Page 30 of Syncopation
Oh hell.Yes. But no as well. Theycould notgo on like this. Ray’s desire pulled too much against his own.
“Yeah?” Ray’s voice was breathless, sweet, and so very tempting.
“I know I was an asshole about the drumming thing in high school. Ray, I love being in your band.” Truth. He stepped in closer, their arms skin to skin. “And you’re an astounding musician. Don’t let anyone—anyone—tell you differently.” Zavier whispered the words against Ray’s neck.
A shiver and a gasp, and then those golden eyes looked into his own. “You mean that?”
“With every fiberof my being.” He released Ray’s elbow slowly and stepped back, giving them both the space they needed before their asshole manager arrived.
“Ray,” Carl snapped.
For a moment Ray didn’t respond to the call. He nodded at Zavier, then turned. “Yes?”
“I want to talk to you about the opening song.”
Zavier gritted his teeth—but Ray didn’t, and that was something.
“No,” Ray said,his voice calm. A thrill zipped through Zavier.Yes.
“What?” Carl took a step back.
“I’m not changing my mind.” Ray put his hands into his pocket. “We’re opening with ‘Lightning’ tonight. If it flops, then we can talk about it, and I’ll even give you a shaker of salt to rub into the wound.”
So very delightful to see Carl staring back, his ears red and words failing to form on his lips.“Fine.” He stepped back. “I’ll be watching.”
Ray’s nod was pretty much a dismissal before he turned back to Zavier. “We should go get changed.”
“Yeah.” They made their way to the dressing room. For Zavier, it wasn’t so much changing as putting on layers he could strip off as the night progressed. By the end, he expected to be bare-chested and drenched in sweat, like every rock drummeron tour.
Dom was already in the room, working on perfecting his messy hair and makeup. Mish sat in her tights and red dress, watching. “I swear, honey, you use more makeup than me.”
“I do,” Dom said. “And you know it. But here.” He tossed her something. “I found this lipstick the other day.”
She caught it, and inspected the tube. “Not my color.” She studied Ray, then Zavier in turn,and tossed it to Zavier. “It’ll go with your eyes and all that black you wear—or don’t wear.”
The shade was a bright purple. Not maroon or burgundy or one of the purplish reds, but atruepurple. He stared at it for a moment.
“Ever worn makeup?” Ray’s lilt was a touch on the snotty side, as if he expected the answer to be no.
Without replying, Zavier set the lipstick down in frontof his dressing station, and slowly stripped off his shirt.
Ray’s eyes widened and his gaze flicked all over Zavier’s body. The ink, of course. Ray hadn’t exactly been subtle in his admiration before, and he wasn’t now, not licking his lips like that.
Mish turned away, but her grin was huge. “Should I leave so you can drop trou, too?”
He shrugged and stretched his arms. “I do needto change pants.” He had a variety he could wear, from loose and flowing to skintight and leather. “But I haven’t decided which yet.” He met Ray’s lustful look. “Leather?”
The hitched breath was the best. Ray shook himself. “Up to you, dude.” With that, he turned to his own wardrobe.
Dom rubbed his chin. “It’s probably as cool tonight as it’s gonna get on this tour. So if you’re seriousabout the leather, wear them. I think our fans would...appreciate the look.”
“What Dom means is that you have a stunning ass and great legs,” Mish said.
“Which they’re not going to see for most of the show.” That from Ray.
Hewould know what Zavier was wearing. “There’s the three-song acoustical set.” They’d set the stage up so he’d be out front for those, standing and playing withthe others—like being back in the orchestra, but so much more charged, and close to the audience.
A grunt from Ray, and a sideways look as he pulled his clothes out. “Gonna wear the lipstick?”
“Yes. And the leather pants.”
Ray looked like he was trying not to smile.
“Yes, I have worn makeup before. Eyeliner. Lipstick. Contouring. Goth nights were thebest.”
There was Ray’sactual smile. “Okay. Let’s get dressed and do this.”
Zavier’s nerves vanished as certainty slipped over him. Ray would win tonight, and Carl would eat his fucking words.
