He kissed the top of my head.
“I wish Dirks was here to do this shit,” he muttered. “Come on. Let’s shower and go to his game.”
He untangled from me first before sitting up and reaching for my hand without speaking.
In the bathroom, he didn’t say much, just turned the water on, tested the temperature with his hand, and pulled me in after him. I stepped under the spray and shivered, and without a word, he shifted to block the cold water from hitting me directly until it warmed up.
I closed my eyes, tilted my head back, and when the shampoo bottle slipped from my grip, he caught it and popped the cap before pouring it into my palm without asking.
When I rinsed, his hands were on my waist. He slowly slid them up until he was smoothing soap over my ribs, under my breasts, and down the curve of my ass. He tucked wet hair behind my ear while I wiped water from my eyes, and adjusted the knob again when the heat got too much.
When we stepped out, he was already holding a towel open.
“Oh!” I turned, the towel nearly slipping off my body. “Will you drive me over to Dirks’s apartment so I can steal a jersey from his closet?”
He looked up from where he was toweling off his arms. “You don’t have one?”
I grinned. “Nah. I needhis.I’m gonna wear it with nothing under.”
He froze, towel dangling from one hand, eyes tracking the way the terrycloth clung to my hips.
“Luna Pierson.”
I batted my lashes. “What? I want him distracted.”
“You’re fucking evil,” he muttered while I swear I could’ve seen him crack the smallest grin.
Every time I shifted on the godawful plastic seat, the kind designed by someone who clearly hated comfort and had a personal vendetta against anyone with an ass, the jersey shifted up my thigh. I was suddenly flashing skin every time I stood, and I didn’t bother fixing it. Jer didn’t tell me to. Which, in his language, basically meant he’d noticed and approved.
He sat next to me, arms crossed so tight over his chest I half expected him to snap in half.
“Can you not look like someone just ran over your dog?” I muttered. “You’re the one who agreed to come here.”
“And you’re the one who came without underwear.”
“Exactly. That’s called partnership.”
He made a noise, somewhere between a grunt and a laugh. Dirks skated by as he got on the ice for warm-ups and pulled a slow, deliberate U-turn when he spotted us. His eyes found mine before dipping to the hem of the jersey.
I shifted, slowly, hips tilting upward, and the hem rose higher with the movement.
Jer sucked in a breath like I’d physically knocked the wind out of him.
“If you fingered me here,” I murmured to Jer, my eyes fixated on Dirks, “you think he’d stop playing?”
Jer laughed loudly. “Depends,” he rasped. “You start moaning, and he’s throwing hands by the second period. Straight to the penalty box.”
I bit down on a grin, teeth grazing my lip. “Maybe you should try it. You know. For science.”
“Oh, sure. Let me just slide my hand between your legs with an entire family reunion sitting three rows back. That’ll go over great with security.”
I leaned in, eyes still locked on Dirks, who was skating slower now, as if he could feel the heat radiating from our section of the glass.
“But you’re notactuallyagainst it.”
Jer’s voice dropped to a mutter. “I’m not against adamnthing. I’m just trying not to get arrested.”
“Look at you, being all mature and law-abiding. That’s growth.”
