Running With Scissors, page 23
She adjusted her purse on her bare shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t want to come? An evening away from the bus would probably do you some good.” Her forehead creased slightly; though she hadn’t come out and said it, she’d been more sympathetic toward him than he’d probably had any right to expect. She was still pissed at Jude and let him know every chance she had, but she’d practically handled A.J. with kid gloves. Or maybe that had to do with him blowing up at Connor, considering that had happened the same night she’d found out about him and Jude.
He shook his head. “I think I’m going to stay here.”
“Okay.” She offered him a card. “This is where we’re going. If you change your mind, you’re always welcome to join us.”
He took the card and smiled up at her. “Thanks.”
His bandmates left, and he was grateful for the solitude. He was exhausted, he was done with people, and he hoped like hell they stayed at the club till last call. Maybe he could even get some sleep—he’d been sucking down coffee all day, and it hadn’t helped. He’d given up expecting anything short of cocaine-laced Red Bull to wake him up after a few nights in a row of shitty sleep.
Whether or not he slept tonight, at least now he had some time alone with his thoughts. Not nearly enough, but an evening would help. What he really wanted, though, was to get a ticket home. Get the hell out of here. Go somewhere he could decompress without the added pressures of traveling and performing.
But of course, the apartment he had back in Los Angeles wouldn’t work. He and Jude had spent so much time there, and they’d had so much sex in his bed, that the place was probably haunted by the ghost of their relationship.
Relationship? Yeah, that was giving it a bit too much credit. His dick had had a relationship with Jude’s ass, and that was about as far as it went.
The band hadn’t been gone fifteen minutes before the bus door opened. He swallowed a curse—so much for being alone. Hopefully somebody had just forgotten something and would leave again in a few—
Oh goddamn it.
He locked eyes with Jude. Muffling a cough, he sat up. “Everyone else went to a club.” Shoving the card across the table, he added, “Address is there if you want to join them.”
“I didn’t come here to find them. I came to find you.”
A.J.’s gut knotted. I was afraid of that. He rose. “Well. You found me.”
“Yeah.” Jude swallowed. “Can we talk?”
“We probably shouldn’t.”
Jude flinched.
A.J. leaned against the counter. “What good will it do?”
“Only one way to find out.”
He sighed. All the pent-up fury—at Jude, at the band, at himself, at their frustrating circumstances—had worn him down. God, he was just done. With all of this. “Fine. Talk.”
Jude cleared his throat. “Look, I’ve been thinking and I . . .” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I think I made a mistake. When I told you we couldn’t do this.”
A.J. studied him, and the hair prickled on the back of his neck. “We can’t get back together. That—what we were doing—it’s over. It—”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
“Yes, it does. I can’t . . .” He released his breath. Just the thought of putting this all into words made him want to collapse. “The secrecy, and the conflict, and all the tension—I can’t do it. In fact, I can’t deal with any of it. Not with you, and not with everyone else. I haven’t said anything yet, but I’m here until the end of the tour or until they can find someone to replace me.” He laughed bitterly. “Well, you’ll replace me, I’m sure, so I guess it’s until they replace you on bass. And then . . . then I’m out.”
“A.J., you . . . Don’t. Don’t do this.”
“Why the fuck not?”
“Don’t be stupid like I was and throw this band away.”
“Isn’t that exactly what I’d be doing if I stayed with you?”
Jude winced.
“What do I do?” A.J. swallowed. “If I stay in the band, I’m face-to-face with you all the time. There’s no going back and pretending we didn’t—”
“No, there isn’t. But maybe we can move forward.” Jude straightened, pushing his shoulders back. “You’re a permanent member of this band. They just brought me back to fill in for Wyatt. If . . . if anyone’s getting kicked out, it should be me.”
“But this is—”
“I don’t want you to leave the band, and not just because you’re an amazing, hard-working, talented musician. I don’t . . . I don’t want you to leave, because—”
“Jude, you founded this band. They don’t have to like you to know that you’re a better musician than any of us.” A.J. shook his head. “And I know how much Running with Scissors means to you. If you leave, or they kick you out, you’re going to regret it and so will they. And you’re going to resent me.”
