Code Red by N.R. Walker

Chapter Nine

I hitthe hotel gym at 5:30 am. I hadn’t slept well. My mind was filled with the look of recognition in Jeremy’s eyes, wondering what was going to come of that. Though mostly my head was filled with Maddox. His body, his smile, his taste, his scent. The way he moved underneath me, the way he felt. How he leaned into me, how he responded to my touch, to my kiss. The look of desire in his eyes, the wanting, the need. His face when he came.

Yeah, my head was mostly filled with that.

So I did some weights, and when that didn’t clear my head, I hit the treadmill.

Steve and some of his guys came in around six thirty, and that was my cue to leave. I was drenched in sweat by then anyway, though my head still wasn’t right. A shower didn’t fix me either. I considered jerking off, but that only brought visions of Maddox back when it was those mental images I was trying to get rid of.

I got dressed for the day, in jeans and one of my own shirts, and figured some iced coffees were in order. There was a Starbucks a few doors down. I’d been there before without incident, though this time photographers were snapping pics of me. More than usual. Typically, one or two were nothing new, but this was more than typical. This early in the morning? Christ.

And when I waited in Starbucks for my order—eight iced coffees took a few minutes—I noticed more papzz out the front of the store. And there were enough of them for it to be an issue. Fucking hell. With a long-suffering sigh, I shot a quick text to Steve, asking him to come get me. He and Robbie walked through the doors not more than sixty seconds later.

“Got yourself some fans, I see,” Steve said.

“This is absurd,” I replied. “I was just grabbing some coffee. I’ve done this a thousand times.”

“We had to push through them.” Robbie reassessed the view out the front. “Now they’re blocking the sidewalk.”

Once the order was done, it took Steve and Robbie to get me through the swarm of photographers. It didn’t help that I had my hands full with two cup carriers, but this was ridiculous.

They called my name, “Roscoe, Roscoe, Roscoe,” trying to get me to look at them, but like Maddox would do, I kept my head down and watched where I put my feet. They yelled questions about Maddox, about me, about the interviews yesterday, what Maddox had said, and what the band was doing for the final LA concert tonight. I ignored it all and followed Steve into the hotel lobby as Robbie followed close behind.

Hotel security kept the photographers and reporters out of the hotel, and the silence and room to move was very welcome. I didn’t speak until we were alone in the elevator. “Thanks, guys.”

“No problem,” Steve replied.

“How the boys deal with that shit on the regular is beyond me,” I grumbled.

“You deal with it too, right alongside them,” Robbie said.

“But that’s aimed at them, not me.”

“Hmm,” Steve said. “Might have to look at getting a runner to do your errands. Next stop is Vegas, and it’s not gonna be much different than here.”

I gave a nod as the elevator doors opened and we got out on our floor. I took the drinks to the common room where breakfast was being set up. Amber was there helping, and Ryan came in ten seconds later, and as I handed them their drinks, I told them both about the welcoming committee I had outside.

“The reaction to Maddox’s interview has been interesting,” Amber said.

Before I could reply—that I had no clue what she was talking about—the doors opened and Luke, Blake, Wes, and Jeremy walked in. I didn’t make eye contact with Jeremy, still not prepared to face the wearing-Maddox’s-shirt conversation. “Iced coffee, boys.”

And before anyone could ask where Maddox was, he came in. Showered, hair wet, smiling. He went straight for his iced coffee and turned to give me a nod. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I replied, making the quickest eye contact before looking away. Jeremy was watching, but he was focused more on Maddox than on me, thankfully. I took my drink and sat on the couch and went through the usual social media sites to see what Amber was referring to.

And yes, it was interesting indeed.

Not only were the fans supportive of Maddox saying their private lives were private and that they gave enough of themselves without it being used as a weapon against them for a quick headline, but other celebrities were speaking up too.

A lot of them.

Big names, famous people. Singers, actors, sports stars were all speaking up in support.

“Someone’s trauma isn’t a headline” was used a lot.

Wow.

Even Ambrose was happy with this turn in narrative, and Platinum Entertainment released a formal statement saying they supported Atrous and all other artists, jumping on the bandwagon to claim even celebrities had the right to be treated with respect.

Kinda hypocritical of a company that made many millions of dollars exploiting them, but whatever.

