Finally River stepped up to his microphone. “LA, thanks for coming out. It’s a beautiful night.” He picked out a quick little riff, winked at the audience, and then glanced up at the balcony and somehow found Jem’s eyes. “This is a love song.”
Becca cackled next to Jem and elbowed him in the ribs, even as Jem’s cheeks and ears burned. The lights went low again and a blacklight strobe kicked on, which was when Jem realized—
“Oh my God, River,” he groaned out loud. He doubted Becca heard him, but she could see it as plain as he could—under these specific lighting conditions, the odd shiny patches on Jem’s shirt glowed in the dark, spelling outProperty of River Wild.
“All Dressed Up” was not a love song, although Jem would concede that it could be a song about someone you loved. “All Dressed Up” was a song about how good a lover looked in expensive jewelry. Or possibly the jewelry was a metaphor for something dirtier. Either way,clothingwas definitely not mentioned, and Ward ceded the microphone to River for the second verse, which didn’t help.
Jesus, it was hot in here. “I think I need to sit down,” Jem said to Becca.
She grinned. “Better do it while you still can?”
He put his face in his hands, but he couldn’t stop watching River between his fingers.
By the time the show ended—after an encore that had everyone on their feet, screaming at the tops of their lungs, except for maybe the baby strapped to Eric’s chest, jouncing happily with her oversize headphones keeping her hearing safe—Jem was crawling out of his skin. He had multiple texts from Tori, who was with a similarly hearing-protected Ivy in the second row, losing her absolute mind about how good the show was and asking where they should meet Jem and River after. As if Jem wanted anyone to see him right now. If River didn’t fuck him in the next twenty minutes, he’d die.
Hold that thought, he texted her, and almost wept with relief when Nat showed up at the box looking for Jem.
He was mostly too wired and turned-on to be mortified, but he did find himself saying, finally, halfway down a long hallway somewhere in the annals of the building, “Sorry it’s your job to do this.” She had to know what she was leading him into.
Nat gave him an amused look. “It’s all good. He tips well.” She rapped at the door. “Hey, special delivery!”
And then, with a knowing smirk, she was gone.
Before Jem could feel awkward about it, the door swung open. River stood on the other side, hair a sweaty disaster, cheeks flushed, eyes completely wild.
They didn’t even get the door closed before they were kissing, clinging to each other like their lives depended on it. Eventually River flailed around one-handed and Jem heard the satisfyingclickof the door closing. Then River was dragging him backwards by his belt loops. Their erections brushed, obvious, electric. River ground against him, swallowing the gasp Jem released against his mouth.
They were both half stuck to their jeans with sweat. Jem thought his own were bad, but for a handful of seconds it looked like they were going to need scissors to free River. But then River gave him a firm shove backward and said, “Just—get your own,” and maybe it wasn’t romantic, but it got the job done. Even if it left Jem standing in River’s dressing room in a T-shirt and socks, feeling ridiculous.
He forgot about it the second River kicked off his jeans and reeled Jem in with a hand on his T-shirt.
Which reminded him—“Feeling possessive today?”
River flashed a grin that was mostly teeth on his way to putting his mouth on Jem’s neck. “Why, you like it?”
“Depends, do you have lube in here? Because if not, I quit.”
Jem’s bare ass hit the dressing table. A clatter followed as River swept a cornucopia of products onto the floor. One, though, he held up in triumph—a tube with a familiar brand label. Fantastic.
River made a noise like a stalling sink disposal when Jem turned around, braced himself on the table, and said, “Hurry up. We have like twenty minutes before Tori gets arrested trying to find me.”
Another sound, this one higher pitched. “You want me to fuck youhere?”
Jem huffed. “I wanted you to fuck me in the Subaru,” he pointed out. “This can’t be that different.”
“Fair,” River said faintly as he flicked the cap open.
Thank God he wasn’t precious about it. He took Jem at his word and opened with two slick fingers, gentle but firm. “I knew I should’ve put a butt plug in your pocket.”
With a groan, Jem widened his stance. “I would’ve come in these stupid fucking jeans, the way the bass is cranked in here. And then we never would’ve gotten them off.”
“Jesus. Never mind twenty minutes, we’re not going to make it to two if you don’t stop running your mouth.”
A third finger joined the first two before Jem was ready. He pushed into the stretch, groaning in encouragement. “You started it.”
He had no idea who started it. But he knew how it was going to end.
His eye caught on a shiny gold foil packet on the dresser top, and he picked it up and ripped it open just as River curled his fingers into Jem’s prostate. Jem bowed his head and pushed back into the intrusion, arching his spine. “Fucking—finish it,” he demanded.
