Code Red by N.R. Walker

Chapter Ten

Vegas,San Francisco, Seattle, Vancouver, Denver, Dallas.

They passed in a blur.

It was fitness training, dance rehearsals, meetings. Flights, traffic jams, sold-out concerts, a few interviews, a few TV appearances. Logistics, security, and keeping tight schedules. Late nights, stolen kisses, lingering touches, holding hands, snuggling in bed.

And since I’d slept that one night in his bed, Maddox couldn’t see any problem in doing it every night. I sure as hell couldn’t say no to him, even though I knew better. We were tempting fate every time, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to.

I did want to sleep in his bed every night. I wanted to hold him all night long. I wanted to wake up next to him. There was one time in Denver when the boys had something planned and it was late by the time we got back to the hotel. The boys wanted to have a few drinks afterward, and I had absolutely no problem leaving Maddox in Wes’s room.

In my own room, I showered and tried to watch some TV to dull my mind, but the bed was too big and empty without him. I missed his head on my chest as we watched the late, late movies. I missed his body against me. I missed his touch, his kiss, his taste. I missed the smell of his peach-and-orange body wash. I missed his smile, his laugh, the way he clung to me when he slept. I missed the sounds he made when he came.

One night. One freaking night apart and I missed him.

When Maddox surfaced the next morning, he was showered and dressed in his usual black from his cap to his boots, but he looked wrecked. I handed him his iced coffee. “Didn’t sleep, huh?”

His tired eyes met mine. “And I wonder why. I waited for you.”

What? “You were with the guys, set in for the long haul when I left.” I would have been mad at his assumption, but he looked miserable. “You should have texted me.”

He looked up at me from under his cap, tired and sad. “I wasn’t sure if I could . . . or should. I didn’t want to wake you.”

“I missed you,” I admitted.

His smile just about slayed me. “You did, huh?”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

He sipped his drink through the straw just as Jeremy came over. “Hey, lovebirds. You ready?”

Maddox choked on his drink, and I felt the blood drain from my face. What the hell had he told him last night?

Before I could speak, Ryan called me over to give him a hand, and thirty seconds later we were on our way to the vans. If Jeremy was looking at me funny, I pretended not to notice. I half expected him to declare he was coming with us to the airport, but he didn’t. I was relieved it was just Maddox and me. As soon as the door slid closed, I turned to him. “What the hell did you tell Jeremy?”

“Nothing! He was joking. Except now, by the way we both reacted, he probably knows something.” He sighed and his eyes found mine. “I hate lying to him.”

“I know you do.”

“I want to tell him.”

“Maddox,” I began. We’d been through this.

“I can’t keep lying to him. I just can’t. If he didn’t suspect something before, I’m pretty sure he does now. And the other guys. They’re not blind, Roscoe. And Vancouver was a close call.”

“It was.”

Blake and Wes had knocked on his door at late o’clock and we’d been lying in bed, all cuddled up. The TV was on and thankfully we were still mostly dressed. I planted myself at the far side of the table with my phone, a notepad, and pen, and Maddox picked up his guitar on his way to answer the door.

They were a bit surprised to see me there at that hour, but we passed it off as a late meeting regarding the trip to South America that was coming up, finalizing any last details. They didn’t seem to care too much, more interested in Maddox’s guitar. They also didn’t seem to notice that my shirt was untucked or that I had to put my shoes on when I left.

If it had been Jeremy, or worse, Ryan or Amber, we’d have been found out for sure.

I sighed and Maddox lifted my arm so he could lean against my chest. “Jeremy won’t care,” he murmured, snuggling in the best he could in the backseat. “But he’ll be really pissed if I hide it from him and keep lying to him. Then he’ll be pissed. And who knows . . . he might cover for us if we need him to.”

I chuckled and kissed his cap. There was no point in trying to argue. He was right; he shouldn’t lie to his best friend or to the rest of the band. Maybe not the others just yet, but starting with Jeremy would be okay. It would have to be, because Maddox wasn’t asking.

