Page 37 of Veiled

The crowd is insane. The bar is well-known, and even though they only had a week to prepare for Justin’s concert, it’s packed. But the security is good, and people aren’t getting in without a ticket.

Tickets that were priced low because Justin insisted, and he’s donating the profits to charity. Kind of cool. So cool, I donated my 10 percent cut too. But they sold out within minutes, and I don’t think one of those tickets went unused.

There are people gathered outside the bar too, but there’s a car waiting to take Justin out of here, as well as security guards waiting to escort us out.

He doesn’t look nervous in the slightest. Not hesitant at all. He was born for this. He starts playing, and the entire bar goes quiet. Listening intently to his brand-new songs. Songs he wrote himself.

Songs Daisy was happy to produce. The album isn’t live yet. They’re hearing these songs for the first time right now.

And they are captivated.

We all are.

My heart pangs with a sudden sharp pain because I know that it’s really not necessary for me to drive him back to the cabins. Not really. He doesn’t need me any more than my other clients now.

We could meet up for contracts and planning, but I don’t need to stay.

He sings into the microphone and plays his guitar, singing his heart out, but I can feel his eyes on me.

No. I can’t stay. I really, really shouldn’t.

I’m smarter than this, damn it.

Chapter Nineteen

JUSTIN

Holy shit, that was fun.

I didn’t know it could be so fun. It was even better than the tiny bars I’d been playing and better than the world tours. It was downright electric. I could feel the excitement. It was somehow just... perfect. It was exactly what I wanted. Not small, but not overwhelmingly huge.

They were there for me, and they were there for the songs I wrote.

I can barely wait for Waylon to unlock the hotel room door, sliding his keycard in just as my lips meet his. I don’t care if anyone sees. I don’t care if anyone knows I’m with him that way.

I mean, I guess I’m not, but it feels like I am. He’s on my mind all the damn time. I was thinking about him on stage and how he made all this happen. How he didn’t just write me off and call me an idiot when I left.

He fought for me.

That’s a big deal. That matters. And I have him.

I kiss him hard, hating to pull away, even if it’s just to remove our clothing. Wanting every part of me touching every single part of him. He made this happen for me. Do I think it’s going to be totally simple from here on out? Of course not. But Daisy really seems to get it.

To get me. And Waylon found her for me.

When we’re finally naked and on the bed, suddenly I’m not in such a rush anymore. I don’t want this to end. I was a grumpy asshole, hoping like hell I could hide from the world—or so I thought—but really maybe in the back of my mind, I knew he’d come for me.

He seemed to figure it out and fix it. Making me feel safe in ways no one has ever done for me. I kiss his neck and move down over his chest, giving attention to each nipple. My tongue lashes over each one before sucking the hard nub and then lowering my mouth further.

His hands go to my hair, tugging a little extra hard—just the way I like. It makes me feel wanted and secure, but he doesn’t direct my movements. He just lets me know he’s there. Like he always is.

My ever-steady rock.

When I swallow his dick and hear that sexy shout of surprise, I can’t help smiling around his engorged cock. It jerks when it hits the fleshy back of my throat, and I fight my gag reflex but refuse to pull off him. I want to devour him.

I want to kiss him and suck his dick, and fuck him and have him fuck me, all at once. I want to live right fucking here. Never come up for air. I’m not sure what the hell is happening, but I don’t want to fight it. It just feels right.

His hand tugs on my hair, and he’s breathless when he says my name. “Justin... so close. I want you inside me. Please.”

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