Page 4 of Beyond the Stix

Sometimes, a slight pang of jealousy ekes out, and I have to quickly shove it back in the dark recesses of no-man’s land.

I raise both hands. “Touchy—Now who’s starving? Me! I want Choy’s. It’s Thursday and the special today is all the fried rice you can eat.” I spin around and eyeball every one of my friends.

“Count me in.” Raef gives me a thumbs up before he carefully places his Strat in its case. He walks over to Bobby and casually flicks him on the side of his head. “Are you coming?”

Bobby flips him off. “Not yet… But I won’t say no to Choy’s.” He waggles his brows and chuckles at his own stupid joke. He follows Raef out of the live room, playfully shoving him.

“Jesus,” Tobias mutters under his breath. “Those two need to get a room.”

“No way in hell,” I reply, shaking my head. “They’ll burn down the stage if that ever happens. No, they are too good of friends to hook up.”

“Connor’s right,” Danny explains. “But?—”

My stomach grumbles. “Food,” I cut off whatever Danny is about to say, and follow the rest of the band out of the room.

As I step into the control area, my eyes survey the back lounge. There are four additional bodyguards standing near the back. My attention moves past Pen, Cal, and Dom and lands on a familiar broad back and a nice bubble ass in black slacks.

John Brand, my bodyguard. From the looks of his black hair, he got it cut short. A sting of disappointment flashes through me as I remember how his hair felt in my hand. I quickly shove the recollection out of my head and paste on a bored look. The last thing I want anyone to know is that I hooked up with John.

It’s been seven months, and since then he’s barely given me the time of day. Seven months since the night he made me fly and come so hard that my balls hurt. It’s also the night he walked away without uttering a single word to me like I’m a toy to fuck around.

Since that night, John has been even more aloof and strictly professional than usual. One word replies and stone-cold stares are all I get from him. It was his choice to mark the line I can’t cross, which is fine by me. I don’t need him anyway.

Well, I keep telling myself that. But try as I might, no matter how hard I pretend not to be bothered by John’s indifference, I can’t escape the yearning for another taste of his mouth or my desire for his hands on my body.

Yet, hell has to freeze over first before I let him touch me again.

Thus, I keep my distance.

I just hope my craving for John ebbs before I do something stupid, like pull out my dick and jerk off all over him, and claim him as mine.

Christ, can I be any more desperate?

John turns his head slightly and narrows his eyes at me as though he knows my thoughts. Before he goes back to talkingwith Joe, the sound engineer—who in my opinion is too fucking close for comfort to my bodyguard, I hear Joe say, “We should meet up sometime.”

“Sure,” John replies with slight hesitancy, but I can’t see his face to gauge if my bodyguard really means it.

Nevertheless, a fIash bomb of jealousy explodes in my head. But I remain cool and walk over to them, like I don’t give two fucks if John says yes.

“Hey. We’re heading out for lunch. Want to join us?” I’m asking Joe this, but I can see out of the corner of my eye that John’s lips pinch tight.

“Where’re you heading?” Joe directs his smarmy smile my way.

The man has been wanting in my pants for a while, but I keep turning him down. And yet, here he is, asking John out.Douche bag.

“We’re heading to Choy’s,” I say with a fake, wide grin. Why not? Give John a bit of his own medicine.

“For security purposes, he can’t,” John says flat out. I meet his blue eyes—normally they’re so mesmerizing. But right now, they’re radiating fire in their depths. He’s not happy.Good.

“Why not?” I ask John, folding my arms across my chest. “Was there a security breach I don’t know about?”

Danny walks over and slides his arm around my waist and pulls me back. “Stop being an asshole, Wildman. Come on, we’re all hungry.”

“Who’s being an asshole?” Bobby sticks his head back into the room.

Danny points at me.

“Stop fucking around, Connor. I’m starving,” our keyboardist grumps. The man has a skinny plastic pixie stick dangling from his mouth. Ever since we called him out on his heavy drinking,Bobby switched from alcohol to sugar. I guess this vice is better than the other.