He slept for the short ride to the airport. He boarded the plane with the guys, and Amber, Ryan, and I spent the almost three-hour flight to Miami in a meeting with Ambrose. It was actually convenient. There were few interruptions, and a private plane was spacious enough that we could sit and talk comfortably.

Ambrose had a lot on his plate, and I didn’t envy him at all. While I just had to focus on Maddox, he had to worry about every member of the crew, staff, equipment, budgets, publicity, and about a hundred other things.

“Give me a rundown on the boys,” Ambrose said.

“Blake’s knee is holding up so far,” Amber said. “But that’s likely to change with every concert we do.”

Ambrose was concerned. “Julio’s been taping it?”

Ryan nodded. “Yep.”

“And Luke and Blake want to see Recoleta in Buenos Aires,” Amber added.

Ryan agreed. “Yep, and Jeremy mentioned a particular artist in Sao Paulo. I can’t remember the name, but I’ll get the details and let you know.”

“Okay,” Ambrose said. “And I’ll see what I can do.” Then he looked at me. “What about Maddox?”

“Ah, yeah, he’s doing fine,” I replied, which wasn’t an overly helpful answer. I felt scrutinized and guilty for being secretive, for knowing more about Maddox than I should. Not that I could tell them any of the things I’d learned about him in the two weeks.

“I thought he was looking happier this week,” Amber said. “But then today he looked like shit.”

“Yeah, he said he didn’t sleep very well,” I replied. “But he said he feels fine. I got him to laugh a few times this morning, so I’m sure he’ll be fine after some decent sleep.”

I wasn’t telling the whole truth, but it wasn’t like I could tell them he didn’t sleep very well because I wasn’t in bed with him.

Ambrose frowned at me. “Keep me updated. If he needs something to help him sleep, I can have Doctor Hardwick write him up a prescription for something.”

Hardwick was the team doctor on tour with us.

“He wouldn’t take it even if you did,” I said. We all knew Maddox’s stance on any kinds of drugs, but maybe Ambrose had some duty of care to suggest it, I wasn’t sure. “He’ll be fine. Concert’s in two days. I’ll make sure he gets some sleep.”

Christ, Roscoe. Just say that shit out loud.

We talked about the media, about the photos all over the internet. Ambrose talked about my new popularity, though it had died down after the herding-cats comments, it spiked new interest every time some papzz or fan posted a picture of Maddox and me. Getting out of the car, walking into the hotel probably a little closer than we should, talking, smiling, me waiting for Maddox, Maddox waiting for me . . .

Seeing all those photos, one after the other, in front of Ambrose, Amber, and Ryan was a little uncomfortable. Not gonna lie.

Ambrose would never say directly that he approved of the Maddox and Roscoe shipping, but he liked the publicity. It kept the band trending, he said. It keeps the music streaming, he said. It was good for sales, he said.

And I knew then, firsthand and very personally, why Maddox hated being fodder for sales. Not for his music, not because he was a talented song writer and performer, but because of his personal life.

It wasn’t a nice feeling.

We arrived in Miami at the same time as a heatwave. Which was less than ideal, to say the least. The concert was in two days and the heatwave was expected to last the week. Hot and humid, yes. But at least no hurricanes were predicted.

When we disembarked the plane and piled into our waiting vans at the private terminal, Maddox climbed into the backseat again, and I was quick to take the seat next to him.

He smiled but still looked tired. “Manage to sleep on the plane?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Nah. You?”

“Nope. It was a three-hour work meeting for me.”

He scrunched his nose up. “At least I only had to listen to Wes and Luke whine about not getting laid often enough for two out of the three hours.”

I snorted. “Only two?”

“Yeah, I told them to suck each other off in the bathroom and that shut them up.”

I chuckled. “No takers?”

“Nope. So I told them to do it in their seats so I could watch.”

“Take it that was a no too.”

“Wes threw his pillow at me and told me to fuck off.”

“Just another day, huh?”

“Hm.”

