If this was how rich people lived, sign me up.
The shower had stopped by the time I returned to August's master bedroom. It was a massive room with a king-sized bed, a sofa, and two matching armchairs in the corner, as well as having its own walk out balcony with a single wicker armchair and side table.
I opened up all the windows and patio doors to let some fresh air in and went about making the bed. I had just finished fluffing up the last pillow, placing it against the headboard, when the door to the en suite bathroom opened.
August stepped out looking better than I'd seen him in days. If I hadn't been by his side this whole time, I wouldn't have known he'd been bedridden for almost two weeks.
His towel-dried hair was still slightly damp, turning it a darker blond than his usual platinum. Strands stuck to his cheeks and neck. A few spare droplets of water still clung to his bare chest. He wore a pair of low slung dark denim jeans molded to his legs and nothing else, exposing that delicious V shape between his hips. A light scattering of soft hair trailed from his navel and lower, until it was hidden by the jeans.
My pulse spiked at the sight, cheeks flushing.
August noticed and smirked.
I chided myself. He'd just come through a terrible ordeal. The last thing he needed was me throwing myself at him. I had to give him time to properly recover.
But from the heated looked in August's gaze, I had no doubt his thoughts mirrored my own.
His eyes left mine to glance around. They widened.
"Did you clean up?"
"We let it get pretty bad," I said. "I didn't want you to live in a pig sty."
He gave me a soft smile.
"Why are you so good to me?" he asked.
"Because you deserve it."
He snorted, casting his eyes down.
"No, I don't. I was awful to you. You gave so much of yourself to me, and I threw it back in your face."
It seemed now that he was better, it was time to have this talk.
I sat on the edge of his bed gingerly.
"You did," I agreed calmly. "You really hurt my feelings."
His eyes were mournful, filled with regret.
"I'm sorry. I never should have said the things I did."
"You always know how I'm feeling, what I'm thinking. You used that against me, on purpose, just to hurt me. Just to push me away."
"I was a fucking idiot."
"And how's that any different from usual?"
When he realized I was joking, he gave me a small smile.
"I don't want to push you away anymore."
I opened my arms. August crossed the room, coming to stand between my legs. I wrapped my arms around his waist. He wrapped his own around my shoulders, resting his cheek against the top of my head.
"August…" I said hesitantly.
I didn't want to say this, didn't want to admit it out loud, but it had been weighing on me. And not just for the last two weeks, but for years. I needed to finally tell someone what I was feeling.
"Although what you said hurt me, you were right. I lied to those guys. I tried so hard to pretend I felt something. They were always blind-sided when I finally couldn't pretend anymore and called things off. They never had any idea how I'd truly felt. I lied to them. Every day, every minute we were together, I pretended to feel something I didn't."
He ran a hand through my hair in soothing strokes, caressing the back of my neck and between my shoulder blades.
"You can't feel guilty about that. You were trying. You didn't lead them on maliciously. That was never your intention. You just wanted to feel normal. You just wanted to have a normal relationship."
I laid my head on his torso, his skin warm beneath my cheek.
"You always know what's going on inside my head. I never had to learn to open up to you, because you already knew what I was feeling. I couldn't lie to you. I couldn't lie to myself. And…" I thought hard, making a connection that had never occurred to me before. "…I suppose that's why I hate being asked about my art."
He tilted his head. "Hm?"
"I always kept my true self hidden. I never let people know what I was really thinking, feeling. I expressed myself through my art. That was enough. I didn't want to give people any more of myself than I already had. I didn't want to let anyone in. But somehow you wormed your way inside me. And now, I think I'm okay with it. It's okay if people want to know what's going on inside my head. I don't have to lie and hide and pretend anymore."
He squeezed me tight. I peeked up at him.
"There's something I need to tell you," I said. "I don't want you to just figure it out. I want to be the one to say it out loud."
I steeled myself, gathering my courage. My fingers went cold with nerves. I took in a shaky breath.
"I love you."
His gaze softened. He pulled me to my feet. With both of my hands in his, he pressed soft kisses to my knuckles, just like he did that night on the roof.
"And I love you," he whispered against my skin.
My heart sang in my chest. I'd hoped, but I hadn't known for sure whether August returned my feelings. I just knew I had to tell him before he used his psychic powers and figured it out before I got the chance to tell him.
August's lips twitched, a small rueful smile appearing at the corners.
"And I promise I will never use my psychic powers against you, to hurt you, ever again."
We shared a laugh.
As I stared into his eyes, I felt the shift of his muscles under my fingertips. I brought my hands from around his waist and placed them on his chest. Digging my nails lightly into his skin, I trailed a line from his pecs, down his toned abs. I could see his cock jump in his jeans.
"Do you know what I'm thinking right now?" I asked.
The light blue of his eyes darkened.
"You're wondering how much better I'm feeling."
I nodded silently.
"Is there a reason why you're so concerned for my health?" His eyes glinted with a teasing heat.
"There's something I've been thinking about for a while," I told him. "Can you guess what it is?"
Keeping his eyes trained on mine, he popped open the button on his jeans.