The boys had dance rehearsals all morning and we headed to the stadium early. They had to redo soundchecks and other stage checks, and I was looking forward to the car ride with Maddox.

Only Jeremy climbed in our van at the last minute.

“Is this okay?” he asked, looking at me.

“Yeah, absolutely,” I answered, pretending not to care either way.

Maddox shoved him and laughed, but he could hardly say no, not when Jeremy was already climbing into the van. Maddox gave me a quick glance of frustration but followed Jeremy into the backseat. I took the seat near the door and did my best to damp down my disappointment.

It was a good reminder that I had a job to do and that Maddox’s needs—and all the boys’ needs—were my first priority. If Jeremy wanted to join us, he could.

I just wasn’t looking forward to the possible interrogation I was certain was coming. I waited and waited for him to ask about me wearing Maddox’s shirt, but he never did. They talked and laughed, talked more bullshit, and laughed some more. Their conversation eventually came around to the new attention on social media as they scrolled through hashtags, reading comments and articles.

Maddox seemed . . . happy.

I replied to emails and messages, confirmed dates and locations, and sent copies to both Amber and Ryan’s calendars. Just the usual daily stuff.

Until Maddox’s phone appeared in front of my face as he dangled himself over the back of my chair. “What’s this?”

The photo must have been taken this morning at the coffee shop. “Uh, that was this morning,” I replied.

“It says you went in there alone but must have called security because you were escorted out,” Maddox continued.

“Yeah, I had to call Steve and Robbie to come down to get me.”

“Christ, Roscoe. You should have told me.”

I switched my phone off and turned in my seat so I could see them both better. Maddox mostly. “I haven’t had a minute with you,” I replied. “When was I supposed to tell you?”

Maddox glared at me, then cast his eyes to the front of the van. “Steve?”

“Yes,” Steve said, turning to look at us. “What’s up?”

Maddox’s jaw bulged. “Can you put a guy with Roscoe, please.”

Steve glanced at me, then back to Maddox. “When?”

“All the time. Whenever he’s in public.”

I did my best not to roll my eyes or sigh. “Maddox, that’s not necessary. It was no big deal, honestly. It’s just that I had my hands full and—”

Ignoring me, Maddox looked around me to Steve. “Can you organize that or do I need to run it by Ambrose?”

Steve gave a nod and glanced at me before he turned back around to face the front. “I got it.”

I sighed out loud this time but decided there wasn’t any point in arguing.

Jeremy was scrolling through his phone. He was either oblivious to Maddox’s what the fuck glare at me, or he chose to pretend not to notice. “That’s actually a good photo,” Jeremy said, turning his phone around to show me first, then Maddox. Then he laughed. “Oh my god, the headline. Sexy Roscoe: herding cats pays off.” He chuckled as he read some more. “Uh, this article is pretty much all about your shoulders and biceps.” He read on. “Oh, and your ass.” He showed us the screen again. It was actually a photo zoomed in on my ass.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Maddox snatched his phone and scrolled. “Hmm,” he said, turning the phone sideways. “Well, they’re not wrong.”

I turned back to face the front. “Let me know if they decide to write anything worthwhile.”

I ignored their chatter for a while and they were busy doing whatever on their phones, and soon enough we were at the stadium. They went straight into stage rehearsals and sound checks, while Amber, Ryan, and I spent our time in meetings with Ambrose going over our departure from LA to Vegas. We had two shows in Vegas, then one in San Francisco, one in Seattle, onto a single concert in Vancouver.

LA was busy with interviews and photoshoots, alongside three sold-out concerts, but we had a reprieve from interviews and other public appearances until one in Seattle and two in Vancouver. It was a relief, for me at least.

It would be a few days off from public scrutiny. Traveling was no picnic either, but at least there might be a day or two where Maddox wasn’t a headline. Or me, for that matter.

I never got a spare minute with Maddox all afternoon. Not alone, anyway. There was always someone around: one of the boys, caterers, wardrobe, make-up, sound techs. But I caught him looking my way a few times, and he’d smile or smirk, maybe raise his eyebrow a little. It was like he was flirting without even trying.

