Текст книги "Double Time"

Автор книги: Olivia Cunning

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Double Time
Sinners on Tour  – 5
Olivia Cunning

Dedicated to the memory of

Randy Rhodes,

the first rock star I ever mourned.

He disembarked from

the crazy train much too soon,

but his legacy will always survive

in his haunting guitar work.

Dude, you rock.

Chapter 1

“Trey.” The sound of Brian’s deep voice tugged at Trey’s heart. His soul. His will. Brian comprised Trey’s hopes. His dreams. Embodied his love. His desire. Represented his past. His present. His future. Everything Trey had ever been or ever could be, he associated with the man. Trey knew Brian would never love him. Not with the same all-encompassing, soul-wrenching possessiveness with which Trey loved him, but they maintained a close friendship. It wasn’t nearly enough for Trey, but was better than nothing.

“Trey?” Brian whispered against his ear, his bare chest pressed against Trey’s naked back. “I want you.”

The flood of lust that coursed through Trey’s body was punctuated with an inrush of breath. Yes… “Now?”

“Shh,” Brian breathed. “Quiet. Or someone will hear us.”

Trey was naked. Had he gone to bed naked? He didn’t remember. It didn’t matter. In the darkness, Brian pressed him facedown on the mattress of his bunk on Sinners’ tour bus. Trey felt Brian’s weight over his back. His warmth seeped into his skin. The scent of leather, Brian’s sweet aftershave, and male surrounded him. Trey closed his eyes and relished the sensations. The texture of Brian’s skin. The raspy quality of his breath.

Emotion washed over Trey. His only regret was that they weren’t face to face, so he couldn’t stare into Brian’s intense brown eyes, bury his hands in his messy, shoulder-length hair, and kiss his firm lips as he took him. Whenever Brian visited him, it was always like this. Face down. Total surrender.

Trey felt Brian’s cock against his throbbing ass. He relaxed, opening himself to possession. Brian surged forward, filling him with one deep thrust.

“Ah,” Trey gasped brokenly as a mix of pain and pleasure pulsed through the core of his body. He loved that Brian’s cock was huge. That it stretched him to his limits. Loved how Brian clasped his hands on either side of his head to pin him down. It made Trey feel helpless. Fucked. Used. Exactly how he needed to feel, because he knew this wasn’t right. Brian loved another.

Trey lifted his hips slightly in an attempt to get his own attentive cock into a more pleasurable position.

“Don’t move,” Brian growled. “Take it.”

Trey took it. No pain now. Just intense, pulsating pleasure. Brian fucked him harder. Harder. Until Trey wanted to scream I love you, I love you, I love you at the top of his lungs. He didn’t dare. He knew Brian would disappear the moment he said anything that remotely stupid.

Trey bit his lip and struggled to lift his hips off the bed. He wanted Brian’s hands on his cock as he fucked him. Stroking him from base to tip. Giving him pleasure. Making him come. Come by his hand. In his hands. The hands that created the guitar music that was as much a part of Trey as it was of Brian.

“Brian?” he whispered. “Please.”

“No.”

Trey groaned and rocked his hips, rubbing his cock against the mattress. He needed to come so bad. Oh, please. I need it. Need you.

“Hold still, Trey. You know how this works.”

Trey stopped moving. Brian had been visiting him like this more and more frequently. Especially since Brian had gotten his wife, Myrna, pregnant. It was pretty much a nightly occurrence at this point. Trey wanted him. Not just in bed. In his life. Each moment, he felt Brian slipping further away and Trey didn’t know how to hold on to him.

Brian. Stay with me. Please.

“Trey?” A hand grabbed Trey’s shoulder and gave him a hard shake. “Trey! Wake up. It’s time.”

Trey opened his eyes. The Brian of his dreams vanished and was replaced by the real Brian. This one was not fucking him good, hard, and selfishly up the ass. This one was fully clothed and grinning at him from just outside the curtain of Trey’s bunk. Trey’s balls tightened unexpectedly and he reached down to pull off his sock. He buried his cock in the soft, warm cotton. His belly clenched. Muscles at the base of his cock gave a hard spasm. He came with a tortured gasp.

