Page 24

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

“Not gonna lie, man,” says a jacked twentysomething with a lantern jaw, “I straight-up cried in the middle of ‘Soar.’”

Jack receives the compliment as graciously as he received the one before, and the one before that. He’s been having versions of this conversation all night, and it must be exhausting, but he doesn’t let on. He’s smiling, seemingly enjoying himself. The music might be over, but for Jack, the show goes on. He poses for yet another selfie and accepts a pound hug from Mr. Universe.

“Nice guy,” he remarks as he rejoins Rav and Ana at the bar.

“He looks familiar,” Rav muses. “Did he play Superman once?”

Jack’s eyebrows go up. “You don’t recognize the quarterback of your hometown football team?”

Ana laughs. And laughs.

“I have no interest in what you Americans consider football,” Rav says in his poshest Brit.

“So you’re a soccer fan, then?”

Ana laughs harder.

“Anyway,” Jack says, “what’s this you Americans stuff? You’re an American citizen, aren’t you?”

“He’s American when it suits him,” Ana says, “and British when it doesn’t.”

“Unfair. I’m torn between two worlds. It’s tragic, really.”

“You should cut him off.” Ana nods at the glass of champagne in Rav’s hand. “One more ounce of liquid courage and he’s gonna go full fanboy on Robert Pattinson over there.”

“Oh yeah?” Jack glances over at Robert, who’s chatting with Timothy whatshisname. “Do you want to meet him?”

Of course he does, but being introduced to your fourteen-year-old crush by your current crush would probably cause some sort of rupture in the space-time continuum and he doesn’t need that on his conscience. “Actually, if you’re almost done here…”

Jack gets the hint, signaling discreetly to his bodyguards. He’s got two tonight: Mo and the new guy, Brad, who’s been on roving backup while Mo is in recovery.

They radio for the car to come down to the loading area. Jack makes his farewells while Rav slips away—it’s better if they’re not seen leaving together—and when he shows up in the loading area five minutes later, he’s got Ryan and Claudia in tow. “I hate to ask,” Jack is saying. “I just don’t want to let them down, you know?”

Claudia greets Rav with an awkward smile, and then she says, “You’re not letting them down. They’ll understand.”

Nash, for his part, barely flicks Rav a glance. “She’s right,” he tells Jack. “They’ll be disappointed to get the B list, but they’ll understand. We’ll head out in fifteen.”

“I appreciate it. I know it’s not your favorite thing.”

“I got you, mate. Always.” Nash claps his shoulder, and he and Claudia head back to the party.

“What was all that about?” Rav asks when they’re alone again.

“Autographs. I usually sign some after a show, but Mo doesn’t want me doing that tonight, for obvious reasons.”

A sleek black car with tinted windows eases its way down the ramp. “You two crazy kids behave now,” Mo says as he pops the door.

“You’re not coming?” Jack asks.

“We’re going in convoy. Me ’n Brad will be right behind you. That leaves a little more room for you two. Besides, something tells me the detective here is about to give new meaning to the words close protection .”

Rav groans. “Why am I not surprised you’re into dad jokes?”

“He’s gonna show you why they call it a body man . Personal protection is about to get really personal…”

They close the car door before it gets any worse.

They make out in the back seat on the way to the hotel. And in the underground parking while they wait for Brad to do a sweep. And in the elevator on the way up to the room. (No cameras.) Mo is waiting for them in the hallway outside Jack’s room, and Rav has just enough presence of mind to remind him about their meeting tomorrow.

“Sure,” Mo says. “What time do you want to—”

Jack drags Rav inside and closes the door, and then they really start going at it. Rav’s shirt is on the floor in seconds, and his belt, and Jack’s shirt, a trail of clothing leading from the door to the bedroom. “Do you have a condom?” Jack whispers against Rav’s mouth.

“I have everything we need,” he says, emptying his pockets onto the nightstand. Which leaves just one question. “Top or bottom?”

“I’m vers.”

“Me, too.”

Jack looks him in the eye. “Your call. I just want to hear you say it.”

Rav gives him a scorching once-over, letting him see how much he wants this. Then he puts his lips to Jack’s ear. “I want to fuck you.”

Jack unzips him. “Then fuck me.”

