Managed: a VIP novel

by Kristen Callihan

  His long, lean body sprawls across the bed in complete repose, and I have to ignore that fact or I’ll do something rash like slide my hand down his firm abdomen and slip it into his loose sweats.

  By the time he reaches for the remote and turns off the TV, I’m a freaking mess. My mouth is dry, and my heart is trying to pound its way out of my chest.

  “You can wash up first,” he offers, subdued and not fully meeting my eyes.

  If it weren’t for the fact that Gabriel is waiting his turn, I would dither in the bathroom for far longer. As it is, I scrub my face, brush my teeth, and put on the baggiest shirt and shorts I can find.

  My face flames as I scurry under the covers, all awkward and bumbling, sending a pillow to the floor in my clumsy attempt to haul the sheet up to my nose.

  I wait in total silence for him to take his turn in the bathroom. And when he comes out, I can’t bring myself to watch him make his way to the bed. It’s too intimate, too real.

  Gabriel is far more graceful in sliding into bed. I cringe, imagining that unlike me, he’s probably unaffected. Why should he be? He has made it clear I’m nothing more than a snuggle buddy. I probably rate somewhere between stuffed animal and oversized pillow.

  The room plunges into darkness. I can hear myself breathing—too loud and too fast. I can hear him breathing—too steady and too controlled.

  Fuck. What was I thinking? I can’t do this.

  The silence is so thick between us now that I’m suffocating in it.

  Gabriel turns my way, and I immediately roll to my other side, facing away from him. It’s basic self-preservation. If we’re face to face right now, I don’t know what I’ll do. But I’m pretty sure it would end with me being utterly embarrassed.

  He doesn’t seem to mind. No, he moves closer. Goosebumps break out over my skin as his body comes into contact with mine. A heavy, muscular arm settles around my waist. And I forget to breathe.

  What the hell is wrong with me? I napped with him earlier, and I was fine. Well, not fine. I wanted to stay in his arms forever. But I wasn’t all out of sorts.

  I wasn’t fighting a shiver the way I am now.

  His warm breath caresses the top of my head. “Relax, Sophie.”

  I release a breath. “I’m trying.”

  His voice is a whisper in the dark. “Are you uncomfortable?”

  Uncomfortable? His big hand gently presses my belly, taking in the soft swell, which really sucks, but the way he keeps his hold there makes me think he either doesn’t notice or likes what he feels. Wishful thinking.

  And then there’s the fact that he’s so close. All I have to do is turn and I’ll be wrapped around him like paper on a present.

  “No,” I squeak out. “I’m good.”

  I can feel him nod. The bed creaks as he eases closer. And then I feel it.

  Oh, fucking hell. Just no. He can’t do this to me.

  It’s big, it’s hard, and it’s nudging my ass.

  We both freeze. Well, Gabriel freezes. His dick? It nudges me again, that blunt head pushing into the small of my back as if to say hello.

  “Involuntary reaction,” Gabriel says in a strangled voice. “Ignore it.”

  His hard-on says otherwise.

  I swallow with difficulty. “Your hard dick is poking me in the ass. I can no more ignore it than if you slapped me in the face with it.”

  He stills, a sound gurgling in his throat. I’m about to apologize for being so crude, when he bursts out laughing.

  Oh, how he laughs. He laughs with his whole body, shaking the bed as he flops onto his back and just laughs. The unfettered, deep, rolling laughter is so unlike his usual reserved self that I find myself grinning.

  In the dim light, his body is little more than a silhouette, his teeth a flash of white across his face. He wipes his eyes as he giggles and snorts and laughs like a giddy boy. And I love every second of it.

  Gabriel should always be like this, uninhibited and free. And if I have to suffer through his cock prodding my ass every night to get him there, I’m more than willing to make the sacrifice.

  * * *

  Gabriel

  * * *

  It’s been so long since I’ve full-out laughed that my abs are sore. Apparently laugh muscles aren’t the ones I work with my morning sit-ups. This ache feels different. Good and full, as if exhausting myself from laughing put something back in me that I’d lost. I rest my hand on my stomach and stare up at the ceiling, letting the sensation sink in.

