by Ella Frank
STORMING OUT OF the private elevator that led into my condo, I tossed my keys into the funky blown glass bowl my mother had given me this past Christmas, and marched over to the wall of windows that stretched the entire length of my living and dining room.
Tonight had veered into uncharted territory. When Killian suggested that we all go down to Easy Street to celebrate Halo’s genius status, I’d agreed to go with one goal in mind: to fuck that genius right out of my head. But what had I done instead? Managed to let Halo fuck with my head.
Yeah, and how had he done that? By vanishing after our little chat in the restroom. After that, any thought of having my dick sucked by Brett was replaced by my obsession in finding out why Halo had left.
Was he running from me? Because of what I’d said? The thought wouldn’t leave me alone. Or maybe he was running from himself, and what he was feeling. Because he’d definitely been feeling something.
It’d been written all over that angel face of his, on the parted lips and the thrusting hips he hadn’t been able to keep still as he watched Brett writhe around all over me, and fuck, even now the memory of it had me reaching down to massage the stiff dick trapped inside my jeans.
I shut my eyes and let my head fall back as I imagined Halo standing there with me. His mouth on my neck, that silky blond hair brushing against my face, my lips, close enough that I could grab a handful of it, that I could take a deep inhale and let his fresh, clean scent envelop me.
Jesus. I wanted to drown in that scent. Roll around with him on my sheets until they smelled the same way he did, and when that image slammed into me, I groaned low in my throat and flicked open the button of my jeans.
I shoved a hand into my pants to fist the hard-on that seemed determined to stick around, and then I opened my eyes to stare out at the smattering of lights in Central Park. Where was Halo tonight? I had no idea where he lived, just that it was in the opposite direction from me, according to our one conversation about it that night at Li’s. And thinking about that had me right back to imagining his mouth.
I yanked my hand out of my jeans and cursed. This was fucked. I hadn’t been this wound up about someone in—well, ever. And the first time it decided to happen was with a straight guy? Isn’t that just fantastic.
I told Killian this was a bad idea, and now I knew why. Tomorrow the guys were going to want to get together, talk about the new direction, think up lyrics and music, and all I’d be doing would be staring at Halo and remembering the way he’d eye-fucked me before he’d panicked and run away.
In short, there was no way in hell I was going to be of any use to anyone right now. I could honestly say that I’d never been more aware, and distracted, by my dick in my life, and all because of a guy with an angel’s face and a No Trespassing sign.
Frustrated, I ran a hand through my hair and walked to the bar that separated the living room and dining space. I poured myself a glass of whiskey, snatched it up along with the bottle, and then made my way through to my bedroom.
Moving around the end of my California king, too wired to sleep, I headed to the corner of the room where there was a lounge and coffee table. I flicked on the lamp in the corner, grabbed the notepad and pen that’d been sitting on my nightstand, then took a seat in one of my favorite places in the condo.
Fucking Killian. This was all his fault. Hiring an angel to front our band. Making me look at that face every day and not be able to do jack shit about it. Well, it was time Killian knew exactly how I felt about that.
Throwing back the whiskey, I reveled in the burn, and when my dick kicked in response to the thoughts running through my head, I put pen to paper and wrote down the one thing I was feeling—hard.
Twenty-One
Halo
THE NEXT AFTERNOON, we’d gathered back in the rehearsal space at Killian’s, and from looking at it, I was the only one suffering a hangover. My tolerance was nowhere near the rest of the guys, but I’d needed the alcohol to get through last night.
Speaking of last night…
I looked to where Viper was laughing with Killian, and my actions from the night before came hurtling back with picture-perfect clarity.
God, why had I done that? I’d been so stupid. As I rubbed my hands over my face, I wondered how I was going to get through rehearsal without turning bright red every time Viper looked my way. No doubt he’d see right through me, and then what would I do?
“Hey, man, you okay?” Jagger asked. “Need somethin’ for that hangover?”