“Did you, uh, did you get a chance to speak to Jeremy?”

Maddox shook his head. “Nope. I couldn’t . . . not without the others hearing.”

I should have been relieved. I expected to be. But for some strange reason I wasn’t. Maybe some part of me wanted someone else to know? Even though it would possibly—likely—change how we worked together. Would they remove me from him? Separate us?

Probably.

He leaned forward and took his jacket off. “God, it’s hot and humid.”

I took his jacket from him and threw it over the seat in front of us. “Excuse me, driver,” I called out. “Can we please have some A/C?”

Maddox sighed and took my hand. “You don’t have to look after me all the time.”

Technically, I did, but that wasn’t the only reason. “I want to.”

He scoffed. “Because it’s your job.”

“Because I want you to be happy.”

He glanced over at me and squeezed my hand. “Sorry. I don’t mean to imply that your job is . . . that you’ve been with me, you know, because of your job.” Then he shot me another look, his hand frozen in mine. “Unless it is the reason you’ve been with me—”

“You know it’s not. Maddox, you know it’s not.” I stared into his eyes and tightened my hold on his hand. “That’s not what this is. You know that, right?”

He gave the smallest of nods, but I could see the relief on his face, in how his whole body relaxed. “And you know it’s the same for me, right?” he murmured. “This isn’t a work-only thing . . .” He shook his head, as if he couldn’t get his words right. “It’s complicated. But you’re the one good thing that’s happened to me in a long time. And I know that sounds weird and stupid because, look at me.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m Maddox Kershaw, face of the biggest band in the world right now.” He was quiet for a while and I let him gather his thoughts. In the end, he simply shrugged. “I feel guilty for complaining because compared to other people, I have no right. So I don’t like to say anything.”

“You can tell me,” I whispered. “You’ve had a dark cloud hanging over you for a while now, Maddox. If you want to talk about it, talk to me.”

“A dark cloud?” He made a face. “Is that what you call it?”

“What would you call it?”

“Poor little rich boy syndrome?”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“That’s how the outside world would see it.”

“Financial status and popularity have no bearing on mental health. The richest person on the planet can have depression.”

“Depression?”

“I’m not saying that about you. It was just an example. And sometimes fame and fortune bring with it a whole other level of problems. You’ve talked before about being lonely and isolated.”

He was quiet again and eventually he put his head against my shoulder and sighed. “You know when we first signed with Platinum and we had that first taste of success, we made a pact. Don’t get me wrong, Arlo Kim and the Platinum contract had us sewn up pretty tight with a lot of shit—and they still do. But we had a list. Just us, no legally binding shit, just a promise to each other. If we made it, we wouldn’t drink alone and no drugs. How many bands before us were ruined because they turned to drugs and shit when the loneliness became too much?”

I kissed the top of his head and let him speak uninterrupted.

“But I get it now,” he admitted quietly. “I understand why they look for some kind of escape.”

“Oh, Maddox.”

“If we hadn’t made that pact, if we hadn’t sworn to each other that day all those years ago, I don’t know where I’d be right now.”

I realized something.

“That night you texted me and said you couldn’t sleep,” I said, “the first night I came to your room, you were . . . you were tempted.”

“I was scared, if I’m being honest. I was . . . I almost left the hotel. I could have found some shit-hole bar and got wasted or taken a hit of something to . . . to just forget. To pretend I was someone else.”

I squeezed his hand. “Thank you for texting me. It was brave.”

“If you hadda said no, I don’t know what I would’ve done,” he mumbled.

“I wouldn’t have said no.”

“Having you really helps. Just so you know.”

Steve called out from the front. “Five minutes, ETA.”

I could have groaned at the interruption. “Having you helps me too, Maddox,” I whispered. “I know it’s complicated and new, and we kinda feel up in the air right now with not knowing where we’ll land. But I see the real you. I want you to know that.”

He sat up and shifted in his seat, as though my admission of seeing the real him made him uncomfortable.

“I like what I see,” I added.

“And what’s that?”