And when they were on stage for the concert, we watched the live feed in the dressing room. The crowd was pumping, the mood in the stadium electric, and despite the warm night, the boys gave it everything they had. A hundred people ran tirelessly behind the scenes, yet I couldn’t take my eyes off Maddox.

I’d seen him sing those songs dozens of times, from writing the lyrics to getting the melodies right, to studio recording and vocal practices. I’d seen every dance move so many times I could probably do the choreography in my sleep.

But watching him tonight was different.

In those pants and the way his sweaty shirt clung to his chest, I knew that body. His damp hair reminded me of him in the shower, when we’d been naked together. The way the veins protruded down his neck when he sang, the same way they did when he came.

I knew him differently now. And watching him on stage singing to eighty-something thousand people, all eyes on him, captivating them, enamoring them. They called his name, they sang his songs back to him, they chanted and cried.

They wanted him.

It was intoxicating to think he wanted me and that it was me who had been in bed with him last night.

It was hard to concentrate on much else.

When they came off stage for the last time that night, they were all exhausted, dripping with sweat but smiling.

We did our best to get them changed out of their stage gear, fed and hydrated, and they just about collapsed onto the couches in the dressing room. Though Maddox was dressed quicker than anyone else, which wasn’t like him. We were normally the last to leave, but not tonight.

“See you guys back at the hotel,” he said, then nodded to me and the door to leave.

Okay then.

We climbed into our van and had to wait a second for our driver and security detail. It was half a minute, tops. But Maddox wasted no time. He was sprawled on the seat, tired, sweaty, his legs spread wide, his hands resting on his crotch. His jeans bulged in a way that was sexy as hell. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

I let out a slow breath. We were alone so I could say what I wanted. “Because you’re sex on a plate right now.”

He chuckled and arched his back deliberately and ran his hand over his taut belly. “Mm, sex on a plate. Would prefer a bed or being bent over the back of the couch, but if you want to try a plate . . .”

I bit back a groan. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”

He met my gaze and didn’t look away for a long time. “I missed you today.”

“Missed me?”

“Yeah. You were gone from my bed this morning. Again. And then Jeremy rode in the car with us on the way here. I like it when it’s just us.”

The driver got in and so did Robbie. Steve would no doubt be staying behind to make sure everything and everyone left safely.

I spoke quieter now so only Maddox could hear me. “Jeremy saw me last night. Wearing your shirt.”

“So?”

“So he knew it was your shirt. He knew.”

Maddox sat up and leaned against me, his head on my shoulder. “I don’t care.”

“I do.”

“He won’t care.”

“Pretty sure that’s why he rode with us today. I’m surprised he didn’t say something.” I shrugged. “He probably had every intention of riding with us tonight but you beat him to it.”

“It’s why I was ready first.”

“Maddox—”

“Do you regret what we did?”

His direct question surprised me and he no doubt felt me freeze. “No. I don’t. Do you?”

“Hell no.” He put his hand on my thigh, now dangerously close to my crotch, so I covered his hand with mine to stop him from trying anything.

Then I decided to be completely honest with him. “I tried to regret it. I tried to convince myself that it should probably be just a one-time thing and we should keep this professional and not jeopardize anything, but that was the quickest ten-second thought I’ve ever had. I just can’t . . .  I don’t want to stop,” I whispered. “And even if I did want to, I’m still not sure I could.”

He raised his head off my shoulder to look me in the eye, his face impossibly close. “I don’t want to stop either,” he murmured. Then he put his head back to my shoulder, snuggling in a little. “I like sitting with you like this. I’ve been alone for a long time. I got so used to the loneliness I forgot what it was like. To be with someone. To sit with someone and hold hands.”

I squeezed his hand and risked a kiss to the top of his head, and we rode in comfortable silence back to the hotel. Robbie escorted us inside and into the elevator, and when Maddox put his head back on my shoulder and closed his eyes, Robbie smiled at us. “You gotta be beat, huh?” he said to Maddox. “The show tonight was jumping.”

Maddox straightened, his eyes barely open, and he nodded. “Yeah, tonight was good, but I need some sleep.”

“Did you have enough to eat?” I asked him. “I can order you something else if you want.”

He shook his head. “Nah, I’m good.”

The doors opened to our floor and Robbie held the door. “I’ll head back down and wait for the others. You guys okay?”