Goddammit. He ruined more socks that way.

“Sorry to interrupt your wet dreams, dude,” Brian said, “but we’ve got to catch a plane. Like immediately. Get dressed.”

Still disoriented, still trembling with the aftereffects of his unexpected orgasm (while Brian watched—he’d undoubtedly relive that in his fantasies for weeks), Trey forced himself to sit up on his bunk. Feet dangling over the edge, he bent his back at an uncomfortable angle so he didn’t whack his head on the tour bus’ ceiling. “What time is it?” Trey rubbed his eyes and blinked in the overly bright cabin lights.

“Three.”

“In the morning? What the hell, Brian? I need sleep.”

“Myrna’s in labor.”

Trey’s heart twisted unpleasantly. “She’s not due for…”

“Two weeks. I know. It’s the real deal though. She’s already at the hospital.” Brian grabbed Trey’s arm and jerked him out of his bunk to the floor. “Hurry up. I will not miss the birth of my first child.”

“I don’t understand why I have to go,” Trey said.

Brian looked a little hurt and Trey immediately wanted to take that comment back.

“You have to go because I need you there,” Brian said.

“Fine. I’ll go. Whatever,” Trey said as if his heart wasn’t singing with delight. Brian needed him? There was a first time for everything, he supposed.

Trey rearranged his boxer shorts and located his jeans on the floor next to their new soundboard operator’s empty bunk. Rebekah’s bunk didn’t get much use. She and the band’s drummer, Eric Sticks, spent most nights in the back bedroom claiming they were still on their honeymoon. Seven months of honeymooning was a bit much by anyone’s standards. Even Trey’s. Trey hopped into his pants, tugged a T-shirt over his head, and began his search for a spare sock.

Brian chuckled at him when he tossed his ruined sock in the garbage. “That must’ve been some dream. What was it about?”

Trey raked a hand through his long bangs. “These three really hot chicks,” he lied without missing a beat. “I had three cocks and each of them was sucking one.”

Brian quirked an eyebrow at him and Trey’s heart skipped a beat. The man was so fucking gorgeous, it was a sin. “Weird.”

But not as weird as having homoerotic dreams about your best friend. Your married best friend who was about to become a father.

“Did you get plane tickets already?” Trey asked.

“Your brother’s jet is meeting us at the airstrip. It’s already on its way. Should be landing by the time we get there.”

“So Dare’s coming with?”

“Nope. Just you and me.”

Alone on a private jet. Trey was pretty sure they wouldn’t be initiating each other into the mile high club. Bummer.

By the time they reached the hospital four hours later, Brian was in a panic. When Trey hesitated on the threshold of Myrna’s delivery and recovery room, Brian grabbed his arm and hauled him inside.

“I didn’t miss it, did I?” Brian asked the doctor who was between Myrna’s legs with his bloody surgical gloves trying to ease a black-haired head out of something Trey wished he had never ever seen. Oh fuck. That had to hurt.

Trey’s eyelids fluttered, the floor disappeared from beneath him, and everything went black.

The squall of a baby and the declaration, “It’s a boy!” flittered around Trey’s semiconscious mind. That and some strange ammonia smell just beneath his nose.

“Come on, gorgeous,” a soft feminine voice said nearby. “Open your eyes for me. The messy part is all over now.”

Trey regained full consciousness with a sudden intake of breath. He instinctively knocked the offensive smelling salts from beneath his nose and sat up.

“There, he’s back with us,” someone said from the opposite side of the room. The doctor maybe? Trey couldn’t get his eyes to focus.

“Did I pass out?” Trey asked.

“Out like a light, buddy,” Brian said from beside Myrna’s bed. He chuckled much too gleefully.

“You cannot tell anyone about this,” Trey said, struggling to climb to his feet. He leaned his back against a wall to steady himself. He hated hospitals. He’d spent far too many hours in them as a child, including one entire summer when his father had been serving his residency and his mother had decided to ride a bicycle across the country. Just the smell of a hospital made his skin crawl.