“A complex man. A man whom the whole world knows but no one really knows at all.”

His dark eyes shot to mine, and I knew I was right.

I decided to lighten the mood a bit. “He’s also incredibly talented and funny. I don’t think he has any idea as to how good-looking he is.” I leaned in and whispered, “And he does things in bed that just about kill me, every time.”

The corner of his lip curled upward, just a touch. “Is that right?”

“Hmm. So right.”

He chuckled. “About that . . .” He glanced to the front of the van and lowered his voice even more. “We’ve done a lot of stuff, which I’ve enjoyed very much.”

“I know you have. I was there.”

He snorted, his cheeks flushing pink. “But I was wondering if there was any particular reason why we haven’t . . . done more.”

Oh, hell.

This conversation was either going to kill me with embarrassment or make me hard, so I figured it was best to just put it all out there. “Are you referring to penetrative sex, Maddox.”

He chuckled. “Why yes I am, Roscoe.”

“Is that something you might be interested in exploring, Mr. Kershaw?”

“Why yes, Mr. Hall, I do believe it is.”

I grinned at him and shifted in my seat. “We probably shouldn’t be talking about this. If I get out of the van with a boner, the press will have a field day.”

He barked out a laugh, but then his dark gaze met mine and his hand slid dangerously up my inner thigh, his fingers brushing me. “We can’t have that. Because no one gets to see this but me.”

I leaned closer, our noses almost touching, staring into his eyes. “Talk like that and I will have a fucking hard-on.”

He smirked, his eyes going from my eyes to my mouth back to my eyes. “Roscoe?”

“What?”

“Add condoms and lube to the list of things you need to get today.”

The van began to slow. “Approaching the hotel,” Steve called out. “And there’s a crowd.”

Fuck.

I sat back in my seat, trying to not concentrate on my dick. “Think of horrible things, gross and disgusting things.” That did no good on killing my semi, so I readjusted my dick before grabbing our backpacks to hold in front of me.

Maddox was still laughing as the door slid open. He grinned as he waved to the screaming fans, and I tried to act inconspicuously to get inside unnoticed. When we filed into the elevator, I held the bags so they covered my crotch, and Maddox was still wearing that shit-eating grin.

“What’s so funny?” Wes asked him.

“Nothing,” I replied on Maddox’s behalf. I was confident I wasn’t sporting a raging hard-on anymore and that my backpack was enough, so I shoved Maddox’s backpack into his chest. “Carry your own bag.”

Maddox just laughed, and we scored a few interesting glances from the others. Steve, standing near the door, looked right at me and smiled.

It was the kind of smile that made me wonder just how much of Maddox’s and my conversations he heard in the car. We were pretty well hidden in the backseat, so I don’t know how much he could see . . . it wasn’t like I paid a great deal of attention to anything but Maddox.

We were shown to our rooms, with reassurances our luggage would be brought up as soon as it arrived. While everyone took a quick break in their rooms, I asked if anyone needed anything, then armed with a list—and Steve and Ivan—I went shopping.

I, at least, had the foresight to change my shirt and put on a cap, not that it made much difference, but having two bodyguards made me hard to miss. Steve was more casual and relaxed, but Ivan was a huge guy that normally got noticed anywhere he went. The fact that he stood like a drill sergeant didn’t help much either.

No paparazzi thankfully, but a few people looked twice. It was ridiculous. I was certain they were trying to figure out who I was. Important enough to have a security detail but not immediately recognizable. I was just really freaking grateful no one had noticed me buying condoms and lube.

If Steve noticed or even cared, he never let on. It certainly wasn’t uncommon for me, or Amber or Ryan, to run to the nearest store and grab a whole list of things, especially on tour.

Hell, even in LA.

It was what we did for them.

Toothpaste, deodorant, face creams, lip balms, sunscreen, dental floss, ibuprofen, multivitamins, condoms . . .  Five guys traveling around the world, someone was bound to forget something or run out of something.