“Yeah, we’re good. Thanks,” I replied, and we stepped out into the empty corridor. The doors closed and we were finally alone.

“We are so good,” Maddox said, his voice hoarse. It wasn’t a sore throat, it was his tired voice. He began walking toward his room. “But we’re about to be a whole lot better.”

“Uh, the others’ll be here in about five minutes,” I said.

He swiped his key and held his door open. “Then you better make it a very good five minutes, Mr. Hall.”

I couldn’t help it. I laughed and went inside. “Sure thing, Mr. Kershaw.”

He chuckled as he followed me in and I turned and pulled him close. I slid my hands over his back and shoulders, down to his ass. “I’m all sweaty,” he murmured.

“I don’t mind,” I replied, then I kissed him anyway. His hands found my face and we stood right there in his hotel room, kissing, for what must have been a few minutes. I wanted to do it for longer. All night if I could. With no push for anything more than to kiss him until he forgot his own name.

When I ended the kiss, it took him a few seconds to focus. He had a dopey smile on his face; he was kiss-drunk. I swiped my thumb across his bottom lip. It was plump and wet. “I could kiss you all night,” I whispered.

“You should. All night. I want you to. Just like that, all night long.”

I cupped his jaw, his long earrings at my fingertips. “The others will be here any second. We should go.”

“I’m not staying long. I’m tired as hell.”

He could barely keep his eyelids open as it was. It was cute, but he really needed to sleep. “I can tell.”

He searched my eyes. “I want you to stay with me tonight. All night.”

“Maddox,” I breathed. “I wish I could.”

“But?”

“But . . .” My job, his work, the band, his reputation, my reputation, the company, the fans. “Everything.”

He pouted. “Come back for a little while. I’ll leave the room early. You stay for another five or ten so no one thinks twice. By the time you get here, I’ll be showered and not so gross. Though you didn’t seem to mind it just now.”

I chuckled. “You being all sweaty is the opposite of gross, just so you know.”

“How about I get the concert sweat off me, then you make me a different kind of sweaty later on.”

I laughed, then smacked another kiss on his perfect lips. “I’ll leave when no one suspects anything.”

So that’s what we did.

We made our way to the common room, and just a few seconds later the others arrived. It was mostly a quick congratulations on a successful concert and a run-through of what was happening tomorrow with us moving onto Vegas.

True to his word, when the business side of it was all done, he stood up. “Thank you to everyone for a successful opening,” he said, nodding to the crew that was there. “And you four dickwads,” he joked to Jeremy, Wes, Luke, and Blake. “Love you all, but I’m so freaking tired. I gotta crash.”

He left with a final wave, and Amber’s gaze cut to mine. Was she expecting Maddox to ask to speak to me again, for us to leave together again, or was it something else? I pretended not to notice and I stayed for another long, drawn-out fifteen minutes. Other staff called it a night before me, so it wasn’t like it was obvious, but when I knocked quietly on Maddox’s door, he opened it, pulled me inside, and quickly closed it behind me. He leaned his back against the door, pouting. “Thought you stood me up.”

He was wearing lounge pants and a baggy gray T-shirt. His hair was wet, freshly showered. He’d taken his earrings out, though he still looked gorgeous, of course, but he was clearly tired. “You need some sleep.”

He smirked and pushed off the door, putting his hand on my waist. “Wrong word choice. I need to be taken to bed, yes. Not to sleep.”

He leaned his forehead on my chest and sighed, so I pulled him in for a hug. He fell into me willingly and was heavy in my arms. “You need to be taken to bed,” I murmured against the side of his head.

He chuckled. “You’re a quick learner.”

I led him toward the bed and pushed him onto the mattress. I pulled off my boots and followed him, quickly pulling him back into my arms. I kissed him softly, sweetly, and he hummed, his eyes closed. We kissed like that for a long few minutes, never pushing for more. Just enjoying the sweetness, the intimacy.

It was easy to see he was too tired for much else, so I kissed his cheek, his closed eyelids, his forehead. I ran my fingers through his damp hair, brushing it back, and he was asleep in no time.

He used my arm as a pillow as his lips parted ever so slightly, his long eyelashes casting delicate shadows in the dim light. I traced the line of his eyebrow with my thumb. His cheekbone. His jawline.

