Page 2 of Reverb (Larkspur Book 3)

Miles eyed the bass guitarist for Larkspur, noting how Liam tugged the ball cap that hid his dark curls lower on his forehead, shielding his face. He waited for Liam to reply to his question, curious why he was hiding on a dark street corner instead of back at the hotel with the rest of the band.

Liam threw a quick glance at him before tucking his chin into the collar of his battered leather jacket, his knee bouncing with suppressed energy. Miles looked a little closer, noting the tremble in Liam’s hands as he fastened the seatbelt and the way his chest rose and fell in short pants. Was it suppressed energy? Or was it anxiety?

“Are you alright, Liam?”

His words seemed to startle Liam, who jumped slightly before giving him a weak smile and nod. “Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Just wondering why Brad had to divert from the route to the hotel to the far end of the Strip to pick you up.”

“I… ah…,” he broke off, knee bouncing harder.

Miles reached across the seat and placed a firm hand on Liam’s leg. Liam gasped and wide brown eyes shot up to meet his.

“What’s going on, Liam?”

“It’s nothing,” Liam replied, his voice low in the confines of the car.

Miles squeezed the firm thigh under his hand again, the muscles tensing as he did.

“Liam,” he growled, demanding an answer.

Liam’s breath hitched before he answered. “Honestly, I… ah… was leaving a… a bar, and a guy bumped into me and maybe recognized me, making me panic.”

Miles removed his hand and settled back in his own seat. After seventeen years, he knew the guys he managed very well, and he knew when the normally open Liam was not telling the complete truth.

“Why are you out without someone from the security team with you?”

“Sarge and Ross were busy. I messaged Sarge to let him know I was heading up the Strip.”

“That doesn’t excuse the fact that you were out without security in a city with thousands of people. You should have waited for either Sarge or Ross to arrange for someone to go with you.”

“I’m a big boy, Miles. I’ve been doing this long enough. I know to be careful,” Liam shot back, sitting straighter in his seat, fixing Miles with a stubborn glare.

“Yet, something spooked you, and you called Sarge for a pick up.”

“Look, Miles. I needed to blow off some steam, alright. I had a hookup. I don’t need someone waiting outside the door, knowing what I’m doing inside.”

Liam turned his head to look out the tinted window, and Miles regarded him quietly. He was not happy that Liam had risked being recognized for a hook up when he could have brought the person back to his hotel room where there was less chance of being seen. With the ball cap, nondescript leather jacket, and worn jeans, he would just be another body in the sea of people. Liam shifted in his seat as if he could feel Miles’s eyes on him, shoulders hunching and his hand rubbing up and down his thigh, right where Miles had laid his hand.

They traveled the rest of the journey in silence, and he heard Liam’s sigh of relief when Brad steered the SUV into the underground car park. The snap of Liam’s seatbelt releasing was loud, and he was reaching for the door handle before the belt had cleared his body.

Liam was the level-headed one of the band and was acting out of character, and Miles needed to know why. He stepped out of the SUV, striding around to where Liam had exited. The bass player was hurrying towards the elevators, and Miles called out to him.

“Liam! Wait up a second.”

Liam’s step faltered, and again, his shoulders hunched around his ears. Miles thanked Brad, who indicated he’d get Miles’s bags up to his room before moving towards where Liam stood, head down, foot tapping against the dirty concrete.

“Liam—” he began, then cursed as his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket, surprised when he saw it was Seth. Now what? He glanced at Liam. “I need to take this. Wait for me in the lobby.” He didn’t miss the slight eye roll Liam gave as he turned and continued towards the elevators.

Miles accepted the call. “What have you done now, Seth?”

“Now, why would you presume I’ve done anything, Miles? Can’t a guy ring just to say hi?”

“Seth,” Miles warned him. His patience was running low tonight. He didn’t have time for Seth’s shenanigans.

“Fine! Just wanted to let you know that I’m flying to LA in the morning to see Art, and I’m taking Cal with me. We’ll be back in time to be on the bus to Denver.”

“LA? And why do you need to see your brother, the lawyer?”

“Something’s come up I need Art’s advice on.”

“Advice he can’t give you over the phone?” Miles took a calming breath. “Please, just tell me that I’m not going to have the press hounding me for a statement for something stupid you’ve done.”

“Relax, Miles. I promise it’s a personal matter, and I have papers I need to sign.”

“Why are you taking Cal with you? If it’s personal, then why do you need Jax’s assistant?”

“Ah, it’s not my story to tell, but Cal needs a bit of legal advice too, so two birds, one stone,” Seth replied, and Miles could mentally picture the shrug as he spoke.

“Okay then,” Miles relented. “Just keep in touch and make sure you are on that damn bus tomorrow afternoon.”

“We will be,” Seth promised and hung up.

Miles stared at his phone. He really didn’t like it when Seth made promises. It’s not that Seth was a bad guy. He just liked to live up to the rebel rockstar image persona he’d had since the band started when they were all reckless teenagers and not the consummate professionals they were now.