“And if I stay—”
“Then we’ll deal with it,” A.J. snapped. “There aren’t any other options. You can’t just walk away like you always do.”
“But you can?”
They held each other’s gazes for a long, silent moment.
“Look,” Jude said finally, “the thing is, it isn’t just a matter of walking away from the band or not. One way or the other, I have to give up something, and given the choice, I’d rather have you.”
A.J. straightened. “Do you hear yourself?”
“Yes, I do.” Jude took a breath. “And yes, this band means the world to me. But what it is now? Everything it’s become in the last two years?” He shook his head. “That’s been with you, not me. If they can’t cope with us being together and being in the band, then I’m out. Not you.”
A.J. stared at him. “Jude, this is your band.”
“Not anymore.” Jude met his gaze. “Not unless they’ll let me stay even though I’m in love with you.”
A.J.’s heart stopped. “You . . . what?”
Jude swallowed. “I love you, A.J.”
His shoulders drooped. “Jude, we can’t . . .”
“We can.” Jude stepped closer. “We shouldn’t. I know we shouldn’t. But yes, we can.”
Sighing, A.J. raked a hand through his hair, and didn’t even care that he’d probably fucked it all up. “We both need this band. And the band needs us. Both of us.” He lowered his hand and met Jude’s gaze. “We can’t.”
Jude took a deep breath. “You’re right that the band needs us, and that we need the band, but I’m starting to think that what I needed all along was someone like you.”
A.J. tightened his jaw. “Someone to talk you down when—”
“No, no. Not that. I mean . . . someone who’s . . .” He paused, eyes unfocused as he seemed to be searching for the words. “I just . . . I like being around you. I guess it sounds kind of stupid, but I’ve never had that with someone I’ve dated. With Connor, it was always volatile, even when things were good, and even when we were just friends. It was always hot or cold—never in between. Other guys, it’s . . . There’s never really been anything there, you know? Maybe the sex was good, or maybe we liked the same bands. But with you . . . With you, it’s like I just want to be with you. Even if we can’t do anything because the band is around, and we have to act like we’re barely even friends, I’m cool with that because I’m with you.” He swallowed hard and met A.J.’s eyes. “I’ve never had that before.”
A.J.’s chest ached, and he struggled to hold Jude’s gaze. “I’ve never had that before either.” He kneaded his stiff neck. “I don’t know what to do, though.”
“Well . . .” Jude cleared his throat. “If there’s ever been something I should be running away from, it’s you, but I can’t. I don’t want to. I just . . . everything keeps coming back to you.”
A.J. sighed. He stepped closer, but couldn’t make himself reach for Jude. “How do we deal with the band, though?”
“They’ll decide if I stay or go.” Jude reached across the void and touched A.J.’s cheek. “This part is up to you.”
A.J. closed his eyes and pressed against Jude’s hand. After a moment, he whispered, “And if you stay in the band, then you’re on bass.”
“Yeah. I am.”
“But . . . you’re a drummer, and—”
“A.J.” When A.J. opened his eyes, Jude smiled. “I’m a musician. Plain and simple. As long as I can get up onstage and play, I’m happy. The only thing I can’t get around or compromise on is you.”
“I can’t . . .” Exhaling, A.J. finally closed the rest of the distance and wrapped his arms around him. “This has been killing me. You’ve been right here, and I couldn’t touch you.”
“I know the feeling.” Jude kissed A.J.’s forehead. “Staying away from you just . . .” He shuddered and held A.J. tighter. “I can’t do it.”
“Neither can I. And I don’t want to compromise on you either.” A.J. lifted his chin. He gazed in Jude’s eyes for a moment, wondering if he dared, and then to hell with it—he drew Jude in and kissed him.
Jesus. There was no question that they’d been stupid to get involved with each other, but there was also no question that they were in too deep to just pretend it didn’t mean anything. Or that this wasn’t going to end with one of them getting deep in the other.