“Yeah right,” Brian said. “I’m having T-shirts made. I wanted to wait to cut the cord, but you refused to wake up in time to watch.”

Trey’s stomach did a summersault. Cut the cord? Yuck. “Sorry I missed it.” Not.

“That’s okay. I got it on film.”

“Great…” Trey ducked his head to hide his crinkled nose.

A stunning brunette dressed in pink scrubs bent down to enter Trey’s field of vision. She stroked his hair out of his face. The slim brows over her striking blue eyes drew together in concern. “Feeling better now?”

He grinned at her and she flushed. “I think I’ll live,” he said.

Her hand slid to the back of his head. “You bumped your head.” Her fingers found the scar that ran beneath his hair in a wide arch over his left ear. She traced the ridge with her index finger. “What’s this?”

Trey captured her hand in his and pulled it away from his scalp. “Old war injury.” If getting hit in the back of the head with a baseball bat during a bar fight could be considered war. That little incident had landed him in a hospital for days. Not one of his better memories. “You have really pretty eyes,” he told the nurse, still holding her hand.

Her breath caught, pupils dilated slightly as she focused on his interested gaze. “Thank you,” she whispered, lowering her lashes to hide her deep blue eyes.

Trey released her hand and she sagged against the wall. He turned his attention to the bed, glad a blue drape cloth concealed whatever the doctor was doing between Myrna’s legs. Trey was pretty sure the doc was giving Myrna stitches and he did not want to know why that was necessary.

“So where’s this baby we’ve been waiting to see for nine months now?” Trey asked.

Brian waved him over to the bed. Trey approached cautiously. Myrna looked exhausted, and he knew better than to tick her off. He was prepared to make a run for it, if necessary. Brian wrapped an arm around Trey’s shoulders and they gazed down at the bundle in Myrna’s arms. A miniature, red-faced Brian jabbed his fist in his mouth and sucked earnestly. Trey’s heart skipped a beat before melting inside his chest. Brian’s son was the most perfect thing Trey had ever seen in his entire life.

Brian scooped up the baby and handed him to Trey. Trey drew his little body against his chest and stared down at him in breathless awe.

“We named him Malcolm Trey,” Myrna said. “After Brian’s father. And, well, you.”

Trey tore his gaze from the small wonder to gape at Myrna. “Me? Why would you name him after me?”

She smiled. “It seemed appropriate to name him after the two most important men in Brian’s life.”

“We want you to be his godfather,” Brian said.

“I…” Trey was honored, but he wasn’t an appropriate godfather. He was scarcely responsible enough to take care of himself. How could they ever expect him to be responsible enough to care for their child? “I don’t think…”

The baby in his arms gurgled, and Trey looked down to find him staring up at him with unfocused brown eyes. His father’s eyes. Brian’s eyes. Brian had made this. This perfect, beautiful little person.

Brian was a father.

Trey glanced at Brian and the enormity of it all stole his breath. Brian didn’t notice Trey. He only had eyes for his son. His pride in the little guy was tangible.

Trey turned his attention to the baby in his arms. He stroked Malcolm’s cheek and then touched his tiny hand, fascinated with his tiny fingers. His tiny fingernails. Tiny knuckles. Everything so tiny. Malcolm gripped Trey’s finger with surprising strength. “You’re going to be a master guitarist like your daddy someday,” Trey told him.

Malcolm scrunched up his face and Trey laughed, totally enamored with Brian’s son. The son born from the love Brian shared with his wife, Myrna. The son Trey could have never given Brian no matter how much he loved him. Trey took a steadying breath, kissed the baby’s forehead, and handed Malcolm back to his father. “Here. I’ll probably break him or something.”

“Good-lookin’ kid, ain’t he?” Brian pressed a kiss to Malcolm’s temple.

“Of course,” Myrna said, love shining in her hazel eyes as she stared up at her husband and son. “He looks like his father.”

“He has your lips,” Brian said.

“And your hair.”

Trey chuckled. Father and son both had tufts of black hair sticking up in all directions.

“I hope he has your brains,” Brian said.

“And your talent,” Myrna added.

