome executive who’d wanted to take him home from the press event. Instead he was all alone, grumbling over rumors about a guy he shouldn’t even be thinking about.

He made it to the hotel without overreacting, but the idea nagged at him as he pulled off his clothes. What the hell did Foxy think he was doing? It was one thing to not tell anyone he was gay, but if he was really dating this girl, that just wasn’t fair. To her or to him.

Noble sat naked in bed, about to turn off the light, when he finally gave in to compulsion and dialed the phone. Would Foxy even answer? Neither of them had tried to call or text since…

On the third ring, he did. “Noble?” Foxy’s voice was hushed, and pop music was evident in the background. Was he out with her now? It was barely ten o’clock in Los Angeles.

“Is it serious, or is it a publicity stunt?”

“What?”

“This thing with your costar. Is it real?”

There was some shuffling and a muttered “excuse me.” Then the background music was cut off. Foxy must have moved to a quieter room. “How is my thing with Mari even your business?” That low voice held an edge of anger in it.

But Noble was mad right back at him. “It’s not. But it’s real shitty of you to lead her on when you’re into dick.”

“Who says I’m even into dick anymore?”

Noble barked out a laugh. “Is that what you’re telling yourself?”

“It’s true. Seems there’s only one dick I want, and you made it unavailable.” The edge dissolved into full-blown anger.

Noble’s treacherous heart wanted to find that warming, when his brain knew the notion was absurd. The warring directions in thought kept him from a quick answer.

“What’s the matter, Noble? You’re not jealous. Are you?”

The nasty tone snapped Noble out of it. “Not remotely. But as your friend, I felt the need to call you on your hypocrisy.”

“I’m the hypocrite? You’re the one who says we can’t be anything, then sticks his nose into my love life.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you.”

Blanket bunched up in his fist, Noble glared at the television screen mounted on the wall beyond the foot of his bed. “Are you really going to lead that poor girl on?”

“You don’t know shit about that poor girl. Would it make you feel any better to know that she knows about you?”

Again Noble was speechless.

“Yeah. That surprised you, didn’t it? I told her all about you. About us.”

“And she’s still with you?”

“She chose to stick by me.”

“She gets to be with you in public. She gets to kiss you in front of the paparazzi. I was never going to get that, was I?” The words tumbled out without much thought. Noble heard the anguish in them but couldn’t tamp it down. “She can be with you without fucking up your career. So I don’t think she’s got much to lose, does she? Asshole.”

Now Foxy was silent.

“Fuck you.” Noble drew himself up, managing to maintain an even voice despite the tears that dribbled down his cheeks. “I called to tell you what you’re doing is fucked up. That’s it.” He paused, unsure what to say. Then he figured it out. “Bye.”

He shut off the call before Foxy could respond. He waited, staring at the screen for a few minutes, wondering if Foxy would call back. It didn’t happen. Noble got up and went to the bathroom for a tissue since there weren’t any on the nightstand. When he returned to his lonely bed, there was still no response. Which, in itself, was a response.

“Okay,” he told the empty air as he put his phone on the nightstand and turned out the light. He snuggled into his pillows and stared into the darkness, wondering if he’d be able to sleep. “Okay.”

Chapter Twelve

“Never thought I’d see the day,” Lance declared. He was sitting on the couch across from Noble, their empty breakfast plates strewn all over the coffee table between them. A news station droned on to Noble’s right, but neither of them were paying much attention.

Noble swiped the last strip of bacon, then sat back to chew it. “What?”

Lance tipped his head to study Noble. His long blond hair had dried around his head but not in the frizzy way it usually did. If Noble didn’t know any better, he might think Lance had actually used product. But then again, he was living with Gordon now, so he might really have done it. “When’s the last time you went clubbing?” Lance asked.

“I’ve been to clubs.”

“I mean clubbing. Dancing, flirting, fucking. You know, your thing.”

Figured that Lance knew. Noble had spent long enough tracking Lance’s movements; it wasn’t surprising that his best friend had turned the tables when he knew Noble was going through a rough time. Noble wrinkled his nose as he chewed the bacon. “I’m busy.”

“You feeling withdrawal?”

“Not really.” He sighed. It was true. He still maintained his all-business schedule. Okay, some might call his work one big party, but those who did probably didn’t know all the shit Gordon had him—had all the band—doing for promotion. It was more than they’d done during the club tour. Add to the fact that now they had massive security around them all the time, there was barely any time to sleep, much less party. But he could have managed it, if he’d been so inclined. “I’m exhausted.” Noble reached up to tug at his hair. The only reason it was still a rich, dark blue and tidily trimmed was because he now had a hairdresser who visited his place regularly and made sure to keep it so.

“I hear that.” Lance tipped his head back and closed his eyes, folding his hands over his bare belly.

Noble stared at the smartly dressed news anchorman without hearing a word he said. “I never thought I’d see the day that I’d get your point.”

“What point?”

Noble drew a leg up to hug it. “About being with one guy.”

Lance sat up and leaned on his knees. “Still no luck getting over the Foxy?”

Noble smiled. Bad enough that the man was called Foxy, but his bandmates had taken to referring to him as the Foxy. “Nope.” He straightened the other leg down the length of the couch. “But that’s gotta be ’cause I’ve been too busy to work him out of my system.”

A lie, pure and simple. They both knew it. Noble’d had plenty of chances and plenty of time. He’d partied more than his share during the first month of the tour, and he’d entertained a select handful of young men in an attempt to exorcise Foxy from his system. But he hadn’t taken any to his bed. He’d managed to flirt his way around and hook others up so they wouldn’t be disappointed when he went to bed later that night alone. He’d had the chances but finally decided to just wait out this obsession with Foxy.

“It’ll take time,” Lance said softly.

“Mmm, yeah. Like, three years?” He met Lance’s gaze for that. For three years Lance had pined over losing Gordon, going celibate for most of that time. “Or more?” Because, in the end, the only person who’d put a stop to Lance’s celibacy had been Gordon himself.

“It’s that bad?”

“Fuck yeah.”

Gordon chose that moment to emerge from the bathroom with a white towel wrapped around his slim waist and a cloud of steam following him. Utterly scrumptious and toned from the exercise that he actually enjoyed and the natural beauty a benevolent God had given him. “Did you leave me anything to eat?” he asked, glancing at the empty plates and glasses.

Lance pointed toward the covered tray on the table behind his couch. “That one’s yours.”

“Hmm.” Gordon picked up the phone Lance had placed beside his tray and glanced at it as he rounded the end of the couch. “Noble, what are you doing here so early?” he asked without looking up.

Noble didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was ogling Lance’s boyfriend. There was no point, and they would have thought something was wrong with him if he didn’t look. “Thought I’d see what breakfast is like. So far, the scenery’s pretty good.”

Gordon snorted amusement, breaking his gaze from the phone only long enough to bend over his lover to give Lance a soft kiss on the lips. “Your interview’s been postponed to one,” he proclaimed, turning toward the bedroom. “That’ll make you cut it close for sound check but should be okay. I’ll have the car collect you at half past twelve.” He paused at the door to look at them. “Okay?”

They both nodded, allowing him to head into the room.

Noble smiled. “That’d drive me crazy. How can he be all business when he’s naked like that?”

Lance obviously knew what Noble meant. He’d looked his full share as well, even though he got to sleep with that body every night. “It’s not so bad. He tones it down when we’re alone.” Lance thought about it. “Sometimes.”

They laughed.

“I’m jealous. You’ve got what I never wanted, and now I want it.” Noble heard the wistfulness in his voice and accepted it.

Lance showed appropriate surprise. “Seriously?”

Noble had never in his life wanted to share the everyday humdrum with just one person. Until now. Foxy had changed him so damn quickly. “I know. Weird, huh?”

“Well, fucking stop it. You’re freaking me out.”

Noble had to laugh. “Yeah, I’m working on it.”

Chapter Thirteen

Reine left a message for Noble while he was in an interview with Rabin a few weeks later. Noble listened to it in the lobby of the radio station as they waited for the car. “Man! You’re in town this weekend, right? Any chance I could get a ticket to one of the shows? I’ll trade an invite to a premiere party. It’s the new Neil Reitg film, so there’ll be a ton of people there. Party’s on Friday if you want to go. Call me back, and let me know.”

Noble thought about it as they were ushered to the car.

“You’re quiet,” Rabin commented a few minutes into the drive.

“Yeah.” Noble bounced his phone on his thigh. “I got invited to a Hollywood party this weekend.”

His friend studied him. The fact that they were going to be in Los Angeles in a few days had been the elephant in the room for the past week. Everyone knew Noble was getting closer to the Foxy, but no one teased him about it. Which was weird because he would have been all over any of them in a similar situation. But since he chose not to talk about it, the upcoming potential—or lack thereof—of seeing Foxy had been left unsaid.

Rabin simply asked, “You going?”

“I’ll think about it.”

* * * *

By the time they reached LA, he’d made up his mind. He called Reine and made arrangements for him and a friend to come to the concert on Friday, after which they’d all go to this party. He didn’t ask if Foxy would be there with his girlfriend, and Reine didn’t volunteer the information. Foxy wasn’t connected to this new movie, as far as Noble could tell, but then again, neither was Reine. When asked how he got invited, Reine just laughed and said he had a friend. That was Hollywood. Everyone had friends.

The reception for Heaven Sent and the Indigo Knights in Los Angeles rivaled that from anywhere else. They were beset with interviews and meet and greets from the moment they arrived on Wednesday, and it didn’t stop for the next two days. Noble met people and made promises to get in touch that he wasn’t sure he’d keep. The greenroom before the Thursday-night show was filled to bursting with stars and starlets. Noble kept an eye out for Foxy, but if he showed, Noble didn’t see him.

Friday night, Reine and his friend—male—hung out backstage before the concert. Only then did it dawn on Noble that Reine might have thought tonight was a date. So he was relieved that Reine’s buddy seemed to be the fuckable kind. Noble only got a chance to chat with them for a little while before he was drawn away, but they seemed fine. Again he kept an eye out for Foxy, but again the object of his obsession was a no-show.

Noble took out his frustration in his music, thankful that his instrument served not only his musical side but his emotional one as well. Pounding on the skins, letting the rhythms surge through his body, was the best way to work the nerves out of his system. After their set, while Heaven Sent was on stage, Noble got a chance to talk to Reine a little more. It turned out his buddy Taylor was going to be in the upcoming second Crimenea movie too. Which allowed Noble to steer the conversation to his favorite dreaded topic.

“So when’s the last time you talked to Foxy?”

“Not for a week or so,” Reine answered without suspicion. “He’s been kind of quiet these days.”

“Really? I thought he was out and about with Maritza?”

Reine looked at him funny for a second before breaking out into a broad smile. “Oh, that? Nah. They’re just friends.”

“I thought they were a couple?”

“Yeah, lots of people think that.” Reine shook his head with confidence. “She’s more like his little sister than anything.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.” He exchanged glances with a grinning Taylor, then leaned toward Noble in a conspiratorial way. “Between you, me, and the fence post, I think Foxy’s gay.”

Noble feigned surprise while wondering if Reine was playing him for inside knowledge. Did he know? Could he know? “Why’d you say that?”

Taylor joined the conversation. “Oh, little things. He’s never really been into any of the women who fall all over him, and I never once heard any of them really say that they fucked him.”

Reine nodded. “And other than with Mari, he doesn’t hardly go out at all anymore.”

Noble refused to feel hopeful. Because even if Foxy wasn’t dating that girl, that didn’t bring him any closer to Noble’s life. “Yeah, well, he’s way in the closet, if he is.”

“Oh, I don’t know.”

“Oh? Spill.”

Reine laughed. “Did you get to meet his handler? Zach?”

“Yeah.”

Taylor preened. “I got to prove to him that he wasn’t as straight as he thought he was.”

Noble joined in the laughter for that one, acting like he didn’t know about Zach. He high-fived Taylor, giving him a prissy “You go, girlfriend” to go with it. “But that doesn’t say anything about Foxy.”

“Oh, yes, it does,” Reine declared. “They’ve had lots of alone time since then.”

