Beyond The Music (The Rock Gods Book 7) (12 page)

“More like made-out with him,” Aaron explained. “I was seventeen. I wasn’t exactly a man of the world back then.”

“And now you are?” Lincoln teased.

“Not all that much. I’m too old for the one-nighters and my free time is limited, so I’m not with anyone at the moment,” Aaron said. “What about you? Are you seeing anyone or just hooking up when the mood strikes?”

Lincoln fell silent. How did he answer that without sounding like an enormous loser? Not to mention admitting the other issue he was coping with would expose him in a way he didn’t want to be seen. “It’s kind of weird to be talking to you about shit like this,” Lincoln said in a soft voice.

“You’re right and I’m sorry,” Aaron said. “We don’t have to discuss anything personal.”

More silence blanketed them, but this time it felt awkward and Lincoln hated it. He didn’t mind talking about his life, as long as he didn’t have to admit he was a rock star that couldn’t get an erection to use on a groupie to save his life. Thinking about how his body had failed him hurt like fuck.

“I’m going to help you turn onto your stomach and I’ll work the muscles on your back for a bit,” Aaron said.

Lincoln rolled to his side and Aaron eased him into position with his face resting in the padded circular opening at the head of the table. “I can’t remember the last time I had a massage,” Lincoln mumbled into the padded cradle for his face.

“Then, I guess you were overdue,” Aaron said.

Lincoln could hear the smile in Aaron’s voice as his fingers slid up the column of his neck and into his hair. Aaron grabbed a fistful of his hair and gently tugged. The action pulled a low moan from Lincoln’s mouth. Jesus! The hair tug was minimal at best, but it was enough to produce an abundant variety of imagery in Lincoln’s head. Once again, his mind was thinking sex and Aaron was only doing his damn job. Just as well Aaron was clueless to Lincoln’s predicament because if he were trying to seduce Lincoln he’d be seriously disappointed when he learned Lincoln wasn’t capable of performing.

“Fuck my life,” Lincoln mumbled.

“What was that?” Aaron asked. His fingers were working the tight muscles on Lincoln’s shoulders and nape.

“Private joke,” Lincoln sputtered. “Although there really isn’t any humor in it at all.”

Aaron’s hands moved lower. His well-oiled fingers pressed into every muscled knot on his back. The pain was ridiculously relaxing and Lincoln was close to sleep again. That quickly changed when Aaron’s hands started to knead Lincoln’s glutes beneath the sheet covering his ass and his firm fingers intermittently slipped into the crack, only to be drawn back out to massage the ass muscle some more. Lincoln was wide-awake now.

Aaron’s hands worked further south to the corded hamstrings just below Lincoln’s ass. Again, those long, strong fingers kept teasing his inner thigh as they worked the muscle. They were very close to touching the back of his ballsack. Aaron added more lotion to his hands and attacked Lincoln’s other hamstring. This time firm thumbs worked the spot where the glutes joined the hamstring, rubbing then pulling the two globes of his ass apart before shifting lower on Lincoln’s leg. Lincoln held his breath waiting to feel something stir in his groin. He hoped for a slight tingle or even a dull ache of impending arousal, but there was nothing.

“I don’t get it,” Lincoln sighed.

“What don’t you get?” Aaron asked; his hands now rubbing circles on Lincoln’s calf muscles.

Lincoln gripped the edges of the table. “I can feel your fingers digging into my skin, but there isn’t much else.”

“Describe to me what you do feel,” Aaron suggested.

“I don’t know,” Lincoln answered. “It’s difficult to put into words.”

“Do you feel heat or pain? Does it itch? Sting?” Aaron pushed.

“It’s fucked up,” Lincoln said. “It’s like I can feel you but not feel you, if that makes any sense.”

“That’s okay,” Aaron said. “The fact you’re feeling anything at all is encouraging to me.” Aaron helped Lincoln roll over onto his back and adjusted the sheet to keep his groin covered. “I’ll keep working the muscles and nerves every day and we’ll reassess your level of sensation in a few days.”