My breath hitched as more of that irresistible V was revealed. Just the sight of it sent a flush through my body, making my insides tingle and clench.
I reached for the zipper, taking the tab between thumb and forefinger. Before pulling it down, I met his eyes, examining him closely. His gaze was bright, heated, and narrowed. His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths.
"You sure you're feeling better?" I asked breathlessly.
In response, he cupped the back of my head, urging me forward. Taking that as a yes, I slowly pulled down the zipper, fighting against his rapidly hardening length. Inch by inch, I uncovered him, stiff and thick. Carefully wrapping my hand around him, I gave an experimental stroke. He stifled a groan.
The velvety smooth skin under my hand was a wonder. I brushed my thumb through the wetness already gathered at the tip, spreading it around. He sifted through my hair, gently, encouragingly.
Leaning forward, I took a slow, long lick of the head. His fingers tightened their grip. I placed my lips on the tip, a light kiss. His stomach muscles tensed. Pursing my lips, I slowly pushed forward, taking him into my mouth, lips sliding down wetly.
I took him as far as I comfortably could. He let out a long, low groan. I applied suction, sucking him down with hollowed cheeks. He lay on my tongue, hot and heavy, filling my mouth. I savored him as I licked and sucked.
I drew back and bobbed forward with a steady rhythm, drawing a series of delicious sounds from his mouth. His hips shifted slightly back and forth. I took him farther down with each short thrust. With every withdrawal, I played with the head using my tongue, circling and licking. With every push forward, I pressed my lips together, sucking lightly at first, then with more pressure.
His moans were enough to make my cheeks flush and my heart
pound, enough to send heat pooling between my legs. The taste and texture of him on my tongue, the feeling of him filling my mouth, sent my head reeling, sent my body up in flames.
His thighs began trembling and straining. Without taking my mouth off him, I maneuvered him onto the bed, lying on his back. I settled between his legs. He propped himself up on his arms to watch me. His pupils were blown wide open, his lips parting as he made soft sounds.
He was still recovering. As much as I'd been craving this, I didn't want him to overdo it.
But I hadn't been able to resist any longer. He'd stepped out of the en suite, shirtless and in that tight denim and I knew I needed to have him this way. I'd been taking care of him for days, watching him fight his own demons. This was one more way for me to take care of him, to show him how I felt without words.
He hardened further in my mouth, cock twitching. He tugged desperately at my hair, groaning my name in warning.
Instead of pulling away, I sucked him down even further. I relaxed my muscles, taking deep breaths through my nose. The tip touched the back of my throat. His thighs clenched and flexed, his hands fisted tightly in my hair.
I held on, waiting until just the right moment, waited until he was right at the edge.
I swallowed.
He groaned out a curse as he spilled himself inside me. I took all of him in, letting him flow hot and wet over my tongue. I sucked lightly and licked gently, working him through it.
His body finally went limp, cock losing some of its hardness. I let him leave my mouth with one last lick. He moaned and twitched.
I licked my lips and tucked him back into his jeans.
"You're a goddess," he breathed.
I chuckled. He grabbed at me and pulled me close, I clung to him, burying my face in his neck. His fingers slid along my body, pulling up my long shirt and teasing at the waistband of my leggings.
I shook my head and squirmed away.
"Nope," I said. "That was all for you."
He let out a noise of disappointment.
"I want you to rest and take it easy."
I snuggled down into his chest, listening to his pounding heart slowly return to normal. He ran his hands all over my back, my sides, my butt and thighs, as if he couldn't get enough of me.
I understood that feeling all too well.
My phone pinged from across the room, ruining our moment of basking.
"Probably Damon," I murmured. "They're really insistent on seeing you." I leaned up to meet his eyes. "Do you think you're up to it?"
August lowered his gaze, looking hesitant, but nodded.
"I can't put it off forever," he mumbled.
"You don't have anything to be embarrassed about," I told him, sensing the problem. "The guys care about you. They just want you to get better."
"I lied to them. I betrayed their trust. I forced them to make a horrible choice by kicking me out of the band for my own good."
"They feel awful about how it all went down. They want to apologize."
"I'm the one who needs to apologize. I should have told them about—" he cut himself off, cringing.
"Your shoulder?" I guessed. "The RSI?"
"My shoulder is too fucked up to play without using drugs to numb the pain. But I don't want to be that person anymore. But I can't give up drumming." He turned his head to the side, hair falling to cover his face. "I don't know what to do. I don't have many options left."
"I know you ruled it out but…" I trailed off, not wanting to upset him.
"The surgery," he whispered. He went silent for long moments, taking in shuddering breaths. "I hate the idea. I hate the risk. But it might be my only chance to have a normal life again."
"Why don't you talk to the guys?" I suggested. "See what they say. You can decide as a team. You don't have to do this by yourself."
He gathered my hands in his and held them to his chest.
"Will you stay while I talk to them?" he asked.
"I'll be here as long as you want me to."
He bumped his nose against mine in that familiar, sweet gesture.
"What if I want forever? Will you promise me that?"
My heart swelled in my chest.
