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I began to shake and thank fuck for being in a moving bus.
Instead of touching him, like my body was screaming at me to do, I reached up and took hold of the overhead bin to stop me from pitching forward.
Brodie shook his head again and leaned into me, his hot breath brushing my ear. “You’re not going anywhere. And I work with you, or I work with no one. Try to leave, and you’re gonna be in for the fight of your life.”
“That’s not rational,” I responded and looked him in the eye. “And I need time off. So do you. Especially you. Go on vacation. Alone or with the guys, whatever. Maybe some time away from music will be good for you, too. Recording can wait until the new year.”
“I’ll go on vacation. But only if you come with me.”
My heart began to pound so fast I was in danger of fainting dead away.
“What the fuck, Dee? I’m your manager. If you need… company, you can find it anywhere, any day, any city.”
“I don’t travel with people I don’t know or trust.”
“Don’t you have an old boyfriend you can call up?”
“Don’t be stupid, Van. I’m so fucking tired of playing this game!”
He wasn’t backing away. Instead, Brodie’s hand slid to my lower back, locking my hips in place.
All my attention centered on the heat of his palm, the touch branding me through the layer of denim. Everything in my body buzzed.
Fuck, I hadn’t felt this kind of desire in… ever.
One of us moaned. Maybe both?
“Hey, will you two shut it? Some of us are trying to get our fucking sleep!”
I jolted and turned to find Holloway standing at the end of the hallway in nothing but his black briefs, his long blond hair a tangled mess around his tired face.
“Just fuck already and give us some quiet. I swear to God, I love you guys, but I’m going to take my own goddamn bus the next time we do a one-off road trip.”
Holloway turned and stomped back to his bunk.
The timing of his appearance was welcome, and it gave me the cold shower I desperately needed.
I stepped away from Brodie, breaking contact, and grabbed my phone.
I felt the loss of his touch more than I’d care to admit.
“This is not over. You and I are gonna settle this thing between us for good,” Brodie demanded.
I reluctantly looked over my shoulder.
“There’s nothing to settle. After New Orleans, I’m taking a month off. But I have changed my mind. If you want ‘Sideline,’ it’s yours. I’ll set up the paperwork. Try it out at the concert. If it resonates, we’ll record it in the new year, all right?”
The look in Brodie’s eyes told me he was far from okay. Oddly enough, he said nothing in response.
I turned and headed for my bunk, feeling his gaze burning a hole in my back.
Just one more week. I could survive one more week. Right?
I’d survived this past year; what was seven more days?
We’d come close to crossing that line tonight, and tempted as I was, I was also scared.
I was a forty-four-year-old man dealing with a sexual awakening I wasn’t prepared for. And I knew that for me, with Brodie, it was about way more than sex. I related to him in a way I never had with anyone before.
