Everything Changes (8 page)

Jase smiled back, the relief written plainly across his face. “We won’t let it, Carey.
I
won’t let it. And there’s no reason for us to talk about this again unless you want to.”

Carey shook his head and huffed a laugh. “Yeah. No, I think I’m good.”

Jase searched Carey’s expression intently. “Are we? Are we good, Carey? Because if you’re uncomfortable and you need me to leave, I’ll hire a home health aide for you and I will leave today. Your emotional well-being is just as important to me as your physical health, and I won’t endanger that.”

“Fuck no, Jase. I don’t want you to leave. I want you here. I… need you here. Just… let’s not do that again, okay?”

“Okay,” Jase said easily. “You’re pretty damn irresistible, but I’ll give it my best shot.” He winked at Carey to let him know he was teasing, then stood up and took his cup and plate to the sink, washing them out and putting them in the dish-drying rack.

“Gonna go out back on the porch and do a little yoga. It’s gorgeous out. You want to go to the couch, back to bed, shower? I’ll get you settled first.”

“Couch is good,” Carey said. “I’ll read my new book for a little while, then if you want, you can help me with my home exercises.” It was Carey’s way of saying he wasn’t permanently weirded out by what had happened, that he wasn’t going to cringe away from Jase’s hands on him.

Jase’s smile warmed Carey’s heart, and he knew he understood what he was trying to say. As he passed by Carey’s chair, he leaned down and pressed a light kiss to the top of his head, then clapped him on the shoulder. “Sure thing, bud. Sure thing.”

C
AREY
PULLED
himself out of his memories, blowing out a huge breath. He thought about how Jase had looked that very afternoon playing volleyball, muscles gleaming with perspiration, the way his body had smelled, clean male sweat, intoxicating, as he’d helped Carey to the water. Then the water streaming in rivulets over those incredible muscles as he’d emerged from the surf. Carey couldn’t fool himself anymore that the desire that wracked him was because he was in a bad place and his friend was conveniently there and willing.

Gratitude, warmth, caring, happiness, and friendship. When Carey thought of Jase, he felt all of those things all the time, and now physical desire and want were once again layered over the top, confusing the hell out of him.

Carey realized his cock was hard and throbbing from his walk down memory lane, and he reached down and pushed his underwear off before spreading his legs wide. He spit into his palm, and he jacked himself hard with long strokes from base to head, his free hand rolling and squeezing his balls. He let images of Jase, memories, flood his mind as he tugged at himself harder and faster, shoving the heel of one hand into his mouth as he came hard, muffling his cry of Jase’s name.

C
HAPTER
5

C
AREY
CLAPPED
along with the stomping, whistling crowd that was calling for an encore. Layla put her fingers in her mouth and emitted a piercing whistle, causing several people near them to flinch.

“Whooo!” she hooted as the band members ran back on stage. Carey grinned at her enthusiasm, glancing up at Jase as he stood behind the microphone. He looked incredible, flushed and happy, totally in his element.

Quinn launched into a drum riff, setting up the song, Jase holding on to the microphone and bobbing his head to the pounding beat. It revved the crowd up more until most were on their feet, and when the guitar notes from the opening bars of one of Eloquent Isolation’s best-known original songs rang out, the cacophony became almost deafening.

Carey was thrilled for Jase and for the rest of their friends. The band’s stage presence was magnetic, and the crowd picked up on it. Jase scanned the faces in the crowd, making eye contact with several, winking at Carey as his gaze passed him. Carey felt a jolt go through him at that almost flirtatious look, realizing that it caused his insides to feel a little quivery. Carey shook his head.
It was just a wink. Get a grip, stupid.

Suddenly his focus sharpened as he caught another glimpse of Jase. He had frozen, his face white, as his gaze fixed on something or someone in the crowd. Carey whirled around to follow his line of sight, and his breath hitched as he caught sight of a petite, curvaceous woman with a mass of curly brown hair, her white halter top showing off her flawless tawny skin. Mariangel, Jase’s ex-wife. As far as Carey knew, Jase hadn’t spoken to her since their divorce was final. What would she be doing here? Just a coincidence? He searched her face, seeing no animosity in it, just a wistful smile as she looked back at Jase.