Rav backs him bodily toward the bed, fingers hooked over the tab of Jack’s jeans, as if he’s going to tear them open. He pops a couple of buttons, but then he stops, taking Jack’s face in both hands and kissing him deeply. He’s fantasized about this for so long that part of him wants to go straight for the prize, to fuck Jack hard and fast, catch his breath, and then do it again, properly . But there will be no shortcuts tonight. He promised to blow Jack’s mind, and he intends to deliver.

He slows the kiss, sliding his hands down Jack’s bare shoul ders, the small of his back, the curve of his arse. He pulls Jack’s hips flush against his and grinds against him—just a little, mind, enough to tease but no more. Jack pushes back, seeking friction, tugging down on Rav’s boxer briefs, so Rav backs off slightly.

“Fuck,” Jack whispers. “So it’s like that, is it?”

“I’m afraid so.” He grabs the back of Jack’s thigh, hitches his leg, and rides him down onto the bed.

He’s biting Jack’s neck, popping another button on his jeans; his fingertips tease just below the waistband, following the trail of silky hair below the navel. Those inked abs are covered in goose bumps, a tactile glory just begging to be explored, and Rav takes his time about it, kissing, nipping, hand diving the rest of the way down and taking Jack in a firm grip. Jack is losing his mind, both hands shoved in his hair, and by the time Rav finally pulls off his jeans, he’s so worked up he tries to climb on top and take the lead. That’s not going to happen. Rav flips him easily and pins him beneath his body, which drives Jack even more crazy.

He can’t feel too smug about it, though: the look on Jack’s face, raw and wanting, sets him on fire. He can’t restrain himself any longer; he fumbles for the nightstand while Jack yanks off his trousers, and then he hikes Jack’s leg over his hip and drags him close.

Even now, he’d like to take it slow, but there’s no chance of that. Their bodies are done being patient. It doesn’t help that the view beneath him is basically identical to the video for “Need”: Jack’s head tipped back, eyes closed, stirring with the rhythm of the tide. Only this is in vibrant color, a fantasy come to life, and it’s fucking beyond . Jack’s mouth parts, dark brows knitting fiercely, and when he turns his face away, arching just like he does at the climax of the song, Rav reaches a climax of his own.

He rides it out slowly, and then he collapses in a quivering heap beside Jack. “I’ve wanted to do that since I first laid eyes on you,” he murmurs once he’s caught his breath. “I shouldn’t admit that, but…”

“I know the feeling.”

“I’m guessing there was slightly less guilt on your side.”

Jack makes a vague humming sound, as if he’s not so sure about that. “It definitely didn’t feel like my finest moment. A guy’s been murdered, and here I am fantasizing about the detective looking into it. Like, am I seriously thinking about this right now? Am I picturing myself in this guy’s handcuffs, when he might actually put me in handcuffs? It was… confusing.”

“You pictured yourself in cuffs?”

Jack snorts softly, pushing damp curls off his forehead. “You don’t even know. When you walked through my door looking like something out of GQ , oozing confidence and wit and the whole package…”

Rav props himself on his elbow. “Do continue.”

“I thought the universe was messing with me. ‘Hey, Jack, here’s that gorgeous guy you ordered. Except you can’t touch him. Or even really talk to him. Totally off-limits, unless you want to end up in jail. But be sure to check out his ass on the way out. It’s our finest work to date.’”

Rav sighs and flops onto his back. “And here I thought this night couldn’t get any better.”

Jack laughs. “As though your ego needs stroking.”

“Says the man who spent the entire evening being fawned over.”

“Fair.” He turns his head on the pillow and meets Rav’s eye. “You should know, though, it wasn’t just that.”

“My arse?”

He rolls his eyes. “Shut up for a second? I’m trying to tell you something.”

“Yes. Sorry.”

“You weren’t what I expected. You were respectful and compassionate, even when you thought I might be a killer. That blew me away. It still does.”

Rav feels his skin warming. “For what it’s worth, you weren’t what I expected either. You have every reason to be an egocen tric, entitled arsehole, and instead you’re…” Thoughtful. Kind. Complicated.

Fucking amazing.

Jack smiles. “Swim?”

“You read my mind.”

They shower and head for the pool, both of them wrapped in those luxurious terry cloth bathrobes one finds in the right kind of hotel. Jack leaves the terrace lights off in deference to Rav’s paranoia about zoom lenses. There’s enough light coming off the pool, and anyway, they can see the city lights better this way. They shuck their robes and glide into the water, admiring each other in the aquamarine glow.