Noble squelched a surge of jealousy. “Oh?”

“Plus, Zach’s been laying heavy hints that Foxy bats for our team.”

“He has?”

Taylor scrunched his nose. “Don’t know that I really believe it, though. I’ve certainly tried him a few times.”

Reine nodded. “Me too. I think he was almost interested once, but he shied away.”

Noble nearly had to bite his tongue. “It’s not like he could be out anyway, could he? Doesn’t he have some contract thing?”

Reine blinked. “Oh, shit, that’s right. I forgot about that.”

Taylor looked confused. “What?”

“He’s got one of those morality clauses in his contract. All the principals do. He can’t make any big life changes for, like, a year around any of the releases. Can’t get married, get caught on drugs, say he’s gay, or have a sex change, or shit like that.”

“Is that even legal?”

Reine shrugged. “It’s legal enough. Probably be nasty to try and fight it.” He sighed. “So I guess the most we could hope for is a quickie in a back alley.”

“Nothing I haven’t done before!” Taylor cried, hand up for another high five.

Noble laughed with them but broke a little inside. “How long do you suppose that clause is for?” he asked casually.

“Beats me. Probably until after the release of the three movies? Can’t be much longer than that. Although there has been talk of a fourth.”

That would make sense. But since the second movie was due to release in a few months, and the third hadn’t yet begun production, there was still a while to go yet. If Reine was right about a fourth movie, who knew how long it’d be.

Taylor shivered. “I feel for him if he is gay. I mean, maybe years ago you should hide it, but these days? Come on, who even cares anymore?”

Reine laughed. “You are so Hollywood, man. You forget that a lot of the country—a lot of the world—are still in the Dark Ages about us.”

“Well”—Taylor sniffed—“fuck ’em.”

Talk turned to other subjects, and Noble switched on his social persona to force himself to stick with it. But his heart wasn’t in it. Part of him was thinking that the morality clause only limited Foxy for a few years; maybe they could pick things up after it had run its course. But a larger part of him realized that by then, it’d be too late. It was already too late.

* * * *

The party was all it was promised to be. Held at a private estate in the Hollywood Hills, it was ostentatious, overbearing, and superficial. Drunk people flirted with others stoned out of their minds. Producers conducted conversations with nubile young eye candy seated on their laps. Noble brought Danny with him, and Luc Sloane joined them as well. The latter was a last-minute inclusion that sent Reine and Taylor out of their minds into giddy fawning. Luc handled them with grace while Danny clearly took mental notes. Noble was glad of the additional distraction, which allowed him not to be as social as he might.

After the show, he’d dressed his part. Tight black pants were slung low on his hips with a bunch of bandanas tied as belts. His T-shirt was light silk and almost see-through, giving the barest hint of the horny toad tattooed on his chest. His arms were bare except for blue leather cuffs around his wrists. His hair was at its brightest blue, and he’d finger combed in enough product to make it shiny and slightly spiky. He’d chosen bright gold contacts tonight and lined his eyes in deep black. The crowd was perfect, just the right mix of posers and attention hogs. He made new friends immediately and even met up with a few people he remembered from previous trips to the West Coast.

He was standing under a palm tree by one of the food stations, teasing two gorgeous women while they made a mess of the marshmallows they dipped in the chocolate fountain, when he looked up and saw Foxy. Dark shoulder-length hair tumbled around the collar of his loose cobalt dress shirt. He was too far away for Noble to make out details of his face, but he was smiling as he said hello to someone. He also had his hand on the bare back of his so-called girlfriend. Her sequined cocktail dress barely covered more than a one-piece bathing suit, the entire back bare from her neck to just above the cleft of her ass. Three-inch sparkly heels and a tall hairdo brought her to nearly Foxy’s height. They looked good together. It was hard to believe they weren’t a couple. Then again, maybe Reine had been wrong.

Uncharacteristic for him, Noble shied away, moving inside to avoid confrontation. He gave serious thought to leaving. Then a casting director he’d met caught his elbow and started talking to him again about a bit part in a movie. She thought he’d be perfect, and it would just be a day of work. No acting involved, really. He needed to play himself as a rock-star drummer. How easy would that be? She drew a few others into the conversation as the topic changed from the movie to his experience during the recent tour. He found himself talking to a script-writing duo who were fascinated by the day-to-day of the rock-star experience. They’d just begun to speculate on how different things might have been for the Beatles or the Rolling Stones when Noble felt a presence just behind and to the right of him.

It was Foxy. Of course it was. He came up to stand right next to Noble, his arm almost touching but not quite. At first he didn’t look at Noble. Rather, he looked like he was paying attention to what was being said, a small, interested smile on his face. He had a drink in his hand, which he swirled a little to make the ice clink. After a moment, he turned his head to meet Noble’s gaze. Noble was struck again by just how beautiful he was. “Hey.”

The writers were completely into their speculations and might not have even noticed Foxy’s approach.

“Hey.” Beyond that, Noble was tongue-tied. Something only Foxy could do to him.

“I heard you were in town.”

Noble nodded. He was struggling to leech the adoration from his gaze, not sure he was succeeding.

“How’d the concert go tonight?”

“Good. Great.”

“I was going to try and make it to one, but…” Foxy looked into his glass. “You know.”

“Right.”

He scanned the crowd. “So, Luc Sloane’s here. That because of you?”

“Sort of.”

Foxy nodded. “He’s a nice guy. I just talked to him.”

“He is.”

The writers had wound down their own discussion and were paying attention to Noble again. One of them greeted Foxy. The four of them chatted a bit. Then they were joined by Maritza.

Foxy made introductions. “Mari, this is Noble.”

She smiled big for him, holding out her hand. “I’m so glad to finally meet you,” she said, ignoring the writers, who took their cue and wandered off. Her grip was unexpectedly strong in a real handshake, not the kind of limp touches that women often gave.

Noble put on a smile, brain racing as he tried to pick up on subtle lover clues between her and Foxy. They had brushed arms, but it didn’t seem intentional. “Nice to meet you too.” If there was anything there, he had to be missing it.

“Donny is, like, obsessed with your music. I know your album backwards and forwards now, and it’s all because of him.”

“I hope you like it.”

“Oh, I do. It’s awesome. And I love Heaven Sent, so it’s all good.”

“Have you seen them onstage?”

“Who?”

“Heaven Sent.”

“Not yet.” She blinked big, hopeful eyes at him.

He heard the hint and grinned. “I can get you in tomorrow, if you’re interested.” He braved a look into Foxy’s eyes. “Both of you.”

Foxy was staring at him, and he had been staring while Maritza was speaking. Not a blank look but a careful one.

Maritza, predictably, was enthused. “Really?” She held her hands in prayer fashion under her chin. “For real?”

Noble chuckled. “Sure.”

“Oh, man, this is awesome. I just met fucking Luc Sloane, and you’re saying I could meet Johnnie freaking Heaven?” She pulled him into an impetuous hug. She smelled heavily of jasmine and bubbled like champagne. Despite his misgivings, Noble thought he liked her. “Oh, thank you!” Letting him go, she grinned up at Foxy. “You’ll go, right?”

He shrugged, tearing his gaze from Noble. “Sure.”

“What? What’s ‘sure’? I’m surprised you didn’t already have tickets.” Back to Noble. “I swear, he’s all about you and Heaven Sent.”

Noble didn’t know why, but he felt the need to provide Foxy an out. “You guys have been busy.”

“Oh, don’t I freaking know it.” So, clearly the girl had had a little to drink. She wasn’t exactly swaying on her feet, but her eyes were brighter than they might otherwise have been. “I’m so glad that Dauntless is in edits.” She leaned heavily into Foxy. “Just one more to go, right, Donny?”

His eyes were back on Noble over her head. “Right.”

“Noble.” Danny arrived to grab Noble’s arm. He grinned big as he tugged a little. “I’ve got someone you have to meet.” He smiled at the couple. “Hi.”

“Danny, you remember Fo—uh, Donny?”

Danny held out his hand, ignoring Noble’s verbal stumble. “Sure. How’s it hanging, man?”

“Good.”

“And this is Maritza.”

Danny was openly gay and in a committed relationship, but he’d learned to flirt professionally. He was a natural. Taking Maritza’s hand in greeting, he turned up the grin and put that twinkle in his eye. “Hello, Maritza.”

“Hello.” She may be a gorgeous starlet with a fan base of her own, but she wasn’t immune to his charm. She sighed happily and practically shimmied when he leaned in to kiss her cheek. “I just love your music.”

“Thank you. I’ve enjoyed your movie. When does the next one come out?”

Noble glanced over to find Foxy watching him again.

Maritza’s attention stayed focused on Danny. “December.”

Noble glanced at Maritza, then back at Foxy with a raised eyebrow.

“Excellent.”

Foxy’s lips thinned a little, gaze dropping to his drink as he raised it for a sip.

“Maritza and Donny are going to be my guests tomorrow,” Noble told Danny.

Danny glanced a question at him but didn’t pause long enough for an answer. “Terrific,” he enthused at them. “I’ll see you then. Meantime”—he grabbed Noble’s arm again—“I need to take this guy and introduce him to someone he’s been dying to meet.”

Noble caught Foxy’s eye as Danny pulled him away. He didn’t know what he saw there, but Foxy was thinking deeply about something. Then Noble ripped his gaze away. “Was that a rescue, or do you really want me to meet someone?”

“Little of both. Mostly rescue. But you do want to meet this guy. Remember that movie we saw on the plane? Riot Act?”

Noble let Danny distract him with a new friend who was, admittedly, fascinating. He tried hard not to think about Foxy, but it was like there was a beacon inside him that knew exactly where Foxy was at all times. He watched the man follow Maritza around from person to person, seemingly attentive, but more than once, their eyes met across the room. “Jesus.”

“What?” Danny still stood with him, but they were alone for the moment, standing on a balcony overlooking a swimming pool shaped like a dolphin.

“I feel like I’m in a fucking chick flick.”

Danny chuckled. “Where is he?”

“Over in the gazebo.”

“Oh yes. Well, at least he’s nice to look at.”

Noble snorted.

“You gonna get him alone?”

“Doubt it.”

“Why not?”

“How is that even a good idea?”

“Fuck good idea. You haven’t been with anyone else since him. You don’t think about anyone but him, and he’s obviously had the same problem about you.”

“Wait. What?”

Danny gave him a long-suffering look. “For all that you’re watching him, my friend, he’s watching you. He’s watching you right now.”

Well, fuck if he was. “Shit.” Noble deliberately put his back to the balcony railing. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”

“You’re in love.”

“Fat lot of good that does me.”

“Maybe you should talk to him.” When Noble shook his head, Danny pressed his point. “No, I mean it. You guys went your separate ways, but it’s obviously not done. Maybe you two need to talk again.”

“Thanks for the advice, Oprah.”

“Okay, how about this—I tried to break up with Cash, then spent months mooning over him. We’re together now. Lance spent three fucking years wanting Gordon. They’re together. Hell, Rabin’s even told me he tried to break it off with Izzy toward the beginning, and that didn’t work.”

“Chicks with dicks. All of y’all.”

Danny chuckled. “My point is that we all tried to break it off because it felt like it was the right thing—but it wasn’t. Being together was the right thing. We just had to work past the part that felt wrong.”

Noble studied his friend’s face, reluctant to admit Danny had a point. “He signed a fucking morality clause. He can’t be gay until he’s finished the Criminea movies.”

Danny shrugged. “Okay. So? You wait a few years to be open.”

“A few years?”

“Fuck, man. What’s a few years to the rest of your life?”

Again Danny had a point, and it hit Noble like a baseball bat to the side of the head. He’d avoided tagging “the rest of my life” on his thoughts on the subject. It scared him that it felt kind of right. He glanced over his shoulder and down to where Foxy was still standing. This time he wasn’t looking. He seemed out of place. Lonely. Noble ached for him. “I don’t know if I can do it.”

“Haven’t known you long, man, but I’ve never known you to be a coward.”

Noble glared at him.

Danny stood straight and let it go. “I need another drink. Want one?”

“No. I’m good. I’ll catch up with you in a minute.”

“’Kay.”