Jase recovered almost instantly from his shock, and his gravelly voice filled the room as he sang, the throbbing beat accompanying him. Layla, oblivious to any undercurrents, had her arms raised over her head as she swayed and sang along.

When Jase had called him out of the blue one day a few years ago to say he had gotten married, Carey had been absolutely stunned. He knew Jase had been seeing someone for a while, but had no idea it had been heading toward marriage.

Jase had been apologetic for not saying anything to him before, said it had been a rather sudden decision, but he was happy and he hoped Carey would be happy for him too.

“Of course I’m happy for you, man,” Carey had said cautiously. “Give Mari my best, okay?”

After that Jase had seemed to drop off the face of the earth, not returning phone calls much, his texts short and distracted. Carey chalked it up to newlywed growing pains; friends had to take a backseat to the new spouse. He hadn’t worried about it much, figuring things would right themselves eventually.

Then one day not even ten months after the phone call saying he was getting married, Jase had called him and said he and Mari were separating, and could Carey please come out to California and help him move out of the house they shared and into a new apartment? He said there really wasn’t much he wanted to take with him from the marriage. He was happy to let Mari have it all, and if Carey couldn’t get away, he could probably manage the few meager possessions he did want to take.

But reading between the lines, Carey knew Jase needed some moral support desperately, so he dropped everything and flew out immediately, thrilled to be able to reciprocate for all of the times Jase had been there for him without fail, without question. Jase had rented a tiny apartment in Imperial Beach, a small town adjacent to Coronado. He’d picked Carey up at the airport, and Carey had taken one look at his friend’s face and told him, “Don’t worry about anything, bud. I got this.”

Carey helped Jase get settled in his new apartment, stunned when his friend broke down and confessed he’d gotten Mari pregnant during a drunken encounter at an outdoor concert and felt honor bound to marry her. She’d had a miscarriage not too long after, and Carey held Jase close when his friend cried in his arms, expressing his grief over the loss of his child and for the hurt both he and Mari had endured.

Carey remembered how a fierce rush of emotion had swamped him, a feeling so strong it had felt like it was crushing his chest. Jase needed him, and no one had ever needed Carey before, not like this. No one. Jase was the strongest person Carey had ever known, and he’d allowed himself to fall apart in front of Carey, let him share the burden of his emotional pain. He’d hugged Jase close.

“Thank you for telling me, Jase. Thank you for trusting me.”

Jase met Carey’s eyes. “There’s no one I trust more.”

Now Carey watched as Jase stood in a corner backstage with Mari. She was talking earnestly, with big hand gestures, and Carey searched Jase’s expression carefully. His friend didn’t seem overly upset with whatever his ex-wife was saying, nodding every now and then while she spoke, and when it was his turn to speak, he reached down and took her hands in his, holding them as he talked.

After several more minutes, they hugged tightly, and then Jase walked her out, his arm around her waist as he led her to the door. Carey snagged a beer as he waited for Jase to return, noting with disgust Jayden, the groupie, had arrived and was scanning the crowd, obviously looking for Jase. It irritated him the blond man seemed to have a standing invitation to be at these after-parties, no one questioning his presence or challenging his right to be there. He wondered if Jase would disappear with Jayden again, and then he wondered why he would care. He didn’t care if Jase “got the chrome sucked off his hitch” by that whiny blond. Did he?

Jase strode back into the room and made a beeline for Carey, high-fiving a couple of people as he passed but not stopping to talk to any of them. His eyes were sparkling with happiness.

“What is it, Jase? What did Mari want?” Carey handed him a beer, waiting while Jase took several large swallows, trying not to look at his lips and the way his throat moved. Fuck, what was the fascination with watching the man drink all of a sudden?

Suddenly Jayden appeared next to Jase, and Carey’s hands clenched into fists as Jase’s arm slipped around his waist.

“Hey, Jay,” he said distractedly, and Carey relaxed a fraction as he noted Jase’s gesture seemed almost absentminded, a habit, a part of his tendency toward casual touch. He didn’t make any move to pull Jayden closer, and there really was nothing suggestive about the gesture. In fact a slightly annoyed look crossed his face as Jayden plastered himself to his side. He dropped his arm and took a subtle step back.

