Peyton
Jet openedthe door to his place. “Hey, Peyton,” he said, dropping his voice low.
I grinned. Music I recognized as his style, a gorgeously chaotic mixture of chimes and keyboards and saxophone riffs, rolled out from the living room, and Jet was wearing the jeans that I figured out must be his favorites, the worn, light ones that clung to his thighs. The smile on his face was just cocky enough to make me feel flushed, but I also eased into a wave of relief.
It was just so easy to spend time with him.
“I’m going to have to convince Noah to go on vacation so we can have privacy at my place,” I told Jet as we met in a bear hug. “Sorry you always have to host.”
He stepped back and rocked to his heels. “I don’t mind. If you want to change it up, we could try some special location sex. Cheap motel, maybe?”
I considered motel mattresses. “Here’s good,” I told him. “I’m not complaining.”
“Good,” Jet said, then took my hand, walking me backward. “Because I already have a plan for tonight.”
I felt horny. Like, actually lustful, but also intimidated by what he might say next. Jet was still putting all this thought and care into what would make me happy in bed. It was tender in this very Jet kind of way and exciting, except that I had no idea what he might be thinking.
We stood in the living room. “A plan, huh?”
“That’s right.” He pulled his hand over my chest, mischief in his damn beautiful eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t offer you a drink.”
“Beer,” I said immediately.
He left me there, standing with a now aching erection. I had basically nothing to do but consider what in the hell Jet had planned for us.
All my nerves were raw, exposed.
I felt good.
He came back with a couple bottles of beer, and I pulled myself together, not wanting him to see that he was getting to me this easily. “Is this you?” I asked, gesturing to the music with the bottle. “It’s great.”
Jet smiled. He leaned back against the desk, then handed me a record that was sitting there. “No, not my mix. The DJ samples from this record. I was just thinking of it earlier today, trying to remember what she did with the sample.”
I glanced down at the record, which looked like it was the from the seventies. “Supernature. I don’t think I know it.”
Jet shrugged and took it back. “It’s disco.”
“You must have so many albums in your head,” I said, impressed. “I could never place just a few notes from another song.”
Jet chuckled. “Honestly, there’s not much else I can keep straight. But paying attention to music feels good. It feeds me, in a way.”
I glanced at the couch. I wanted to sit back and talk, hear more about the album, what being a DJ was like for him, all of it. But I was equally distracted by what Jet had said to me, all the places my imagination was flickering, and the way he opened his mouth slightly and dragged the tip of his tongue across his bottom lip.
Fuck. Focus, Peyton.
He slowly dragged his eyes down my body, then latched his gaze onto my crotch, where my erection made a fat tent in my khakis. “Speaking of feeling good.”
Usually, I took off pretty soon after we hooked up, but maybe I could let myself hang out for a little this time. Maybe we could chill together then because there was no way I was going to be able to focus to do it now.
“You’re the one that put an idea in my head,” I told him, eyeing his own growing bulge.
“I guess we should get to it then,” he told me, then leaned forward to brush a quick, brief kiss over my lips. “Be right back.”
Jet slipped into his room, then emerged with a long piece of silk ribbon, draped across his strong hands. “Blindfolds were fun at the party. But this time, I want to make you guess.”
“Guess?”
He stepped up to me, his heat on my skin. “Guess what it is I’m doing to you.”