"Yes," I said simply. "I'll stay with you forever."
Chapter Thirty
The room was silent. Almost as silent as it had been in the hospital that day when I'd first confronted August in front of the guys.
They hadn't been able to believe it back then.
They couldn't believe it now.
"Five percent?" Cameron asked, hushed.
August nodded.
"Yes. I'll most likely come out of the surgery with my shoulder improved. But there's a five percent chance it'll get worse. Bad enough I'll no longer be able to play drums."
"Shit," Cameron cursed.
Noah's face, normally unreadable, was so alarmed even I was able to see through his usual impassive facade.
The twins shared identical looks of dismay, green eyes wide and pained.
"So what are you going to do?" Cameron asked.
"I haven't decided." August tried to speak calmly, but I could hear the tremor in his voice. "I wanted to talk it over with you guys."
When August finally felt well enough, he'd invited the band over to his place. Before they could make their well wishes and apologies, he'd gotten straight to the point, brief but concise.
August had Chronic RSI. His shoulder wouldn't get better on its own. His options were limited.
"I hate to see you in pain," Ian said softly. "But I know how much music means to you. I can't—" he broke off, shaking his head. "I can't imagine an August Summers who didn't make music."
"You could still compose," Noah said quietly. "You could still produce."
"I could," August agreed.
"It's not the same and you know it," Ian said. "Being on stage is like nothing else. You can't expect August to give that up."
"I don't expect him to do anything," Noah retorted. "We're talking options."
"A five percent chance is low, but it's still not zero." Ian's brows drew down into a frown. "If it was me… I don't know if I would risk it."
"But without the surgery, August can only play while he's out of his mind on drugs," Damon argued. "That's not an option either."
"Rick Allen," Cameron suddenly spoke up.
The others turned to him. Understanding dawned on their faces. Ian and Damon shared a hopeful glance, communicating without words. Noah gave Cameron a thoughtful nod.
"Who?" I asked.
I sat at August's side on the living room sofa. None of the guys had asked why I was there for what should have been a private band meeting. August had ambushed them the minute they sat down, not wanting to drag it out.
"Rick Allen, the drummer from Def Leppard," Cameron explained. "He lost an arm in a car accident. Everyone thought his career was over. He learned to compensate by using a specialized drum kit with his feet."
August's lips twitched upward.
"You expect me to drum with my feet?" he asked.
Cameron made a face.
"I'm not saying it's the best scenario," he said. "But even if your shoulder does get worse, there are alternatives. You don't have to quit playing forever. You don't have to quit Darkest Days."
August did smile then.
"Does that mean I'm no longer kicked out?" he asked.
"I need to apologize about that." Damon learned forward in his armchair, resting his elbows on his knees. "I didn't handle it in the best way. I shouldn't have ambushed you. I should have listened. Given you time to explain. I'm an impulsive idiot."
"I'm the one who should apologize," August said. "I lied to you for so long. I should have trusted you enough to tell you the truth."
"So it's agreed," Cameron said. "We're all a bunch of dickheads."
Everyone laughed, except Ian.
"Can we address the elephant in the room?" Ian asked.
Everyone turned to him, laughter
dying.
"August has a problem." Ian leaned forward in his seat, staring August down. "And I'm not talking about your shoulder."
"I don't—" August began to say, then cut himself off. He looked away, avoiding everyone's eyes.
"August, you have to say it out loud," Ian said softly. "Trust me, I know how hard this is. You have to admit it. To us, and to yourself."
August out a deep breath. His hands shook. I took one in mine. It was clammy. I squeezed. He squeezed back. When he met Ian's eyes, they were defeated. "I do have a problem," he admitted. "I'm…" he swallowed hard. "I'm an addict."
Ian nodded in understanding. "And you know what you need to do, right?"
"Therapy," August said with a grimace. "Counseling. Whatever it takes."
"It's going to be hard," Noah warned. "You can't just out-stubborn this."
August nodded, a determined expression on his face. "I know. But I want to get better. I don't want this to control my life anymore. No more lies. No more secrets."
"We're all here for you," Cameron said. "Whether you need to talk, or whether you need someone to kick your ass, we're here."
August chuckled. "Thanks, Cam. I can always trust you for a good ass kicking."
"There's one more apology that needs to be made." Ian turned to me. "I'm sorry we acted like assholes toward you. We were upset and needed someone to take it out on. None of this was your fault." He flicked his eyes between me and August, gaze softening. "You're good for him. He's lucky to have you."
My cheeks burned. "You knew?"
"We all knew," Damon said easily, leaning back in his chair. "We didn't say anything because we figured both you and August wanted to keep it quiet. None of us wanted to embarrass you. Well," he snorted, "Cam did, but we out-voted him."
"Now that the secret's out, does that mean I can start teasing them?" Cameron looked eager, like a puppy wagging its tail.
August raised an eyebrow. "You want to be the next one kicked out?"
"Have we decided, then?" Noah spoke up, his quiet voice cutting through the laughter. "Is August doing the surgery?"
Hard Rock Deceit: A Rock Star Romance Page 18