Halo (Fallen Angel, #1)(31)

Another guitar solo, and the camera panned down to Viper’s talented hands. Talented on the guitar…talented in other ways? I imagined the way he’d wrap those long fingers around my cock and whisper against my mouth, “Like me stroking your dick, Angel?” in that arrogant voice.

That was all it took for my orgasm to come barreling to the surface, a seemingly never-ending wave that I rode long and hard, my hand—Viper’s hand—milking every bit of cum out of me until I was spent, falling back against the pillow in a heap of sweat.

Goddamn, that was hot. That was…

My eyes searched out Viper on the screen again, but this time when I looked at him, a strange sensation fluttered in my stomach, and as the realization of what I’d just done hit me, I slammed the laptop shut.

Fuck. Oh fuck. I’d just gotten myself off to a man, and not just any man—Viper.

Jesus Christ… How was I going to look him in the eye now?





Twenty





Viper





STORMING OUT OF the private elevator that led into my condo, I tossed my keys into the funky blown glass bowl my mother had given me this past Christmas, and marched over to the wall of windows that stretched the entire length of my living and dining room.

Tonight had veered into uncharted territory. When Killian suggested that we all go down to Easy Street to celebrate Halo’s genius status, I’d agreed to go with one goal in mind: to fuck that genius right out of my head. But what had I done instead? Managed to let Halo fuck with my head.

Yeah, and how had he done that? By vanishing after our little chat in the restroom. After that, any thought of having my dick sucked by Brett was replaced by my obsession in finding out why Halo had left.

Was he running from me? Because of what I’d said? The thought wouldn’t leave me alone. Or maybe he was running from himself, and what he was feeling. Because he’d definitely been feeling something.

It’d been written all over that angel face of his, on the parted lips and the thrusting hips he hadn’t been able to keep still as he watched Brett writhe around all over me, and fuck, even now the memory of it had me reaching down to massage the stiff dick trapped inside my jeans.

I shut my eyes and let my head fall back as I imagined Halo standing there with me. His mouth on my neck, that silky blond hair brushing against my face, my lips, close enough that I could grab a handful of it, that I could take a deep inhale and let his fresh, clean scent envelop me.

Jesus. I wanted to drown in that scent. Roll around with him on my sheets until they smelled the same way he did, and when that image slammed into me, I groaned low in my throat and flicked open the button of my jeans.

I shoved a hand into my pants to fist the hard-on that seemed determined to stick around, and then I opened my eyes to stare out at the smattering of lights in Central Park. Where was Halo tonight? I had no idea where he lived, just that it was in the opposite direction from me, according to our one conversation about it that night at Li’s. And thinking about that had me right back to imagining his mouth.

I yanked my hand out of my jeans and cursed. This was fucked. I hadn’t been this wound up about someone in—well, ever. And the first time it decided to happen was with a straight guy? Isn’t that just fantastic.

I told Killian this was a bad idea, and now I knew why. Tomorrow the guys were going to want to get together, talk about the new direction, think up lyrics and music, and all I’d be doing would be staring at Halo and remembering the way he’d eye-fucked me before he’d panicked and run away.

In short, there was no way in hell I was going to be of any use to anyone right now. I could honestly say that I’d never been more aware, and distracted, by my dick in my life, and all because of a guy with an angel’s face and a No Trespassing sign.

Frustrated, I ran a hand through my hair and walked to the bar that separated the living room and dining space. I poured myself a glass of whiskey, snatched it up along with the bottle, and then made my way through to my bedroom.

Moving around the end of my California king, too wired to sleep, I headed to the corner of the room where there was a lounge and coffee table. I flicked on the lamp in the corner, grabbed the notepad and pen that’d been sitting on my nightstand, then took a seat in one of my favorite places in the condo.

Fucking Killian. This was all his fault. Hiring an angel to front our band. Making me look at that face every day and not be able to do jack shit about it. Well, it was time Killian knew exactly how I felt about that.

Throwing back the whiskey, I reveled in the burn, and when my dick kicked in response to the thoughts running through my head, I put pen to paper and wrote down the one thing I was feeling—hard.





Twenty-One





Halo





THE NEXT AFTERNOON, we’d gathered back in the rehearsal space at Killian’s, and from looking at it, I was the only one suffering a hangover. My tolerance was nowhere near the rest of the guys, but I’d needed the alcohol to get through last night.

Speaking of last night…

I looked to where Viper was laughing with Killian, and my actions from the night before came hurtling back with picture-perfect clarity.

God, why had I done that? I’d been so stupid. As I rubbed my hands over my face, I wondered how I was going to get through rehearsal without turning bright red every time Viper looked my way. No doubt he’d see right through me, and then what would I do?