Something in the Way He Needs (Family 1)

“I know it is,” Daniel said, reaching for Rob’s cheek. Something in the edge of his vision must have caught his attention, because his gaze darted to the right, where Eric Sear was standing, and he dropped his hand. “Listen, I’m really proud of you guys, okay? And you can count on me in the background, just like we agreed. But I’m done playing live. Nothing’s changed. I don’t want this.”

John and Rob started arguing with Daniel. He white-knuckled his shirt and shook his head. Then John stepped even closer, pressing his bare chest to Daniel’s, and Asher saw red.

He marched over to Daniel. “Put the fuckin’ shirt on,” he barked.

Rob’s back was to Asher. He flipped around to see who had spoken. “And you are?” he drawled, one eyebrow raised.

No fucking way was he answering to this man. “Daniel,” he warned. “Shirt. On. Now.”

John turned and stood in front of Daniel protectively. “Chill out, friend.” He looked back over his shoulder at Daniel. “Is he yours, Dot?”

That phrasing snapped Asher’s last nerve. So did the fact that these men were standing between him and Daniel. They had no right to keep him from what was his. “It’s the other way around, friend,” Asher said, his tone making clear that he felt anything but friendship. “Now step the fuck back.”

Daniel frantically tried to put his shirt on, no easy task when he was squished against the wall, unable to move because of the wall of bodies in front of him. Asher could see that, could see that Daniel was trying to do as he was told. But somehow it wasn’t enough.

Why had the man taken off his shirt to begin with? Why had he even bought that damn shirt? And the jeans! Every curve and asset on display. Why? To impress a bunch of pretentious rock stars? And, really, why would Daniel need to impress them? He was more talented than these men. Two hours on stage had made that abundantly clear to anybody with ears and eyes.

Right.

“You know what?” Asher sighed. “Forget it.”

He turned on his heel and pushed through the throng of people, making his way to the door. Once he stepped into the hallway, he twisted around until he saw the glowing red exit sign. He was almost to the door when he heard his name being called.

“Asher!” He kept walking. “Asher, goddammit! Stop.” Oliver jogged over to him. “Where’re you going?”

“To the Leather Lounge.” Until the words had left his mouth, he hadn’t planned to go to the Lounge. He didn’t have a plan at all, other than to get away from the sight of Daniel, half-naked and surrounded by other men. Wealthy, successful, talented men.

Oliver’s expression turned icy. “Why?”

“Because there are other people like me there, Ollie.” Guys who needed him to make them feel or fly or scream or cry. “I feel comfortable there.”

“You haven’t been to that bar in half a year,” Oliver reminded him. They both knew when he’d last been to the club: before he’d met Daniel.

“Yeah, well, clearly it’s been too long.”

And for what? It wasn’t like Daniel would stay with Asher. The man had lived in dozens of places and none of them for long. Being a successful dancer in New York didn’t hold him, neither did his masseur gig in Santa Fe, or his Taekwondo job in Oregon. And didn’t Daniel once tell him that he’d been a jewelry maker? And he met Chase Rhodes working on that cruise ship doing fuck knew what.

Asher dragged his hand over his bare scalp and rubbed the back of his neck. Goddammit. Those were just the jobs and places Asher knew of. Given that he hadn’t heard word one about Daniel’s past as a member of the hottest motherfucking band in the world or about his present career writing their songs, it was safe to guess he didn’t even have a complete list of the pit stops on Daniel’s walk through life.

He had changed every part of his life to accommodate Daniel. His apartment looked different. He never went clubbing. He’d gone down on the man, for fuck’s sake! First time he’d done that in decades. And for what? Someone who’d leave to go on a tour or record an album or shit knew what the next thing would be, but Asher could be damn sure it wouldn’t be crashing in a one-bedroom apartment in a mediocre neighborhood and cooking him dinner. He turned away.

“Don’t do this, Asher,” Oliver said.

But he was already at the exit door, walking out into the night air.

Chapter 21

IT WAS after midnight by the time Asher stepped into the Leather Lounge. Not particularly late, and Thursdays were usually pretty busy, so there were sure to be a decent number of people in the club.

“Asher Penaz.” The bouncer shook his hand and clapped his shoulder. “Haven’t seen you here in a while.”