“Uh, no. I’m good.” More like in a load of shit, but that was nothing I was about to share.
We started things out by working on the song I’d brought to them yesterday. It was easy to keep my distance from Viper, but stopping my brain from tracking his every move or thinking about last night on repeat? That wasn’t shutting off anytime soon.
It was after we’d come back from a quick lunch that I finally had to look Viper’s way. If he’d gotten the hint I was ignoring him, he never said anything. He was the same old Viper, cracking on the guys with his sharp tongue and focusing on the music. As a matter of fact, the only thing different was the way he didn’t invade my personal space…and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
“I had an idea last night,” Viper said when we’d gathered back in the rehearsal room. He held a sheet up that had his barely legible scrawl all over it. “I think Halo’s song is great, and I think working on some tracks that are in the same vein would be a good direction for us to go. But what if we threw in one or two tracks that would sound more familiar to the fans that follow us over?”
“You got something in mind?” Killian asked.
Viper nodded and walked to where I stood behind the mic. It was the first time we’d locked gazes today, and as he stopped in front of me, my pulse sped up.
“Will you do the honors, Angel?” he said, holding the lyrics toward me.
I was still “Angel,” but the way he said it held none of the flirtatious edge it had before.
“Sure.” I took the ripped sheet of paper from him as he picked up his guitar.
“Something like this.” Viper played a few notes as I skimmed the words he’d written, trying to get a feel for them—
Whoa. I blinked, reading them again. Holy fuck, the lyrics were filthy, in complete opposition to what we’d worked on that morning, and—
Had he said he wrote this last night?
Viper’s face gave nothing away, but I knew mine had to. I could never hide the flush that came so easy to my skin, and definitely not when I knew exactly what this song was about. Or rather, who.
Me.
“What’s the song called?” Killian asked.
When I didn’t answer, Viper looked at the guys. “‘Hard.’”
Killian opened his mouth to respond, but then glanced at me and seemed to think better of it. “Right.”
“So I was thinking I’d start with this”—Viper played a guitar riff—“and then Slade, you’d come in with a fucking pounding beat. Like pure, headboard-banging sex, you feel me? And then Kill, the bass has gotta throb. Jagger, I haven’t gotten that far yet, but you’d know better than me what sounds good.” Viper continued to play and then nodded at me. “This is where you come in.”
“I can’t sing this,” I said, shaking my head.
Viper stopped playing. “Sure you can.”
“I don’t think so.”
“What’s the problem, Halo?” Killian frowned.
“I think it’s too risqué for our angel.” Viper’s lips twisted. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll still get into heaven.”
I shot a glare in his direction and looked back down at what Viper thought would be a good idea for me to say out fucking loud.
“Show me,” Killian said, gesturing for the lyrics, and I handed them over. He nodded along as he read them, and when he was done, he let out a low whistle. “Christ, that face singing those words? Viper’s got a point.”
“You’re serious?” I asked.
“Yup.” He stood up and took his place to my left. “Show us what you got.”
Singing a song Viper had written after our interaction last night and probably at the same time I’d been getting off to him? Yeah. Sure. No problem.
“Come on, Angel. Surely you’ve been frustrated in the past. Tap into that.” To anyone else, Viper’s words might’ve seemed innocent, but I caught his hidden meaning good and damn well.
How had I ever thought he was anything other than a pain in the ass?
As Viper began to play again, the others waited to hear what I didn’t want to say, and when the asshole gave me my cue, I went through the motions.
“I wish I could say I’m sorry
For the state you get me in
But nothing seems to help
This ache you cause within
I’ve thought about how to fix it,
What might do the trick
And fucking you for hours
Just might get it licked—”
“Okay, hold up.” Killian held up his hand. “It’s not gonna work if you don’t put the frustration behind it. It’s like you’re reading the words.”
“I am reading the words.”
“But that’s not how it works. You don’t just read the words to your song.”
“My song doesn’t talk about blue balls.”