As Danny left him, Noble pulled out his phone. Before he could think better of it, he opened the messaging program and sent a text. We should talk.

He watched down below as Foxy pulled his phone from his pocket and read. Without looking up, Foxy texted back. Where?

Fuck if Noble knew. He was alone right now only because there was a guy with a guitar camped out near the door behind him, and a crowd prevented anyone from coming out on the balcony. Ideas?

Foxy glanced around but seemed to come to a similar conclusion. We could leave.

What about ur date?

Foxy leaned in close to Maritza’s ear and murmured something. She glanced up at the balcony briefly, then nodded before going back to talking to the guy on her left. Meanwhile, Foxy texted. She’s ready to go too.

Noble blinked. WTF?

He saw Foxy chuckle. It’s fine. Meet us out front.

Us? Noble considered texting back any number of questions, then decided not. He got the feeling this was better explained in person. He went to find Danny and told him what was up.

“Threesome?” Danny joked.

“Not if I have anything to do with it,” Noble assured him.

“Okay. But I want a full report in the morning.”

“Maybe you’ll be so lucky.”

It took him about twenty minutes to make it through a crowd of “leaving so soon?” and “we didn’t get a chance to talk,” but an occasional check assured him that Foxy and Maritza were having the same issue. He made it outside first, but they were only a few minutes behind.

“Whew!” That from Maritza as she hung on Foxy’s arm, clearly more than a little tipsy. “I thought we’d never escape.”

Foxy’s eyes were on Noble, but nothing was said as he handed off Maritza to a limousine driver, who put her in the backseat of the car. “We’ll give you a ride,” Foxy said, indicating the car.

A ride? Noble frowned, letting his misgivings show. “What’s going on?”

“Just get in. I swear it’s okay.”

Noble glanced around, sure there was some photographer somewhere cataloging this. It was possible the private party was actually private, but you never knew. What the hell. With a mental shrug, he ducked past the driver and into the back of the car. Maritza was on the back-facing seat, taking off her high heels. Noble sat across from her and scooted over to give Foxy room to sit.

Dropping her heels on the carpet, Maritza focused as well as she could on Noble. “First thing you need to know is that we’re not a couple.”

He blinked, eyebrows rising to his hairline. Beside him, Foxy laughed softly.

Maritza continued, reaching out to lay a hand on Noble’s knee. “Donny’s my very best friend, and he’s helped me lots. The whole dating thing was just publicity. I swear. We’re not together.”

Noble glanced at Foxy, who was watching him with a cautiously eager look. “Okay.”

Maritza wasn’t done. “Donny is so in love with you.”

That made Foxy swear and switch a glare on her. “Shut up!”

The car pulled away from the party.

“What? It’s true. Jesus, the way you go on and on about Noble…” She gripped both sides of her head with a melodramatic groan, then peeked up at Noble with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Is your dick made of gold? ’Cause to hear him talk about it, I’d swear it was.”

“Shut the hell up!” Foxy barked, swatting at her knee.

Noble burst out laughing, now convinced that he was half in love with this girl. Foxy swore up an angry storm, but Noble leaned forward to give Maritza a hug made awkward by their position. “Thanks for that.”

“You’re welcome.” She sat back in her seat, primly drawing her feet up and to the side so she could tuck them under her butt. “And he didn’t talk about your dick that much, but he’s implied enough—”

“Mari, shut your trap.” Foxy shrank into the corner, glaring out the window.

Noble’s mirth dimmed. “I missed you too,” he admitted.

Foxy perked up, turning to face him.

Noble reached for his hand. “I missed you a lot.”

Foxy was at him in a flash, hands up to cup his face, angling his lips for a much-needed, drawn-out kiss. Noble heard Maritza’s tiny “eep” but ignored it in favor of curling his hands around Foxy’s neck to absorb the warmth of his skin.

He was the one who broke the kiss, but Foxy wouldn’t let him go far. They ended up with their foreheads pressed together, breath mingling between them. “We still can’t be together.”

Foxy cringed, the pads of his fingers digging briefly into Noble’s skull. “Yes, we can.”

“No, we can’t.” Noble drew back, forcing Foxy’s hands to fall away. But he kept his hand on Foxy’s thigh, and he couldn’t resist reaching up with his free hand to tuck a lock of hair behind one ear. “You signed a contract.”

“Fuck the contract.”

“No.” Noble shook his head, feeling oddly confident despite the awful words he spoke. “This is your career we’re talking about.”

“I don’t care.”

“I care. I don’t want you to give up your dream for me.”

Foxy twined his fingers with Noble’s, holding on hard. “What could they do to me? Sue me? So what? I pay a fine.” He glanced at Maritza. “It’s not like they’re going to replace me for the third movie.”

She’d been watching them quietly, letting them have their moment. From the mulish look on her face, Noble guessed they’d had this discussion before. She met Noble’s eyes and shrugged. “We don’t really know what they’d do.”

Foxy snorted.

Noble squeezed his hand. “How long’s the contract for?” He needed to know the specifics before he could make a real decision.

“We looked it up. The contract’s for all three movies,” she told him, while Foxy raised their hands to his lips to kiss Noble’s knuckles. “The morality clause covers when we’re shooting and six months after the release of number three.”

“When do you start filming number three?”

“Next month. It’s due to release next Christmas.”

Foxy had slipped his fingers from Noble’s to open Noble’s palm for kissing. It was unbearably sweet and far too erotic for Noble to think straight. From the grin she wore, it seemed Maritza could well see Noble’s reaction.

“So”—he shuddered a little when Foxy licked the thick part of his thumb—“a year and a half, at least.”

“Something like that,” she answered, her heavily made-up eyes going dreamy at the sight of them. “If nothing causes a delay.”

“Fuck.” Foxy tugged him forward and managed to brush a kiss on his neck before Noble drew on hidden reserves and pushed him away. “Stop that. I can’t think.”

“I don’t want you to think.”

“Obviously.” He spread his fingers on Foxy’s chest, then laughed when Foxy flattened both hands over his. “Putting on a show for your girlfriend?”

Foxy scowled. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Isn’t she a girl? Isn’t she your friend?”

Maritza giggled at Foxy gaping at him.

Noble stared into his eyes as offense melted away. “So. Even if we wanted, we couldn’t be together for a year and a half.”

“I want you.”

Noble sighed. Paused. He didn’t want to say the next words, but he had to. “I want you too.” He shook his head as hope blossomed in those deep, dark eyes. “Do you know how hard it is for me to wait for anything?”

“I can help.” Maritza piped in, raising her hand. “I’m happy to be Donny’s beard.”

That made both men blink and look at her.

She gave them all innocence in return. “What? That’s the right term, isn’t it?”

Chapter Fourteen

They insisted on taking Noble to Foxy’s place at the beach.

“I’ve got a show tomorrow.”

“I’ll get you back on time,” Foxy promised, now seated right up against Noble, trapping him in the corner of the seat while Foxy nuzzled his neck.

Noble was melting. Fast. The fingers of one hand were threaded in Foxy’s soft hair, and his other hand kept plucking at the front of Foxy’s dress shirt. If Mari—as Maritza insisted he call her—weren’t there, they’d have been naked. “You don’t even know what time I’m supposed to be there.”

Mari seemed to be having the time of her life watching them. “When do you have to be back?”

“Um.” Noble had to pause and close his eyes to appreciate the gentle bite of teeth at his pulse.

“Donny, stop it for a second,” she protested, laughing.

Foxy sighed, then tilted his head to rest his forehead on the spot he’d just bitten. His hand smoothed down Noble’s chest to rest on the stripe of bare skin between shirt hem and waistband.

Noble caught at his hand to keep it from dangerous—and growing—territory. “Noon,” Noble said, hoping he’d remembered right. “I need to be back at the hotel by noon.”

Foxy twined fingers with his. “Piece of cake.”

“Bullshit.”

Again Mari giggled. She grabbed a bottle of water from the shelf in the door next to her.

“Should we take you home?” Foxy asked her. His hair smelled of mint, and the scent filled Noble’s head.

“Don’t be silly. What kind of beard would I be if you took me home?”

Foxy groaned. “I wish you’d stop saying that.”

She sipped, then laughed. “Oh, come on, Donny. This is awesome.”

“What if you want to go on a date or something?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Like I’ve done a ton of dating in the past year.”

Foxy shifted so he was lying on most of the seat, with the upper part of his body draping Noble’s side. “You could have any guy you want.”

She emitted a most unladylike snort. “That’s completely not true, and you know it. I can’t have any guy.”

Foxy poked Noble’s stomach. “She doesn’t mean me, by the way.”

Noble grinned, willing to admit that Foxy was the subject of her complaint.

Her eyes went wide. “Oh God, no.” To Noble: “Trust me—he’s all yours. We tried dating, but he was obviously not into me.”

“It wasn’t obvious,” Foxy protested.

“Oh. My. Gawd. It was so obvious.”

They went on to talk about her love life, but Noble let his mind drift. Was this even a good idea? It sure seemed like it with Foxy draped over his side. The fact that they fit together did not escape his notice.

It finally dawned on him that he should probably call someone. He and Foxy had to shift a little so he could get his phone, with the end result that Foxy finally sat up. But he kept hold of Noble’s free hand.

Gordon answered on the second ring. “What’s up?”

Noble looked out the window at the dark waves. “I’m going to Malibu.”

Pause. “I thought you were at a party in the hills.”

“I was.”

“And now you’re off to Malibu.”

“Yes.”

“With who?”

“With the Foxy.”

Both Foxy and Mari gave him questioning looks. He just smiled.

“I see. Apparently good things have happened?”

“Not yet, but things are looking up.”

“Uh-huh. And you’ll be back at the hotel by noon.” A statement, not a question.

“I will.”

“You’d better. Don’t make me track your phone.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He looked at Foxy, squeezing his fingers. “He’s promised to get me home on time.”

Gordon chuckled. “All right, then. Have fun.”

“Not a problem.” Noble hung up.

“The Foxy?” Mari asked, curious.

He shrugged, replying to a text from Reine to tell him that, yes, he’d left the party. “That just kind of stuck in the last few months.”

She giggled. “I know people call him Foxy, but I kind of like the Foxy. I might have to start calling you that.”

“Don’t you dare,” Foxy warned with a laugh.

Noble chuckled as they bickered, now quite clear on the fact that the two were very good friends. He sent a few more texts—including one to Danny—then tucked his phone away.

Just a little while later, the car stopped at a big iron gate. Beyond was a relatively short driveway ending at a huge house that looked like one massive block of white with a bunch of windows carved out here and there. Palm trees lined the drive but were conspicuously absent around the house itself so as not to impede the glorious view of the ocean that was down a steep incline. The house was kind of ugly, to be honest. Far too minimalist for Noble’s tastes. Too much glaring white, even at night. But he could see where the rich and famous might find it dazzling.

“This is yours?” he asked, climbing out after Mari. Crisp ocean air caught his hair, blowing it across his face.

“Yeah. Was just going to lease it but ended up buying.” Foxy, already standing, wound an arm around his shoulder to pull him close as they started down a brick pathway. “Like it?”

“Uh, sure.”

Leading him around the corner, Foxy laughed. “You hate it.”

“Well…” From this angle, it looked like less of a single block and more like stacked blocks. The path they were on cut through a paved patio, complete with barbecue and lounge chairs, to a lighted alcove with a door. Two tall posts marked a spot where a set of stairs started down over the edge of what Noble considered a cliff. Clearly the place had been meticulously designed. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“No worries.” Ahead of them, Mari keyed a code into a number pad mounted beside the door. Foxy took the opportunity to give Noble a lingering kiss that stopped when the front door clicked open. “I didn’t pick it out.” He ushered Noble inside a spacious entryway. “The guy who takes care of my money said I needed a house for the write-off. It came mostly furnished.”

It looked slightly better from the inside. All the walls were painted white, and most accents were chrome or black. The main room went up two stories, with one solid wall of window that faced a tremendous view of the ocean. A floating staircase led up to a railed landing before a closed door and a hallway. Another hall led farther into the house underneath the stairs. One lamp was lit beside an uncomfortable-looking white-and-metal couch, but the main source of light was the silvery moonlight showering through the windows.

