Kieran paced back and forth from the door to the window in his top-floor hotel suite. He should have crashed the moment they’d walked into the room. Actually, he should have ripped off their clothes, shoved Deacon onto the bed, cuffed him, and fucked the guy stupid.
He would have done exactly that if the meeting had gone the way it was supposed to. When a record exec showed up, they were supposed to tell Kieran how amazing he was and remind him he needed to start work on another album. Even though his current one had released only six months earlier and he’d been touring almost nonstop ever since, they wanted more. It bugged the shit out of him. It was time for a break, not another visit to the studio.
Thomas Garrison, smart man that he was, hadn’t argued a bit when Kieran said he was due a break. Not that it would be a complete break anyway. He had interviews scheduled and was already working on some new material for the next album. But at least he would have a few weeks away from studios and tour venues to recuperate from the past six months of insanity.
Kieran hadn’t had a problem with being told he should start on a new album. His problem was with being told what the album should include.
“I don’t do fucking covers,” he said to the floor lamp he was walking past. “I’m Kieran goddamn West. I write my own songs. I’ve been writing my own motherfucking songs since I was in goddamn elementary school. And this asswipe thinks I’m going to do a cover?”
“If you keep ranting, is it going to change anything?” Reclined on the king-sized bed, Deke yawned and stretched, showing his abs to full advantage. He was completely nude. It didn’t distract Kieran a bit, despite how eager he’d been to plunge into Deke’s sweet, tight ass only hours earlier. “It’s one song, Kieran. One. Everyone knows Kieran West writes his own songs, but this one means something to the company.”
“It means something to Thomas Garrison, the egotistical bastard. If he wants someone to sing a love song to some girl he crushed on in high school, he can damn well do it himself.” It wasn’t bad enough the exec had asked Kieran to do a cover song on his next album. The song had to be one from the 1980s, a decade Kieran barely remembered since he’d been born in 1980. Which made him older than most of his fans realized, and older than he wanted to admit, but barely old enough to recall the damn song.
The song had come out late in the decade, and Kieran did remember hearing it on the radio at friends’ houses. It wasn’t a country song, so Grandma hadn’t played it and Kieran hadn’t been a huge fan of it. “‘When I See You Smile,’” he muttered. “One of my buddies made a tape that just had that song over and over, trying to impress a girl he liked.”
“Did it work?” Deke asked.
“Hell, no. We were freaking fourth-graders. She couldn’t have cared less.” He groaned and went back to pacing, then stopped in front of the window, which he hadn’t bothered to pull the curtains over. “They want me to do a cover.”
“Yes, they do, and saying it over and over isn’t going to change it.” Deke rolled off the bed and went to Kieran. If Deke realized half the city might be able to see his naked cock and balls, he apparently didn’t care. He rested his hand on Kieran’s shoulder, and almost instantly Kieran relaxed. Deke always had that effect on him. “It’s one song, Kieran. One song on an album that won’t even be out for another year, probably. You aren’t even ready to start recording, right?”
“Right.” He took a deep breath and turned to close the curtains. “Are you into exhibitionism or something?”
“Only for you, babe.” Deacon grinned. “Are you actually going to pay attention to the naked man in your hotel room now?”
“Fuck, yeah.” He ran his hand through his shoulder-length, choppy-layered hair, still sweaty from his time on stage. He hadn’t grabbed a shower yet, even thought that was usually the first thing he did when he reached his room. He’d been too pissed off about Garrison’s request. “I probably smell like shit.”
“You smell like sweat.” Deke nuzzled Kieran’s neck, and Kieran sighed and melted into the other man’s arms. Deke touched his tongue to Kieran’s skin. “Taste like it, too. It’s good. It’s you.”
Deke knew all the right spots to get him going, and he kept nuzzling and kissing them until Kieran was hard as a fucking rock. The damn cover song didn’t matter a bit now. He was here with his man, his hot, naked man, and he’d been neglecting him.