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“Look, if you don’t find a way to get through to him, you’re going to lose him.”
“Don’t sugarcoat things, Dawson,” Fox barked.
“Did you come here for me to sugarcoat this or for my advice? My advice is to get together, sober him up, and get him into therapy.”
Charlie pushed up from his chair. “He’s right, this needs to stop. I’m going to go phone his sisters, and then we’ll go see him tonight, yeah?”
Fox nodded, letting out a long sigh as his shoulders slumped.
When it was just the two of us, I turned my attention back to Fox and struggled to hide the groan that blocked my throat as he ran his fingers through his hair, trying not to think about the fact that, once upon a time, those fingers had been inside me.
Silence filled the room, so I decided to deal with it in a way only I could. “Well, if you didn’t need anything else, I best get back to work.”
Fox’s face fell. “Yeap, course. Sorry.” He stood, motioning to the door when his phone beeped with a text. Pulling it from his pocket, he read it quickly. “It’s Charlie. Archer’s sister, Laura, is away with work, but she’s flying back tonight, so we’ll go see him in the morning. You’re right. We need to get him some help.”
“I can organize rehab if you think he’d be up for it.”
Fox shook his head. “Probably not, but I think he’ll see a therapist. I’ll find him some options tomorrow.” He glanced to the door before looking back at me. “Look, I know this might be a weird request, but there’s a bar around the corner. Do you want to come for a drink with me?”
I rubbed the back of my neck as I glared at him. “You do know who you are, don’t you? You can’t justpopto a bar. You’ll be mobbed in seconds.”
He pushed his hands into the back pockets of his ripped black jeans, making his biceps pop and his chest look fucking hot as his v-necked gray t-shirt stretched tight. “I’ll just stick a cap on. No one will recognize me.”
I tutted. “What is it about you lot? You think if you put on a hat it’s a magic disguise. Have you seen your eyes? People can spot them a mile off.”
Fox’s turquoise eyes were the focus of many a photo and obsessed fan. They had also been the focal point of my dreams for the longest time. Ever since that night—long before Fox was famous and when I was still struggling with my sexuality—I’d gone to a sex club and decided to push myself out of my comfort zone and enter the group room. It was where I’d fucked and been fucked by a man who blew my mind and stole the best orgasms from my body. I didn’t know until years later that he was Fox Garrison.
I didn’t take the job with the band because of him… I mean, he was an added bonus. No, I took it because Addison Stone, head of the Gods of Melody record label, headhunted me. She didn’t care when I told her about my diagnosis or that I’d hooked up with Fox, and she’d kept both things secret because no one needed to know the first one and Fox didn’t remember a thing about me or our night together. I wished I could say the same.
“I really need a drink. It’s been a crappy couple of weeks since Nee ran. Come back to mine? Don’t leave me to drink alone.”
My cock thickened under the desk at the thought of being alone with Fox in his house.
“I don’t drink,” I reminded him.
“You eat though, yeah? You can choose what we have for dinner. My treat.”
Say no, Dawson.
He clasped his hands together, pleading.
“Fine. Pizza. Half veggie, half meat feast.”
Fox laughed, his smile lighting up his eyes for the first time in weeks. “Very specific, Daw, but okay.”
I stood, ignoring the way him shortening my name made my heart race, while I packed my laptop and phone into my messenger bag. “You’ll learn fast that I have very specific tastes, Fox.”
He leaned close as I walked past him and whispered, “I can’t wait to find out.” And in that moment, I knew I was fucked, because I was going to sleep with Fox Garrison.Again.
Chapter 4
Fox
“Comeonin.”Isteered Dawson into the entryway as I closed and locked the door behind us, knowing that Lenny would be lurking around outside with the other members of my security team, like always.
We walked silently through the corridor to the back of the house, where Dawson let out a gasp. “Shit, this place is massive. What is it? Two houses knocked into one?” He looked around my giant, double height, open plan kitchen-dinner, with its white cabinets, black marble countertops, and the bespoke double doors that led to the large courtyard outside, made of the original panes of glass I’d taken from the rest of the house and repurposed.
“Yeap.”
