“You’ve been to parties like this one quite a few times, I take it?”
He chuckled. “Are you asking if I ever enjoyed myself as an attendee, on top of being the DJ?”
I snorted. “No, but only because I assumed the answer to that was yes.”
“Fair,” he told me, then chuckled again. “Yeah, I’ve had my fun. Why? Do you have more questions about the masquerade?”
“I think I understand. Be respectful, ask before touching, anything that happens occurs behind closed doors. I guess I’m wondering…”
I wasn’t sure how to ask this without revealing even more of my insecurities, as though I hadn’t already bared myself thoroughly. But when Jet offered me that easy smile, I felt safe with him. Not intimidated by his distracting muscles or risqué life experience, just safe.
“Is a regular looking guy like me going to be out of place?”
Jet coughed on his tea. “Excuse me? Do you think I’m prone to blowing regular-looking guys in the alleyway?”
A second passed in silence before I answered. “Well, kind of.”
Jet grunted, but his expression showed he was amused. “Fair. Okay, so. First, there will be all different kinds of people at the party. Like everywhere else in the world, you’ll think some of them are hot, and some of them will think you’re hot. Beyond that, don’t overthink it.”
I opened my mouth to object that there weren’t actually people who thought I was hot “everywhere,” but Jet kept talking.
“Second, didn’t I already explain that you were a hot bear? Peyton, honestly, you’ve got to accept this about yourself, man.” He patted my knee as he rose to his feet. “Stand.”
I stared up at him. “What?”
“Stand,” he repeated, “and give me that jacket.”
I hesitated for just a second, then relented. It was kind of fun to have him bossing me around, although I got an urge to boss him right back. Shoving that aside, I removed my jacket and folded it as I handed it to him.
“The glasses are good. They frame your face well,” he said, then swooped the mask off of the coffee table. “This will sit well with their basic shape, but it doesn’t cover your face, so people can still see how nice and full your features are.” He brushed his hand over my cheek. “Curvy cheeks and your strong jaw.”
I stood there, my voice stuck while Jet placed the mask on me. I could feel his heat on my skin, and I got instantly hard when his breath landed on my neck.
“The jacket is nice, but you’ll want to show off your body,” he said as he stepped back. “Roll up your sleeves. Let us see your strong arms. Those pants sit right on your hips—that’s good. Just don’t be afraid to stand in your power.”
I stared at him through the mask holes as I hesitantly rolled up my sleeves. “Excuse me?”
“You’ve got a solid body,” he said. Then his hands landed on my biceps. He squeezed me, holding my gaze the whole time. “It’s what drew me to you. There’s a real strength to how you hold yourself.” A grin ticked up the corner of his mouth. “At least, until I get you wriggling.”
I tried not to grin back, fully aware that I was wriggling for him. There was just so much suggestion in what he said. It tingled my nerves.
“Powerful,” I said with a nod. I tried to relax and widened my stance, trying to feel what he was describing.
Jet squeezed my arms one more time. “Just like that. That’s what made me want to grab those love handles and ride you that first night.”
He turned away before I could even try to respond. My love handles weren’t exactly my favorite quality, more like something I usually tried to hide, but hearing him say that short-circuited my brain.
I felt hot.
“I guess I’ll hope there’s someone else with a soft spot for love handles at the party,” I said, mainly to remind myself that it was someone else I was looking for that night.
Not Jet. Literally anyone else.
“Seems like a safe bet to me,” he answered as he sat back down.
I slid the mask off as I joined him on the couch, my skin still warm from the unexpected series of compliments. “Thanks for saying all that,” I managed. “It helps.”
He shrugged. “It’s true.”