“He’s perfect,” Trey said, unable to resist the impulse to smooth Malcolm’s fuzzy hair with his palm. It did no good. The baby’s downy black hair immediately returned to standing on end.

“You’ll be his godfather then?” Brian asked.

Trey lifted his gaze to Brian’s. As if he could deny him anything. “Yeah. I guess so.”

Brian smiled. “I think you need to get busy, Mills—find yourself a nice girl and make Malcolm a best friend. You’re already nine months behind.”

“Ha! Like that’s ever going to happen,” Trey said flippantly, but something inside him wanted that. Wanted something he and Brian could share. Pride of their respective sons. He could almost picture Malcolm and Trey Junior playing together in the backyard, learning how to play guitar together, getting into mischief, growing. Trey Junior? What the fuck was he thinking? There would never be a Trey Junior. He didn’t even like kids. Not even cute little shits who were cursed with the name Malcolm Trey. The baby cooed and Trey melted into a puddle of mush. Okay, so there was one exception to his dislike of kids, but only one.

“I should probably leave you three alone so you can bond as a family or whatever.”

“You can stay,” Myrna said. “You’re part of our family.”

He appreciated the gesture, but Trey knew better. Things would never go back to the way they’d been before Myrna had crashed onto the scene. He’d been sulking over it long enough. It was time to finally let Brian go. As agonizing as that decision was for Trey, he’d lost all hope of Brian ever returning his feelings. Brian belonged to Myrna. Belonged with Myrna. And Malcolm. Trey had been fooling himself into thinking Brian might eventually come to think of him as more than a friend, but now he didn’t even want him to. He wanted Brian to continue to be a wonderful husband and an amazing daddy. Myrna deserved that. Malcolm deserved that. Trey couldn’t interfere with something that important. It wouldn’t be right.

“You know I hate hospitals,” Trey said. “I’m going to go see what Dare is up to. Hang out with my big bro in his McMansion until we have to head back to the tour bus. You can call me if you need me to change a diaper or something.”

“You’re willing to change diapers?” Brian asked.

Trey chuckled at his startled expression.

Trey glanced down at little Malcolm who was making a face that led Trey to believe he was already cooking up a ripe diaper in his honor. “Nah, but I’m sure I can talk some sweet fangirl into doing it for me.” He winked at Brian.

“You will not use my son as a chick magnet, Mills,” Brian said.

Trey laughed and then bent over the bed to offer Myrna a hug. She met his eyes and cupped his cheek. “You okay?” she whispered, seeming to recognize that Trey was moving beyond his infatuation with her husband. Giving up on Brian. Letting her win. She’d been infinitely patient with him. And trusting of her husband. Because she’d recognized the truth far sooner than Trey had. Brian didn’t love him—not the way he wanted him to—and he never would.

Trey leaned closer and whispered, “Love him enough for both of us. Okay? Just promise me that.”

Her hand pressed against the back of his head as she hugged him close. “I will. I promise.”

When he stood upright, he offered Brian a vigorous, one-armed bro hug. He met Brian’s intense brown-eyed gaze steadily. “Good-bye.” He could scarcely get the word out through his constricted chest and throat. Brian obviously had no clue that there was significance behind that single word of farewell.

“Later,” Brain said. “If I don’t see you before, we have a show tomorrow night.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Trey said with a smile.

Brian’s gaze shifted to his son’s face. “Yeah,” he said breathlessly. Trey could practically see his separation anxiety and pictured Brian onstage with a baby sling strapped to his chest above his electric guitar and tiny, sound-blocking headphones on Malcolm’s fuzzy head. So not Sinners’ style. But totally Brian’s.

Trey kissed Malcolm’s forehead. “See you soon, godson. Don’t break too many hearts.”

Brian chuckled. “Look who’s talking.”

Trey left the room, forcing himself not to look back at the scene of domestic bliss he left behind. He really needed to do something fun to take his mind off things. Something or someone. What he needed was sex. His drug of choice.

The pretty, young nurse who had woken him with smelling salts stood just outside the delivery room door. When he walked past her, she perked up and grabbed his arm. She’d been waiting for him. Too easy.

