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“Every cop in the city knows my father. If the press finds out who you’re hanging out with, then…”
“The media already hates me,” Aran says, voice rough. He rests his face closer to my side and inhales deeply, like he’s breathing me in.
“I don’t think they—”
“They do,” he cuts me off, not looking up. His hand slides over my stomach and holds on tight. “I agreed to an interview.”
“Sounds like a confession,” I say, combing my fingers through his hair. “Maybe it’s good. You can tell your side of the story, set the record straight, show people who you really are.”
Aran snorts. “People already made up their minds about me. An interview won’t change shit. They want to see me as a murderer, so that’s what they see. And they’re right. If I wasn’t locked into this fucking contract, I’d have disappeared into a cave somewhere by now.”
“What contract?” This is the first I’m hearing about it.
“Five gigs. Then I’m free. Did you think I wanted to jump back on stage right after getting out?”
“I’ll admit… I’ve thought about you a lot, but not about that.”
“What did you think about?”
Aran’s hand glides over my hip, down my thigh, and starts kneading my balls. A spark shoots through me.
“I…” The breath leaves me as his fingers wrap around my cock. “I wondered why you’re here instead of visiting your family. But maybe you already did…”
“No.” His voice sounds sad and distant.
“They live here in New York?”
“Boston.”
“You don’t have a good relationship?”
“I don’t know. Haven’t heard from them since I went inside. I’m taking that as they want nothing to do with me.”
“Maybe they were just shocked.”
“Can we talk about something else?”
He sounds like a lost kid. I and rub the back of his neck, and we’re silent for a while. I love watching him soak up my touch. He lies there with his eyes closed, hand still between my legs. It feels too perfect.
“When’s the next concert?”
“Day after tomorrow. Friday.”
“Is that even legal? Holding you to a five-year-old contract?”
“Against a major label we don’t stand a chance. My lawyer’s good—she got me out early—but even she can’t fight a music giant.”
“Did you have it checked?”
“Mike showed the contract to his lawyer. He said we should just play the gigs and avoid the headache.”
“How do you feel about it?”
“I’m making the best of it,” he says, stroking my hardening cock. “But it’s not all bad. It feels good to play with the guys again. I think the first gig went okay.”
“Okay?” I breathe out, surprised, gripping the sheet with my free hand. “That’s the understatement of the year. The crowd went insane seeing you live. I have to admit, I was blown away. You seemed like a different person on stage, but you had total control. I could never do that.”
“I didn’t think I still had it in me either.”
