On the way out, I nod to Alex behind the bar, and when he’d usually wave me off, he kind of stands there with a stupid stunned expression on his face.
“Who’s that?” Ryder yells over the loud music.
“Alex. He’s a bartender here, but he performs during the week. He wanted me to put in a good word.”
Ryder waves politely at Alex, but then we move fast toward the door. He expertly ducks his head in a way that means the people lined up outside the club can’t see or recognize him, and he turns left to go down an alley.
The bright red of the Ferrari is the first thing I notice when we turn the corner.
“No way.”
Ryder laughs. “I thought you’d like it.”
“You left your Ferrari in an alley? Are you crazy?”
“You want me to park it on the street? It’s fine. It’s still here, isn’t it?”
“It won’t be for long. Let’s go.”
“Here I was thinking you’d fawn all over me and jump at the chance to drive it.”
“I’ll leave the driving to you. I’m just here for the ride.”
We get into the car, and Ryder turns to me without putting the key in the ignition. “Was that innuendo, or are we actually talking about cars?”
“What do you think?”
“I’m kinda hoping we’re talking about cars.” Ryder smiles.
“Meaning …”
“Meaning, after refueling with some food, I was hoping you might jump in the driver’s seat later tonight.”
I frown. “Wait, now are you talking about cars or sex?”
Ryder grunts. “Okay, this metaphor thing isn’t working. I want you to fuck me later. If you’re into that. If not, that’s cool too.”
“Oh, I definitely want a turn at your ass later.”
“Good to know.” He turns the car on, and the headlights light up the dark alley. “So, food break?”
I reach across the console and grip his thigh. “I don’t need food.”
Ryder revs his car and tears down the street. “Neither do I.”
I wish Calabasas was closer.
Chapter Nineteen
Ryder
I can’t get home fast enough, but even at the late hour, LA traffic wants to kick my ass.
It’s a race against my mind as I head for home. I’m scared my brain is either going to catch up to tonight’s events and try to get me to slow down and be smart about this whole thing or run away with this crazy notion that Lyric and I could have something real.
It wasn’t my exact plan to have sex with him backstage at his own show, but I’m relieved my prepared side made me come ready for it. Fucking him wasn’t just amazing. It was different. It was more than physical. More than sex.
It still scares the shit out of me, but as long as I’m not thinking about all the obstacles, I’m more than prepared to lose myself in him again.
And again.
And then maybe again in the morning before Kaylee comes home.
“So, you really liked my set?” Lyric asks.
“I’m sorry, did fucking you in your dressing room give you a different impression?”
“Maybe you were doing it so you wouldn’t have to tell me it was horrible. You know, like when someone asks, ‘Does this make me look fat?’ and you say ‘Oh, wow, your eye makeup is to die for.’ That kind of thing.”
When I side-eye him, he shrugs.
“I have a sister and currently live with my sister-in-law. You don’t think they ask their gay brother for fashion advice?”
I laugh. “No, this isn’t one of those situations. This is definitely a ‘You looked so hot up there all I could think about was throwing myself at you’ type thing. Especially when you sing that song. All I can think about is being in the studio at home with you. Then I think of the amazing handjobs and heated kisses, and—fuck, I’m already hard again.”
“Better drive faster,” Lyric taunts.
“Mm.”
Considering I’m in a sports car, it still feels like we’re getting nowhere.
“Why did I decide to move all the way out here?”
“I don’t know, but you suck.”
“Not yet, I haven’t.” I take my eyes off the road for a split second to watch Lyric’s eyes fill with heat.
By the time we pull up to my gate, and it takes about six years to open, Lyric is running his hands all over me.
From my thighs to my chest and back down to my hard cock fighting against my zipper.
I somehow manage to navigate the car into the garage, but I’m so not getting it into its spot.
Yeah, my babies have designated spots. Like their own little bedrooms.
It’s not weird.
Lyric leans over in the small confines of the car and kisses his way down my neck while his hand reaches inside my jacket and moves over my chest.
I throw my head back on the headrest. “Fuck, Lyric. How can you …”
He looks up at me. “How can I what?”
“You drive me crazy.” I capture his lips.
The leather seats squeak as we grope and try to get closer, but there is absolutely no room in here.
Why do I love this car again? Right now, I can’t remember.
“Why can’t I stay away?” I groan.
“Do you want to stay away?”
“No. I just should.”
“You really shouldn’t. And I’m gonna show you why.” Lyric opens the butterfly door and gets out of the car.
I try to go after him, but there’s one little tiny detail I might be forgetting.
The seat belt practically chokes me as I try to get out of the car without unbuckling it.
Smooth, Ryder. So fucking smooth.
Lyric laughs at me when I manage to free myself and climb out of the car. “In a rush?”
“You know it.” I grab his hand and drag him toward the house. “Why’s it so far to the damn front door?”
“Rich people problems. My ten-car garage is too far from the door to my mansion.”
“Exactly. My life is hard.”
“Not as hard as this.” Lyric takes our joined hands and rubs it over the bulge in the front of his pants.
“Subtle.”
“My dick is offended you think it’s subtle.”
Taking out my key, I try to open the door, but Lyric plasters himself to my back.
“I’m totally prepared to show you how unsubtle it can be,” he says against my neck.
My ass pushes against him. “Fuck.”
“Here, let me.” Lyric takes the keys from my shaking hands.
I reach behind me and bury my hand in his messy bun.
Lyric somehow gets the door open while grinding against me and kissing my neck and shoulder.
We stumble inside, and I turn to kiss him while I close the door with my foot.
He moans into my mouth, and the sound is so delectable I can’t help mimicking him.
As much as I’m in a rush to get upstairs and horizontal, I can’t tear my mouth away long enough to see where we’re going. So blindly, we move our way through the foyer of my stupidly large house.
Lyric’s hands work my jacket off while I reach for his belt.