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“I want you to admit you need my help.”
“I did. I do. I need your help. Happy?”
“No.”
“Fuck you, Jamie. I don’t know how else to admit it. Do you want me to get on my knees? Beg?”
He smirked.
“Now, there’s an idea,” he muttered under his breath, so low I almost didn’t hear it. “All I know is that I’m here and ready to work with you. It seems like every time I try, you’ve got some excuse. Something keeping us from doing the job. And that’s not helping anyone.”
“I’m not trying to keep us from being successful.”
“Then I need you to explain the hold up.”
I took a deep breath, then sighed. This was the moment I’d have to really open up. I didn’t fucking want to. “I haven’t played my guitar once since the day the band broke up. I haven’t even picked it up. This was the first time.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah, I’m fucking serious. I’m a failure. I haven’t been able to do my job. Be a musician. Do anything worth doing, worth calling music. And the idea of sitting in front of the man who was one of the reasons I started playing music, not being able to do that for him and letting him down, broke something inside of me. So yeah, I’ve been hesitant, and I’m still going to be hesitant because I haven’t created anything new in a long time.” I gestured at the guitar. “Even now, all I did was play some old songs of mine and listen to you make them better. So please don’t sit there looking at me thinking how pathetic I am because I can’t take it from you too.”
He reached for me, grabbing me by the arm and shocking the hell out of me when he pulled me against his chest. He wrapped his arms around me, held me tight in a hug I wasn’t expecting, and we just stood there together. Me confused as fuck in my living room, a rock god holding me like I mattered.
I felt every beat of his heart hammering against his ribs as he took a shuddering breath before he whispered, “Killian.”
I backed away and stared into his eyes—beautiful fucking eyes. Swallowing hard, I did the one thing you should never do in the middle of a vulnerable moment. I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his.
He tasted minty, like he’d just brushed his teeth, and the way his stubbled jaw brushed against mine, the soft little hitch in his breath, all came together and made my cock thicken against my fly. And for a moment, I thought this was it. I’d been right, and he did want me. I wasn’t just crazy and inserting my fantasy into real life.
But then he broke the kiss and stepped away, confusion and fear flickering in his eyes. “We shouldn’t—”
“Fuck, I’m sorry. I misread things I shouldn’t have.” Pure panic ran through my veins. God, I was a dumbass.
“Killian, it’s okay.”
“No, it’s not okay. No matter what. It’s not okay.” I backed away from him, moving myself out of the danger zone as embarrassment burned across the back of my neck and my cheeks. “You know what? I got an early day tomorrow. I’m sorry. I can’t keep doing this tonight. Can we try again tomorrow? And…I won’t cross that line with you again. I promise.”
Something flickered in his eyes. “We won’t.”
I couldn’t tell from his tone if he was confused, sad, happy, or relieved. But the tension in him said everything I needed to know. He hadn’t wanted that. I misread the signals and had taken a leap like the idiot I was because I was feeling vulnerable. And I wanted…I didn’t know what I wanted anymore.
I dragged a hand through my hair, wincing when my finger caught on a thick tangle. “I’m going to bed early. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He nodded. Still frowning, not meeting my eyes, but before I could head up the stairs, he called out, “Killian, wait.”
A stupid flutter of hope built in my chest. I turned to look at him. Big mistake. All I could focus on were his lips and the feel of them against mine.
“Yeah?”
“Do you have some paper and a pen? So I can write down these changes.”
Deflating, I walked to the bookshelf in the corner, grabbed my old songbook, pen already attached to it, and handed it to him.
“Thanks,” he said as his fingers brushed mine. He bit his lower lip, then nodded. “You’re right. That’s not a line I want to cross, but you don’t have to apologize for it.”
“Yeah, I do. I was…fuck…I was stupid.”
“You were in an emotional place, and I’m glad you felt safe talking to me.”