We made it through the store and were almost out the door when two people came up to us. It was a guy and a girl. They looked kinda young, friendly enough. “Hey, you’re with Atrous. Roscoe, Maddox’s manager, right? Can we have a photo?”

Ivan stepped in. “No photos,” he said, his voice deep and final. They barely came up to his shoulders.

I had both hands full. What did they want me to do? Put the bags down and pose with them? For fuck’s sake.

“We just want a photo,” the girl cried. Other people had stopped and were looking at us, and it was all happening in the doorway of the store.

Now Steve stepped in. There was something about him, the fact that he was shorter than most security, but there was a scary edge to him, and his gaze could cut glass. The young couple backed off and we managed to get into the van and leave without incident, even though I knew, without a doubt, there would be photos or footage somewhere.

Steve took the front seat, as per usual, and Ivan climbed into the back with me. I dumped the shopping bags onto the seat next to me. “Do you think they were a plant?”

Steve answered, “Probably.”

A plant was someone or someones paid by a media outlet to cause a scene with a celebrity. A photographer lay in wait and took all the damning photos that earned them a shit ton of money. Basically, the kind of garbage you see sprayed all over cheap tabloid papers and websites.

Thank god it hadn’t turned ugly.

Still, someone was going to be pissed when I got back to the hotel.

And I wasn’t wrong.

“What do you mean a fucking plant?” Maddox said. “Someone tried to start something with you?” I’d been back at the hotel for all of twenty minutes and was in my room when Maddox had come banging on my door after overhearing Ivan telling someone about our trip.

“We don’t know for sure. Probably. They were too aware, too perfect, ready-to-cry-victim type of people.”

“Did they get to you? Touch you?” His eyes were wide and fierce. “If they fucking touched you . . .”

I put my hand to his cheek. “No. Ivan and Steve were with me. They didn’t get near me.” I kissed him softly, trying to calm him down. His concern for me was sweet and his want to protect me played a squeezy game with my heart. “I’m fine.”

He growled, still not convinced. “I should have gone with you.”

I snorted. “And made everything ten times worse.”

He snarled and then pouted. “Fucking fuck.”

“Oh. Speaking of that.” I picked up the bag from the store that I’d kept aside and turned it over in my hand. “I believe you requested these.”

A smile won out. “Do we have to go to that promo tonight? Can’t we stay here? Alone. All night?” He took the box of condoms out of the bag. “With these?”

“We have to go. It’s a corporate sponsorship thing. It’s at some fancy upmarket place on the river. It used to be a warehouse. There’s a gallery. There’s expensive food, expensive booze. You and the boys can have a few drinks while the sponsors schmooze up to you. You like that kind of thing.”

Maddox stared at me like I’d lost my mind. “No, I hate every single thing about that.”

I grinned at him because I knew he’d hate every minute. “It’ll be fun.”

“It’d be much more fun if we stayed in.”

I laughed. “True. But still, you’re expected to be there.”

He sighed, then tossed the condoms onto my suitcase, where I’d made some kind of attempt to unpack a few things. He ran both hands through his black hair, his long black earrings swaying with the movement. “I still can’t believe you got harassed at a freaking store. That shit pisses me off.”

“I’m fine. Though I must say, you being pissed off on my behalf is kinda hot.”

“Fuck off,” he said, but he smiled in the end. “And what the hell am I supposed to wear tonight?”

I shrugged as I walked to him. “Whatever’s easy for me to get you out of. Keep the earrings though.” I lifted his chin and kissed him. “Now go get cleaned up. We leave in forty-five minutes.”

We wereall in the common room waiting for Maddox, of course. Everyone was standing around an iPad watching the footage of me leaving the store, how Ivan intervened and how Steve ended it. It was actually kinda funny to watch Steve step in and see the couple both take a step back.

“It was definitely a set up,” Luke said. “Look at how well-positioned the guy with the camera is.”

“And it was uploaded right after,” Blake added.

It certainly seemed like it.

“Look at how quick they back up when Steve gets involved,” Wes said with a laugh. “He must have given them the just-fucking-try-it eyes.”