Killian sighed. “Do the lyrics really bother you that much?”
I wanted to say, Yes, because those lyrics are about me. But dissing a song just because Viper wrote it wasn’t being a team player, and it wasn’t going to make any future songs I worked on any easier either.
“No,” I said finally. “Start again.”
Twenty-Two
Viper
I HAD TO admit, when I’d been writing down the lyrics, I was frustrated, pissed off, and more than a little drunk.
But after hearing Killian’s approval and watching Halo fumble around trying to finagle his way out of singing them, I was starting to believe this more than made up for the fact I’d had to come in here today and act like everything was fine and fucking dandy.
From the second I’d stepped into Killian’s place, up until right now, I’d been trying really hard to keep my thoughts, and eyes, off the man standing beside me. Not an easy task when he was dressed in jeans that molded to that fine ass of his, and he had a navy-blue deep V-neck shirt that showed off skin I wouldn’t mind running my tongue over, or you know, coming all over.
Since that option was clearly off the table with the way Halo had bolted last night at the mention of me in his personal space, I’d have to make do with watching him sing my little…ode to him.
That just might make the ache in my dick a little less painful.
“Hold up a second, would you, Angel? Let’s see if we can’t add some meat to this thing. Really make you feel it in your balls.”
Jagger snorted. “Judging by those lyrics, you were already feeling something in your balls. What happened to the guy in the tie, V? Too stuffy? Not kinky enough for you?”
Not Halo enough for me, more like it. I ignored Jagger’s question and flicked on my amp so I could really step up the sound on this thing for the silent man standing behind his mic, staring at me with a look I couldn’t quite decipher.
In the space of ten minutes, Halo had gone from shock to disbelief, and right now he was looking at me like he’d never seen me before. His eyes were assessing, traveling over my face, my chest, down to where my guitar rested across my body, and when they came back and locked with mine, there was a light in them I would recognize anywhere—interest.
What. The. Fuck. I arched an eyebrow in his direction, and Halo blinked then quickly lowered his gaze to the paper he still had in a death grip, effectively cutting the connection.
“Yeah, you should’ve seen that guy’s face when you left.” Slade tapped his drumsticks on one of his knees. “Looked like you broke up with him.”
Killian rolled his eyes. “V, break up with someone? That would imply he’d actually have to date someone first.”
“How ’bout the three of you stop gossiping about what I do with my dick, so I can show you and Halo what I’m thinking for the beginning of this thing,” I said.
The three on the couch stared at me as I bent down to fiddle with the dials on a pedal, and when I straightened, I said to Halo, “Okay, so I thought it could start out like this.”
I closed my eyes and hit the strings as I pressed my foot to the pedal, the quiet tune from a second ago now snarling through the rehearsal room like a monster baring its teeth.
I fucking loved the way this sounded. I’d played around with it last night until I’d hit my mood and vibe just right. And this was it. A growl of pure lust. A tone that was thick and full of harmonics, as I played the full intro the exact way I would on a stage.
When I finished and opened my eyes, Halo looked a little…flustered.
“Fuck me,” Killian said, getting to his feet. “Jesus, V. I don’t know what got into you last night, but that’s fucking unreal. Maybe you shouldn’t get laid more often.”
I shot him the finger. “Shut the hell up.”
Killian laughed and then looked to Halo. “Come ooon, you know that shit’s amazing, right?”
Halo nodded. “Yeah, it really is. I just…” He paused and looked in my direction. “How do you want me to play this? I mean, is the guy angry? Does he hate the person he’s wanting to, um…”
“Fuck for hours?” I said. “If you can’t say the words, how are you gonna sing them?”
“Shiiit,” Jagger said as he stood and walked to Halo, his hand outstretched. “Hand it over, Halo. I want to see the rest of this thing.”
“I’ll sing them. I just want to know more so I can get inside his head,” Halo said as he passed the paper to Jagger.