Pushing his worries for his lead guitarist aside, he returned his attention to his bass guitarist, hoping Liam was waiting for him in the lobby as requested.

***

Liam stared at himself in the brightly lit bathroom mirror. His hair was mussed from being under his cap, the soft curls ignoring the rules of gravity and hair product. Running a hand through them to try and tame them into some sort of order, he again ignored the slight tremor in his fingers. He gingerly poked at the red mark on his jaw. He wasn’t sure if it had faded any, and he hoped that it would be gone by morning. He really didn’t need to explain it to anyone.

Mouth dry, he unwrapped a drinking glass and filled it with water. Taking a few thirsty gulps, he willed his racing heart to slow down. A knock at his hotel room door had him almost dropping the glass, the base clattering heavily on the marble countertop. Shit! That could only be Miles looking for him. He hadn’t waited in the lobby as requested. Even though he knew Miles wouldn’t cause a public scene, he’d needed to get to the privacy of his room.

Another knock sounded, and taking a deep breath, he went to open it. He checked the peephole, confirming it was an unhappy-looking Miles on the other side. Wiping clammy hands down his thighs, Liam opened the door and gave Miles a tight smile.

“Hey,” he greeted their manager.

“I thought I asked you to wait in the lobby,” Miles said.

Liam stepped back and let him into the room, not wanting anyone else to see them. “Sorry, I just needed to get away from everyone.”

Miles crossed the room to the floor-the to-ceiling window. After a moment, he turned and leaned against it, crossing his arms, making his pale gray business shirt stretch across firm biceps. The sleeves were rolled up, showcasing his tanned forearms, Rolex glinting on his wrist in the low light of the room.

Silence stretched between them, and Liam fought the urge to fidget under Miles’s direct gaze. He suddenly felt fifteen again, being called in front of the principal. Miles sighed and straightened, shifting his hands to the pockets of his dark gray suit pants, stretching the material across his muscular thighs. He may be in his early forties, but Miles could easily pass for a decade younger, despite the gray flecks at his temples and in his day-old stubble.

“Liam, you know you can talk to me about anything, right? Anything you say to me will be in total confidence.”

“Yeah. Of course,” Liam replied, nodding.

“Is there anything you want to tell me?” Miles prompted when he didn’t say anything further.

“No.” Liam shook his head, consciously keeping his shoulders relaxed. What did Miles suspect?

“Look, you’ve been really quiet this leg of the tour. Is it because we brought Kellet in to replace Mark?”

“What? No! I love Kel. It’s great he’s back in the band.”

“You and Mark were close, though. Best friends.” Miles cocked an eyebrow at him. “Or were you more than friends? Are you nursing a broken heart?”

Shock rattled through Liam at the suggestion. “No. Mark is as straight as they come. He loves Selena. I’ve never looked at him that way.”

Miles raised a placating hand. “I’m sorry, I had to ask. You have to admit though, you’ve not been yourself since he quit.”

“Yeah. I mean, I miss him. He’s been my best friend for years. It’s been hard not having him around every day.”

“And that’s all? Nothing else?”

“No. I’m just tired. It’s been a long tour, and… yeah, well,” he shrugged.

“Fair enough. Just remember, I’m here if you need to talk.” Miles patted him on the shoulder as he moved to the door. His woodsy scent surrounded Liam and the sudden urge hit him to bury his nose in the warm skin visible where Miles’s shirt lay open at the collar. He took a faltering step backwards, causing Miles to stop.

“Get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you before you leave for Denver.”

“Yeah. Sure. Night, Miles.”

Liam closed the door behind him and leaned heavily against it, as guilt for lying to Miles washed through him. His skin felt tight, his clothes restrictive. He pushed off the door, stripping as fast as he could on his way to the bathroom. He turned the shower on, ignoring the sting of cold needles as he stepped in, not waiting for the water to warm up.

He grabbed the loofah and smothered it in body wash, scrubbing at his skin, trying to chase away the itch and the disappointment in himself. The scent of vanilla did nothing to take away the memory of Miles’s cologne and the long-suppressed desire for the older man. To his horror, heat pooled in his belly, making his cock swell. No! He dragged the memories from past hook ups to block the thoughts. All it did though was overlay a picture of himself on his knees in front of Miles, his mouth on Miles’s cock, his woodsy scent surrounding him.

With a whimper, Liam took himself in hand, stroking himself roughly. This was wrong. He couldn’t think of Miles like that. He killed his attraction to Miles years ago, when he’d first signed them. He knew it would never amount to anything, as Miles was too professional to even entertain the idea of sleeping with one of his clients.

Squeezing his eyes tight, he jerked himself frantically, willing himself to orgasm quickly to stop the thoughts and images parading through his brain. His other hand slid round to his hole, and he roughly fingered himself, wishing it was Miles pounding into him with the thick fingers that had gripped his thigh less than an hour ago. A few violent thrusts later, his body tensed, his load shooting over his hand, before being quickly washed away by the falling water.

He bit back a sob before turning the water up to near scalding, this time scrubbing at his skin to chase away the thoughts of self-loathing.