Guarded

by L. A. Witt

  A weight seemed to lift from him the moment we stepped outside. He closed his eyes and turned his face up to the sun. “Man, does that feel good.”

  I chuckled. “You act like you haven’t seen it since you got here.”

  “Yeah, well… it feels different when you’re breathing free air, y’know?”

  “That makes it sound like you’ve been in jail.”

  “Haven’t I?” hung unspoken and crackling in the air. Shit. Best to let it drop. I pasted on a smile and kept walking.

  Jase was waiting for us in the parking lot, leaning on his SUV while he fiddled with his phone. He tucked it away in his pocket when he saw us. “How you doing?” he asked, smiling and reaching for Daniel’s bag.

  “Not too bad, thanks.” Jesus, was he actually smiling back? At Jase?

  Daniel handed off his bag and climbed in the backseat. Jase and I traded looks as he put the suitcase in the trunk. Something felt off, probably just because Daniel wanted to get out of here. God knew, I sure as fuck did.

  We rode back to the house in silence, except for the faint drone of the traffic report on the radio. Jase switched it off as he swung through the gate and up the driveway, then pulled into his regular space in front of the house. I grabbed Daniel’s bag from Jase, unlocked the door and let Daniel go in ahead of me.

  I followed him to his room, my gut tightening when he stopped dead in the doorway, taking it all in. I’d had Yolanda clean the place from top to bottom once Jase and I finished turning everything upside down looking for hidden drugs. I wasn’t sure how Daniel would react—Jase and I ended up flushing a shitload of pills, coke and meth—but relief swept through me when I heard him chuckling softly. “Looks a hell of a lot better than when I left.”

  A hell of a lot better than the way I’d left it too. I dropped his bag on the bed. “Let’s have some lunch.”

  Yolanda had left a plate of sandwiches in the fridge. We sat down at the kitchen table and dug in—well, I did. Daniel just nibbled at his, peeling off the crust like he used to do when we were kids. “Not hungry?” I asked.

  “I had a big breakfast.” Which was strange, since I’d never known him to have much of an appetite in the morning. I didn’t say anything, though, just watched him hunch over his coffee mug, clutching it in both hands.

  Jase walked in and went over to pour himself a cup. “You guys need anything before I…” He nodded toward the deck.

  My glance telegraphed, You’re not gonna join us? But when he shook his head, I let out a sharp exhale. Probably for the best, considering.

  “Thanks for everything, man,” Daniel said, my eyes nearly popping out of my head when he held up his fist. Jase stared at it, then flicked a quick look at me before giving him a bump. “I owe you, big time,” Daniel added.

  “Uh, no problem.” Another what the hell? look from Jase before he ambled on out to the balcony—

  While I sat there gaping at Daniel, confusion setting my mind awhirl. “You two are fist-bumping now? I thought you couldn’t stand him.”

  “He’s not a bad guy. I mean… hell, looks like he’s taken good care of you.” One corner of his mouth quirked up, a flash of familiar pain in his eyes. The same pain that was always there whenever he saw me with someone else. The pain the drugs had helped him bury. “That used to be my job, remember?”

  What was I supposed to say? I’m sorry, Daniel, I really am. I never wanted to hurt you like this, but… I’m happy now. Can’t you be even a little bit happy for me?

  But before I could open my mouth, he stood. “I’m gonna go take a nap.”

  “Tired already? You just got home.”

  “I haven’t been sleeping too well the last few nights. Probably just the excitement of coming home again, y’know?”

  Really? Because you don’t act excited at all.

  I pasted on another smile. Didn’t even have to see myself to know it had to be the most brittle, insincere smile ever. “Want me to wake you for dinner?”

  “Um, sure.”

  I watched him walk away, heard his footsteps padding downstairs and across the foyer. Heard his door snick shut, then… nothing.

  The sound of a sure hand strumming a guitar drew me to the balcony. Jase looked up from his seat on the chaise, his eyebrows arching. “Everything okay?”

