Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 103008 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103008 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
“Slightly?”
“Well, you are making me do that ridiculous list of yours.”
Iris bursts into laughter. “You’re still doing that shit?” He doubles over.
“The client is insistent.”
I want to smile. I really do. I like that the list of demands has become a running joke. It would be weird walking into a room without him clearing it. But that’s just it. Why is he doing it when he knows it’s bullshit?
Brix stands. “I’ll take you to the room.”
I almost say I can manage, but I’ve forgotten where it is.
“Night, everyone,” I say on my way to follow Brix down the hallway.
We reach the room near the back of the house, but before he can enter, I pull on his forearm.
“You don’t have to.”
“Have to what?” He sounds genuinely concerned.
“Do this ridiculous room-checking thing. You don’t have to do the list anymore.”
“I don’t mind. The list is ridiculous, yes, but if it makes you feel safer …”
I pull him into the room and close the door behind us. “It’s not that. I did the list because I overheard you telling Iris to be professional. I was being a smartass. You didn’t want to be my bodyguard just as much as I didn’t want to admit I needed one. And I don’t understand you. Like, at all. You’re this big hardass on the outside, and then you tell me things like ‘Other people’s actions are never your fault.’ You’re nice. And you didn’t laugh when I told you that Evah and I weren’t real. Or gloat. Because I know you’ve suspected it for a while even though I keep trying to throw you off. Then you bring me here, and introduce me to all of”—I wave my hand toward the door—“them, and I don’t understand. I thought you brought me here so I could get out of my head and write, but now … I just … I don’t …” I can’t breathe. “I don’t get it. I don’t get you.”
“Harley …” Sympathy shines in Brix’s normally dark and calculating eyes. “I brought you here so you could see that while you might not understand me, I understand you. More than you know. All of us here do.”
He steps closer, and I have to fight the urge to do the same and close the gap between us. His hands find my shoulders, and I shiver. His touch sends a jolt through me.
I want more. I want to give in to that thing telling me I like being close to him.
He stares down at me with a type of expression that I’m not used to seeing directed at me. Why would Harley Valentine need sympathy? I have everything.
“I’ve been racking my brain wondering why a pop star like you would need to keep it a secret.” His voice is low and gravelly, and it does things to my dick that it shouldn’t.
A lot of things to do with Brix affect my cock in ways they shouldn’t. The way he looks, the way he does his job … Him.
“My target demographic is mainly women,” I choke out. “The label says—”
“I don’t need to know the reason why anymore. I was missing the point. It’s not why you’re keeping it a secret but that you feel you need to at all. You’re in an industry where you don’t feel safe enough to be who you are without risk. Like Trav said out there, we know what that’s like. Don’t Ask Don’t Tell may have been repealed. The military might be more accepting now, but that doesn’t mean it’s safe for people like us.”
I groan. “There you go with the perspective thing again. All I’m risking is money. You guys actually risked your lives.”
“And there you go again, belittling your experiences because mine are objectively worse. You have every right to feel the way you do. Trapped by your label and your career. Having to pick one or the other. Love or music. And you’ve been doing it for almost a decade.”
He cups my face now, the weight of his big hands feeling like a blanket of protectiveness I want to wrap around me.
“You have every right to feel the way you do. And I brought you here so you could understand that you don’t need to be that guy with me. You don’t need to pretend to be in love with Evah. You don’t need to put on your fake smile that makes your gorgeous face light up even though your eyes remain dead. I want you to give me your real smile. The one that makes you look older and less perfect. Less manufactured.”
“Brix …” It comes out as a whine.
Why is he doing this? What does he want?
My heart squeezes.
He’s saying all the words I’ve wanted to hear from someone nearly my entire life.
I want to believe he truly understands. He gets it. Gets me.