  At my side, Sophie flops her head back against the pillows, drawing my attention. She’s beaming at me as if I’ve made her night, and she’s so bloody gorgeous, my breath hitches.

  This girl. I could lose myself over this girl. Who would have thought?

  My smile fades as reality sets in, hard and uncomfortable. “Chatty girl, what are we doing?”

  The light in her eyes dims. “What do you mean?”

  “This.” I gesture between us and sigh. “Me asking you to be my sleep partner. It was a mistake.”

  “What?” She comes up on her elbows, moving into the light slanting through the windows. “Why? What’s going on, sunshine?”

  I hate the hurt that’s clouding her sweet face, but I’m doing us both a favor. I pinch the corners of my eyes to ward off an incoming headache. “Lack of sleep has addled my judgment. It was unfair to ask you sleep with me like a goddamn security blanket night after night.”

  “Gabriel—”

  I can’t stand the soft almost-pity I hear in her voice, and I cut her off. “We’re adults, not children. Sleeping together every night will lead to expectations. Mistakes.”

  Silence looms. I don’t want to see her expression.

  “I’m attracted to you,” I blurt out. Heat swamps my cheeks as frustration claws at my gut.

  Sophie swallows hard, and I risk a glance. Her eyes are wide and darting over me, but a smile is pulling at her lips. I hate that smile. It holds too much hope.

  “Sophie, I have no capacity for relationships. I’ve never had one, never wanted one.”

  Her nose wrinkles. “That sounds lonely, if you ask me.”

  I’m beginning to agree.

  “I’m too busy to be lonely.” Also true. Months can pass in a blink, and I will not have noticed.

  The bed creaks as she eases closer. The lemon-sweet scent of her surrounds me. I know how smooth her skin is and how soft her body feels. I hold myself still, refusing to grab hold.

  Her face hovers above me.

  Don’t do that. Don’t dangle in front of me like some carrot. I’m holding back by a thread here.

  I pinch my eyes closed. Her delicate fingers touch my shoulder.

  “Truth, Gabriel? I’m attracted to you too. But I think you know that.”

  Of course I know. That only makes the temptation sharper. It would be so easy to use her. Sophie deserves more.

  “This job is my life and the entirety of my focus,” I say. “This tour is long and tight-knit. I cannot worry about hurt feelings or regrets. And I cannot do casual with you, Sophie. You deserve much better.”

  Her voice is gentle and thoughtful. “I get that. I don’t want casual either. I’m through being someone’s fun time. I want more.”

  I’m proud of her for demanding better. I still can’t look at her. “Which is why I said it was stupid of me to ask you to do this.”

  She hums in agreement. And though I’ve cleared the air, I hate that sound. I don’t want her to leave. Lonely, cold, and sleepless nights loom ahead. I might not survive it. I’m more relaxed than I’ve been in over a year, and I haven’t yet had the pleasure of sleeping next to her.

  “Thing is,” she says. “I don’t want to go back to the other bus.”

  I turn to look at her sharply, my insides clenching.

  She faces me without flinching. “I like it here with you. And maybe… Well, maybe I need you too. Maybe we need each other for whatever it is we have between us.” A flush suffuses her rounde
d cheeks. “So maybe we don’t analyze it or expect things from each other. But let’s just…I don’t know…hang out.”

  “Hang out,” I repeat like a stunned parrot.

  “Yeah,” she whispers with an encouraging smile. “Watch cheesy TV, eat desserts—”

  “Dessert was really a one time thing—”

  “It’s on the roster, bud. These hips don’t grow themselves.”

  “I wouldn’t want to be responsible for their demise,” I murmur. No, don’t flirt. Don’t think of her spectacular arse.

  She waggles her brows. Which is adorable and ridiculous all in one. “And we cuddle.”

  I want those cuddles. I don’t fucking care if it makes me weak or foolish. I want them enough to ignore how much I’d love to roll over and sink deep into her body. For now, I can stand it. I think I can stand almost anything if I can get some rest and have her company.

  “All right.” My voice is rough, unsteady. I clear my throat. “Then I suppose there’s only one question left to ask.”