  “I don’t know. He’s not acting like himself.” Sighing, I walked the handful of steps to the edge of the deck, peered out at the ocean. “He’s usually hyper as hell when he first gets home, but today it’s… like he’s not even there.”

  “Well, remember, he OD’d right before he checked in. And didn’t his doctor at the rehab center say he had a pretty rough time detoxing?”

  “Yeah.” I chewed my lip. “But that time I went in to see him by myself, he was really animated, excited to get back to work—”

  Jase came up behind me, wrapped an arm around my waist. “How many times has he been to rehab? Four, five? Maybe it’s finally dawned on him that this is for real. Either get clean and stay clean, or…”

  Or.

  Not a thought I was in any fucking mood to entertain. Daniel was home. He was on his way to recovery, and I’d help him. I’d be there with him for every step.

  He was going to get well this time. He had to.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Jase

  Jordan had an interview a couple of hours before the awards show, so we arranged for the limousine to pick us up, and then go by Milo’s place to pick up the rest of the band. Once the interview was over, we both changed into our tuxes while we waited for the car to arrive.

  As I straightened my cummerbund, I asked, “You think Daniel’s ready for this?”

  Jordan blew out a breath. “God, I hope so.” He met my eyes in the mirror as he fussed with his bowtie. “If he wants to stay in the band and in the house, then he’ll keep his shit together tonight.”

  I gently turned him around and nudged his hands away from his collar so I could arrange the tie into a proper bow. “Milo said he’d keep an eye on him. And of course, so will we.”

  Jordan nodded. “I know. And I’m probably worrying about nothing. He’s really trying right now.” Lowering his gaze, he added, “He always does after he gets out of rehab.”

  I wanted to tell him this time could be different. Hell, I wanted to believe it myself. Maybe it would be—it was always possible—but I wasn’t holding my breath until Daniel had been clean and sober outside of rehab for at least a few months.

  “All we can do is the same thing he has to do—take it one day at a time.”

  Jordan swallowed, but said nothing.

  “How is he handling things with us?” I was at the house more often than not these days, but rarely saw Daniel. If he wasn’t off with Milo and the guys—who swore on their mothers’ lives they wouldn’t let him do anything stupid—he was downstairs in his room, or just passing through.

  Jordan shrugged. “He’s getting used to it, I guess.” A faint smile played at his lips. “I think he’s warming up to the idea, anyway. He’s stopped trying to convince me you’re controlling me.”

  “I suppose that’s a good sign. Especially if he’s going to see us out as a couple tonight.”

  “I think he’ll be fine. As far as”—he gestured at me, then himself. “To tell you the truth, though, I’m a little worried about him.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “He’s... I don’t know, different.” Jordan shifted his weight. “When he comes out of rehab, he’s usually almost bipolar for a while. One minute he’s happy and optimistic. The next, he’s down and depressed.”

  “What’s he doing now?”

  Jordan’s eyes lost focus for a moment, then met mine. “He’s just kind of neutral. He’s not depressed, thank God, but he doesn’t seem happy either.”

  “Maybe he’s just adjusting. He’s had a lot to think about the last few weeks.”

  “True.”

  “He’s still going to therapy, right?”

 
Jordan nodded. “Twice a week.”

  “And he’s in good hands?”

  “Absolutely.” Jordan managed a small smile. “His therapist is great.”

  “Well, maybe this is a good sign.” I squeezed his arm. “If he’s handling things differently than before, then maybe it means things are different this time. Maybe he really is getting better.”

  Jordan’s smile fell, and he slowly released a breath. “I hope so.”

  “Me too.”

  He was quiet for a moment, then glanced at the mirror again. “I guess I should finish getting myself together. The car will be here soon.”

  “Good idea.”

  He scowled at his reflection and touched his bare throat. “Damn. Feels weird, not having the collar on.”

  “I’m sure it does.” I wrapped my arms around him and kissed the side of his neck. “Unbutton your cuff and pull up your sleeve.”

  “What? Why do—”

  “Unbutton your cuff and pull up your sleeve.”

  Our eyes met in the mirror again, and he reached for his sleeve.

