I wave him off. “I’m fine. I’m always fine. Sober as can be.”
Chris squeezes his eyes shut tight and pinches his nose. “I’m not worried about your sobriety. I’m worried aboutyou. You’d tell me…” He trails off, his gaze quickly flicking to Benji before bouncing back to me. “You’d tell me if you needed anything, right?”
I snort. “Definitely not.”
“The label isn’t my client. You are. Remember that?”
With a large amount of regret, I sit up to stare blankly back at Chris. “Is this some come-to-Jesus moment or something? What the fuck is going on?”
Chris holds his hands up like I’m a velociraptor on the prowl. “No, I just wanted you to hear the words.” He pulls out his phone and scrolls through something. “So, we’ve got these five days in France, three days in Sweden, a small break for Christmas, after we fly to South America for New Year’s and start the second leg of the tour.”
“I don’t need a break for Christmas,” I tell him pointedly.
Chris rolls his eyes. “Yes, but your crew does, and so do I. I need to go home and see my wife and grown children.”
I always forget he’s married with kids. Mostly because half the time it feels like he’s some weird type of father figure to me. Although, I’ll never admit that out loud. Ever.
“Fine.”
“Thank you,” Chris says sarcastically.
He shares one final look with Benji before disappearing back out of the hotel room. The sun is setting beyond the building, an orange glow casting over the hotel room. I’m exhausted from traveling to France. I just want to curl up on the couch and let Benji pretend I’m something worth his time. But our time is also coming to a close and there’s something very particular I want on our rare night free from practice, from the stage, from Nolan Hastings. Tonight, I’ll just be Nolan.
“I want to say no tonight,” I say bluntly.
Benji’s startled blue eyes flick to me. “Seriously?”
I crawl across the velvet couch to straddle his lap. His palms settle on my hips, a familiar, reassuring weight. “I’ll say no and you’ll fuck me anyway. Be rough with me.”
Benji’s eyebrows furrow in deep thought. His thumbs sweep over my hip bones in this maddening swiping motion that already has me half out of my mind.
“One day you’ll let me be soft with you,” Benji says quietly, like a secret.
My heart cracks in half. “No, that’s a dream, stud.”
Benji looks away from me, throat bobbing on a hard swallow. “It’s a good dream.”
I curl my fingers over his jaw, turning his head so that he has to look at me once more. Our eyes meet and it feels like a flash of lightning. Want and need and another word that I can’t put a name to flash through me all at once. I dip down to kiss him, gliding my lips softly over his always sweet mouth.
Benji pulls away from me to roughly grasp my jaw. “Tell me exactly how you want it to go. I need a plan.”
“I’ll be in the bedroom, undressing by the bed, and you’ll rush into the room riled up and angry. You’ll shove me onto the bed, push my face into the pillows, and fuck me face down on the bed, ignoring every single one of my cries and stops and noes. That’s what I want. That’smydream.”
“And your safe word?” Benji asks, voice carefully neutral.
I grin with all my teeth. “Azure.”
Benji’s cock is hard underneath me when I shift over him. Perpetual sunshine has a kinky side, that much I know. After a few quiet moments, Benji shoves me off his lap. He runs a shaky hand over his face, then nods toward the bedroom.
“Go on. You’ve got fifteen minutes to get ready.” His eyes narrow slightly. “And I’m fucking you without a condom so I can see my cum drip from your ass afterward.”
“You’re learning,” I comment, hoping to sound like an asshole but knowing I sound more besotted than anything. I hate myself for it.
Benji gestures toward the bedroom. “Go.”
For once in my life, I listen. The walk from the living room to the bedroom is twenty-three steps. Each step feels like it takes hours. Asking an escort to do this with me was never in thecards. Something about doing this with Benji is so vulnerable, like I’m showing him my hand of cards that I keep so tight to my chest.
My hands tremble as I get myself ready for Benji in the bathroom. I won’t meet my gaze in the mirror, I can’t, not now. I wonder what Benji sees when he looks at me. Does he see someone whole? Does he see someone perilously close to the edge? Or maybe he just sees me for what I am; a broken and lost man.