  The tension visibly flows out of her body with a breath, and she rests her head in her hand, looking me over with inquisitive eyes. “What’s that?”

  “Do you prefer the left or right side of the bed?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Gabriel

  * * *

  It isn’t difficult to track down Liberty Bell James. I simply go where Killian is, knowing she’ll in the vicinity. At the moment, it’s Charles Ehrmann Stadium in Nice, France--this week’s venue--where Kill John is conducting a sound check.

  Liberty is in the center of the hall, comfortably lounging in one of the seats at the end of a row, and apparently playing a game of Candy Crush on her phone.

  I lean against the seat in front of her. “A cable network contacted me this morning. They want to use ‘Reflecting Pool’ for the start of one of their shows this season.”

  A soft flush runs over her cheeks. The woman isn’t fully comfortable with success, but she’s getting there. “That seems really…commercial.”

  No shite. “Actually, a car company wants to use ‘Lemon Drop’, too. I think we ought to say yes to both.”

  “Ugh. And have the threat of hearing myself every time I turn on the TV?” Her nose wrinkles.

  I cross my arms over my chest, bracing my feet wide. I’ll be here for a while. “We’ll work in a clause to cover how long the commercial can run to avoid overexposure.”

  “Missing the point, Scottie.”

  “I believe you’re the one missing the point, Mrs. James.”

  “For the last time, call me Libby or Liberty, Scottie.”

  “But you are Mrs. James now. I’m showing you the proper respect.”

  She gives me a light punch on the arm. “Your formality is killing me, Mr. Scott.”

  “Stick to the matter at hand, please. We need exposure at this point in your career. Car commercials have launched many an artist simply because people hear the song and want to buy it. Need I remind you of Sia?”

  “Like I can stop you,” she mutters.

  “The program Six Feet Under played ‘Breathe Me’ for one bloody show, and it launched her in the US.”

  Liberty’s chin lifts on a stubborn sniff, but I see the capitulation in her eyes.

  “I understand you want to keep things low key,” I say. “This is a good way to do it. No talk show appearances, media junkets, and the like. You simply let another massive media source do the work for you.”

  I don’t add that I’ll work toward setting up a mini-tour when the public starts clamoring for her. Baby steps are needed with Liberty. But despite her protests, she does love the stage. Killian knows as much, which is why they’ll be performing a few songs together on this tour.

  “Fine. Tell them yes.”

  “Enthusiasm, Mrs. James. It’s what makes my day.”

  She laughs. “Yeah, I just bet it does.” Liberty stands and gives me a long look. “And your nights? How are they doing now that you’ve got yourself a roommate?”

  Sly little shit. I want to tell her to mind her business. But now I’m thinking of Sophie. How are things? I wake with my hands full of luscious, warm woman. I smell her on my clothes throughout the day. I barely have a moment’s privacy once I’m on my coach or in a hotel room, and I look forward to that. I’m beginning to hate silence, because it means she’s not there.

  And I’m surrounded by all things Sophie. Her battered little trainers. Camera equipment. Makeup, hairbrushes, lotions, and hair products.

  My collar suddenly feels too tight.

  “Tell me, Mrs. James,” I find myself saying. “Is there a reason you women feel the need to wash your underthings in the sink and hang them over the shower like some sort of profane Christmas decorations?”

  I was treated to this particular form of visual torture earlier, when I went to have my morning shower, only to find lacy bras and delicate little knickers strewn about the place. What was I supposed to do? Take them down? I’d have to touch them.

  If I’m going to put my hands on Sophie’s knickers, she’s bloody well going to be in them when I do. My collar squeezes my throat yet again.

  Liberty laughs. “It’s not as though you can toss good bras and undies in the laundry. They’re hand wash only.”

  “But must you leave them hanging out in the open?” Hell, now I know exactly what size Sophie’s bras are. I’m only human. I looked. How could I not? Particularly when she left that pretty white lace one trimmed in scarlet ribbon, so well constructed, it seemed to hold her shape even though she wasn’t in it.

  “You’ve pulled your tie all out of whack,” Liberty says, bringing me back to the present.

