Page 53 of Faithful

“Don’t worry,” Kai says reassuringly. “No one enters my room without permission.”

I turn around and watch him moving toward me slowly, each step measured. When he reaches my personal space, he plasters his body to mine and sinks his fingers into my curls.

“Are you real?” His breath meets my cheek, a warm caress.

Perhaps if it was someone else asking me this question, I would have thought he was insane and told him to get lost. With Kai, I’m used to being subjected to strange shit, like right now–him cupping my face roughly and biting my lower lip, then licking it with his tongue to soothe the sting his teeth caused.

“Are you?” I ask, resting both palms on his neck and tangling my fingers in his hair.

He smirks. “Maybe.” He kisses me gently. “Doesthisfeel real?”

I answer with a brush of my own mouth against his.

He moans quietly while his hands wander around my body, mapping the muscles of my back and shoulders.

“Pity you have to go,” I whisper in his ear, trying to clamp down on all myquite inconvenient at the momentemotions and lust.

Kai does the exact opposite. He drops one hand to my crotch and–very unceremoniously–palms my cock and squeezes it. “Pity indeed.”

I barely suppress my groan as my knees go weak.

We break apart and he holds my gaze for a little longer before stepping away to grab his coat that’s hanging on the chair.

“Don’t you dare leave this room,” he says, walking backward toward the door, his eyes firmly on mine.

He slips both arms into the sleeves to cover up his scars while maneuvering around the suitcase.

“I won’t,” I reply as I watch him exiting into the corridor.

Since I don’t know how long band meetings typically last, I decide to unpack and settle in. Sadly, it’s not enough of a distraction when I’m half-erect and desperate for release, but when it’s a choice between jerking off and waiting for Kai to return so we can get off together properly, it’s always the latter.

After all my clothes and toiletries have been assigned their respective places inside the suite, I hop into the shower.

A generous portion of cold water does the job, and my cock finally calms down. A temporary fix, of course, but it’ll do while I’m scrubbing myself clean.

My mind is racing a thousand miles a second because I’ve never had so much time to myself before in the sense of the freedom to do whatever (and whoever) I want and it’s scary. All of a sudden, I’m lost among the possibilities.

There is a week of this.

A week to figure out what the hell is happening between us.

Too preoccupied by my own thoughts and the rhythmic beating of the water–that’s been adjusted to warm–against my skin, I don’t notice how time flies.

At one point it’s just me and my anxious solitude and then it’s Kai’s chest at my back, his fingers running small circles over my stomach and pectorals, touching the new ink.

“Just returning the favor.” He kisses my neck. “For sneaking in on me in Nashville.”

I feel myself getting hard again. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He spins me around and shoves me against the tiled wall of the shower. We’re both away from the spray of water now, staring at each other through the steam.

“This is new.” Kai’s gaze drops to the eagle occupying a portion of my pec and he traces the outlines of the tat with his ringed fingers. He’s wearing a fresh coat of black nail polish, not yet chipped. And the color matches the color of my ink.

I’m shivering from the intensity of this exchange–the feather-like touch, the proximity of his lithe, sexy body, the heavy weight of anticipation.

“Do you like it?” I ask.

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