He had never been reckless with his career, but right then, standing there in Jude’s arms and losing himself in Jude’s kiss, he couldn’t talk himself into being rational and reasonable.
Jude’s lips left his just enough to murmur, “I want you so bad right now.”
“Me too.” A.J. shivered, digging his nails into Jude’s back. “Don’t . . . don’t have any condoms, though.”
“I do.”
A.J. lifted his head and met Jude’s gaze. “You do?”
Jude nodded.
A.J. glanced past him. “How much time do you think we have?”
“How much do you think we need?”
A.J. grinned. Then he grabbed Jude’s shirt, pulled him closer, and just before their lips met, he said, “As much as we can fucking get.”
Chapter 27
That kiss took Jude right back to the very first time, when they’d frantically made out for a few fleeting seconds after a show.
Especially when A.J. pushed him back a little and panted, “What if . . . we get caught?” Despite the worry in his tone, he didn’t let go, and in fact tilted his head to bare more flesh to Jude.
“We already got caught.” Jude pulled him back in and let his teeth graze the side of A.J.’s neck. “Won’t—” He hissed as A.J.’s fingers slid beneath his shirt. “Won’t make much difference if we get caught again.”
That was bullshit, and he knew it—getting caught again would be a goddamned disaster—but it must’ve convinced A.J. because he dragged Jude’s shirt up over his head. Or like Jude, A.J. was just too turned on to care about the consequences right then. The only consequences that mattered at that moment were the ones that would come if Jude got up and walked away like he was supposed to, and that wasn’t happening. Not this time.
“Wait.” A.J. met his gaze. “Wait. We should—” He gulped.
Jude’s heart sank. He wanted A.J. so bad. So, so damn bad.
But . . .
“We shouldn’t . . . not here.” A.J. licked his lips. “Everyone else could come back early. They . . . they don’t need to catch us like this. We’ve put them through enough.” He grabbed his wallet off the table and handed Jude’s shirt back. “Let’s go somewhere else.”
Jude glanced at his shirt, then at A.J. “Like where?”
“There’s got to be a hotel around here somewhere.”
Jude’s hard-on—not to mention his bank account—wanted to protest, but the longer they argued about this, the longer he’d have to wait before he could have A.J. And the more likely someone was to come in and bust them, so it was now or never. “Let’s go.” He put his shirt back on, and they hurried out of the bus.
A cab took them to a hotel in one of the slightly shadier parts of Chicago, but he didn’t care if they were in the heart of Compton at that point. They had condoms and lube, and they had time, and they were about to have privacy. Nothing else mattered.
A.J. paid the cab while Jude went in to secure a room, and finally—fucking finally—they had a place to themselves off a noisy street with no one around to bust them.
Clear of the door, Jude kicked it shut, and it hadn’t even clicked before A.J. came at him. He grabbed Jude’s belt, dragged him closer, and kissed him. Christ, he was aggressive. They kissed and stumbled, tugging at each other’s clothes and feeling around for skin and for hard cocks under far too many layers of fabric.
“Get . . . get out of these clothes.” A.J. stepped back and took off his own shirt. “I can’t fuck you when you’re dressed.”
Holy shit. Jude couldn’t get undressed fast enough. He didn’t care where anything landed—as far as he was concerned, once a piece of clothing was off his body, it ceased to exist. All that mattered was getting naked and getting into bed with A.J.
Once they’d stripped, they didn’t even bother turning down the bed, and tumbled onto the covers together—kissing, groping, clawing at each other.
A.J. pushed him onto his back and climbed on top, and Jude pulled him down into another long, breathless kiss. The thrill of doing something dangerous and reckless was gone. This wasn’t a stolen kiss. They hadn’t set out for a stealthy fuck, hoping like hell they didn’t get caught, but nevertheless they were almost completely silent, just like the very first time. Breathing, moving, touching, but not saying a word. Not even moaning. Nothing he could say right then would’ve done the moment justice anyway—he was too overwhelmed to form a coherent thought, never mind speak it.