  As he did that, I released him. “I was pretty sure you wouldn’t want to wear the collar with your tux, so”—I grinned—“I came prepared.”

  “Prepared, how?”

  I arched an eyebrow. “Are you questioning—”

  “Sorry.” He fumbled with the cufflink, and when it finally came off, he pushed up the sleeve.

  “Give me your arm.”

  He held it up, eyeing me curiously.

  I reached into my pocket, and when I withdrew it, the slight catch of his breath said he recognized the strip of black leather in my hand. It was identical to the collar he wore around his neck—same buckle, same tiny padlock—but I’d had it cut and holes punched so it would fit around his slender wrist without much slack.

  He stared at it, lips apart, as I fastened the buckle and snapped the padlock into place. When I let go, he turned his hand back and forth, watching the light play on the shiny leather and fittings.

  “The rest of the world doesn’t need to know.” I cradled his neck in both hands. “But we will.”

  Jordan met my eyes. Then he rested his hand—the collared one—on top of mine. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” I pulled him into a kiss, and goddammit, right when our lips met, someone knocked on the door.

  “Gentlemen, your ride is here,” the housekeeper called out.

  “Thank you. We’ll be right there,” Jordan said. To me, he added, “In a second.” And he kissed me, and we let it linger for a moment like I’d meant to before we’d been interrupted, and my God, the whole world was about to know about this secret little thing we’d had going on.

  Barely breaking the kiss, I said, “You sure you’re ready for this? Going out as a couple?”

  Jordan kissed me once more, then pulled back and smiled. “I think it’s long overdue, to be honest.”

  “Once the cat’s out of the bag—”

  “Then we can stop stressing about anyone finding out.” He stood up on his toes, kissed me one last time, and we finished getting ourselves put together.

  Hand in hand, dressed in almost identical tuxedos—though he’d gone for a flashier royal blue bowtie and cummerbund while I’d opted for plain black—we headed downstairs. Outside, we both took off our jackets because fuck it was hot. Then he climbed into the limo, and I followed, settling onto the plush leather seat.

  He gave Milo’s address to the driver, and as I put up the privacy screen, we both settled in for the ride.

  Gaze fixed on something outside the window, Jordan took a few slow, deep breaths. I couldn’t decide if his palm was sweaty because it was against mine, or if it would’ve been even if we hadn’t been holding hands.

  I gently freed my hand and slid it over his thigh. “Nervous?”

  “Yeah.”

  “About…” I glanced down at my hand on his leg, but before I could draw it back, he put his over the top and squeezed gently.

  “Not us. It’s…” He laughed softly and rolled his eyes. “It’s kind of stupid, actually. I can get up and sing in front of a hundred thousand people, but the minute I have to walk on that goddamned red carpet…”

  “Cameras?”

  Jordan shuddered.

  “Can’t blame you. Having that many lenses pointed at your face…”

  “Exactly.” Shaking his head, he added, “Occupational hazard, I guess.”

  “Doesn’t mean you have to like it.” I ran my thumb along the satin strip on the side of his trousers. “Maybe I should take your mind off things.”

  Jordan laughed, but I didn’t miss the shiver that went through him either.

  “Bet I could think of a few things that would calm you down.”

  He bit his lip. “A few, yeah.”

  I ran my fingers through his long hair. “Pity we don’t have much time. Or... necessities. Because if I could, I would fuck you right now.”

  Jordan whimpered, gripping my shoulders tighter and tilting his head to expose as much flesh as possible.

  “And I will,” I murmured against his throat. “Tonight, after we get home, I’m going to fuck you until you can’t move tomorrow.”

  “Jesus…”

  I sat back and met his eyes as I placed a hand over the front of his neck. “We’ve got maybe ten minutes before we’re at Milo’s.” I ran my thumb up and down his windpipe. “What do you think we can do in that time?”

  He swallowed. “Let... let me suck you off.”

  Oh, mother of God…

  “Please,” he whispered, running his hand down the center of my chest. “I want to.” His eyes were wide, desperate, and I swore I could feel his heart pounding. Or maybe it was mine.