“Jesus.” Noble slipped away from Foxy to check out the view. Churning water as far as the eye could see. From this angle it was clear that the house was built either right at or over the edge of the cliff. It was up high enough to obscure signs of civilization on the road below, and the few trees were situated to block signs of life to either side. Someone had sought to present an all-natural view and had succeeded. “Okay, this is nice.”

“Awesome, isn’t it?” Mari stepped up beside him, high heels held in one hand, the sequins on her dress winking in the moonlight. “I’m going to crash in one of the guest rooms. You don’t mind, do you?”

A little late for that. But… “No.”

“Good.” Hand on his shoulder, she went on tiptoe to kiss Noble’s cheek. “I’m really so glad you’re here.” She started toward the staircase. “Good night, boys. You be good, okay?”

She was laughing as she ascended, but Noble lost track of her, distracted by the warm, strong arms that enveloped him from behind. By the lips that nudged aside his hair to reclaim his neck. “I want to fuck you down here,” Foxy growled, squeezing Noble’s midsection. “But she’d probably come back and watch.”

“Maybe another time.”

Foxy spun him around. The collar of his dress shirt was wide-open under that face too beautiful for words. “Will there be another time?”

With a sigh, Noble slipped one arm around Foxy’s waist while sliding the other up his chest to curl around the side of his neck. “I hope so.”

“You never really said”—he swallowed, hands at Noble’s waist—“back in the car, if this was just tonight, or…”

“You mean, you were listening?”

Smiling, Foxy briefly kissed him. “It wasn’t easy. I just wanted to touch you.” Another kiss. Hands slid around to cup Noble’s ass. “It’s been so long.”

Noble agreed and encouraged the kiss, perfectly willing to fuck first and talk later.

But Foxy had other ideas. “But seriously. I need to know.”

“Why?”

“Because if tonight is it…” He rubbed up Noble’s sides. “Is it?”

Noble tugged at Foxy’s hair, tilting his head back so Noble could lick under his chin. He liked the quiver that shook Foxy’s big, strong frame. “Let’s say no.” He bit at the stubble just starting to make Foxy’s chin prickly. “I think I need you too much for this to be it.”

Foxy’s hands bunched at his sides. “You mean that?”

“Yeah.” Now that Noble had had a taste, he needed more. He took his turn at nuzzling Foxy’s neck, inhaling his earth-spice scent. “I don’t want anyone else.” He sensed Foxy was going to say something, but Noble was done with words. Another tug at Foxy’s hair kept him from speaking and tilted his head so that their eyes met. Noble’s lips hovered a bare inch from Foxy’s as he said, “Shut up and fuck me.”

Foxy’s hungry groan might have filled the house, or maybe it just filled Noble’s heart. After one brief, ravenous kiss, Foxy ripped away. “Upstairs,” he grunted, grabbing Noble’s hand.

Noble followed easily and gladly. Foxy opened the door at the top of the stairs and pulled Noble into a massive bedroom that shared the same wall as the main room downstairs. It too had a wall of windows overlooking the water. The furnishings were not anything he would suspect Foxy of choosing. The bed sat on a round, raised part of the floor opposite the windows, with a huge white headboard spanning it. The bedclothes looked like a medium blue or maybe green—it was hard to tell in the moonlight—but that was the only color in the room other than white or chrome. A wall of glass bricks beside the bed led to what Noble hoped was a bathroom. No television, no sound system that he could see. There weren’t even any clothes draped over the furniture. The only sign that this room might be lived in was the unmade bed.

He wanted to ask a bunch of questions, but let it all go when Foxy spun him in for a kiss at the edge of the two shallow steps that led up to the bed. Eager hands tugged at the front of Noble’s shirt, and he fumbled to return the favor.

Then his phone rang. Need told him to ignore it, but the ringtone was Gordon’s. He’d made a solemn vow to always answer. “I should—”

“No.”

“Yeah.” He gasped as Foxy shoved his shirt down his arms and tossed it away. When Foxy tried to kiss him, Noble twisted his face away.

“Noble…”

Holding up one finger, Noble stumbled back, digging in his pocket while doing so. “You get naked. This’ll just take a second.”

“But…”

But Noble already had the phone to his ear. “I’m about to get laid. What do you want?”

Both Gordon and Foxy chuckled at that.

“I forgot to ask. Should I send a car for you in the morning? We do have a signing tomorrow.”

“No, I…” He paused as he sat, stifling a groan as Foxy slipped the dress shirt over his shoulders, revealing that gorgeously carved chest and abs. “Yeah. You should send a car in the morning.”

Foxy scowled.

“Okay,” Gordon replied. “What’s the address? Or do I have to look it up?”

“One sec.” Noble tipped the phone away from his mouth. “Address?”

“I said I’d get you home.”

“I know. But this way we can’t get distracted.”

Foxy clearly wanted to protest, but he relented and gave Noble the address, which Noble relayed to Gordon as he stripped off his ankle boots and socks.

“I’ll have the car there around eleven.”

“Is that all you wanted?” Noble let the impatience color his voice. Foxy was barefoot and shirtless and was starting on his pants. “I’m kind of busy.”

Gordon laughed. “Go.”

“Bye.”

Noble hung up, stood, then rushed at Foxy. They stumbled up the shallow steps to land with a puff in the nest of blankets and pillows atop the mattress. Kissing, caressing, they rolled around until they managed to get each other fully naked. At last Noble had Foxy pressed against him, chest to chest, cock to cock. He hooked a leg over Foxy’s hip and wrapped his fingers around their erections, squeezing and pulling.

“Fuck.” Foxy’s kisses had gone wet and distracted, much of his attention focused around his hips. “I missed you so much.”

“Me too.” Noble wanted to suck him, taste him, but he didn’t really want to move out of this position either. “Tell me you’ve got supplies.”

Foxy stilled. So Noble slowed the pull on their cocks.

“Uh, I’ve got lube.”

“No condoms?”

“No. You don’t have any?”

Normally Noble would, but he’d gotten out of the habit. “No.”

They stared at each other in the ridiculously bright moonlight.

“I haven’t been with anyone since you,” Foxy said, eyes bright.

“I have,” Noble replied, unflinching. “But always with protection.”

Foxy looked a little disappointed at hearing he’d been with others, but Noble refused to feel guilty about it. There were more pressing issues. He rubbed his thumb over the wet tips of their cocks to remind them of both issues.

Foxy groaned, fingers digging into the meat of Noble’s ass. “Maybe Mari has some.”

Noble considered it. Considered a lot of things. He’d been fucking around too long and too much not to be hyperaware of safety. He was always careful and got tested every year, even when he knew he was clean. The whole band had been tested as part of their physicals before the tour, despite the fact that his bandmates were now all in committed relationships.

Releasing their cocks, he rolled Foxy onto his back and straddled his hips. Arms braced beside either shoulder, Noble looked down into the eyes of the man he loved. He knew that now, even if he still wasn’t sure he wanted to say it aloud. “Are you clean?”

The hands Foxy had been sliding along his thighs stopped. “Yes.”

“So am I.” He shook his head before Foxy could respond. “But you have no reason to believe that.”

Foxy’s face cleared, his hands sliding up and down Noble’s sides. “I trust you.”

“You trust a rock star?” Noble tried the joke, but it was forced.

Foxy smiled but remained serious. He reached up to tuck hair behind Noble’s ear. “I trust you.”

“Why?”

He knew what Foxy was going to say. He shouldn’t have asked the question, shouldn’t have prompted the words. But there they were: “I love you.”

“I…” Noble groaned, dropping down to bury his face in the curve of Foxy’s neck. He was an admittedly wicked man who’d committed many deviant acts in his life. He didn’t deserve this incredible, perfect gift. But here they were, together again, and it felt so right that emotion bottled up in Noble’s chest and throat.

Gentle hands smoothed over his back, stroked his rump while their physical urgency banked for the moment. Foxy nudged him aside. “I’ll go see if Mari has condoms.”

Now lying on his side, Noble caught Foxy’s arm to stop him from leaving. “No.”

Leaning on one elbow, Foxy looked down at him. “It’s okay. It’s not like she doesn’t know—”

“No.” Noble hooked a hand around Foxy’s neck to pull him down. “Don’t leave.”

Foxy spoke against Noble’s lips. “But…”

“No.” He tangled tongues with Foxy, needing the touch and a moment to bolster his courage. It was a strange feeling. He rarely felt like a coward. But this felt right, and he’d learned that going with his gut was usually a good thing. “Get the lube, and fuck me.”

Foxy startled back. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“But—”

“It’s okay.”

Foxy might have questioned, but whatever he saw on Noble’s face kept the words within. “Okay,” was all he said before he rolled away to open a little door in the headboard. Noble shoved at pillows, sheets, and blankets to get himself comfortable on his back, knees bent and spread when Foxy returned to him.

Noble grinned at the size of the bottle Foxy set beside him. At least sixteen ounces. “Pump action. I approve.”

Foxy might have flushed, but the lighting didn’t show it. The window and moonlight were behind him, creating all sorts of intriguing shadows over his face and chest. “I’ve been rubbing it out a lot lately.” He lowered to his elbows between Noble’s legs, his attention all for Noble’s cock. He licked his lips as he wrapped fingers around Noble’s shaft. “I’ve been thinking about this.”

Noble groaned as Foxy sucked him down, slowly dragging his lips along the sensitive skin. Foxy’s tongue massaged all it could as he pulled back up. For a guy without much experience, he did pretty well with a blowjob. Noble could believe that Foxy adored the taste of him, wanted to please him. Taking his time, Foxy lapped at the shaft, then ducked in to suck on Noble’s testicles. Noble heard the squirt of lube and smiled when wet fingers started playing with his hole. Even after all this time, he didn’t need much preparation. Even though he hadn’t been active with another person in the last few months, he wasn’t shy about fingering himself for personal pleasure. He thought about letting Foxy know that, but he enjoyed the gentle prodding into his ass too much. He rolled and sighed, letting Foxy know the attention was appreciated, then gasped in pleasure when Foxy skipped from one finger to three in a smooth, quick thrust.

“Good?” Foxy asked, licking up his shaft.

“So good.”

“You’re sure?”

“Fuck me.”

Foxy knelt, got himself a good handful of lube, and slicked it on. Noble got his own handful to jerk himself off. He grabbed the back of one knee to pull it up when Foxy was ready, making for easier access.

Smiling, Foxy got into position, rubbing the tip of his cock against Noble’s anus, teasing him. When Noble was ready to force the point, Foxy finally slipped in. Noble groaned. He hadn’t barebacked in ages. He didn’t feel any difference, but he knew the difference, and the mental point was huge. A surge of unexpected emotion surged into him more swiftly than the cock that eased in to fill him. He wanted this man so badly, and to have Foxy like this choked him. Eyes closed, he reached blindly for Foxy with both the wet and dry hands and drew him into a kiss. Damn the uncomfortable bend of his spine. He braved it in favor of pulling Foxy close, of sucking on his tongue, of gripping his ass as all of Foxy finally fit inside him.

“God, I love you,” Foxy breathed through the lips Noble would hardly let part. Strong fingers dug into Noble’s hips, holding him steady as Foxy slowly started to thrust. “Need you so much.”

Words crowded Noble’s mouth, clamoring to get out. Noble wrested them into mere groans and incoherent cursing while Foxy speared him again and again. When he came, it was a complete surprise to both of them, since no one had been touching his shuddering, aching cock. He cried and bucked, practically fucking himself on Foxy’s cock while cum splattered his belly and chest.

“So good,” Foxy crooned, now braced on both arms above him, thrusting in earnest. “So sexy.”

Electric shocks burst through Noble, pleasure hardly done with him as Foxy raced for his own completion. This was far too good to ever stop. But stop it did—the thrusting, at least—when Foxy gasped and arched up so his hips could shove and shudder through what looked and felt like a stupendous orgasm.

When Foxy collapsed on top of him, heedless of the spunk that plastered them together, Noble wrapped his arms around Foxy, staring up at the sparkles on the ceiling.

