Page 31 of Veiled

“I’m not. Listen to me,” I say softly against his lips, kneeling in front of him now. “I’ve seen you play for thousands, and I’ve seen you play for hundreds. For tens. And just for me.”

“So?” he bites out.

“So every time, it’s the same. There’s a moment where you let go, and it’s just you and your guitar. You want these songs out there for the world, and they should be. You want to write what you want, and you should. But you love this part too. The live playing.”

“So I can do it at bars.”

“You really think it’s enough?” I have to ask because I know deep inside, he’s meant for this. And the going from small town to small town, the hiding, it’s going to whittle him down to nothing. To being bitter and angry again.

“What do you want from me?” he asks quietly.

“I want what you want. I want you to write what you want, and I want you to perform, but this is...”

“What?” he asks, putting his guitar to the side, and I move into him.

“It won’t last, and you know it. You’ll go back to being bitter.”

He looks pained by that, his hands going to my sides and holding me there, not that I was going to go anywhere. “I know.”

I’m surprised he didn’t argue, but I just kiss him instead of saying anything else. I don’t think we need to talk more about it. We both know he can’t just put being Justin St. James back into the bottle. It doesn’t work like that.

We kiss, and I press him back so he’s lying flat on the grass, my hands on his chest. I undo his jeans and my pants quickly, freeing our dicks as we rut against each other on the baseball field.

Never thought this was a fantasy of mine, but here we are. It’s hot as hell as we grind and kiss, his hands gripping my ass as I wrap a hand around our shafts, and we fuck into it. My cock slides against his until I come, and he follows me over. We lie like that for a long time, just kissing, not worrying about the mess we made until I go to the car to grab some wet wipes.

We clean up, then kiss some more before he grabs his guitar and plays me more songs. Beautiful songs that go straight to the heart.

Yeah, the world needs these songs, and they need Justin to sing them.

Chapter Sixteen

JUSTIN

Yeah, I don’t know what the hell is going on. When I left Kansas City, I thought I had it all figured out. I thought I knew what I was doing. That I didn’t want to be Justin St. James, the rockstar, anymore. I wanted nothing to do with Immoral.

I was going to play in small bars and maybe quietly record some songs and release them, but goddamn Waylon had to come along and show me the flaws in all my plans. He reminded me of how much I love performing.

It doesn’t really matter where. But I do love the sound of the crowd. I love the idea of reaching millions of people on that kind of level that only music can reach. He showed me just how much I love the music and the fans.

This isn’t good.

I thought I had it all figured out, but I didn’t know anything. I’m lost and aimless. But when he kisses me, like he’s doing now, everything makes more sense and less, all at the same time.

“What are we doing?” I say breathlessly against his firm lips.

“Kissing,” Waylon says easily, lifting my shirt up and off. “Maybe more.”

“You know what I mean.” I say, letting my shirt fall and unbuttoning his. “Is it still just sex?” I have to ask because it doesn’t feel like it. Something has shifted. I can get lost in him just like I can get lost in music, and that’s new for me.

I’m addicted.

I find myself reaching for Waylon even more than I reach for my guitar, and that’s saying a lot. He kisses my lips, his hand going through my hair at the back of my head. “I don’t know. I’m your manager.”

“I can fire you again,” I say with a small smile.

He bites my bottom lip. “I’m a very busy man.”

I frown, thinking back over the years and his lack of dating. I assumed he was hooking up, but since I’ve known him, he’s never had a relationship. “You don’t want a relationship?”

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