Page 36 of Code Word (The Atrous #3)

SEVENTEEN

Once I’d made my mind up about going home, I was excited about it. We managed to get business-class tickets on a flight. It wasn’t a private plane, much to my dismay, but it was better than economy.

Luke only called me a spoiled princess three times.

The first time was funny. Second time, not so much. Third time, I pushed him onto the bed and had my first taste of dick.

Literally.

I’d kissed him and spread his legs, bucking up into him, and he was hard in no time. It was such a fucking thrill to turn him on, to feel him writhe, and the sounds he made—groans and grunts—should be illegal.

I had no issue with jacking him off. It was hot as fuck, especially when we did it together. But I’d wanted to make this all about him, and watching his cock slide through my fist was as fascinating as it was sexy.

I was curious to see what he tasted like.

I moved down between his legs and he watched me until I grinned at him and he let his head fall back onto the bed with a groan. I licked him and his hand fisted my hair .

That was hot too.

Like, what the fuck?

Turning him on so much was a powerful thing. It was the sexiest I’d ever felt.

I took him into my mouth, I sucked, I tongued his frenulum. His back arched and his grip on my hair... fuck.

Hot.

He cried out and I knew he was close, so I finished him with my hand. I wasn’t up for swallowing. But it was something I’d definitely be interested in working up to.

He returned the favor in the shower the next morning, and if it wasn’t the hottest thing to get to watch him on his knees in front of me, his lips around my cock... But he did swallow this time, and I saw fucking stars.

Actual spinning stars.

It was a stellar way to start the day, and maybe that contributed to my good mood. Even the airport, security and screening, and long lines, didn’t put a dent in my happiness.

Most people didn’t look at us twice, but some did.

I didn’t care.

I kinda hoped they posted pics of me with Luke. We weren’t holding hands or touching in any way, but we were there together, and once upon a time, that had been enough to trend on every social media platform.

We found our gate with half an hour to spare, taking two seats against the wall. Luke seemed happy to keep his head down, cap pulled low, but I noticed a piano in the middle of the concourse. The kind where the public was invited to play.

And I wondered . . .

Could I?

Should I?

“What’s up?” Luke asked quietly. “You’re bouncing your knee. Means you’re thinking about something.”

I laughed, then stood up. “Be right back,” I said, heading over to the piano .

“Blake,” he hissed at me.

But I wanted to do this. I needed to.

I sat on the piano stool and played a few keys, testing it out. It sounded in tune, so I played the intro of “The River Flows in You” and a few heads turned.

Then I began to play “Metronome” from the Code Red album, because it was Luke’s favorite. I had more attention now.

But playing an Atrous song felt... contrite. Self-serving? I wasn’t sure.

So I morphed the song into a slowed-down version of “Piano Man” by Billy Joel. Then I began to sing the lyrics.

People stopped, gathered, forming a circle around the piano. People with their phones filmed me and I didn’t even care.

I needed to do this. I needed to take back my love of music. I’d had years of being curbed and streamlined into what Platinum Entertainment deemed marketable.

We didn’t have those shackles anymore.

I could do whatever I fucking wanted.

And apparently, that was singing a rustic song on a public piano in an airport in Mexico.

The applause was astounding, and fuck, it felt good.

Then I played “Help” by The Beatles but stripped back, and the crowd sang along.

When it was over, and when the applause died down, the announcement over the PA system asked people not to congregate or crowd in the concourse.

Party poopers.

So I began to play “Leaving on a Jet Plane,” got about halfway through it, and Luke broke through the crowd, gave an apologetic wave, and took hold of my arm and pulled me away.

“We won’t be leaving on any plane, jet or otherwise, if he doesn’t get on it,” he told the crowd .

Everyone clapped and cheered, letting us through, and yep, our plane was waiting for us.

The staff and flight attendants all grinned and ushered us onto the plane. We took our seats, and Luke shook his head at me and I laughed.

“That was so much fun,” I said.

He grinned but took a deep breath in and sighed on the exhale. “You’re crazy. That’s gonna go viral.”

I laughed. “Good. Let it. I don’t care. Music, Luke. See what it does to people? See how happy they were? God, I think we forget the purpose sometimes.”

“To make people happy?”

“To make them feel something. The business side of it, the market, the corporate heads, the board of directors, they just sucked all the joy out of it.”

“And not in a good way.”

I chuckled. “Dick-sucking jokes will never be the same.”

He snorted. “How’s your knee?”

“It’s okay,” I said, but the truth was I’d probably need some ice on it later. “Might need you to massage it later.”