“Not tonight, Jayden,” he said under his breath, but Carey heard him clearly. “I’ve got a friend here, yeah?”

Carey watched in a kind of disgusted fascination as Jayden made a show of biting his lower lip, then licking it, looking at Jase from under his lashes. “I could help you change clothes real quick, Jase. I know you love it when I help.” He licked his lips again. It was a seductive gesture and probably had worked for him many times before, but Jase appeared unmoved.

“Not tonight, Jay,” he repeated. “Grab a beer, get some food, okay? I’ll see you later. Have fun.”

Jase grabbed Carey’s bicep and pulled him away from the table and toward his dressing room, leaving Jayden standing there alone, his petulant “But Jase” following them out.

“Layla is right; he’s such a whiny bitch,” Jase grumbled. “I gotta revoke his backstage pass. His behavior is really getting old.”

Jase slammed the door of the dressing room and immediately stripped his tight, sweaty T-shirt over his head, throwing it into a corner. He picked up a pack of wet wipes from his dressing table and pulled several out, wiping down his neck and chest, scrubbing them in his furry armpits. Carey made an effort to snap his mouth closed as he watched Jase clean the rivulets of sweat off of his golden skin, the wet wipes leaving a different kind of glistening trail that dried quickly. Jase leaned over to toss the used wipes in a nearby wastebasket, applying some deodorant before reaching for the waistband of the tight leather pants he was wearing, undoing them and skinning them down his legs.

“God, I hate leather when I’m sweaty,” Jase grumbled, finally getting them off and tossing them in the corner.

He grabbed some more wet wipes, and Carey’s knees went weak as he saw what Jase was wearing underneath the skintight pants. The underwear was so brief it almost wasn’t there, basically nothing more than a pouch in front that cupped Jase’s cock and balls, barely containing them, a strip of fabric over each of his lean hips leading to the back. Jase ran the wipes over his legs, then turned to his bag to grab some clean clothes.

As he turned his back to Carey, Carey couldn’t help the choked sound that came from his mouth, and Jase looked over his shoulder at him curiously.

“What?”

“Is that a—a thong?” Carey gasped, hoping like hell Jase thought he was breathless from laughter and not another reason entirely. Jase’s face flushed red.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Those pants are too tight for regular boxer briefs. They’d show underneath and it would look ridiculous. I refuse to free ball it on stage under those sweaty-ass pants, so I wear these.”

He turned away and rummaged some more in his bag, and Carey was suddenly hard as a rock as he looked at Jase’s muscular buttocks left bare and bisected by the miniscule strip of fabric between them that disappeared deep into the shadowy cleft. Jase bent over, and Carey had to bite his lip against another gasp as the pouch between his legs shifted heavily, a hint of cock appearing briefly.

Suddenly Jayden’s words about “helping Jase change” came to his mind, and all he could see was Jase in his thong, Jayden on his knees in front of him, mouthing him through the fabric, pulling it down to—Carey suppressed a groan at the mental images, images that were suddenly replaced by such a strong desire to do the same thing to Jase that he actually took a step forward. He turned instead and sat down heavily on a nearby chair, pulling at his crotch quickly, adjusting himself, hoping to hell Jase didn’t notice anything amiss.

Jase skinned the thong down his muscular legs and tossed it aside with a grimace, grabbing some more wipes, and Carey looked away quickly as Jase scrubbed briskly at his crotch before pulling on a pair of black boxer briefs. He sighed in relief and looked at Carey.

“Much more comfortable than that fucking butt floss.” He grinned.

Carey hoped his voice didn’t sound as strangled as he thought it did as he said, “The life of a performer, sacrificing comfort in order to look hot.”

“Fuckin’ A,” Jase said, pulling on a pair of comfortable jeans and another tight T-shirt. “Hey, Layla wants us all to go dancing when we’re done here. I thought that sounded like fun, unless your leg is too tired?”

“If I need to, I can sit down, Jase. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time,” Carey said drily.

“Okay, okay, sorry,” Jase said, waving his hand. “Old habits—”

“So what did Mariangel want?” Carey said, changing the subject, finally feeling the flush that had suffused his face at Jase’s inadvertent strip show dying away.