  I somehow managed to whisper, “That’s what you want?” Tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, I added, “To please me?”

  Jordan nodded. “Yes. Please.”

  “I don’t know what I did to get such an amazing submissive,” I murmured, drawing him in for a kiss, “but I hit the fucking jackpot.”

  Jordan shivered, though I wasn’t sure if it was from what I’d said or the way we kissed. We pulled each other close, kissing in that slow, tender way that belied how turned on we both were. His lips and tongue moved almost lazily with mine, but as I slid my hand over the front of his smooth trousers, cupping his very pronounced hard-on, he broke the kiss with a gasp.

  I leaned in to explore his neck. “Hard as you are, maybe I should be the one sucking you off.”

  He shivered again, harder this time, and pressed his throat against my lips. “I want... I want…”

  “Tell me,” I whispered, pausing to plant a soft kiss right where his leather collar usually sat. “What do you want, Jordan?”

  “To…” He released a ragged breath. “Please you.”

  I nipped the side of his neck, making sure not to press hard enough to leave any kind of mark. “You are pleasing me.”

  Jordan whimpered. He combed his fingers through my hair as he said, “I want to get you off.” He sat back a little and glanced out the window. “Damn it. We don’t have time.”

  “We do.” I pulled him back to me and pressed a lingering kiss beneath his jaw. “But not much, so you’d better work quickly, hadn’t you?”

  He swallowed hard. “Work—”

  “Knees.”

  In a heartbeat, he was on his knees, looking up at me with wide, pleading eyes. He bit his lip as I started unbuckling my belt.

  “You have until we get to Milo’s.” I could almost feel his mouth watering as I drew my zipper down. “Get me off before then, I’ll reward you after the show tonight. Don’t get me off?” I held his gaze as I freed my cock from my briefs. “There will be consequences.”

  Jordan gulped, eyes flicking back and forth from mine to my dick.

  “Understood?”

  He nodded.

  “Say it.”

  He swept his tongue across his lips. “Understood. I’ll be rewarded if
I get you off. Punished if I don’t.”

  “Good.” I beckoned him forward, but grabbed his hair before he could put his mouth on my cock. “You don’t have much time, Jordan. You think you can do this?”

  Jesus fuck, he was already slipping into that headspace. His eyes were glazed, his lips apart, and twin crevices appeared between his eyebrows as he seemed to struggle to comprehend what I’d asked. “I…”

  Just to screw with him a little more, I slowly stroked myself just inches from his lips. “Can you do this, Jordan? Can you get me off in”—I glanced outside—“five minutes?”

  He nodded as vigorously as my grip on his hair allowed.

  “You sure?”

  The crevices between his eyebrows deepened. “Yes.” Please, Jase, his eyes added.

  Without a word, I released his hair.

  He didn’t hesitate. One second, he was looking up at me, the next my cock was deep in his mouth and I was in heaven. There was no way in hell he’d fail at this. His single-minded determination aside—God bless him, he loved to please—he was just too damned skilled at this. He did everything he could to make me come, and I did everything I could to hold back, and Christ, he was winning. I could hold back, draw things out half the night to tease a sub, but seeing him like this, desperate and hungry and wound too tight on his knees on the floor of a limousine, his tuxedo shirt rumpled and his coat draped haphazardly over a seat, he was just too gorgeous for words. Too sexy. Too fucking good at this.

  Stroking his hair, I glanced out the tinted windows. “We’re almost there, Jordan.” I’m almost there. “Not much time.”

  He moaned softly, and his head bobbed even faster. Jesus, the things he did with his lips and tongue—I could’ve let him do that all damn night, but even without the ticking clock, I wasn’t going to last much longer. Holy fuck, when we got home, I was going to reward him within an inch of his life.

  “K-keep doing that. God, Jordan…” I let my head fall back. “That’s perfect.”

  He moaned again, this time like he was right on the edge himself, and in an instant, my whole body almost levitated off the seat. I was sure the driver heard me curse, but I didn’t care and Jordan didn’t stop until I grabbed his hair and forced him to.