River pulled him in closer, and the dance turned to more of a sway. A grinding sway, in fact. Jem had thought River smelled good, but the way his body felt against Jem’s might be better.
Parts of him were certainly noticing more than others. Hopefully his tight pants would prove useful for this one thing.
“It wasn’t a team sport.” River spun Jem around and reeled him in so that his back was to River’s chest. “You don’t have bro-y enough vibes.”
“Bro-y enough vibes.” What even. Jem was glad River couldn’t see the stupid grin on his face. “You’re right, though. Not a team sport.”
“And I feel like I would have heard of you if you were a swimmer. You’d be in a calendar or something. So maybe track.”
“You’re obsessed with the idea of the little shorts, huh?”
Another spin. This time they ended up face-to-face. If there were other people in this garage, Jem had forgotten them. “You’re going to tell me there weren’t any little shorts, aren’t you?”
“I’m so sorry.”
“That does narrow it down, at least,” River said with a sigh that tickled across Jem’s collarbones. “No track and field.”
“Running sucks.” Jem focused on the idea of running in these jeans, hoping that might dissuade his dick from trying to get hard. It didn’t work.
“Agreed.”
The song ended. The woman at the microphone said, “We’re gonna slow it down some for the lovers out there,” and then the guitar kicked in with a Dove Cameron song Jem vaguely remembered as—
Oh.
As being particularly suggestive.
“I don’t know,” River murmured as he turned Jem in his arms again. Jem was pretty tall, but River had an inch or two on him—just enough for River to put his mouth next to Jem’s ear. “I don’t think the singer’s clothes would fit you. You’d look good in them, though.”
Jem swallowed hard as River’s nose brushed his neck.
Tight denim was not going to cut it. Much more of this and Jem would be not just visibly hard, but visiblyleaking.
He took a shuddering breath as River’s fingertips dipped just below the waist of his jeans. “Dresses are your thing, not mine. But I don’t think I’m the—the person she’s talking to.”
“I’d never leave you alone long enough for anyone to try to take you anyway.”
The singer’s sultry voice washed over River’s as she promised to do all the things someone’s boyfriend wouldn’t—which Jem did not need to think about right now. “You realize I have a—a day job.”
Jesus, why was it so hot in here?
“You don’thaveto.” River’s teeth grazed the shell of his ear. “I could pay you to spend all… day… with me instead.”
Fuck, okay, Jem didn’t want to do that, he liked his job, but apparently his dick didn’t care what he wanted, because that offer made it blurt precome.
This situation had become unsustainable. River might be an exhibitionist, but Jem wasn’t. He took a bracing breath and gently pried River’s hands off his hips. “I need the bathroom.”
He didn’t flee, exactly. But he was aware of the heat in his face as well as in his pants, and he kept his head down as he navigated the stupid huge house to find the nearest bathroom. When he reached it, he closed the door behind him and put his hands on the counter, breathing heavily.
Okay. No harm done. He needed time and space to cool down, that’s all. He’d splash some cold water on his face, maybe shove his pants down and throw some cold water on his crotch too if his dick didn’t get the memo. Was there a hair dryer in here? Or like, some extra towels? Because there was no way he was going to get his pants back up if he was wet.
He closed his eyes. He could still hear the garage band covering “Boyfriend.” He could still feel River’s chest at his back, River’s fingers teasing down his hipbones.
Could still hear River’s voice in his ear.
“Jem.”
A knock at the door. “Jem, are you in there?”