“Hey,” she said breathlessly. “Hey, um, Trey, right?”

He offered her a crooked grin, and she flushed before lowering her wide blue eyes to his chest. He watched her, noting the submission in her stance, the way she swayed toward him slightly. The way her thumb stroked his bare arm just above his elbow.

“Um…” she pressed onward. “I was just about to take a break and wondered if you’d like to go grab a cup of coffee with me.”

Trey’s heart rate kicked up a notch. He turned and took her firmly by both wrists, pressing her back against the wall, their bodies separated by mere inches. He bent his head so his breath would caress her ear as he spoke to her in a low voice. “You don’t want coffee.”

Her pulse raced out of control beneath his fingertips. “I don’t?”

“No, but I know what you do want.”

“What’s that?” Her dark blue eyes flicked upward to meet his. She’d already surrendered, and he rarely turned down a good time.

“A hard, slow fuck against the wall.”

“Here?” she whispered, her eyes wide.

He didn’t dare laugh. That would have broken his spell over her. “In that supply closet.” He nodded down the hall.

He held her gaze in challenge, daring her to deny him. She tore her gaze from his and peeked around his body for witnesses before grabbing a handful of his shirt, racing down the hall, unlocking the supply closet, and dragging him inside. The instant the door closed, she wrapped both arms around his neck and plastered her mouth to his. He let her kiss him. Let her touch the hoop piercing his eyebrow and the ones in his ear. He’d show her the one in his nipple, but she was still a little skittish and he knew if he took the upper hand too quickly, she’d balk and either leave or pretend he’d taken advantage of her.

“You’re so sexy,” she murmured against his lips. “Why are you so sexy? I shouldn’t be doing this.”

By this, he assumed she meant unfastening his belt, tugging at his T-shirt, rubbing her firm breasts into his chest, biting his lip.

“I don’t want you to think I normally do this kind of thing,” she said, her hand slipping into his silk boxers to toy with his hardening cock.

He did this kind of thing almost daily, but he wouldn’t make the mistake of telling her that.

“Take off your pants,” he whispered.

When she obeyed, he knew she was in this until the end. Which he estimated would be approximately fifteen minutes in the future.

“Are you really in a rock band?” she asked.

Trey chuckled. Couldn’t help it. Did she seriously not know who he was? It had been a while since a woman had jumped him without knowing he was notorious for this kind of thing. “Yeah, I’m really in a rock band. And I play an actual instrument.”

“Guitar?”

He grinned. “How did you guess?”

The excitement in her eyes led him to believe she wasn’t half-naked in a supply closet at work because she wanted famous-guitarist Trey. She was pantsless and submissive because she wanted bad-boy Trey. He was all about giving her exactly what she wanted. The walls were concealed behind floor-to-ceiling shelves, so he pressed her back up against the door and trapped her arms on either side of her head. She gasped when he lowered his head to kiss her neck. He nibbled, suckled, and licked the pulse point under her jaw until she began to fight his hold with impatience.

“You’re driving me insane,” she said. “Do you have a condom?”

“Are you in a hurry?” he murmured.

“Kinda. My fifteen-minute break is almost over.”

“You’re going to be late.” He nipped her earlobe and released her wrist. Trey’s left hand moved down her body and gave her breast a gentle squeeze before moving between her legs. She clung to his hair and then fingered the tiny hoops in his ear, then his eyebrow again.

“Do you like piercings?” he whispered. “I have a couple more.”

“Where?” she whispered.

“I didn’t wear the one in my tongue. Didn’t realize I’d have a sweet pussy to lick this early in the morning.”

She moaned in torment. When Trey’s fingers found her clit, she cried out. Damn, she was swollen. And wet. And eager. He liked eager. The chase meant nothing to him. He just liked to fuck. Kissing her neck, he stroked her clit rhythmically.

“There’s another in my nipple,” he whispered.

Her hand moved to his chest. She found the ridge of his jewelry under his T-shirt, and then she slid her hand up under his clothes to finger it.

“Pull it,” he encouraged. “It makes my balls throb.”

