It was a relief to know she wasn’t going to have to mace anyone.
She used their messing about as her cue to come down from the balcony and slip away unnoticed, only to be foiled by a sweaty, jubilant, half-dressed Grip and his broken zipper blocking her way.
“Don’t you have any other pants, Mark Grippen?” she snapped.
Grip threw his arms wide and his jeans slipped on his hips. “I don’t even care that you snuck in here. Did you hear that? We were fucking awesome.”
It was impossible not to share Grip’s excitement. “You were.”
“I didn’t trust it. I had to wear my lucky pants. Can you do your thing?” he said.
That’s where Jay caught her, as everyone was heading for the showers. On her knees with her face in Grip’s package, wrestling with his zipper. Again.
“Evie,” Jay said, voice husky and well-used.
“Jay,” she answered, not turning to look at him and hiding behind the fall of her hair, going blind on the alignment of the zipper teeth.
“Buy some fucking new jeans, Grip,” Jay said.
“Good things happen,” Grip said, then winced when Evie tugged a bit hard on the placket, her knuckle gliding on his package through the denim, “when I wear these pants.”
“They won’t if you don’t hold still,” she said, flicking her head to shift her hair. Then it was her turn to flinch when Jay gathered it in his hand and held it out of her face.
“Let me help,” he said, the heat of his legs against her back, the backs of his fingers resting on her neck, spider-crawl shivers enveloping her head.
She fumbled again, near punching Grip in his groin. “I’ve got this.”
Jay’s other hand landed on her shoulder, steadying. “I’m sure you do.”
He didn’t let go of her hair, holding it in a loose-tight way that reminded her of all the times he done that when they were naked and desperate for each other. When she was on her knees and he’d wanted to watch as she took him apart with her mouth.
“Always had pretty hair, Evie,” he said.
“You always liked controlling me with it.” Oh shit. She shouldn’t have said that. Jay made a rough sound, and his hold on her tightened. Body vibrating with excitement, she had to fight against tipping her head into his hand and looking up at him, exposing her throat for a remembered caress.
“Hey, I don’t mean to interrupt this kinky little scene you two have going on,” Grip said. “It’s desperately sexy, and I’m happy to consider a threesome, but I just remembered I have track pants in my bag and I have somewhere to be.”
Evie let go of Grip’s jeans and he stepped away, hands raised in surrender, laughing as he went to the showers. Jay was a beat slower releasing her hair. “How did we sound to you?” he said, his knuckles sliding on her neck, making her shiver as her hair fell back to her shoulders.
“Richer. Edgier.” His fingers trickled over the rim of her ear, calloused pads, sweeping her hair there. Sexier.
“Good.”
She needed to get off her knees before she did something she was going to regret. “You made peace.”
“More like a truce, but it felt right.”
There was just the heat of his legs behind her now, as he stood with a foot either side of her own shins. She could smell the sweat on him. God help her, she liked the tang of it. This wasn’t a truce, it was an attack on her senses, but it felt unnervingly right, and it scared her.
“Jay.” She put a foot forward and came to stand with a wobble. If she told him not to touch her again it would only imply it had affected her.
“I’m glad you sorted it with the guys.” She fiddled with her shirt. She’d tell him there wasn’t going to be a truce for the two of them. But when she turned, the opportunity was gone and it was hard to tell if the vision of his perfectly bitable arse walking away was a blessing or a curse.
SIX
The fan meet and greet was full swing when Jay noticed how close Mum was standing to Errol. Sure, the room was crowded and the line-up for a grip and grin was long and winding but it’s not like there was a shortage of space that was making them stand almost shoulder to shoulder.
Evie had carved out room for herself, although she was in constant motion, but every time he caught a glimpse of her, she was looking back at him. And every time they did that awkward eye contact dodge where you pretended not to be looking at each other but at some distant spec in the same linear geography. It was whack-a-mole addictive.