  I blink down at her for a minute, trying to clear my mind of the fact that Sophie favors satin panties with lace panels that hug her peachy bum to perfection.

  Liberty gives me a soft smile. “Here, I’ll fix it. I know how you hate being rumpled.”

  She moves to straighten my tie, but I wave her off. “Leave it.”

  I hate being fussed over more. But I don’t bother fixing my tie either. I want to pull the damn thing off and toss it in the nearest bin before it strangles me. Liberty looks at me as if I’m off my nut.

  “Well,” she says, clearly struggling not to tease. “You could always ask Sophie to send her things out to be dry cleaned.”

  And miss the post-wash show? “That would be rude,” I mutter.

  Liberty’s expression is too neutral to be serious. “It’s probably a good idea not to tick off your new roommate.”

  I shrug, tug at my tie again, then leave off—because fuck all, I will not fidget. “It’s fine. I simply hadn’t thought there would be quite so many…accessories. I’ve never roomed with a woman before.”

  It’s too silent. I glance at Liberty to find her grinning. Her grin grows when I glare.

  “It’s cute to see you with a girlfriend,” she says.

  “What are we, sixteen?” I sneer. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

  “Fine, your lover.”

  “Christ. We’re friends. That is all.”

  “Right.” She rolls her eyes.

  “I told the lot of you to mind your business.”

  Liberty laughs. “Oh, come on, Scottie. You brought a woman into your Fortress of Solitude. Did you really think we wouldn’t talk?”

  “And what is your role here?” I ask. “Did you draw the short straw to come fact check?”

  A grin spreads across her face. “I volunteered. Everyone else is too chicken to ask.”

  “Lovely. You can go back and tell the rest of the clucking hens that Sophie and I are just friends.”

  “Hey,” Jax says, sauntering up. “That rhymes.”

  He gives Liberty a kiss on the cheek. “Killian’s looking for you. You giving Scottie a hard time for us?”

  “He’s in a mood now.”

  “I’m not in a mood.” I’m lying, and we all know it. Tension locks my jaw and rides down my neck.

 
“His tie is askew,” Jax says, frowning. “That’s practically undressed.”

  Liberty nods, staring at my wrenched tie. “He won’t let me fix it.”

  I give them both the finger, which they find hilarious, and walk away. The urge to fix my tie is strong now, but I leave it on principle.

  I don’t know where I’m headed. I should find Jules and ask her for a progress update. I’d call her, but I forgot my phone. It unnerves me that I actually left the coach without my phone—didn’t even think about it. My head was filled with…other things.

  As if called by my thoughts, Sophie appears at the top of the aisle, her smile wide and fresh, camera case slung over her shoulder, a takeout cup in her hand. “Hey! I’ve been looking for you.”

  I don’t stop until I’m close enough for my body to block her from the others’ sight. I don’t want them to see her yet. “Have you?” I ask, peering down at her.

  She’s wearing bright red Chucks, worn jeans cuffed wide to her shins, and a white camisole that strains over her breasts. We couldn’t be more incongruously attired if we tried. I drink her in, suddenly so thirsty my mouth dries up.

  “Here,” she says, lifting her cup toward me. “I brought you some tea. One sugar, light on the milk.”

  I blink in shock. She knows how I take my tea. She brought me tea. Even if it is in a paper cup, which will make it taste like shit.

  As if reading my mind, she snorts, and her mouth quirks. “It’s ceramic, designed to look like a takeout cup.”

  “Why on Earth would someone design a cup to look like something it’s not—”

  “Just take the tea, sunshine.” She shoves the cup at me, and I have no choice but to obey. While I inspect it, she sighs. “Before you start complaining again, the lid is rubber. You could drink through that little hole, but I know you won’t. Take it off and drink.”

  Afraid to disappoint her, I do as directed. The tea is hot, and a bit weak, but it soothes the sudden lump in my throat. I take two more sips before clutching the cup in my hand and staring down at the murky tea. The steam rising from it makes my vision blur. “Thank you.”

  “Sure thing. Oh, hey, your tie is all pulled out.”