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As we wait for the record label’s private jet to land, I try to stay as calm as possible so I won’t giveaway how agitated I am. After explaining to Ross that my ‘relationship’ with Gavin was a rouse to lure out the stalker, I don’t want him to notice that I actually have feelings that clearly run deeper than client and employee.
Hell, I don’t want Gavin to see it. I don’t want to be the clingy guy who falls in love after a single hookup. Wait. Love? No, not love. Feelings? Yes. But that could be me projecting a lifetime of denial onto Gavin. Mere gratitude for accepting the real me and for giving me a life-changing sexual experience.
“Hale,” Ross snaps from his seat in the surprisingly plush terminal of the Van Nuys airport.
“Yeah?” I take the seat across from him, tapping my fingers on the armrest and bouncing my knee in a staccato rhythm. I chew on my lip nervously.
He stops typing on his phone long enough to glare at me. “Relax. We have enough security to keep this sicko away from you and Walker.”
Ross thinks I’m nervous because the stalker targeted me. I’ll admit, the ‘gift’ was disturbing, but I’ve seen way, way worse. Granted, I’ve never been on the actual receiving end of such attentions. Unfortunately, that’s not why I’m an anxious mess. I’m worried about seeing Gavin again. When I couldn’t reach him and Hawke couldn’t find him…hell, I swear I nearly had a breakdown. I need to see him more than I need my next breath. But will he want to see me?
We’ve had zero contact over the last eight days and I’m losing my mind. My hands literally ache to touch his smooth skin and hard muscles. Sometimes, I swear I can taste him on my tongue, sweet and salty and completely addictive. I dig my fingers into my thighs to stop my wandering thoughts from giving me a hard-on in front of Ross.
A sleek, white jet lands on the runway and makes it’s way towards the terminal. It takes forever to lower the stairway and the passengers to disembark. Gavin’s blonde head of hair comes into view and for the first time in eight days I physically relax. He’s safe and in one piece. I knew this, but I had to lay eyes on him to believe it.
The group makes its way to the doors. Gavin and Hawke have their heads down, their demeanor subdued. The four large bodyguards surrounding them are alert, scanning the area continuously.
The doors slide open with a whoosh, bringing in a gust of hot air along with the loud sounds of jet engines whining. Ross hops up to greet them, giving his nephew, Hawke, a hug before turning to Gavin for a fist-bump. Jealousy spikes into me, painful and sharp. Not because of Ross, but because Ross can touch Gavin freely.
I can’t.
I hover on the fringes of the group, unsure of how welcome I am. Hawke is discussing something with Ross when Gavin tiredly glances around the terminal and locks onto me. Those gorgeous blue eyes widen in surprise and that damn luscious mouth falls open.
Neither of us looks away. It’s only when Ross takes Gavin’s arm to pull him towards bag
gage claim that the connection is broken. I trail behind the group wordlessly, wondering how Gavin will react when he finds out the newest plan to catch our friend.
He’ll probably be so angry he’ll put me down again with one of those excruciating pressure point moves. Oddly, I don’t find the thought disturbing in the least. As long as Gavin is touching me, I can deal with the physical pain. It has to be better than the hollow ache I feel inside.
I guess I’m a masochist, because I welcome whatever he’s willing to give.
* * *
“This is complete bullshit, Ross!” Gavin shouts from one of the bedrooms of the hotel suite.
“Calm down, Gavin. It’s necessary, and frankly, the only way to get rid of this guy once and for all.” Ross’ calm voice does nothing to placate an agitated Gavin.
“No way, Ross. There has to be another way.”
I shouldn’t be eavesdropping. Hell, I’m not eavesdropping. Gavin is so loud, there’s nowhere in the suite I can go where I won’t hear his ranting. We can’t go back to the rental house and the only way I can go on tour without alerting the stalker of my presence is to continue the façade as happy lovers. Gavin is pissed.
“Yeah, there is,” Ross agrees. “We can cancel the tour, let the album tank, and you can hide out in seclusion until the guy fucks up big enough to be caught. How’s that sound?”
I can barely hear Gavin mutter a string of curses.
“Shit, no. I don’t want that,” he grumbles.
“Then please, just do what I’m asking Gav. I don’t ask for much.” Ross’ voice has lowered to that of a concerned friend or family member.
“Fine.”
I hear Gavin’s begrudging acquiescence and close my eyes. That means eight weeks of living in each other’s back pockets. How I’m supposed to get through this without losing my sanity is beyond me. Hell, I’ll be shocked if I can control the rock hard erection that springs up whenever Gavin’s around.
The bedroom door opens and Ross walks out. “Hale, I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” He doesn’t stop or look at me as he speaks, moving quickly through the suite. The click of the door closing is the only evidence that Ross is gone.
I’m alone. With Gavin, who, judging by the loud protesting he was doing, is not happy with this arrangement.
I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. The tension between us can’t continue. If we’re to do this, we have to be in agreement. I stand up, raking a hand through my hair. My neck is so tight I roll it around a few times to loosen it. Better to get this over with now.