He was devastatingly beautiful.

I wished I could have stayed all night with him, and I stayed there for as long as I dared. He felt so good in my arms—warm and muscular edges in all the right places—and he smelled like peaches and oranges. He tasted like heaven. But my eyelids were heavy and my blinks were getting longer, and if I let myself doze, I would sleep until morning and I just couldn’t let that happen.

As much as I wanted to. I just couldn’t.

So with a kiss to his temple, I peeled myself away from him and covered him with the quilt, pulled my boots on, and checked the peephole in the door. The hallway was clear, so I slipped outside and went to my room.

I showered and climbed into bed, wondering when the creeping feeling of regret would come. Or maybe the cold realization that this foolishness would need to end. Or maybe reality would snap its fingers and remind us of our jobs and that it was selfish of us to jeopardize everything.

But none of that came.

Instead, under my breastbone, a small ember of warmth glowed red. A tiny spark of something special caught aflame beneath my ribs. I put the heel of my hand against my sternum to see if I could feel the heat of it through my chest, which was absurd. I laughed at myself for being such an idiot.

But that little ember glowed some more. It burned a little brighter, warmer.

I wasn’t brave enough to give it a name.

Not out loud, anyway.

So I rolled onto my side and closed my eyes, absolutely certain I could smell peaches and oranges on my skin.

The next morning was a rush.I hit the gym early, and when the band members came in for breakfast, Amber, Ryan, and I were busy organizing the move to Vegas. Even though we had logistics down to an art, it was always a pain in the ass and there was always additional stress.

Maddox said hello like he usually did, though there was a hint of a smile in his eyes. We didn’t have any chance to talk or even share more than a passing glance until we were packed up and leaving the hotel for Van Nuys Airport.

“We’re not going through LAX, right?” Maddox asked as we headed toward the van.

“Nope. Thank God.”

The terminal for private charters was not out of the LAX departure terminal. I wasn’t up for dealing with that shitshow. Maddox’s thoughts must have followed the same train of thought as mine. “Sure as hell don’t miss getting through the old check-in.”

“Same.”

Or, more to the point, I didn’t miss the hundreds of fans screaming and pushing. We’d had a few close calls and I’d had to be more bodyguard than manager, but once we’d started flying private charter, my stress levels dropped considerably. As did everyone’s.

And the private plane was a godsend too. We didn’t have that last time and it was a logistical nightmare. We’d done tours on buses too, and that was too exhausting. This time we’d take one plane for all of us, and it was a huge relief for the whole crew.

With all our luggage taken care of, Maddox climbed into the backseat of our van, and as soon as I sat beside him and the door slid closed, he lifted my arm and slung it over his shoulder. He half leaned on me, making himself comfortable in the crook of my arm and playing with my fingers at his chest. “So I was thinking,” he began, “that it’d be a terrible shame if we were a room or two short in Vegas and we had to share.”

I snorted. “Is that right?”

“How does one go about incorrectly booking out a hotel?”

“I don’t know.”

“I woke up at two and you were gone,” he whispered. Then he let out a long sigh. “I didn’t go back to sleep.”

I nudged the side of his head with my chin. Not a kiss but close enough. “You know why I can’t stay.”

“That’s why we need to share a room.”

“They’d put you with one of the boys before they put you with me.”

“Not if we go last and they said, ‘Oh, it looks like we only have one room left,’ and we could say, ‘Oh, that’s a terrible shame, and there’s only one bed? Whatever will we do?’ and then it’d be fine.”

I laughed. “Sounds nice.”

“Oh, and I have your shirt.”

“And I still have yours.”

“You’re not getting it back, just so you know. It’s mine now.”

“Everyone will know it’s mine if you wear it.”

“I don’t care. You can leave the Bruins one too.”

“You’re not getting that.”

“We’ll see.”

“Maddox,” I murmured.

He sighed, and pulling on my arm around his shoulder, he pressed my hand to his chest. “So, tonight . . . will we have any time together?”

“I don’t know. I’ll try.”

“I sleep better when you’re there with me.”

“I almost fell asleep in your bed last night. You were so warm and you smelled so good.”

