Josh, who'd not cared a whit that Oats and Rigger had guessed what had happened in the dressing room, felt himself flush scarlet at the firm-voiced declaration. Matisse had claimed him, publicly, in front of thousands, but when he spoke the words for no one but Rigger and Oats to hear, they were suddenly real. Shocked by the wave of emotion, Josh buried his face in Matisse's long hair.
"You okay?" Matisse looked at him, not hiding his concern.
Hiding had almost wrecked them. Josh never wanted to go there again. He slowed his steps, giving himself and Matisse a little privacy. "I was hoping to beg you for a second chance," he said quietly. "I didn't expect you to come out for me."
"I didn't." Matisse's voice was rough and low, but he held Josh's gaze. "I came out for myself. I wanted to tell you what you mean to me, but I couldn't. Not while I was... undercover. It wouldn't have been honest. Now, when I say the words, you can be sure I mean them." The tiny grin curling his lips was a sultry promise. "I plan to say them a lot."
The sudden din made by hundreds of hands hitting glass had Josh rearing back from a damned fine kiss. With the darkness outside, and focussed on Matisse, he'd not noticed they were in a brightly lit, glassed-in walkway. A glassed-in walkway lined on both sides by fans.
"You realise you've just outed the two of you more thoroughly than Mat did on stage. Right?"
The day's insanity was never ending. The sudden swing from misery to euphoria was giving Josh whiplash, but he took a deep breath and grinned at Oats, unrepentant. Beside him, Matisse was waving at his fans, and when Josh spotted a hastily drawn sign held up against the glass, he cracked up laughing.
Our Undercover Star.
He pointed the sign out to Matisse, then kissed him again in full view of all the waiting fans. "They're wrong," he told the man in his arms. "You're mine."