Luke grinned and relaxed back in his seat, his head turned to me. He just watched me for a long beat, a serene smile on his lips. “You’re happy.”

“Fuck yes, I am. My new life with you starts today. You and music. What’s not to be happy about?”

He took out his phone and shot Jeremy a quick text.

About that offer of security . . .

I reached over and held his hand as the plane took off, destination reality.

To say posts of me playing the piano and singing at the airport would go viral was an understatement.

Paparazzi and fans met us at the airport.

A lot of them.

“Christ,” Luke muttered, pulling his cap down.

Fuck.

As soon as we walked up the ramp and into the concourse, they began to swarm us, cameras, phones, microphones, and questions shoved in our faces. I regretted putting Luke into this situation and tried to shield him the best I could.

But then a familiar face stormed through like a bull on a mission. Steve cleared a path and ushered us through the swarm and loaded us into their waiting car.

Jeremy was behind the wheel. “Get in, dickbags.”

As soon as we were in the backseat and Steve in the passenger seat, Jeremy sped through traffic like he was driving a getaway car. Steve turned and gave us both a leveled, unimpressed stare. “Welcome home.”

Jeremy shot us a look over his shoulder, but he was grinning. “Just like old times.”

I laughed, and Luke sighed. “Thank you,” he said. “Both of you. I was about to have to feed Blake to the lions to save myself.”

I gasped. “You wouldn’t.”

“Next time you want to have a free concert at an airport without a heads up, I would, yes.”

I snorted. He absolutely wouldn’t. I reached over and grabbed his hand, threading our fingers, and he gave me an irritated smile that told me I was only in trouble a little bit.

“I assume I’m taking you back to Luke’s,” Jeremy said.

Luke smiled at me. “Yeah, thanks.”

“And I take it you two are... good?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at us again. He saw our joined hands and grinned .

“Want me to drive?” Steve asked, nervous, like he was about to grab the steering wheel.

“Nah, I’m good,” Jeremy replied, facing the front now. But his eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. “So, Mexico was good, I see.”

I looked at Luke and he blushed.

He fucking blushed.

It made me chuckle. “Ah, yeah. You could say that.”

Jeremy almost broke his neck to look at Luke’s face, and Steve did have to grab the wheel. “Jesus, babe. Watch the road.”

Jeremy and I laughed, and Luke blushed some more, so I squeezed his hand and brought it to my lips. “Yes,” Luke said. “Mexico was fine, thank you.”

“Fine?” I asked. “Just fine?”

Luke rolled his eyes, and Steve turned to look at us. “So Blake, your knee. Do we want to know how you hurt it?”

“ Yes , we want to know,” Jeremy said. “Spare no details.”

I chuckled. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I did it running on the beach.”

Jeremy made a face. “Well, that’s not the fun scenario I was hoping for.”

“Same,” Luke said.

Jeremy burst out laughing, and even Steve grinned. I gasped and elbowed Luke. “The fuck, dude.”

The rest of the drive was general chitchat, and it was great. Great to catch up with Jeremy and Steve, great to talk and laugh like old times.

No one mentioned Maddox, and I was kinda glad.

I knew I had to speak to him, to clear the air.

To apologize.

But I wanted to get home first. I needed to decompress first, get my thoughts in order. Get my life sorted out.

My phone beeped with a message. I normally ignored it all, but the name caught Luke’s eye. He shot me a quick glance before he pulled out his phone too.

Our sexual health blood results.

I read through mine, gave him a nudge, and whispered, “Houston, we are clear for launch.”

He grinned, showing me his screen. “Confirm that. T-minus as soon as we get home?—”

“What are you two whispering about?” Jeremy asked.

“Oh nothing,” I said with a cough. Then, blessedly, my phone beeped again, providing a great cover-up. “Just my realtor.”

“Did Roman send the market analysis?” Luke asked.

“Mm,” I replied, opening the message. I scanned through all the crap that didn’t interest me—local listings, recent sales, comparative data, blah-blah-blah—and got the bottom figure.

“Your realtor?” Jer asked.

“Yep.”

I showed Luke the screen. “Holy shit,” he said. “That’s a great price.”

I turned my phone off. “I’ll reply later.”

Jeremy’s eyes met mine in the rearview. “You’re selling?”

“My house in Malibu,” I replied.

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“Gonna sell mine too,” Luke said, squeezing my hand this time.

Jeremy turned to look at us again, and Steve reached for the wheel again. “Jeremy, babe.”

“What are you doing?” Jeremy asked. “Where are you going? You’re leaving?”