“Do you like that?”

“Try it and see.”

She tugged and he shuddered. “Oh,” she gasped when his hard cock leaped against her thigh.

“Come for me.” He rubbed her clit faster in wide circles until she shuddered hard with an orgasm. Her gasping breaths in his ear made him want to join her in bliss. He lifted his head to look at her then. “Where do you want it?”

Dazed, she gazed up at him. “Where do I want what?”

“My cock.”

“I have more than one choice?”

He slid a finger inside her slippery pussy and she jerked. “There’s here.” A second finger probed her ass and her eyes widened. “Back here.” He licked her lip and then the ridge of her teeth. “In here.” He slid his hand up from her wrist to intertwine their fingers. “Your capable hands.” He lowered his head to whisper in her ear while he palmed her full breasts with both hands. “Or you can hold me between these. If you’re really kinky…”

“What do you want?” she asked breathlessly.

“No preference.” Which wasn’t exactly true. Seeing the startled look on her face when he’d probed her ass made him crave some backdoor action, but that probably wasn’t the best choice for her if she had to go back to work.

“Regular,” she whispered.

Regular? Since when was anything he did regular? He stifled a laugh, trying to be sensitive to her feelings. “I assume by regular you mean vaginal sex.”

She nodded.

“Say it.”

He found a condom in the back pocket of his jeans and tore it open with his teeth. She watched him as if amazed, but she didn’t say a word as he applied it.

“Tell me what you want,” he pressed. He had already decided she needed the added psychological stimulation to get off. Demands and directions. Whatever she liked was fine by him. He was game. “I want you to say it.”

She grabbed his hair in both fists and said, “A slow, hard fuck against the wall, just like you said.”

“Where do you want me?”

She shuddered as if the very thought had her near orgasm. “Inside.”

“Inside what?”

“M-my vagina.”

“Your pussy?”

Her hands tightened in his hair, and the last shred of her resistance crumbled. “My cunt. Fuck it hard, Trey.”

He lifted her off the floor, pressing her against the door for leverage, and then directed his cock inside her. He loved losing himself in mindless fucking. No worries. No heartache. Just pleasure. He gave her what she wanted, possessing her with hard, deep, slow strokes, but she gave him what he needed to. A temporary reprieve from his turbulent thoughts and his perpetually broken heart. Trey concentrated solely on sensation. He felt no emotional connection as he thrust into her. Never did. Hadn’t since Brian had made love to him back in high school and he’d tossed his heart at the guy’s feet. Twelve years of sex without love. Twelve years of love without sex. And now that Trey had given up on Brian ever loving him or making love to him, he just felt hollow. Empty. Desolate. He doubted anything could fill the empty chasm inside. Certainly not some pretty nurse he’d just met and was fucking in a supply closet. He didn’t even know her name. Didn’t care to.

When she came, he followed her over the edge, his release bringing him that state of tranquility he craved. He wished it lasted longer than thirty seconds. And didn’t have to be followed by a whole lot of awkwardness. He pulled out and removed the expended condom, tossing it in a convenient garbage can on the janitor’s cart, and then refastened his jeans and belt. He let her find her panties and scrub pants. Waited until she was dressed before he looked at her. Not that he didn’t want to watch the hot stranger he’d just fucked slide her panties up her legs. He just knew that if he did, she’d start seeing things that weren’t there. Feelings. With feelings came attachment. With attachment came complications. That was the last thing Trey ever wanted.

“I…” she said breathlessly.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said. He pinned her with the look that got him almost anything he wanted. He’d perfected it as a child, modified it as a man, used it unabashedly. She flushed and leaned against the door for support.

“Sometimes a beautiful woman just needs a hard, slow fuck against a wall with a perfect stranger. I understand.”

She gazed at him, looking more dazed than a pothead at a Grateful Dead concert. “Yeah… Perfect.”

“I’ll leave first. I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble.”

“Yeah…”

He waited for her to collect enough sense to move out of the way of the door. One hand on the doorknob, Trey took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and kissed her trembling lips. “That is the best sex I’ve ever had against a door in a hospital supply closet.”