Jeremy laughed too. “Yep. The fuck-around-and-find-out eyes. My mother can stop people with that look.”

“What are we watching?” Maddox asked. I hadn’t noticed him walk in. But holy hell, I noticed him now.

He wore tight black jeans with more rips in them than denim, and a black V-neck T-shirt that looked so soft, I wanted to touch it. It was half-tucked in at the front, his belt buckle was black and shiny, matching his boots. He wore his usual black cap that was hotter than it had any right to be. He’d kept the long black earrings, four in each ear, just like I’d asked him to.

He was so fucking hot, all I could do was stare. Until Jeremy nudged me.

Fuck.

I shook my head and pretended my phone was the most important thing I’d ever seen.

“About time you showed up,” Blake said, giving Maddox a shove.

He shoved him back with a laugh. “Fuck off. It takes time to look this good.”

“Oh, please,” Wes scoffed. “You wake up like that.”

Jeremy was still staring at me.

He knew. I was certain of it.

I pretended not to notice. “Vehicles are waiting. Let’s go.”

Maddox was now staring at the iPad. He watched the footage, then he stared at me. I pretended not to notice that either.

Ryan walked in and clapped his hands. “Come on. Chariots are waiting.”

I held the door as everyone filed out and made their way to the elevators. “You said it was nothing,” Maddox said, apparently not caring who heard.

“Because it was nothing,” I replied, cutting him a glance that told him to shut it.

“When I asked that you have your own detail, I thought it was precautionary. Not a necessity.”

“Steve and Ivan had it handled,” Jeremy said.

“So no one gives a shit that Roscoe now needs his own security? What’s next? Our families? Your ex-girlfriends? Grandparents? That’ll be nice.”

Jeremy, Wes, Blake, and Luke all looked at him, then at each other. He had a point, and when he put it like that, they knew it.

Steve, who had stood silently by the elevator doors, said, “I’ve already spoken to Mr. Ambrose.” He looked at the boys. “Maddox is right.”

The elevator doors opened and everyone piled in . . . except for Maddox. So I stopped, and so did Steve. “We’ll take the next one,” Maddox said as the doors slid closed.

The elevator next to it dinged and the doors opened. Steve held the doors and thankfully it was empty. I swiped my card and pressed the basement button before I turned to face him. “Maddox,” I said calmly. “I said I was fine.”

“This time,” he said, his eyes full of fire. “You were fine this time. She was close enough to touch you, Roscoe. And close enough to touch you is close enough to hurt you. She could have had a gun or—”

The elevator came to a stop at a floor halfway down, and as the doors opened, Steve casually stepped in front of us. A middle-aged couple stepped in and gave us a smile, though Maddox pulled his cap down and stared at the floor.

Our conversation was over, for now. A conversation in front of Steve. A conversation between a band member and their manager.

Except it wasn’t. We weren’t just that anymore.

Maddox’s anger at the situation was born from concern, which meant he cared. So, considering Steve had his back to us, I put my hand on Maddox’s back and rubbed gentle circles. His shirt was as soft as it looked.

The elevator stopped at the lobby and the couple got out. Steve quickly hit the close-door button and he leaned against the wall. I didn’t move my hand from Maddox’s back . . . not fast enough, anyway. Somehow reassuring Maddox meant more than letting Steve see.

“We’re increasing security,” Steve said. “I’m meeting a team tomorrow to stay with us for the South American leg. The venue tonight has its own security. As part of the promotional deal, they have to secure the clientele.”

Maddox gave a nod. “Thanks.”

The doors opened to the basement, Steve ushered us into the last van and closed the door behind us, and the three cars rolled out. I understood Maddox’s concern. I really did.

A few years before, in the middle of a red-carpet event, a celebrity was hit with a water bomb. It made the news all over the world for the simple fact that it could have so easily been not-water. What if it had been some kind of acid or a poison? Or some disgusting bodily fluid, or something that person was deadly allergic to? They’d been lucky . . . it had been water.