“I love you too,” Noble quietly proclaimed over the distant roar of the ocean.

Foxy startled, then eased onto his elbows so they could look at one another. He brushed sweaty hair from Noble’s face, smiling. “Didn’t think you’d say that.”

“Me neither. But it’s true.”

Foxy kissed him, softly, slowly. A kiss for its own sake rather than a seduction leading to more. Achingly sweet and so heartfelt that Noble squirmed.

“Jesus.” He sighed with mock impatience, pushing gently to untangle himself from his lover. “This is way too much sentiment for my taste.”

Foxy laughed, rolling onto his back. “Don’t worry. I won’t expect it.”

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Noble looked over his shoulder at the gorgeous man behind him. “You really think we can make this work?”

The smile drained to calm determination. “Yes.”

Noble could have said any number of things, from frank denial to sappy acceptance. He chose to leave it alone. At least for tonight.

* * * *

Mari had left by the time Noble and Foxy sought food the next morning. A text on Foxy’s phone said she hoped they’d had a great night, and she needed directions for the concert that evening.

After a quick meal of fruit and cereal, Noble wandered into the main room to gaze at the ocean. “This house is ridiculous,” he stated when he heard Foxy coming up behind him. “You know that, right?”

Foxy laughed, wrapping arms around Noble from behind. “Yeah.” He rested his chin on Noble’s shoulder. “It belonged to some weird chick who dated a bunch of movie stars.”

Stroking Foxy’s bare arms—Foxy wore only boxers, while Noble was back in his clothes from the previous night—Noble thought about that. “So you’re telling me you bought some concubine’s house?”

The laugh was just a puff of warm breath on the side of his neck. “I guess so, yeah.”

“It’s a good story, but not really you.”

“Yeah.” Foxy pulled him backward. “But the view’s nice.”

Noble let Foxy guide him to sit on the uncomfortable couch, willing to brave it to snuggle next to Foxy. “Okay. I’ll grant you that. But the rest is pretentious as hell.”

Foxy nuzzled his ear. “I’ll let you choose the house next time.”

Noble froze. He’d only just reconciled with the fact that he was in love. The thought of them living together brought another level of panic to the fore.

A warm palm cupped his jaw as Foxy met his eyes. “I wasn’t saying now,” he said lightly.

Noble forced a smile. “Good. ’Cause I’m not the kept kind of guy.”

Foxy’s brows rose. “Who the hell said I’d keep you? You’re the big rock star. I figure I can quit acting and be your houseboy.”

The tasty, ridiculous thought chased the panic away. Noble licked his lips. “Mmm, now that’s a thought. Can I put you on a leash and tattoo my name on your ass?”

Foxy grinned. “Can I at least choose the font for the tattoo? Don’t want anything too flowery.”

Noble feigned offense. “Who the hell said you had the right to choose? You’re my houseboy.”

They laughed and kissed until Noble’s phone rang. It was the driver at the gate. Foxy went to key in the code to open it. Noble followed him out the front door, then around to the driveway. Foxy caught him in a drugging good-bye kiss that lasted until they heard the car stop on the gravel.

“The driver saw that,” Noble whispered when he could finally form words.

“Don’t care.”

He should argue, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. With one last quick kiss, he put his back to Foxy and got in the car. The driver, to his credit, pretended not to have noticed anything.

While normally Noble would strike up a conversation with his driver, this time he stayed quiet. He couldn’t talk about the things that were on his mind and couldn’t summon up the will for small talk. So he stared out the window and thought about Foxy. A year and a half, maybe two years. Could they be a secret for two years? What was likely to happen in that time? The Heaven Sent/Indigo Knights tour would wrap up in another month. Noble and his band had discussed going back into the studio immediately to record a second album, but who knew how long that would take? Gordon had mentioned a few ideas about festivals or events they’d been invited to join. Could be that Noble would be distracted for the duration. It might not be that bad. But he thought about how antsy he was, just minutes away from Foxy. Already Noble missed him, wanted to be in his arms. At least wanted to text him, communicate in some way. It was ridiculous how attached Noble felt.

That must be the price of being in love.

Chapter Fifteen

When Foxy and Mari arrived at the concert venue, Noble was sitting in the orchestra seats before the big stage, having his picture taken. A common enough occurrence. He and his bandmates were not only insanely photogenic—no, he was not modest—they were in Los Angeles. Noble would swear there were more people with cameras in the area than anywhere else, and that didn’t count people with cell phones. He was still shocked there had been so few paparazzi at the party the previous night.

This particular shoot was a little special because it had grown. What had started out as some shots of the Indigo Knights in the plush blue audience seats of the theater had become something else when Johnnie Heaven and Darien Hughes had wandered in to see what was happening. Soon enough, the rest of Heaven Sent was called in, clothing was changed from truly casual to chic casual, and the makeup and hair people had descended.

Finally the photographer had what she wanted, which was the four members of the Knights seated in one row, with the five members of Heaven Sent seated behind them, leaning on the backs of their seats. She insisted they not pose for the camera—in fact, insisted they not really look at the camera. So the nine of them were talking among themselves. Seated in the middle of his row, Noble had turned half around, his knee up on his seat, so he could talk to Luc, who was sitting behind Danny. Behind Noble, Hell was leaning forward to join the conversation. Lance was beside—behind—Noble, laughing with Brent, while Danny and Rabin talked to Johnnie and Darien. All this forced the photographer to adjust her lighting and her positioning to the side, since she was getting the backs of most of the Knights, but she seemed pleased with the results as she snapped her pictures. Sound checks were done, and it was way too early to get properly dressed for the shows that night, so the boys were happy to sit around and talk.

“So, good party last night,” Luc said, arm draped over the back of Noble’s seat.

“Yeah.” Noble sat back against the arm of his chair, fingers folded on his knee.

Luc grinned. “It true you left with Donny Foxy?”

Unprepared, Noble knew he showed shock before he could smooth it away. “With him and his girlfriend, yeah.”

The bassist’s grin grew. “Is that so?” Clearly from his tone, Luc knew more was going on.

Noble decided if he kept his voice down and his face calm, they could talk about this. “How did you know?”

“Danny told me.”

“Ah. Good.” Noble glared at the back of his friend’s head but decided not to swat at him, since it would involve leaning forward. “That’s not for public knowledge.”

“Sure. If it’s any consolation, I wouldn’t have known.” Luc shrugged. “Course, I wasn’t paying attention.” He ran fingers through short auburn hair. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a secret relationship.”

Noble sighed and shook his head. “Me neither.”

Luc echoed his sigh. “Reese wanted to be secret when we started out too.” Luc shook his head. “I couldn’t do it. I wanted to be with him too much.”

Noble looked at the platinum band that circled the third finger on the man’s left hand. Just this past New Year’s Eve, Luc had married the man he loved. Noble had been there to witness it. No one would have been able to tell that Reese had once wanted to keep Luc a secret, because the wedding had been big and lavish, and the happy couple had been inseparable and all over each other.

“Yeah.”

Luc considered him, dark eyes kind. “You care about him?”

“I think so, damn it.”

Luc chuckled. “I take it coming out is bad for him somehow?”

“He signed a morality clause for the Criminea productions.”

“Damn. Well, if you really care about each other, it’ll work out. Take a look at each of the guys around us.” Luc glanced to either side to make his point. “It’s worked out for us.”

Luckily, the photographer chose that moment to regain their attention to request a few position switches. It gave Noble a chance to drop out of that conversation and push it to the back of his mind. But when the shoot was winding down and he looked up to see Foxy and Mari sitting on the edge of the stage with Fiona, Gordon’s new assistant, he couldn’t help but think some more. All his bandmates and all of Heaven Sent were in committed relationships. Every one of them had gone through their own story of hardship. Noble knew some of the stories firsthand and others only through word of mouth, but he knew there were stories. Was this one his? Or was it just another chapter in a long line of shorts?

When the photographer thanked and released them, he put on his game face and went to meet his guests. They still made an attractive couple, both dressed in jeans. She wore a Heaven Sent T-shirt and he an Indigo Knights shirt, the knight’s helm an attractive blazon across his broad chest. Foxy’s eyes were steady on Noble during his approach, but Mari only saw him at the last minute.

She grabbed his shirt to pull him close. “That’s Johnnie Heaven,” she said with all the awe and rapture of a smitten fangirl.

Noble grinned. “Is it?”

“Don’t tease me.” She shook him without looking at him, her attention on the gorgeous man with the long hair and laughing green eyes. “Introduce me?”

“Sure.” With a grin for Foxy, Noble led Mari toward the singer.

Johnnie, a consummate professional, saw what was happening immediately. He put on an easy smile as Noble made introductions.

“Johnnie, this is Maritza Wesker.”

He took her hand. “Of course it is. I’ve seen Criminea.” With her wide-eyed and flabbergasted, Johnnie pulled her close to brush a kiss over her cheek. “But you’re much sexier in person.”

Noble had seen it happen a million times now, had even caused the reaction a few times himself, but watching it never got old. The fangirl syndrome took over, and Mari nearly fainted. The hold she had on Johnnie’s hand was probably her only connection to reality. She stared up into his eyes, and her pretty lips worked, but no sound came out. “Give her a second,” Noble joked. “I think you’re more than she bargained for.”

“How’s that possible? She knows you.” Johnnie winked.

They laughed, and it gave Mari a chance to recover. She flushed as she drew her hand from Johnnie’s. “I’m so sorry. I’m not usually like that.”

“It’s okay. Happens all the time.”

She gave him a look, then managed a smile. “Trouble is, you actually mean that.”

Now all three of them laughed. Johnnie was kind enough to stay and talk with Mari for a while.

They were just taking a selfie with her camera when Noble felt a presence behind his left shoulder. “That was nice of you.”

Noble turned, stepping back to put a little distance between them. “Nah, he’s the nice one.” He shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching for Foxy. “I just made the introductions.”

They stood there, staring at each other. Goofy. Gah. Noble glanced away. “So, have you met everyone?”

“Not yet.”

“Stop staring at me. There are cameras all over the place.”

“What? Oh.” Foxy shifted, turning to put his profile to Noble. “Right.”

“Who do you want to meet?” Everyone was still there even though the photographer and her crew had mostly packed up. It was a colorful scene, however, and the photographer had another, smaller camera in her hand and was using it to snap candids.

“Uh, anyone. I guess.”

“You guess?”

“You’re the only one I want to be with.”

Noble sighed, dismayed more by the warmth he felt for the words than by the actual words. “You’ve really got to cut that out.”

“Don’t like it?”

It was a leading questions, and Noble let himself be led. “I like it too much. We’ve got a few years before I can enjoy it, though.”

That deflated Foxy’s bubble. Noble took him around to introduce him to everyone, and Foxy held his own, admirably displaying that he was a public figure and he knew it. A few of the girls on staff cooed over him, and Hell surprised him by proclaiming to be a huge fan. Noble’s mood lightened considerably to watch the diminutive blond take picture after picture with Noble’s secret lover, all the while peppering him with questions about Criminea lore.

“You’ll never get him back,” Luc murmured to Noble as they watched the pair.

Seeing Hell throw back his head and laugh with Foxy about something they both found highly amusing, Noble couldn’t help but smile. “That’s fine.” And it was. How could he not be happy to see the man he loved so comfortable with the people who had become his family?

* * * *

He came offstage covered in sweat. Blue hair was plastered to his skull, and his tank top was glued to his chest. The Los Angeles crowd had pumped the air full of energy that he’d fed off, maybe leading his bandmates into a slightly faster pace than normal. Grinning, he bounced down the stairs that led from the stage, pulling out the in-ear monitors to let them dangle by their cords over his shoulders.

“So what got into you?” Lance asked, mild voice echoing off the walls of the hallway that led from stage to backstage.

Noble saw his teasing grin and matched it with one that hurt his face it was so wide. “What do you mean?”

Someone pushed him from behind. “You were on fire,” Danny pronounced.

Laughing, Noble spun to walk backward so he could see all three of them. His bandmates were also sweaty, though Lance showed it less with his severe ponytail and all-black ensemble. Rabin was shirtless, and his light blue jeans had sweat patches. Danny’s hair was slicked back, the indigo streak a swath of color from hairline to nape. Everyone was all smiles.