“Yeah…”

“You’re an amazing woman.”

“Will you call me?” she gushed.

He shook his head slightly. “I want to keep my memory of this moment untainted. Let’s not complicate it. Let it be what it’s meant to be. Pleasure for the sake of pleasure.”

Her face twitched with disappointment, but she nodded.

He gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead and then let himself into the corridor. He strode toward the bank of elevators at the end of the hall.

Hot nurse a fuzzy memory already, Trey dug his cell phone out of his pocket and called his brother.

“What’s up?” Dare answered.

“Brian and Myrna had a boy.” Trey smiled at the thought of holding Brian’s perfect son for the first time. “They named him Malcolm Trey.”

Dare sniggered. “What the fuck are they thinking? Poor kid.”

“You home?”

“Yeah, but I’m busy.”

Trey grinned. “Busy, huh? What’s her name? I’ll help you entertain her.”

“Not that kind of busy. Remember that stupid contest our publicist came up with: Guitarist for a Year with Exodus End? Today we’re auditioning studio musicians to identify the winner. We do need to find someone to take over for Max on rhythm guitar, but this is fuckin’ stupid.” Max was the lead singer of Dare’s band, Exodus End. Max had also played rhythm guitar until recently. “We hoped his carpal tunnel surgery would get us out of this mess, but the surgery fucked up his hand even more. He can’t stand the pain of playing, and he’s been advised not to move his wrist for several weeks.”

“That should make jerking off a challenge,” Trey said.

“As if Max needs to jerk off.”

True. The man could have any woman he wanted.

“Hey,” Dare said, “you should come try out. We can make it seem like you entered the contest.”

“You know I can’t do that. I’d never leave Sinners. Not even for you.” Trey stepped on the elevator and made his way down to the lobby. The well-built guy in the elevator smiled at him and let his eyes drift down Trey’s body with appreciation. Trey had to admit he was tempted by the open invitation, but he had a powerful need to hang out with his big brother. Dare understood him. Trey needed that at the moment. More than he needed more meaningless, but amazing, sex with yet another attractive stranger.

“You can help us decide then,” Dare said, drawing Trey’s attention from the way elevator-guy was gnawing on his lips and making Trey want to kiss him. “We’ve narrowed it down to five guitarists based on their demos, but there’s no way to know how many times they redid them before sending them in. They’ll all be playing live for us in about an hour. They can’t fake that.”

Trey stepped off the elevator, winking at Open Invitation before wandering toward the exit to find a cab.

“Okay, sure. Sounds like fun.” Trey’s phone beeped. “I’ll be there in a few. I’ve got another call.”

“Later.”

Trey disconnected and checked his phone’s screen. Mark? Shit. He considered ignoring him but knew Mark would just keep calling and calling until Trey finally talked to him. The guy could not take a hint. Might as well get this over with.

“Hey,” Trey answered.

“Are you in town?” Mark asked.

“I’m on tour. You know that.”

“The Sinners’ News Blog said you flew into L.A. this morning because Brian’s wife was in labor.”

Trey wasn’t sure how the owners of that blog knew what was going on with Sinners so quickly. Sometimes they knew more about Sinners’ goings-on than Trey knew and he was living it. He guessed he couldn’t deny that he was in town. “Yeah, they had a little boy. Adorable little shit.”

“Yeah, that’s what the site said. 7 pounds 9 ounces. 21 inches. Named him Malcolm Trey. Are you still at the hospital? I could stop by.”

Stalker alert! “Mark, we’ve been through this. I’m not interested in a relationship with you.” Men! They could be such a pain in the ass. Especially if they didn’t know what they were doing back there. Trey had slept with Mark more than once. They’d met in Portland over a year ago and after relieving him of his anal and oral virginity, Trey had taken him to get a tattoo. The guy had moved to Los Angeles a few months later. Trey suspected it was because of him, as Mark was relentless in his pursuit. Trey had no problem fucking him, but when Mark had started trying to forge a commitment, Trey was finished with him. The guy could not take a hint. Or blatant rejections. Or flashing neon signs that read: Go the fuck away.