Lincoln draped his forearm over his eyes. “It’s depressing. Sort of like I’m a shell of who or what I used to be. You know?”

Aaron removed Lincoln’s arm to make eye contact him. “Hey. Negative talk like that serves no purpose except to hold you back,” Aaron said. “Positive thoughts and imagery move you forward and closer to the goal.”

“Awesome,” Lincoln said with sarcasm. “Now you sound like a fucking life coach.”

“Whatever works to get you to achieve your goal,” Aaron replied. “That’s what I’ll be.”

“And, what’s my goal . . .
coach
?”

“Getting yourself strong and back on stage to be the rock star you were born to be.” Aaron winked at him and his smile was endless.

Well, at least one of them was positive and maybe that was enough.

Chapter Ten

Lincoln and Aaron worked in his basement gym while the carpenter was installing the hand railings in his shower. It wasn’t long after that when Spumoni arrived, a cloud of pot smoke circling his head.

“It’s good to see you haven’t killed Aaron yet,” Spumoni teased Lincoln.

“As soon as I get my strength back, I’m going to kill him and bury his body in the yard,” Lincoln grunted out while working on a free-weight machine.

Aaron smiled at Spumoni. “I look forward to the day you’re strong enough to attempt that.”

“That’s what you say now,” Lincoln barked at Aaron. “Once you’re dead you’ll be rethinking that excitement.”

Both Spumoni and Aaron laughed.

“So, you’re cool working through this with him?” Spumoni asked Aaron.

“Whoa!” Lincoln balked and dropped the weights beside the bench. “I’m still deciding if I want to work with him—not the other way around!”

Spumoni slapped the back of Lincoln’s sweaty head. “Play nice, Linc,” Spumoni scolded. “Aaron has a waiting list of people who want to work with him. I had to pull some strings and call in a few favors to get him here with you, so watch yourself. If he walks, I’m out of options.”

Lincoln’s eyes darted to Aaron. “Is that true about the waiting list and the strings Spumoni pulled?”

“Spumoni made it sound more dramatic than it was,” Aaron replied.

“And Aaron is being polite,” Spumoni countered.

Lincoln slowly stood from the bench using the different phases Aaron had taught him to maintain his balance. “Don’t do me any favors, Aaron,” Lincoln said. He reached for a hand towel to wipe the sweat off his face.

Aaron looped an arm around Lincoln’s neck and tugged him away from the equipment. “Stop pouting like a ten-year-old and get down on the mat.”

Lincoln’s eyes bounced to Spumoni. “You’re a witness to this,” he said. “He’s either trying to get me out of my clothes or flat on my back. It’s sexual harassment at its basest level. I should probably press charges, but I figure he’s already being punished enough from working with me every fucking day.” Lincoln grinned at Aaron.

“I’ve never known you to protest an opportunity to be naked,” Spumoni added with a chuckle.

“Not the point,” Lincoln argued.

Aaron helped Lincoln down onto the padded mat. He pressed on the back of Lincoln’s knee to make it buckle then pushed the leg back toward his face to stretch the hamstring. Spumoni watched them moving together for a moment before he started to speak again. “Listen, I made some calls about the stalker hanging out by your front gate.”

“Shit. I forgot to call my security company,” Lincoln grunted from the mat.

“I knew you would, which is why I looked in to it,” Spumoni said. “I also talked to Dagger and they’re adding a detail here for you.”

Lincoln pushed Aaron out of his way and sat upright; his eyes locked on Spumoni. “You talked to Dagger about what?”

“The dude lurking out front,” Spumoni answered. “What the fuck did you think I meant? Jesus, you really don’t trust me, do you?”

Lincoln collapsed back onto the mat with his arms over his head and Aaron kneeling beside his hip. “I guess I’m a little paranoid. Do you blame me? You know what I’m dealing with here.”