“Just needed to be that way,” Noble assured them, arms wide as his boots clomped on the tiles. Air-conditioning caused goose bumps on his drying skin. “We needed to pick up the pace tonight.”

Rabin snorted. “I’ll say.”

With one hand, Lance spun him around just before his back would have hit the door at the end of the hall. Still grinning, Noble led the way around the corner and into the spacious green room.

“That rocked.” Darien was the first one to him, hand up for a high five.

Which Noble gave, with relish.

Darien slapped his shoulder, then gave it a good squeeze. “Man, I’m pumped after that.”

The rest of Heaven Sent were on their feet, feeling the energy as they waited for the call to send them onstage. Noble and the Knights had done their job well tonight, and everyone was riding the high.

Including the few guests in the greenroom. Even surrounded by people, even distracted by a job well done, Noble sought and found Foxy standing with Mari in the corner. Heedless of anyone else, Noble made his way through the surprisingly crowded room, eyes locked with Foxy’s as he made his progress.

His hands curled against the urge to reach out and grab the man, and he wasn’t sure how he managed to stop himself just an arm’s length away. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Foxy’s body language mirrored his—barely suppressed tension.

“That was awesome,” Mari breathed, stepping between them slightly. “Thanks so much for letting us be here.”

“No problem.” Conscious of drying skin and a probably rank smell, he only ran a hand down her arm and kissed her cheek. “It’s been a good night.”

“Hey, Noble,” called a voice he’d heard but didn’t know at first. He turned to see one of the many photographers who seemed to be at every show. He believed this one was called Saul. The man held up his camera with a smile and a glance that took in all three of them. “Can I get a picture?”

Noble glanced at Mari, but she was looking at Foxy. He had an odd, blank smile on his face as he answered for all of them. “Sure.” That was Foxy’s public persona, the quiet, almost shy man he presented as Donny Foxley. It was the one in pictures from the red carpet. It was the Donny Foxley Noble didn’t know and wasn’t allowed to be with.

That sobering thought brought down his mood a bit, but he donned a smile for the pretty pictures. Saul moved on, and Noble put his back to Foxy by turning to catch the eye of one of the assistants, who came to him with a towel and a bottle of water. Mari, seeing that he wasn’t leaving their side, started peppering him with questions, all of which he was happy to answer. It served to get his mind off the man who now stood quietly behind him, radiating a heat that was probably Noble’s imagination. But the fact that it was all in his head didn’t make it any less hot. Another roadie took his earpieces and the receiver clipped to his belt, and that fired another round of questions from Mari. Then, finally, the lights flashed, and an assistant came to get the band and lead them to the stage.

“Aren’t they leaving?” Foxy asked in a voice that only Noble and Mari could possibly hear.

Noble looked up to see him eyeing the three people with press passes who were chatting with Lance and Rabin while Danny ducked into the corner to change clothes. Lance and Rabin had already changed. “No.” Heedless of his audience, Noble yanked off his tank and dropped it on a folding chair. “They used to leave, but they stick around now.” He grinned at Foxy, aware that his naked torso was distracting. “We’re a big deal now.” He knew the grin didn’t reach his eyes, and Foxy saw it, a small frown turning the corners of his luscious mouth. The mouth Noble wanted to devour so bad. “So, there’s a party. Somewhere. When they’re done. You guys game?”

Mari perked up. “Where?”

Before Noble could answer, Gordon’s voice filled the room as he came through the door. “Okay, ladies and gentlemen of the press, I’m going to ask you to leave. Friends and family only for a bit.” He focused on the three reporters standing with Lance and Rabin.

Two of the three glanced to where Foxy and Mari stood with Noble, as they were the only possible people in the room to fall under the “friends and family” category. One of them, a loud, ballsy woman named Tammi, called, “Hey, Noble. How are you and Foxy family?”

Noble kept staring at her with a cool, calm smile on his face, hoping Foxy and Mari behind him hadn’t shown surprise.

Gordon put an arm around the woman’s shoulders. “More questions later. Now the guys get to relax with their guests. We’ll have you back in a bit.”

Noble wasn’t sure she bought that, but she didn’t have much to go on. Gordon escorted her and the other two out, then closed the door so that it was only the band and Noble’s guests. Even the roadies had disappeared.

“Sorry,” Gordon said, coming toward them. “I might have made that worse.”

“No worries,” Noble replied, eyeing the door. Then it dawned on him what Gordon had done. Before the thought finished, Noble had spun around and was on Foxy like white on rice, tumbling the man back into the wall. Fortunately, Foxy was on the same wavelength and caught him. Even managed to keep them from falling over, sucking in Noble’s tongue while something crashed to the floor beside them.

Laughter broke out behind Noble, but he couldn’t be bothered to listen. It was all he could do not to drop to his knees and delve into Foxy’s jeans for the cock he wanted too much. Kissing would have to do, and kiss they did. Like putting a Band-Aid over the wound, it helped. For now. Finally they tapered off, and Noble could figure out what the people behind him were saying. Mari was close, talking with Gordon and maybe Danny.

Yes, Danny, who laughed as Noble tipped his head back. “You get what you needed?”

Noble didn’t even look at him, eyes still closed as his fingers loosened from Foxy’s hair. “Put Cash in the room, and you’d do the same thing.”

“True.”

An additional hand touched his back, and he could tell it was Gordon. “If you two can come up for air, I’d like to ask you something.”

Noble nodded, took two more seconds to enjoy his body plastered to Foxy’s, and opened his eyes. Foxy’s dark gaze met his for a moment of understanding; then Noble backed away and turned to face his friends. All eyes were sympathetic.

“So.” Gordon got their attention, his eyes on Foxy. “This thing between you is serious?”

Foxy’s fingers had twined with Noble’s. He nodded.

“But it needs to be kept a secret?”

“He signed a morality clause,” Noble spoke up, defending his lover.

Gordon nodded. “Those can be tricky. Any chance you can tell me the details of this one?”

“I’m not supposed to make any big life changes. No getting married, no getting caught with drugs, no sex changes.”

“And no announcing you’re gay.”

“Right.”

“Or what happens?”

“It’s sort of up to them.”

“And they are your producers?”

“I think so.”

Gordon considered him, head cocked. “Any chance you could get your hands on the wording of this clause and get it to me?”

“You think there’s a way around it?” Noble asked, hardly daring to hope.

“Maybe.” Gordon had studied law for a while. He certainly knew his way around contracts. “Morality clauses aren’t that easy to enforce. It depends on how it’s worded and who’s enforcing it. I can’t make any promises, but we can show it to Chris, at least.” Christopher Faith, Darien’s boyfriend, actually was a lawyer. His firm represented both bands as well as the management company Gordon worked for.

Foxy nodded. “I can do that.”

“Good. Noble can get you my e-mail address. Meantime, what are you planning to do?” This to Noble.

He blinked. Glanced at Foxy, who was looking at him with guarded hope. With a little laugh, Noble shrugged. “I don’t know. Wing it?”

Gordon gave him a wry smile. “You might want to give it some thought.” Then to Foxy: “If you’re serious, you should speak to your agent and tell him or her about this. They might be able to test the waters for you.”

Foxy nodded.

Gordon sighed. With a hand on Noble’s shoulder, he leaned in to kiss his cheek. “It’s not going to be easy.” With a smile, he slid an arm around Foxy for a hug. “But welcome to the family.”

* * * *

Later that night, Foxy lay with Noble in his room. It was dark, but no hotel room in a big city could ever be truly black, so they could see just fine as they faced each other on their sides. All the sheets and blankets were bunched at their feet or on the floor, and the air-conditioning had just about dried the sweat on their skin.

Staring into those dark eyes, made only darker by the lack of light, Noble asked a question he’d never thought to ask before. “Why me?”

A slow smile curled Foxy’s sexy mouth. “Why you?”

“Yeah.”

One hand slid down Noble’s side to rest on his hip. “Other than the fact that you’re outrageously sexy?”

Noble gave him the grin he wanted. “Yeah. Other than that.”

“There needs to be more?” Foxy was teasing.

While Noble enjoyed a good tease, he found he wanted a serious answer. So he let his smile fade and willed Foxy to see his need. “Yes.”

The hand on his hip slid around to cup his ass to pull him closer. Noble went but wouldn’t get close enough that he couldn’t see Foxy’s eyes.

“You’re never lonely.”

Not the words he expected. Noble blinked and waited for elaboration.

It came slowly. “You’re always comfortable with yourself and where you are. I’m…” Foxy shook his head. “I’m not like that.”

“You seem pretty comfortable.”

Foxy chuckled. “Yeah, well, that’s kind of why I went into acting. I’ve never been real happy with myself, so I got good at pretending.”

Noble had to think about that some. “I’ve never thought about that for actors before.”

“Yeah, it’s weird. We’re supposed to be these confident show-offs, but a lot of us just don’t like who we are, so we make a living at being what we’re not.”

Noble stroked Foxy’s cheek. “So who’s the guy I’ve been sleeping with?”

The smile returned. “That’s me. That’s what’s so special about you. From that first time we talked, I felt like I could be me. You didn’t care that I was a movie star, you didn’t want anything from me, and you weren’t trying to be something special to impress me. You were just you. You’re always just you.”

Noble snorted. “Yeah, well, that’s not always a plus.”

“Take it from someone who’s never been like that—it’s pretty awesome.”

Noble let that settle for a few moments, liking what he’d heard. He could have left it alone, but Foxy had shared, so Noble felt a need to open up as well. “The whole fact that I wouldn’t hide what I was got me kicked out of my parents’ house.”

Foxy bent his head so their foreheads touched, his hand once again stroking Noble’s side.

Noble played with a curl of Foxy’s hair at the side of his neck. “I got that it was dangerous to be so out where we lived, but I thought it was worth it. I wasn’t very good at hiding it, so I never really tried. My dad couldn’t handle me being gay.”

“I’m not sure how my parents will take it.”

Noble edged away so he could see the thoughtful look on Foxy’s face.

“They’ll probably be okay with it. Surprised but…” He shrugged.

“You’re lucky.”

“Yeah. They’re pretty cool. My mom’ll love you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. She loves music. She’s already a big Heaven Sent fan. I know she likes your album.”

“Well. She has good taste.”

Chuckling, they merged into lazy, drawn-out kisses that had no purpose other than to enjoy the feel of one man with another.

“You think this is going to work?” Noble asked, feeling sleep encroaching.

“Has to,” Foxy stated, snuggling close. “I hate being without you.”

Chapter Sixteen

The secret bliss lasted a little more than a week. A few hours before the second night in Phoenix, Noble saw the picture in his news feed.

Criminea’s Donny Foxley caught kissing Indigo Knights drummer Noble Welbourn. Is he gay?

The photo was blurred, but there was no doubt it was them. Someone had snapped a picture of them in the bright sunlight right in front of Foxy’s house. Noble’s hair glowed purple in the sun, and Foxy was angled so his profile was obvious. Only Noble’s driver that morning could have taken the picture. Unless you knew to look for it, you wouldn’t even notice the car’s frame at the bottom corner.

Noble sat in the VIP lounge of the hotel, the remains of his lunch on the table beside him. Lance sat reading to his right, and Rabin was across from them playing a game on his tablet.

“Well, fuck.”

That got their attention.

With a sigh, he handed his phone to Lance.

Who took one look, cursed, and sat forward. “Fuck.”

Rabin set down his tablet. “What?”

Lance handed the phone to him while turning to Noble. “What are you going to do?”

Noble stared at the phone in Rabin’s hands. “I don’t know.” And he didn’t. He and Foxy had been in frequent contact over the last few days. Foxy had already talked to his agent like Gordon had suggested, and they were figuring out a plan. Looks like the plan had been shot to hell.

Rabin handed the phone back. “You should call him.”

“Excellent idea.” Concentrating on his phone, aware of his friends watching him, Noble dialed Foxy.

“Hey.”

“Did you see it?”

Foxy sighed heavily. “You saw it.”

“Yeah. Did you know?”