“It’s beautiful out here,” Rav says.

“It’s perfect. You’re perfect.” Jack’s gaze drips like honey down the length of Rav’s body. “I’ve got a feeling I’ll be coming back to this memory a lot over the next few weeks.”

Rav sighs. He’d almost managed to forget that the band will be leaving soon, heading out for the European leg of their tour. “When will you be back through?”

“Nothing planned, but I’ll think of something, I promise.”

“You’d better. I’d hate to have to confiscate your passport.”

“I love it when you talk dirty, baby.” He flashes a mischievous grin that has Rav’s dick twitching even before their mouths meet. He tastes of chlorine and salt and pure dopamine, and Rav catches himself thinking he could die right now and be happy.

Later, they stand at the rail in their fluffy towel robes, gazing across the river at the twinkling lights of Manhattan. It’s quiet out there at this hour. Jack is quiet, too, and Rav strokes the back of his neck. “Where have you gone?”

“I was just thinking about tonight, how relieved I am it went well. That show had a lot of baggage attached to it, but I didn’t have any anxiety at all. Butterflies, of course, but the good kind. I think…” He looks at Rav, his face half obscured in shadow. “Would it freak you out if I said I think it has something to do with you?”

“Me?”

“This is the first time in forever that I’ve had a pocket of normal in my life. A little air bubble where I can just… breathe . Decompress, re-center. That’s clutch.” There must be something in Rav’s expression, because Jack smiles and says, “Really, don’t freak out. I’m not trying to overanalyze or pretend like all my problems are solved. I’m just saying I feel comfortable around you, and that’s not something I get a lot of these days.”

“Not even around your friends?”

“Friends.” He looks out over the city lights. “Most of my real-life friends disappeared after Alien Nation came out. Stopped reaching out, stopped replying to my texts. It was the same for the rest of the band. We have each other, but that comes with its own stress. I feel responsible for them. Like I have to watch out for them. Our lives… as privileged as they are, they’re also really intense. We’ve talked about it as a band, promised to speak up if we felt like we were starting to drown, but…”

Rav knows he’s thinking about Tommy. About the signs he missed, or thinks he did. “That’s a lot to put on yourself.”

“It’s worse here in New York. That’s why we moved to LA. So I wouldn’t have to see Tommy’s ghost every time I turn around.”

Rav strokes his neck again. “Whatever happened that night, it wasn’t your fault.”

“Objectively, I know that, but…” He sighs. “It doesn’t help that we didn’t leave things on the best foot. The night he died… it was during that period I told you about, where we had all this drama in the band. Tommy felt like we were going in the wrong direction. He wanted to make some drastic changes. He was butting heads with everyone, just really on a tear that night. We were at this party upstate, and he left in a huff, and…” He pauses. “Shit, I’m sorry. This is not a conversation I meant to have. We were having such a good time, and—”

Rav cradles his jaw and looks him right in the eye. “Never apologize. I’m your hotline, remember?”

“You’re a fucking lifeline ,” Jack whispers, and kisses him.

For a moment it’s all very tender and sweet—and then a hand finds its way inside Rav’s bathrobe, checking to see if he’s ready for an encore.

He is.

They make their way to the bedroom, untying each other as they go. It’s a remix, this time with Jack on lead, and it’s even better than the original.

“That’s my fourth shower today,” Jack remarks as he flops onto the bed.

“I hope you moisturized liberally.” Rav picks up his phone to check the time.

“You’re welcome to stay.”

Rav meets his eye, trying to decide if he’s just being polite. “It’s easy enough to get a car.”

“Stay. We’ll sleep late and have fancy room service breakfast.”

“Well, if there’s breakfast involved…”

They shuffle under the blankets. Rav stares at the ceiling. Should he reach for Jack? Put an arm around him?

“If you’re wondering,” Jack says, “I’m a snuggler.”

Rav slides over and gathers Jack into the curve of his body, trying not to notice how perfectly he fits there. He’s still trying not to notice ten minutes later when Jack’s breathing smooths out into sleep. He doesn’t notice the scent of Jack’s skin, or the soothing rhythm of his ribs rising and falling. He doesn’t think about what it would be like to have this every night, to fall asleep with his arms around the most incredible person he’s ever met.

He drifts off sometime after four, and whatever he dreams after that will be strenuously denied in the morning.