Don’t Fall For A Dreamer (Wayward Lane Backstage #3)

Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

EVERT

I ’d known the professional Jesse Aimes for a year, but the man unfolding before me was a revelation.

It wasn’t the phenomenal sex which had me reeling. Well, that was part of it, but not all. It was the emotions that Jesse churned up—I was possessive and protective, and totally charmed. And when I pulled a rare smile or laugh out of him? Fuck, I was giddy. I wanted more. Part of me cautioned that I should slow down and guard my heart. But I also knew that the bigger the risk, the headier the reward.

I’d never regret loving Zachary, even with the pain of his loss. And, as crazy as it sounded, I knew that right here, in Jesse’s arms, was where I was meant to be. We couldn’t stop touching, not to mention the flirty glances, whispers of dirty promises, and a jock-melting kiss in the kitchen that had us climbing each other.

After we—okay, I—cooked street-style tacos, we stretched out on Jesse’s couch to binge one of my favorite reality tv shows. My focus, though, wasn’t on the screen, but rather, on the intense man sitting beside me. He’d silenced the notifications on his phone and gave me all his attention. And for a workaholic like Jesse, I knew that meant something.

Jesse slid his long legs over my lap, and I reached for him, trailing a teasing path over his hip, pulling him in as close as we could get. He was wearing sinful jeans and nothing else. My hand roamed higher, stroking the lion tattoo on his chest.

“Maybe I should go get a t-shirt,” he suggested with a smirk.

“Don’t even think about it,” I returned. “It’s a crime to cover up your body with any kind of clothing. Jeans are bad enough.”

“Smooth talker.”

“It’s the truth,” I admitted as I leaned in for a kiss. “And I really want to run home and grab my camera. I want a picture of you, just like this.”

“Ev.”

Jesse’s cheeks flushed a perfect shade of pink. The man was adorably unaware of how magnetic he was—on camera, but more importantly, in real life.

“Only when you’re ready,” I added, not wanting to spoil the moment with an argument.

“Only if it’s the two of us.”

His comment surprised me, but in the best way. It was an idea that I would be all too excited to make happen.

“You’re on.”

I captured his lips in another passionate kiss, pushing him down on the couch, eager for more. Cupping his jaw with both hands, I rubbed my thumbs over his dark scruff, his swollen lips, then higher, tracing the edge of his cheekbones and his temples. Memorizing the planes of his face like I was a sculptor instead of a photographer.

“The way you touch me—” he sighed and closed his eyes.

“Too much?”

“No.” He blinked and stared back at me. “I’m riding the most incredible high and I don’t want to come down.”

“I know the feeling.”

Our lips met again with a hungry urgency that left me breathless. I could make out with him for hours and still crave more.

“Ev, I?—”

Whatever Jesse was going to say was interrupted by a loud knock at the door. I dropped my forehead against his and let out a frustrated groan. Reluctantly I sat up, and helped Jesse do the same.

“Who the fuck’s dropping by at eleven o’clock at night?” he asked out loud. He reached for his phone and started scrolling. “Oh, shit.”

“What’s going on?”

Another knock echoed in the apartment.

“It’s Otis,” Jesse replied.

He stalked over to the door and wrenched it open. A glassy-eyed Otis stood on the other side, hair disheveled, a nasty red welt on his left cheek, and a half-empty whiskey bottle in his hand.

“Woah, I didn’t realize you’d be t-that happy to see me,” Otis quipped as he gave Jesse a long once over.

Woah is right. I went from turned on to pissed off in the blink of an eye. I got up off the couch and stood behind Jesse, a protective hand on his back.

“I leave you alone for four fucking hours, and what?” Jesse snapped. “You had to get into trouble?”

“Y’all want the neighbors to hear this story, or can I c-come in?” Otis grumbled, swaying like a cut tree about to topple.

Jesse stepped aside and Otis stumbled into the living room, waving the bottle in front of his face.

“Smells like a l-lotta sex in here,” Otis chuckled and turned to me. “You sure I can’t join in on the fun?”

I shook my head, but Jesse ignored Otis’s comment, motioning for him to sit down. Otis wandered over and landed his ass on one of Jesse’s club chairs.

“How many fires do I have to put out?” Jesse replied and crossed his arms.

Otis slid down the seat, until his head hit the back of the chair.