He turned then, sitting up a little and surprising me with a kiss. We were in the backseat and Steve and our driver couldn’t see us unless they were actively looking, which they weren’t. But still. This was risky.

I didn’t care about that for too long though. He cupped my cheek, and his lips were soft and urgent.

“Stay with me tonight,” he murmured. “Please.”

Christ.

“I’ll try. No promises though.”

This time when he sat back, he leaned against the door and slung his leg over my thigh. Those black jeans with holes across the knees, tight across his muscular thighs . . . tight in all the right places. It’d be so easy to lean over him, lay my weight on him, and kiss him how I really wanted . . .

I swear he could read my mind. “You can if you want,” he said with a delicious smirk.

“I can what?”

His smile became a grin. “You’re looking at me like you want to do very bad things to me.” He pushed his leg up my thigh, a little closer to my crotch. “And I won’t stop you.”

I chuckled and squeezed his knee. “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

He laughed and pulled his leg back, ticklish. My gaze went to Steve, but he never turned around. I smacked Maddox’s thigh. “You’re gonna get us in trouble.”

Maddox, now sitting up, took my hand. “I don’t care.”

But I did. It was easy for him to say he didn’t care—there would be zero ramifications for him—but it could very well cost me my job. Even if he swore it wouldn’t. Ultimately it wasn’t his call.

“Have you read the reviews on last night’s concert?” I asked instead.

“Nope. And I don’t want to see it. The guys were reading a few this morning, laughing about it. It’s all kinda crazy.” He sighed. “It messes with your head if you read all the hype. You start believing it and . . . you know, it’s not real. It’s crazy-fame shit, talking about how I’m this and how I’m that, and then I log off and I’m just me. I’m not that guy they think I am or who they hype me up to be.”

“True.” I shrugged. “You’re better in real life.”

Maddox smiled and he nudged his knee to mine. “I did look for more Roscoe stuff though,” he admitted. “You have fan clubs on social media now.”

“Which is ridiculous.”

He chuckled again. “I was going to make a fake account just to join so I could squeal with all the other fanboys and girls.”

I snorted out a laugh. “God, please don’t do that.”

“Imagine the photos I could leak. I mean, if you’d let me take photos of you . . . of us.”

I laughed again. “Then I would get fired.”

He took his phone out and opened the camera, holding it out for a selfie of us. He dropped his head onto my shoulder, so I leaned my cheek against the top of his head, and we smiled for the photo. He studied the photo for a long while, then lightly touched the screen. “I like this,” he murmured.

“You look great,” I added. He looked great in every photo. “Me, on the other hand . . .”

“Are you kidding me?” He sat up, his expression disbelieving. He showed me the photo again. “Are you blind?”

“I hate photos of me.”

He tapped the screen and brought up his last internet search. It was me. A lot of photos of me, mostly walking in public with him, by his side or one step behind. “Look at how fucking fine you are,” he said. “And I hate to tell you, but the world is right. You are the sexiest manager.”

“What were you just saying about all that hype being bullshit?”

“It’s bullshit when it’s about me. Not you.”

I rolled my eyes. “Sure.”

Steve turned around. “ETA, ten minutes.”

Maddox sighed. “No more alone time,” he mumbled.

“We’ve survived so far, haven’t we?”

Maddox straightened up and met my eyes. He made a face and turned back to the front, clearly deciding not to say what he was about to say.

“What?” I prompted. Was he hurt by that? Offended?

“Are things not different now?” he asked. “With us?”

“Well, yeah. Kind of.”

“Kind of.”

“Behind closed doors, yes.”

He nodded slowly but again, chose silence.

“Maddox, can’t we just enjoy this? Whatever this is.” We really hadn’t talked about what it was or, god forbid, put a label on it. “It’s new, and it’s just ours. Can’t we keep it that way? Without the complication of management, the band, the staff.”

He chewed on his bottom lip for a few seconds. “Whatever this is,” he repeated. “Whatever this is . . .”

“Well, what would you call it?” Christ. We’d known each other for years. I’d worked with him, for him, for four years. The hand-holding, the making out, and sexual side of this was just a few days old.

Maddox swallowed hard. His voice was quiet when he said, “I’d call it . . . good. That’s what I’d call it. And I don’t want it to end.”