“No. I only saw it a little while ago.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“I…” Foxy spoke a few muffled words, obviously to someone else. “Sorry, I’m with Murray.” His agent. “I was in an interview, and they asked me about it.”

“They asked you about it.”

“Yeah. I was set up.” Foxy sounded out of breath, frustrated. “I blanked. I didn’t know what to say.”

Noble stared at the floor, unable to look at his friends. “What did you say?”

“It was fucked up. That bitch totally talked me into a corner.”

“What did you say?”

“I told her. I admitted it. I said I loved you and I wanted to be with you.”

Shocked, Noble raised his face. First he saw Rabin, whose eyes rounded at the sight of his expression. Then Lance crowded in beside him, clearly bursting with suppressed questions.

“You did?”

“I’m sorry. I know that’s not what we talked about. But she was being such a bitch about it, if I hadn’t admitted it, it would have come out like what we have is dirty or something.”

“Wow.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Shut up. Don’t be sorry. You didn’t hurt me.” On the contrary, despite the gravity of the exposure, he was delighted with Foxy’s admission. “What about you? What about your contract?”

“That’s why I’m with Murray. He’s making calls and trying to figure it out and…” Heavy sigh. “Fuck. This is so fucked up.”

Noble gripped the arm of his chair, aching for the man he loved. “I’m so sorry, babe. I wish I could help.”

“Fuck helping. I just want you here. I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

“What time do you go on tonight?” Foxy said.

“Eight.”

“Okay. I’ll call you if there’s anything new.” Another sigh. “You’ll probably get asked about it if the press find you.”

“Right.” Noble hadn’t left the hotel since last night, which had to be the reason they hadn’t found him. He wondered that Gordon hadn’t heard yet, but he’d find out why soon enough. “What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to say that you love me and you miss me.”

Noble had to smile. “That’s the truth. But what does your agent say?”

“Hold on.”

While Foxy talked to his agent, Noble filled in his friends. Both of them swore, and Lance got on his phone, probably calling Gordon.

“Noble?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“He says you might as well admit it now. If you didn’t, it’d make me look like I was lying. At least if you say the same thing, then it looks like we’ve got something real.”

“Then that’s what I’ll say.”

“Do you mean it?”

The world stilled. “What?”

“This isn’t how we wanted it.” Foxy sounded so very desperate, his voice small. “Do you still want to be with me?”

“Fuck you. How can you ask me something like that?” Then Noble heard how an insecure man might hear those words. “I love you. Do you hear me? I don’t care that this blew up. The only way that this is hurting me is that it’s hurting you. I’m perfectly happy for everything to be out in the open.” Stray thoughts about whether Foxy’s love would weather the storm occurred to him, but Noble shoved them away since there was nothing to be done about it until everything blew over.

“I love you too.” The words were said in a relieved rush. “I’ll make this right.”

“You just do what you have to, to keep out of trouble. Call me when you can.”

“I will.”

“Love you.” Noble felt the need to repeat himself.

“Love you too.”

“Now hang up.”

Foxy chuckled, a welcome sound. “All right.” Then he was gone.

“Gordon’s on his way down,” Lance told him as Noble set his phone in his lap. “He was taking a nap.”

Noble nodded understanding.

Lance squeezed his arm. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He held on to his phone as if it were his only conduit to Foxy. “I just wish he didn’t have to go through this.”

“He’ll be fine,” Rabin assured him. “What can the producers do to him? Really?”

Noble shrugged. They hadn’t known before, and they didn’t know now.

But they’d find out soon enough.

Chapter Seventeen

“May I show you something?”

Noble’s eyes narrowed, his fingers clutching the edges of Gordon’s tablet as he watched the video of Foxy’s interview with SpEye, an online site of so-called entertainment news. “What the hell is he even doing interviewing with this bitch?” Noble grumbled to no one in particular. He’d never liked the site before, and recent events had certainly not improved his opinion.

Lance squeezed the shoulder he was leaning over, but neither of them spoke further as the bitch handed Foxy a glossy 8 x 10 photograph. On-screen, the picture flashed to the snapshot of Foxy and Noble kissing, then went quickly back to capture Foxy’s reaction to what he saw. Wide eyes, slightly parted lips. The photo in his hand shook a little as he held it. That calm, almost uncaring look he usually wore in public cracked, and real panic filled his eyes for a brief moment before he could recover himself.

Foxy frowned at the interviewer. “Where did you get this?”

“Is that you in this picture with Noble Welbourn?”

The feed hadn’t budged from his face, capturing all his reactions. He said nothing, clearly thinking hard. It was obvious that if he could have launched himself at the woman, he might have choked her with his bare hands. The look he’d been paid to portray in the Criminea movies when his character confronted the villain paled in comparison.

“Donny, are you gay? Does Maritza know about this?”

“Low blow,” Lance murmured.

Noble muttered a few choice curses. Just a few minutes prior, she’d grilled Foxy on his relationship with Mari, which Noble thought he’d handled rather well. Any reference to a romance had been played down, and all of what he’d said could apply to a really good friendship or maybe the start of something more. He’d been vague but suggestive. Good thing he had been, because here the interviewer intended to paint him a liar.

Foxy glanced at the camera, then dropped his gaze as he began to stand. “This interview is over.”

“Donny, are you ashamed of being gay? Did Noble force you into something?” The woman’s voice was so ridiculously melodramatic.

Foxy’s eyes went wide in instant rage. “What the <beep>?”

“Oh shit.” Noble grunted, seeing the switch flip in his lover. It was enough for Foxy to forget he was on camera. Just as the bitch had intended.

“He didn’t force me into anything. If anything, it was the other way around,” the words poured out.

“You came on to him?” asked the woman’s voice, the camera still trained on Foxy.

“I love him.” Statement. The expression on his face leaving no doubt. Then he came back to himself, realized what he’d done. The panic circled his eyes again, and he went pale. Quickly, he reached up to snatch off his microphone, but not before adding, “There. Happy birthday.”

Noble had to laugh as the clip ended. “‘Happy birthday’? That’s my man.” Despite the gravity of the situation, he felt good. Watching Foxy declare his love had filled Noble with silly joy that he couldn’t quite contain. Unfortunately, the joy was clouded by a sick feeling, knowing Foxy was suffering because of this.

Noble handed the tablet over his shoulder to Lance, who gave it back to Gordon. Gordon cradled it in one hand while he took a seat next to Noble on the couch. The three of them were alone in a small office down the hall from the greenroom, about to go to an interview themselves. The band was done with their sound check, and Heaven Sent was onstage now, doing theirs. Gordon had brought Noble here so he could watch the interview in private.

“Have you heard from him?” Gordon asked.

“Nope.” Noble drew his phone out of his pocket to check. Again. Nothing from Foxy, but there were a bunch of voice-mail messages and texts from other friends asking if he’d seen or heard the news. He hadn’t answered any of them. “Nothing.”

“Have you tried calling him?”

“No. He’s going through enough. He doesn’t need me hounding him.”

“He might want you to,” Lance suggested softly, standing behind the couch and leaning on the back.

“He knows where I am.”

“Poor kid.” Lance sighed. “This’s gotta be hard on him.”

Noble scrolled through his list of text messages, scanning them more for something to look at than to really read them. “Yep.”

Gordon’s voice was kind, his hand on Noble’s shoulder. “How are you holding up?”

Noble shrugged. “I’m fine. This is awesome for me. It’s not my career that’s going to suffer. Hell, I probably just got a huge publicity bump. Am I right?”

Gordon shrugged. “We’ve gotten some added attention.”

“Of course we have.” Noble still couldn’t put a lid on the gleeful little bubble, but he did feel guilty about it. Here he was, feeling no pain, and he had no idea what kind of hell Foxy was going through.

“Hey.” Gordon grabbed Noble’s hand to force him to put down the phone. “You know we’ve got your back, right?”

“I know that, yeah.”

“And because you love him, you know we’ve got the Foxy’s back too, right?”

Noble had to smile, as he usually did when one of his friends referred to his lover as the Foxy. It just never got old. “Thanks.”

Gordon smiled with him. “No worries. We’ll get you through this. But”—he stood—“you’ve got work to do.”

“Yeah. Great.” The interview had been scheduled weeks ago for the local television station. Bet they were pissing their pants at getting first chance at Noble after the great reveal. Reluctantly, he got to his feet. “Wonder if they’ll ask me about it.”

“You can bet they’ll ask about it,” Gordon assured him, eyes already on his phone. “I’ve been getting calls all morning. They’ve made sure that you, specifically, will be there.”

“Lucky me.” Noble grabbed his blue leather vest and shrugged it on over his stretched and worn green tank top. A glance in the mirror showed his hair in artful disarray over the right side of his head, the left side cleanly shaven again. He’d shoved silver earrings into every hole he had and strapped silver and leather armbands around his biceps and wrists. Not one but two completely unnecessary belts were wrapped around the waist of his black jeans, and if he could have found boots that were more shit kicker, he would have worn them. Hell, his eyes were even lined with black, and he’d selected bright orange contacts shot through with red, his new favorite pair. There wasn’t much more armor he could put on. It was over-the-top, but he didn’t care. If he was going to be the bad boy who turned the innocent young film star gay, he’d look the part.

They met Danny and Rabin just down the hall from the room where the interview was to be held. The open door twenty feet away showed the room full of people and equipment. Noble normally didn’t mind interviews and usually found them fun, but this one he dreaded.

Rabin squeezed his shoulder, and Danny gave him an encouraging smile. Noble smiled back and nodded, then went ahead and led the way into the viper pit. All eyes were on him when he crossed the threshold. A long couch was clearly for them, beside a matching seat where it looked like the interviewer would sit. The man in the suit and tie was probably their guy, and the avid, hungry look in his eye pretty much cinched it.

Gordon came up behind Noble to guide him to the couch, then practically shoved him down in the middle of it. Just by pointing, he got Danny and Lance to sit between Noble and the interviewer, with Rabin on his other side. Noble grinned as the techs came forward to fit them with microphones. His friends were looking out for him yet again, surrounding him. If he were the sentimental type, he might shed a tear. Good thing he wasn’t. While the techs were busy, he noted that there were at least two others who looked like reporters on the fringe of the crowd, one with a recorder and one with a notebook. Looked like some other tabloids had joined the fun.

Noble pretended to ignore them while watching the tech crew go about their business. It amused him that they almost always had to make adjustments because of either his hair or Danny’s. His was often too dark to pick up the indigo, so that it just looked black, and Danny’s was often too bright, the platinum glowing in the harsh lighting. But the professionals always managed to get things settled, and finally the interviewer came forward to introduce himself. Osmond was his name, and he was on the local daily news rag. Noble tuned out the details in favor of watching him avoid eye contact—at least, he avoided Noble. Saving his juicy tidbit for later.

When he went away, Danny leaned over Lance to murmur to Noble. “You want to talk, or you want me to?”

Noble shrugged, leaning back on the scratchy couch. “You go ahead. Let ’im ask if he’s gonna ask.”

Danny nodded, then resumed his seat. As the lead singer, he’d become accustomed to doing most of the talking, and his bandmates were more than happy to let him.

The interview started. Noble waited. He wondered if the guy thought they were fooled, thought he wasn’t interested in the thing that everyone wanted to know. He chatted with Danny about the tour, the album, Heaven Sent, the fans, all the normal stuff. Rabin chimed in on a few questions. Lance didn’t, but he was known for being quiet. Noble wasn’t, but he decided to just wait for his cue. The bright lights kept him from seeing much on the faces of the people in the room. He couldn’t see the other two reporters as more than shadows beyond the lights. Gordon had disappeared, which wasn’t odd. He’d be close, probably on the phone.

“So, Noble…”

He curled one side of his mouth and waited.

The guy had an attractive smile. It didn’t match the snake eyes above it. “There’s been some recent news that involves you.”

Noble kept waiting. No way he was going to help the guy out.

Osmond didn’t miss a beat. “Are the rumors about you and Donny Foxley true?”

“Which rumors are those?” Noble asked, way too nicely.

“Are you and he a couple?”

“Yes. We are.”