The air in the room suddenly felt about a million times hotter than it had a second ago, as I held Halo’s direct stare in a stalemate of sorts. “He’s not angry. He’s frustrated. His dick wants something it can’t have, and that’s making him a little bit irritable.”
“A little bit?” Jagger said as he finished reading the lyrics. “V, dude, I’m close to shelling out some serious cash to get you laid, my friend.”
“What’d you think, Halo? You got it?” Killian said before I could tell Jagger to make sure whoever he bought and paid for had eyes the color of sea glass and blond hair that matched our lead singer.
“Yeah, I think so,” Halo said.
“Good. That’s good. I think if we can really nail this, we could call Brian down here to listen to these two we’ve been working on. See how he feels about them.”
Slade, Jagger, and Killian moved back to the couch, and when I inclined my head in Halo’s direction and he indicated he was ready, I started the intro again.
For a couple of hours we played around with the song, changing up melodies for the chorus once we reached it. We had Halo try different notes on certain words—adding more emphasis or taking it away—but by the start of the third hour, I was done.
Something was missing here. I’d heard the song so clearly in my head, known exactly the way it needed to sound, and while it was okay, better than it had been when we’d started, it still wasn’t packing the punch I knew it could.
“How about we call it for the day?” I sighed as I looked at the rest of the guys. “I’m tired, didn’t get much sleep last night, and something’s not working here.”
Everyone but Halo nodded. Slade and Jagger headed out to Killian’s kitchen for some food, as Halo picked up the bottle of water at his feet and took a few chugs.
Killian came over. “You okay?”
A frown pulled between my brows. “Okay?”
“Yeah.” Killian lowered his voice. “Not sleeping. Not fucking. Writing lyrics titled ‘Hard.’” Killian glanced over his shoulder to where Halo was sitting on a couch with the lyrics and a pen in his hand. “I’m not blind, V.”
“You don’t say.” I shut my guit
ar case and picked it up.
“Look, the song’s killer. But don’t think for a minute I don’t know who it’s about.” Killian ran a hand through his hair. “Tread carefully there. Give him a chance to get it right. He’s good, but this is…a lot of song.”
“Got it,” I said. “Can I go now, sir?”
“Fuck you.”
“If only you were my type.”
I stepped around Killian and headed out of the rehearsal room, saying my goodbyes to everyone as I went for the front door. As I made my way to the elevator and pushed the button, I heard someone call out my name, and was more than a little shocked to see that Halo had stepped out into the hallway with his jacket and backpack in place.
“Yeah? What is it, Angel?”
As he walked down the hall, I noticed he still clutched the lyrics in his fist like he was afraid he might lose them. “Are you angry with me?”
Angry? Why would I—
“Because I’m not getting this?” he said, holding up the paper.
“You’re getting it. It’s just taking a moment.”
Halo looked down to the words and shook his head, and when all that blond hair shifted around his face, the scent of his shampoo filled my head and lungs. Fucking delicious.
“I’m not. I can’t put my finger on why this is so hard for me.”
When Halo raised his eyes to mine, a smirk crossed my lips. “Pun intended?”
“Wh— Oh,” Halo said. “I guess. But something’s not working, and I know you’re disappointed. Do you think…” Halo chewed his lower lip. “Look, I don’t want to be the reason this doesn’t work out. Do you think you could maybe help me? Show me what you want?”
I eyed him for a beat, wondering if he even realized what he’d just said, and when the elevator door opened, I said, “I can show you exactly what I want, Angel. Let’s go.”
Twenty-Three
Halo
AS SOON AS the doors of the private elevator that led into Viper’s condo opened, I realized my mistake.
When I’d asked for Viper’s help in working out where I was going wrong with the song, it didn’t occur to me that we’d end up at his place…alone. But as my eyes caught the floor-to-ceiling view of Central Park covered in a golden haze from the setting sun, I froze. With that view straight ahead, the lyrics in my hand, and Viper’s close proximity, I was so screwed.