A.J. broke the kiss, and then he moved, and suddenly Jude was sure he was dreaming because A.J. had his lips around Jude’s dick. His hands too. And God in heaven, the man knew what he was doing.
He didn’t try to take Jude’s whole cock, just focused his lips and tongue on the head while his hands stroked the rest. Featherlight fingertips teased Jude’s balls, A.J.’s tongue swirled around the head of his dick, every motion as soft as it was deliberate—he had to grip the headboard to anchor himself in the present. Jesus. A.J. didn’t do anything halfway.
“Shit, you’re gonna . . .” Jude groaned, trying to blink his eyes into focus so he could watch him. Because, hell, was there anything hotter in this entire world than A.J. enthusiastically and expertly working this kind of magic? Creases formed between his eyebrows, and his little moans vibrated against sensitive skin, driving Jude insane just like the hot huffs of breath A.J. released now and then.
“Still can’t believe how . . .” Jude swept his tongue across his lips. “How good you are at—”
Right then, A.J.’s eyes flicked up. Those blue eyes that had been the subject of more fantasies than he could count lately, the most heart-stopping, defining feature of the man he’d almost let go, and now they were fixed on him, pupils blown and eyelashes wet, and . . .
And Jude fell apart.
A.J. stroked and sucked and teased him all the way through one hell of an orgasm. Spine arching off the mattress, toes curling, eyes rolling back—he hadn’t come like that in a long, long time, and A.J. didn’t let off until Jude nudged his forehead.
“Holy . . . shit.” Jude stared up at the water-stained ceiling, his eyes still tearing up even as his vision cleared.
“I’ve missed doing that,” A.J. said as he settled beside him. “You sound fucking hot when you come, you know—” Jude cut him off with a kiss, and A.J. didn’t protest at all. They pulled each other close again, making out just like before except Jude’s head spun faster this time and there was a hint of salt in A.J.’s mouth. Though Jude had already come, and wasn’t hard anymore, he was still turned on as all hell.
“Fuck me right now,” he panted. “Right . . . now.”
“But you just came. You’ll be sore. I—”
“Don’t care. Now.”
A.J. kissed him again, harder this time. “Condoms?”
“In my pocket. Gimme a sec.”
“I’ll get them.”
Jude released him. A.J. moved away, and Jude just breathed for a moment, still coming down from his orgasm and completely coming unglued at the thought of A.J. fucking him. He hadn’t even realized how much he’d been craving A.J.’s touch until tonight, and with as long as it had been since they’d had sex, and considering he had no idea when they’d have this opportunity again, he wanted it all now.
A.J. knelt on the bed beside him and rolled on the condom. “I want you on your stomach again.” He flashed a wicked grin as he reached for the lube. “You’re tight as hell like that.”
Jude’s skin broke out in goose bumps. Without a word, he shifted onto his stomach, and his heart started going crazy as A.J. got on top of him once more.
A.J. pressed his cock against Jude’s ass. “You’re lucky I didn’t wind up fucking you in the back of the cab.” He kissed his neck. “I’ve been so turned on since we left.”
“Wouldn’t have . . . wouldn’t have stopped you.”
A.J. laughed quietly, and he pressed a little harder. He breached him and in the same moment released a breath across Jude’s neck, and Jude couldn’t decide which was hotter. Hell, it didn’t matter. A.J. was inside him, against him, and God, don’t stop.
A.J.’s knee pushed Jude’s leg forward. Now Jude could barely move, but A.J. could. Jude held on to the pillow, eyes squeezed shut as A.J. started thrusting. He found the most delicious rhythm, and all Jude could do was lie there and take it.
“God, I could do this all night,” A.J. groaned.
“Please do.”
A.J. dug his fingers into Jude’s hip and held him in place while he fucked him harder.
Jude kneaded the pillow, wishing he could move, wishing he could touch A.J., but damn, this felt good—and from the sharp, hot breaths and the soft, profane whimpers, A.J. was enjoying the hell out of it too.
“Oh shit . . .” A.J. buried his face against Jude’s neck. “Fuck, I’m gonna . . .”