“Yes, but you can’t let your personal safety lapse, either,” Spumoni reminded him. “Everyone is doubling up their security since Ashton’s attack.”

“But they caught the guy that busted into Ashton’s house,” Lincoln said.

“And that dirtbag is just one of many out there waiting for the opportunity,” Spumoni added. “Management for both bands has called a meeting for all the department heads to talk about security during the tour. Since I’m in charge of equipment for Ivory Tower, I’ll be in on this meeting. I’ll let you know what happens.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Lincoln said as Aaron grabbed hold of his leg to do another stretch. Lincoln rolled his head and watched Spumoni move toward the stairs. “Are you really leaving me here with him?” Lincoln lifted his head in Aaron’s direction.

“I can see you’re in good hands,” Spumoni replied.

A few moments later Lincoln heard his front door slam shut and his security system beep to acknowledge Spumoni’s exit.

“I heard about Ashton Lane’s attack inside his home,” Aaron said. “You should never neglect your personal safety.”

Lincoln’s gaze moved to Aaron. “I guess dealing with this MS bullshit has consumed me,” he answered with a weak shrug of his shoulders.

Aaron shook his head. “I get that, Linc, but you can’t let that diagnosis cause you to lose focus on the other parts of your life,” Aaron stated. “I may be here for the medical end of things, but if I can help in any other way, don’t be afraid to ask.”

“Maybe after I get through this weekend I can take care of those other things,” Lincoln replied. “But for right now, help me prepare for facing Dagger and the guys.”

“Okay, let’s do this,” Aaron answered.

Lincoln lowered his head to the mat and closed his eyes. He let his mind focus on Aaron’s hands gliding over the skin exposed below the gym shorts he wore. Aaron relentlessly rubbed the muscles and moved from leg to leg. The light sheen of sweat on Lincoln only made Aaron’s fingers slide easier, right up to the hem of his shorts with his fingertips slipping beneath the fabric to come even closer to Lincoln’s groin. Lincoln squeezed his eyes shut to concentrate on the fluid movement of Aaron’s fingers and the pressure of the heels of his palms as they worked into the flesh.

The subtle twinge in his balls was brief like a tiny spark and Lincoln wasn’t absolutely certain he’d felt it at all until it happened a second time. But, all too soon, Aaron was extending his hand to help Lincoln to his feet and move on to the next exercise. Lincoln felt boneless, dizzy, as if he didn’t have the strength to stand. Should he say something to Aaron about what he thought he’d felt? No. Because saying it out loud might erase the fantasy he wanted to believe in just a little while longer.

Thirty minutes later, Aaron had Lincoln in the kitchen eating some kind of stupid healthy salad that lacked any kind of bulk that stood half a chance of sticking to Lincoln’s bones. It felt like he’d already eaten an acre of greens over the last few days and if he ate much more he’d probably turn into a fucking rabbit.

“You do realize I’m not training for the Olympics, right?” Lincoln said as his fork stabbed into another mouthful of the salad.

“What’s your point?” Aaron replied.

“My point is, I’d love a big, bloody burger right about now,” Lincoln grumbled.

“Not a chance,” Aaron laughed.

“What the fuck?” Lincoln barked. “Are you trying to starve the MS out of me?”

“That’s not possible, otherwise I’d give it a try,” Aaron’s expression was serious, like he’d actually do that or something else equally as unscientific to rid Lincoln of what ailed him.

Their gazes held a beat too long and Lincoln swallowed hard. “I, ah, have more feeling,” he said softly. “Not much, but its more sensation than I had a few days ago.”

The smile that lit Aaron’s face made Lincoln a little light-headed. “That’s even more reason for us to stay on track with the exercise and better nutrition.”

“I won’t be eating a cheese burger anytime soon, will I?” Lincoln questioned.

Aaron laughed. “Nope. Not happening.”

“Great,” Lincoln groaned.