“So we need to protect it, right?”

“I don’t like lying to the guys,” he whispered. “I don’t like hiding or having to censor myself. It’s not who I am.”

“I know. I don’t like it either. But we need to look at the bigger picture here. We’ve just started a tour. We’re down three shows out of twenty-three and we’ve got a long way to go. And this thing, this good thing,” I used his words, “is still very new. Let’s just test the waters before we go doing things that can’t be undone.”

“Is that common sense you’re using against me?”

“I think so.”

He pouted. “I know what you’re saying, and I know it makes sense.”

“But?” There was definitely a but.

“But if any of the guys ask, I won’t lie to them.”

I sighed. “Fair enough. Though Jeremy’s already seen me wearing your shirt, so there’s a good chance he suspects something.”

Maddox sighed and leaned against me again, riding the rest of the trip in silence. We drove into the private terminal and our time alone together was coming to an end. Maddox lifted our joined hands and he kissed my knuckles. “You’ll come to my room tonight if you can, yes?”

I nodded. “If I can.”

The van slowed to a stop, and a second later, the door slid open. I climbed out first and waited for Maddox to get out. He had his cap pulled down low, his baggy black clothes hiding his body.

He could have worn a dirty potato sack and still been gorgeous.

Maddox put his hand on my back as we walked inside the terminal. He was swallowed up by the guys, talking and laughing, and I went to the service desk where Amber and Ryan were.

And we were both right. The day was beautiful, yes. I watched him practice, I watched him dance, I watched the way his body moved, I watched his throat when he sang. I watched him smile and laugh and pant for breath and lay on the stage when rehearsals were done. I could watch him forever.

But he and I barely spoke more than five words and were never alone until I knocked on his bedroom door at 10:00 pm.

He opened the door and smirked. The room was dark and he looked tired, but as soon as I brushed past him, he gripped my arm. The door closed and he pulled me in for a hug. “About time,” he grumbled into my chest.

“Been a long day,” I whispered. I rubbed his back and he moved under my touch much like a cat. “Need a massage?”

He chuckled and raked his hand down to my ass. “I need something.”

I slid my hand along his jaw and brought him in for a kiss. It started sweet and soft, but as soon as our tongues touched, he groaned and deepened the kiss. He pawed at my shirt, trying to get it off me, breaking the kiss to laugh. He got mine off me and I made quick work of his T-shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it toward the bed.

“On the bed, face down,” I ordered.

His eyes went wide and he grinned. “You just gonna do me like that? No asking nicely . . .”

I laughed and turned him by his shoulders, push-walking him toward the bed. “Massage, Maddox. Nothing else.”

“There better be something else,” he groused as he kneeled on the bed. I could see how his track pants were tented.

I gripped his hips from behind and kissed his shoulder. “Do you want my mouth on you?”

“Fuck yes,” he groaned.

“Lie down,” I whispered. “Massage first.”

I followed him onto the bed, kneeling astride his thighs. He put his hands up underneath the pillows, and his back stretched beautifully. He had a dancer’s body. All those hours of hip hop and choreography had made him lithe and muscular. He was fit enough to sing and dance on stage for hours, and by god, he felt good under my hands.

I rolled the heels of my hands up his back, pressing my thumbs into the muscle. I had no massage oils, so I didn’t push too hard, but I ironed out the knots in his shoulders. And if the moans coming out of Maddox were any clue, I’d say I did a pretty good job.

Kneeling over him though, straddling his ass, pushing against him, having him between my legs and touching him and having him moan like that, it was hard not to be turned on. Hearing him writhe and grunt didn’t help either.

Then he widened his thighs and raised his ass up a little. “Lie down on me,” he whisper-moaned. “Wanna feel your weight on me.”

But I did as he asked, aligning my cock with the crack of his ass, and I slowly pressed down on his back. I slid my hands up his arms and threaded our fingers while I kissed his shoulder, the nape of his neck, behind his ear. I rolled my hips, both loving and cursing my jeans for the friction. “Like how it feels?” I whispered into his ear.

He shivered and his breath caught. “Hell yes.”

I ground against his ass again, my erection rubbing him in all the right places, and he tried to rise to meet my thrust. He wanted it . . .  It would be so easy to undo my fly and pull his track pants down, just far enough . . .

