Page 92 of Silver Sweet

We tear through the song one more time, and when we finish the three-minute track, his labored breathing is enough to make me hard as a brick.

It’s fucking painful against my jeans, and I adjust myself.

His nose flares, and a rougher groan fights its way out of his lips. “Tom.”

“Dude, you did this.”

“Fuck,” Phoenix swings his legs off the stool, but not to approach me. He keeps his distance and snatches his towel from his duffel. The long length of his shaft bears against his pants, and seeing him fully erect (what has to be full becausegoddamn) is lighting all my nerve endings on fire.

I shut my guitar in its case. “I should go.”

Phoenix releases a strangled breath. “Wait, let me take you.”

“You’re not taking me,” I snap.

He glares. “I didn’t mean like that, Tom.” He picks up his motorcycle helmet and extends it to me. “Here. I’ll drive you back.”

“You only have one helmet,” I realize.

“I’m fine without it.”

“No way.” I make a face like he’s insane. As much as I’m loving the idea of being behind Phoenix on his Suzuki, I will notbe the reason my drummer suffers a brain injury or death. “See you tomorrow. I’ll text you.”

He texts me first, about ten minutes later when I’m in the back of a cab.

PHOENIX WOLFGANG

Sorry. Seriously. I went too far. Are you ok?

I swallow hard and fight an incoming smile before sending a response.

TOM CARRAWAY

Not too far. No damage done. Impenetrable.

PHOENIX WOLFGANG

Impenetrable? That tight, huh.

I put a palm to my burning cheek, sliding it against my jaw. I’m going to need a thirty-minute cold shower. “Fuck you, dude,” I mutter under my breath, then send a new message.

TOM CARRAWAY

You’ll never know

PHOENIX WOLFGANG

For the best

“Agreed,” I breathe out, shoving the phone in my pocket. I fit in my AirPods and listen to the songs we’ve already recorded for the album. The complexity of each arrangement lures me into a trance.

I’ve come to realize, I don’t despiseall the extra layers of sound Phoenix wants. For as much as I keep resisting, I’ve started really loving them.

21

TOM COBALT

Someone should give me an award. I reached March without making a move on Phoenix St. Pierre. I should be inducted into the Strength of Will Hall of Fame. Sure, there have been a hundred and one times I thought about his lips on my lips. His mouth wrapped around my cock. But inner thoughts don’t count.