Page 1 of Resist

PROLOGUE

Iturn the TV off and let the hotel room lapse into silence, the darkness surrounding me only interrupted by my bandmate’s snores. The rhythmic sound is as familiar as my own breathing, but it’s not enough to relax my troubled soul for me to sleep tonight.

My eyes land on the bed I should be sleeping in, one side of the covers pulled back, the other wrapped tightly around him.

He’s the reason I can’t sleep.

I stare at his unmoving form, wishing he were as troubled as I am and understood why everything is changing yet staying the same all at once.

We are on our way to the top and finally getting our big break with this tour. The world knows our names, and all the tiny shows and empty seats are finally worth it, but I can’t help missing the simplicity of our lives then.

The contract we signed today burns a hole in my bag, the words echoing in my head and heart, reminding me why I’m so restless.

I can’t have him.

It wasn’t blatantly stated in so many words, but it might as well have been.

Can I stop these urges and feelings?

I have to if we want to make it to the top. This is our time, and I won’t ruin that for us all because of this forbidden love inside me.

He isn’t mine, and he can’t be, so why do I wish he were?

Why do I wish he loved me like I love him?

No, I must resist.

I have to.

ONE

A year ago . . .

My voice fills the club, along with the pounding drums and shredding guitars as we perform. I slide my hand down my torso, my oversized black shirt coming loose, exposing my muscles underneath. My leather pants are so tight, they leave nothing to the imagination as I thrust and dance.

I feel Fox before the crowd cheers.

He presses against my back, but I continue to sing, trying not to mess up the lyrics as his hand slides around me, taking over from where I was, and I shudder under his caress. The crowd gasps as he rips open the rest of my shirt, exposing my slick chest and abs. I lean back into him, seeking his warmth and strength.

It doesn’t help that his hand keeps sliding down, and anticipation fills me along with desire. It’s wrong to get hard on stage, and it’s wrong how much I love the show he puts on for the fans, especially since it isn’t real. We only do this on stage, but it feels real, leaving me flustered and panting as I sing. His long, talented fingers that spend hours plucking strings strokemy skin lower and lower for the crowd as our lead guitarist flirts with their favorite lead singer.

I don’t know when we became like this. It just happened, our flirting getting worse, and the crowd, no matter the size, eats it up every time, but Fox has started to push how far he takes it. My eyes widen as he slides his hand lower and grabs my dick through my jeans.

I jerk, but he keeps me in place, holding my cock as he grinds with me to the music as the crowd claps and sings along. Die-hard fans know the lyrics, while others just dance. His mouth brushes my ear, making me shiver as I drop the mic for the drum solo.

I should pull away, but I don’t. Instead, I lean into his touch, and his lips tilt in a smile. His words are just for me, nobody else.

“You feel good, dirty boy.” He places a teasing kiss against my pulse and releases me, moving past me as he grabs his guitar. Swinging it around, he appears totally unaffected while I pant and gawk at him.

Before Fox, I was always the ever cool, unaffected Ryker, the bad boy of Sanctuary, but something about him puts me on edge, and I’m unable to fake it with him.

Fox, on the other hand, smirks at the crowd and drops to his knees as he leans back, shredding his solo, his built chest glistening with sweat and ink under the lights. His hair is a deep, midnight blue at the moment, and it’s slicked back with sweat and gel. His eyes are outlined and darkened with liner, and his lips are bright red with two spikes in his bottom lip.

More piercings line his ears on both sides, and he has one in his nose and one in his eyebrow. He looks like every rock star should, with a perfect fucking face that drives everyone wild and bulging muscles in his arms as he works the guitar.

There is nothing sexier than the way Fox plays, and he knows it.

He eats it up, working the crowd like he works me.

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