Osmond blinked. Apparently he hadn’t expected a straightforward answer. “But isn’t he already dating Maritza Wesker, his costar?”

“They’re very good friends.” Was it bad of him to like saying that? Usually it was the gay guy who had to be the friend.

“But was he gay before he met you?”

Noble opened his mouth to answer, but someone else beat him to it.

“No. I wasn’t. At least, I didn’t know I was.”

Everyone turned around, even the cameraman. Noble had to shade his eyes against the bright lights to see the man just inside the doorway, but that voice was etched in his soul. Foxy came forward into the light, and hot damn did he look fine. He wore a shiny black dress shirt shot through with shimmering purple, half unbuttoned over a simple white T-shirt. His dark curls framed that gorgeous face that just might have some makeup on it to enhance those enchanting brown eyes. He looked every inch the dashing young movie star and held himself with all the proud assurance that went with it.

Noble sat up but didn’t stand, not sure what Foxy had in mind. Osmond stood, flustered, but Foxy only had eyes for Noble as he came forward.

“Hey, babe.” Foxy held out a hand.

Noble took it, letting Foxy guide him to his feet. “Heya, sexy.”

Foxy’s free hand slid up Noble’s neck to cup his jaw as he bent his head. Their kiss was captured perfectly on camera, Noble was sure. He heard a few clicks of still cameras and phones as well. What a Kodak moment!

He pulled back, looking into Foxy’s eyes. “Happy birthday?”

Foxy blinked, then grinned. “Yeah. Happy birthday.” He glanced over his shoulder, away from the interviewer. “We done here?”

“Yes.” The answer came from Gordon, who stepped in between them and the cameras. He spoke to the interviewers. “That should be enough.”

Noble heard them start to argue but stopped listening in favor of watching Foxy smile at him. He removed his microphone and dropped it on the couch, then squeezed Foxy’s hand while following him out the door. He was vaguely aware of his bandmates running interference behind him and made a mental note to thank them later.

“God, you’re hot,” he said as Foxy pulled him into a deserted office.

“So are you,” Foxy declared as he spun Noble around to push him up against a desk.

Arms surrounded him, and Noble was far too busy kissing to hold any conversation for a few glorious moments. He couldn’t believe what Foxy had just done for him—for them—and was happy not to talk about it just yet. But then he heard voices and pulled away as his friends came into the room, led by Gordon. By the sound of their laughter, they were highly amused.

“I’ll have to make it up to them somehow,” Gordon was saying, not sounding upset at all. “But it was worth it.”

Foxy turned to prop his butt on the desk next to Noble, staying close enough to wrap an arm around his waist. “Thanks for letting me crash the party.”

“Hey.” Rabin came forward to clasp hands with Foxy. “You can crash our party anytime, man. I like your style.”

“When did you get into town?” Danny asked.

“About a half hour ago.”

Noble elbowed his side. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I wanted to surprise you.” Foxy met Gordon’s eyes. “Thanks for that.”

Gordon laughed. “Your timing was perfect. I was happy to oblige.”

“What are you doing here?” Noble tugged at Foxy’s shirt. “What happened with your producers?”

“It was really anticlimactic,” Foxy admitted sheepishly, his fingers smoothing the skin of Noble’s shoulder. “They were pissed that I didn’t tell them about it before it came out in the press, but they were totally cool about me being gay.”

Noble’s jaw wasn’t the only one to drop. “You’re kidding?”

“Nope. They said it’d be an issue if I was trolling bars and parks and stuff, but since I told them I’m in a committed relationship, they’ve got no problem.”

Noble’s heart swelled, both at the news and at the words committed relationship. He’d never wanted to hear those words pertaining to him before, but now they sounded awesome. “Fucking A.”

“Yeah.” Foxy squeezed his shoulders and quickly kissed the bare side of his head. “They’re all set to make a statement and everything. Lorrie Fontineu was even saying something about making a pitch to the gay communities and stuff. She was all excited.”

“So we were worried for nothing,” Gordon said, a smug grin on his face.

“Looks like it.”

“That’s awesome.” Danny pumped a fist in the air for emphasis.

While the congratulations and everything were cool, Noble stared at the floor, feeling oddly vulnerable. They’d worried for nothing. The obstacles they thought were there were not. He should be ecstatic. He was happy. It’s just…now this was all real.

“All right,” said Gordon, calming everyone else down. “I think we need to give Donny and Noble some time alone. But don’t disappear on me, huh? You’ve got a show in a few hours.”

“Tons of time,” Noble said, reining in his uncertainty enough to look up and act his normal self.

Gordon rolled his eyes. “At least find a better room, would you? Don’t disappear.”

The guys were joking about other possible places to have sex in the bowels of the arena, when Gordon closed the door.

Foxy didn’t move from his side, didn’t say anything, just sat there with his arm around Noble’s shoulders. Waiting.

“So.” Noble wanted to talk but didn’t know where to begin. He laughed. “Shit. I don’t know what to say. How do you do that to me?”

“Are you pissed?”

Noble blinked. Then he had to look at Foxy. “Am I pissed?”

But Foxy didn’t look at him, kept looking at the opposite wall. “Pissed that I didn’t call? Pissed that I put you through all of this for nothing? Pissed that I said we were in a relationship without talking to you first?”

Noble blinked again. “Why would I be pissed about any of that?”

Finally Foxy looked at him, anguish in his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey.” Turning, Noble planted himself in front of Foxy, nudging his way between open thighs. “What the hell are you sorry for?”

“I’m such an idiot.”

“Well, yeah.” Noble kept his tone light and joking. “But you’re damn cute, so I can forgive that.”

It made Foxy smile, which was the intent. “I want to be with you.”

“That makes two of us.”

“I mean, more than just sex.”

“Yeah.” There was that odd feeling again. “You sure about that?”

“Definitely. Yes.”

“So, what does that mean? It’s not like we can get married and have kids or anything.”

Foxy blinked. “We can get married in a bunch of states now.”

“Still. I’m not a settle-down type of guy. You sure this isn’t better as an I-do-you-you-do-me thing?”

Foxy frowned. “Is that what you want?”

He should say yes. He should nip this in the bud. What kind of relationship could they have? But he didn’t. For the first time in his life, Noble actually wanted this. “No.” He cupped Foxy’s jaw with one hand and repeated himself. “No. But we gotta be real.”

Foxy snaked an arm around Noble’s waist, pulling him close. “We can’t spend a lot of time together yet. I get that. You’ve got your tour; I’ve got another shoot coming up. I’ll be living in Vancouver for most of next year.” He grabbed Noble’s wrist to hold his hand against Foxy’s face. “But I don’t want to be with anyone but you. I can last if I know you love me.”

“God, you’re good. You sure you don’t write scripts?” Noble could see by the frown that Foxy didn’t think his words were funny. “Sorry.” He pressed his forehead against Foxy’s, breathing the man in. “This is all new to me.”

“Me too.”

“I know.” He pulled his hand from Foxy’s grip so he could wrap both arms around his middle. “I love you. I don’t want to be with anyone else. I think I can last when we can’t be together.”

“You think?”

“Mmm.” He ducked his head to nip at the side of Foxy’s neck. “But you might need to pay for one of those jets to get us together every once in a while.”

Foxy laughed, hugging him. “Why me? I thought you were the big, rich rock star who was going to keep me?”

“Oh yeah. Forgot that.” Noble snuggled close. “Maybe I’ll just quit, and you can keep me.”

“Fuck that.” Foxy grabbed his shoulders to push him far enough away that they could see each other. “I want more music, you fucker.”

Laughing, Noble melted into Foxy, meeting him in a long, languid kiss. At first it was just that, but soon hands were roaming and a beautiful ache had his cock hard in his jeans.

“You’re staying with me tonight?” Noble demanded, his hands at the fly of Foxy’s jeans.

“Yeah.”

“Good. We’ll fuck then. But I gotta get your dick in my mouth.”

“No.”

That stopped him as effectively as Foxy’s grip on his wrists. “What?”

With that grip, Foxy turned him around so his butt was once again against the edge of the desk. Releasing Noble’s wrists, he worked at one of Noble’s belts. “I want to suck you off.”

Hearing that gorgeous voice say those words almost made Noble come in his pants.

His belt clattered against the edge of the desk as it fell open. Foxy grinned at him. “That okay?”

“Hey. Suck away.”

Foxy sank to his knees as the second belt released. He stroked up the tent at the front of Noble’s pants to get to the button. Noble ached to be free, but he was getting a kick out of watching Foxy work on him. Foxy took his time, glancing up at Noble as he pulled down the zipper, then parted the fly. “Fuck.”

Noble chuckled at the surprise on Foxy’s face at what he saw. “I like going commando for gigs.”

Eagerly, Foxy drew Noble’s cock out. With a firm grip, he aimed the head at his lips, then lapped at the head. Noble groaned, sinking his hands into Foxy’s curls as that wet mouth slowly eased down his shaft.

“Oh, how I missed your mouth.”

Foxy smiled as best he could, drawing up and off so he could swirl his tongue over the head before taking it all in again. Curling his fingers, Noble used his grip to guide Foxy’s pace, indulging himself with an obedient lover.

“Shit.” Too soon, his hips started to rock on their own. He was too turned on. “This won’t take long.”

Foxy squeezed at the base of Noble’s cock and removed his mouth. With his free hand, he pulled Noble’s jeans down far enough so he could nuzzle in to lick Noble’s balls. Too perfect. Too awesome.

“You’re gonna fuck me tonight,” Foxy growled at him, loosening his grip. “I want all of this inside me.”

“Damn it.” Eyes squeezed shut, Noble yanked at Foxy’s hair to get his mouth back. Wet heat closed around his dick. Foxy took him in once, twice, sucking, squeezing, teeth scraping just enough to… “Fuck!”

He blanked out for a moment, eyes shut, leaning back on the desk and panting. By the time he could open his eyes, Foxy was standing, crowding close with a smug smile.

Noble reached up to wipe a smear of cum from the corner of his mouth. “You’re evil.”

Foxy brushed their lips together. “Whatever turns you on.”

“You do.”

“Good.”

Noble tangled his fingers in Foxy’s hair, holding him close. “You’re mine.”

“Forever.”

“Well, ain’t that the shit.”

Loose Id Titles by Jet Mykles

A Rose is a Rose

Fox and Dragon

Just for You

One for the Team

Snagged

Sursein Judgment

Tech Support

Two Man Team

* * * *

The DARK ELVES Series

Taken

Mastered

Dissent

Salvation

Discovery

Awakening

* * * *

The HEAVEN SENT Series

Heaven

Purgatory

Hell

Faith

Genesis

Revelations

* * * *

The INDIGO KNIGHTS Series

Squire

Champion

Lance

Noble

* * * *

INTERLUDES
featuring characters from the Heaven Sent series:

Pretty Red Ribbon

Sexy Spring Surprise

Feisty Little Firecracker

Sly Spectral Trick

* * * *

The LEASHED Series

“Leashed 1: Two for One Deal”

Part of the anthology Howl, with Raine Weaver & Jeigh Lynn

Leashed 2: More Than a Bargain

Leashed 3: The Lion’s Share

Leashed 4: Tangled Leashes

* * * *

“Spiritual Noelle” (A Sister “Leashed” Story)

Part of the anthology Rated: X-mas, With Rachel Bo and Barbara Karmazin

* * * *

The REINDEER GAMES Series

Reindeer Games

Toys for Good Girls

* * * *

The ROSE FAMILY CHRONICLES Series

Valet

Jet Mykles

As far back as junior high, Jet used to write sex stories for friends involving their favorite pop icons of the time. To this day, she hasn’t stopped writing sex, although her knowledge on the subject has vastly improved.

An ardent fan of fantasy and science fiction sagas, Jet prefers to live in a world of imagination where dragons are real, elves are commonplace, vampires are just people with special diets and lycanthropes live next door. In her own mind, she’s the spunky heroine who gets the best of everyone and always attracts the lean, muscular lads. She aids this fantasy with visuals created through her other obsession: 3D graphic art. In this area, as in writing, Jet’s self-taught and thoroughly entranced, and now regularly uses this art to illustrate her stories or her stories to expand upon her art.