But it was a bit of a wake-up call. It changed a lot of security standards, for very good reason.

And Maddox was right. That couple at the store had got close enough to touch me, close enough to harm me. They could have hurt Ivan or Steve too. They were trained to know how to handle that, but I wasn’t.

I never thought I’d have to deal with this shit.

“You okay?” I asked Maddox.

He nodded. Kind of. “Better, now that I know they’re increasing security. Christ, Roscoe . . . seeing how close they got to you . . .”

I put my hand on his thigh. “I know. And I appreciate your concern. I do.”

He slid his hand over mine and slung his leg over mine. “No one touches you but me.”

I rubbed my hand up his leg. “Is that right?”

He smirked with an edge in his eye. “Yes.”

“And this outfit you chose to wear tonight,” I murmured. “Is it not a little sexy for a promotional photo event? Were you sewn into these jeans?”

His grin widened. “Consider it foreplay.”

I laughed. “Foreplay?”

“Yep. You’ll be thinking about taking me out of these jeans all night, so when we get back to the hotel, you won’t want to do anything else.”

Goddammit.

He chuckled. “You thinking about it already?”

I laughed and shifted in my seat. “You play a savage game.”

He smirked, but not for long. “Is this a game for you, Roscoe?”

Well, shit.

“No. Is this a game to you, Maddox?”

“No.” He played with my fingers that were resting on his thigh. “No, it’s not.”

Christ. Was this some kind of admission of his feelings?

“How long do we have to be here tonight?” he asked, changing the topic.

“It officially ends at ten.”

“So we leave at ten, right?”

I chuckled. “You’re the boss.”

The event dragged.Yes, the telecom company paid a fortune to have Atrous be the face of their product. Yes, it was a huge deal. Yes, this had been planned for almost a year. And yes, the food was lovely, the venue was gorgeous, the service was exceptional. Neil Ambrose worked the crowd and sponsors like the pied piper, and there really was no wonder why he was the one in charge.

But watching Maddox smile and laugh, pose for photoshoots, watching him charm every man and woman in the place, watching people vying for his attention, his affection, made me want to walk up to him in front of everyone, take a hold of his beautiful face, and kiss him like I knew he liked.

And knowing it was very likely that when we got back to the hotel, I was going to take him to bed, that I would be inside him, made me want to leave.

I’d stayed with Amber and Ryan most of the night, making sure none of the boys needed anything, of course. But it was well managed. These sorts of functions were extremely well catered for, no one wanted for anything. They also had professional photographers who were the only ones allowed so we didn’t need to run interference. Our own security stuck to the wings, and all in all it was a pleasant evening.

But by God, I wanted to take Maddox and leave. It was almost ten o’clock, but every minute felt like thirty.

“Hey,” Jeremy said, bumping shoulders with me. I was leaning against the wall, staying out of the way with Ryan and Amber while keeping an eye on everyone. I hadn’t seen him come over, and I hadn’t noticed Ryan and Amber leave. They were talking to Wes and Luke, smiling about something, and I’d been standing there watching Maddox talk to some exec.

“Oh, hey,” I replied, giving Jeremy my full attention. “Wassup?”

“Was going to ask you the same thing.”

I was confused for a second. “About what?”

“About what’s going on between you and Maddox.”

Oh.

I felt blood drain from my face. “What do you mean?”

Jeremy laughed quietly and turned to where Maddox stood. “I know my boy,” he replied coolly. “And I know when he’s getting some. Now tonight, he keeps searching the room for you and you can’t take your eyes off him. It doesn’t take Picasso to paint this picture, Roscoe.”

I tried to swallow and couldn’t.

“Jeremy, I—”

“Hey,” Maddox interrupted us. He gave us a cautious smile. “What’s going on here?”

Jeremy clapped his hand on Maddox’s shoulder. “Roscoe here was just about to tell me how long you two have been a thing.” He grinned at Maddox. “And then you’re going to tell me why you never told me.”