I stilled and had to make myself rise up off his body. He whined, so I kissed his shoulder again. “Roll over,” I urged him. “Time to do the front.”

He twisted himself around so he was on his back. His torso rippled with the movement, his hand ran down his taut stomach to his dick, and he gave himself a squeeze through his sweatpants. He was fully hard now, his eyes were dark and heavy lidded, his smile sultry and delicious.

I slid one knee in between his thighs and positioned his legs until I was between them. I leaned over him and kissed his mouth, his jaw, his neck. I kissed all the way down to his stomach and palmed his erection. I pulled the elastic of his pants down and wrapped my fingers around his shaft. I nuzzled my nose into him, inhaling the very scent of him, then licked up the underside of his cock before taking him into my mouth.

“Oh, holy fuck,” Maddox murmured, arching his back a little.

I took as much of him in as I could and sucked, swirled my tongue, and swallowed around him. He gripped my hair and tried to move his legs, but I held him still and sucked him harder.

“Roscoe,” he groaned, a pained sound. A heavenly sound. “Gonna come so fast.”

Oh fuck. The way he said my name.

He ran his hands over his chest, over his face, through his hair, trying to grasp on to some kind of control. He fisted the comforter at his sides and arched his back as he came, coming in spurts down my throat.

His body twitched, his thighs trembled, and he moaned indecipherable sounds that ended in a chuckle. I pulled his sweatpants up to cover him and he did a whole-body shudder and laughed again.

“Christ,” he breathed, smiling that lazy post-orgasm smile, and he pulled me by my shirt until I was lying on top of him. He wrapped me up in his arms and snuggled into my neck . . . until he must have realized what was poking him in the belly. “You almost enjoyed it as much as me,” he said, sliding his hand in between us to palm me.

“You said my name just before you came,” I said, kissing up his jaw to his ear. “It almost ended me right then.”

He rolled us over so I was on my back, and he grinned down at me and he purred my name. “Rossssscoe.” He maneuvered himself between my legs, popped the button on my jeans, and slowly undid the fly. He ran his hands up my thighs, over my hips, digging his fingers in, then roughly pulled my jeans and briefs down. “Fucking hell,” he whispered. “Such a beautiful sight.”

I needed . . . something. So I gripped my base, hard enough to stem the orgasm that was lingering just under the surface.

Maddox batted my hand away. “Don’t touch,” he said before licking up the shaft. He tongued the slit and kissed the head. “This is mine.” Then he proceeded to tease and taste, moan and murmur, pump me and please me . . . but not enough. Like he wanted to see how far he could push me, edge me.

I wanted to grip his hair and thrust into his throat. I wanted to come so bad. But of course I wouldn’t do that to him . . . unless he wanted it. “Maddox,” I warned. “No games. I need you to—”

He laughed, then proceeded to take every inch of me into his mouth. He finished me so fast, so intense and so fucking good, the room spun. He drank me, swallowing every drop, his tongue licking me clean. I saw stars, and I swear to god, my soul left my body.

He crawled up to kiss me softly, victorious and grinning, then proceeded to lie on top of me. “You have more self-control than I gave you credit for,” he said casually.

I rolled us over, making him laugh, and he clung to me. I wrapped him up in a tight embrace, my leg over his hip, and he hummed happily. I was going to just lie like that for a little while, enjoy the moment, the sweetness and the closeness. I was eventually going to peel myself away and let him sleep, then go back to my room.

I just closed my eyes for a second.

The next thing I knew, my alarm went off. Maddox was in the bed next to me, sound asleep. His black hair was strewn across his forehead, his lips slightly parted. He grumbled at the noise of my alarm but didn’t fully wake. “Turn it off,” he groused, his voice thick with sleep.

I shot out of bed and found my phone, surprised to see I was still wearing undone jeans and socks. I found my shirt, pulled on my shoes, and glanced at Maddox. He was on his belly, his arms up under his pillow. Shirtless, wearing his sweatpants, sleep-rumpled, and absolutely beautiful.

Fuck it.

I leaned on the mattress and kissed his head. “It’s morning,” I said. “I gotta go.”

He smiled, burying his face into a pillow. And I prayed no one saw me leave.