“One,” he sighed. “So, I was in the bathroom at Foster’s getting blown by this cute twink?—”

Jesse held his hand up. “I don’t need that kind of detail.”

“But it’s important—” Otis paused and ran a hand over his face.

“Why?” Jesse prompted.

“Because next thing I knew, this other guy comes storming in claiming I’m foolin’ around with his husband. He took a swing at me.” Otis pointed to his cheek.

“Jesus Christ.”

“Ain’t no prayin’ this away,” Otis snickered, then coughed when Jesse glared at him. “How’s I to know the guy was off l-limits? He came on to me . T-then one of the bartenders walked in and tried to break up the fight. I t-think someone took pictures with their phone ‘cause I saw a flash. But it was dark, and I’d had a lot of whiskey, so I don’t know for sure. The b-bartender and the husband got into it, and I took off runnin’ like a chicken at a hungry gator farm.”

I couldn’t hold back a laugh at that image. Otis gave me the finger.

“It ain’t funny, man. I b-barely had time to get m’jeans zipped, stumbling my way outta the bar with my ass hangin’ out,” Otis paused. “But that ain’t the reason I’m here.”

“Go on,” Jesse bit out.

“I r-recognized the husband of the guy I hooked up with. It was Marlon Revert.”

“The music promoter? Are you fucking kidding me?!” Jesse yelled.

“Wish I was. And shit, a-after that bathroom drama, I needed another drink. So, I b-bought a bottle of my favorite whiskey and found my way to you.” Otis hiccupped. “Hey, that’s a good line, maybe we can use it in a song?”

Otis stretched his legs out, dropped the bottle on the rug, and closed his eyes.

“That still doesn’t explain why you had to show up here in person,” Jesse replied. “Otis.”

No response.

Jesse turned to me and pursed his lips. “I’ve got phone calls to make. I’m sorry about this.”

“It’s what we signed up for. And a preview of the next eight months,” I reassured him and gave him a kiss. “You put out the fire, I’ll keep the bed warm.”

“Sounds like the best kind of compromise,” he quipped. “What about Otis?”

A loud snore rumbled out the guitarist.

“I guess he’s going to sleep it off here,” I chuckled.

“You grab the bottle; I’ll get him a blanket.”

“It sounds like we’re taking care of a child.”

Jesse smirked. “I’m not arguing that point.”

Once we got Otis settled, Jesse called Elias, and I headed to the bedroom. I didn’t envy Jesse this part of his job. Rockstar clients were always on the radar of the press and public, with news hitting social media in the blink of an eye.

I got settled in bed and checked my phone while I waited for Jesse. There were several new gallery requests for potential shows, some this year, some next year, all of which I forwarded to my agent. The art world was fickle. One day you’re hot and everyone’s buying, and the next, you can’t sell a damn thing. I hated turning down requests, but I’d committed to the tour, and that was my focus for now.

When Jesse joined me a half hour later, he closed the bedroom door with a deep sigh.

“I think Elias is already regretting taking over the PR for the bands,” Jesse admitted. “I’ve never heard him swear so much in one phone call.”

“Lucky for him, it’s only temporary.”

“Eight months is still a long time when you’re dealing with unruly teenagers. I mean, rockstars.”

I chuckled. “It’ll go by before he can blink.”

“Too bad the same can’t be said for me.” Jesse sighed.

I set down my phone and threw off the sheet.

“Sounds like you need a pleasurable diversion,” I offered and motioned for him to come closer.

“Pleasurable, yes. A diversion?” He shook his head. “You’re so much more than that.”

My heart echoed his words, my pulse racing so fast it was a good thing I was already sitting down. And when Jesse unzipped his jeans and pushed them down his hips, his naked body made me forgot all about drunken interruptions, rockstar antics, and art shows.

Jesse kicked off his jeans and moved to stand at the foot of the bed, almost within reach but still too fucking far away. And when he spat in his hand and stroked his hardening cock nice and slow, over and over, my frustrated groan let loose. A playful, teasing Jesse was my complete undoing.

“But since you offered,” Jesse continued, his eyes locking with mine. “I know how to work out my frustration.”

“Keep going—” I sat up, but Jesse shook his head.

“No. Stay exactly where you are.”

I leaned back on the pillows.

“You gonna ride my cock?” I asked.

Jesse licked his lips. Nothing else needed to be said.