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“Uber back with me in twenty if⁠—”

“I can’t wait,” he growls. One hand hooks under the hem of my dress, bunching the silk around my hips like he needs me bare now or he’ll lose his mind.

His fingers shake as they fumble higher. “Shit—sorry—” he mutters, the words clumsy, useless, because he doesn’t stop. He can’t.

And then he’s past the lace, slipping beneath, sinking two thick fingers straight inside me. My body clenches tight around him, sharp enough to drag a sound out of my throat I have to bite back behind my teeth.

“Jesus, Sable,” he breathes, dragging a messy kiss across my jaw, driving into me again, deeper, knuckle brushing against my clit on the way out. “You’re—fuck—you’re soaked.”

My head tips back, shoulders pressing into the wall. He’s shaking against me, grinding his cock against my hip like he’s already breaking apart.

“That’s it, Noah,” I whisper, threading my hand into his hair, tugging tight until he whimpers against my throat. “Good boy. Show me how badly you need it.”

The sudden buzz rattling from my clutch nearly jolts me out of my skin.

I grit my teeth and ignore it, nails biting into his scalp as another moan breaks loose when his fingers drive deeper. The vibration stops—mercifully—but then starts again, annoying and far too loud.

“Fuck,” I hiss, fumbling with the clasp one-handed, trying not to drop the damn bag while his fingers are still buried inside me. I yank my phone free to see Eleanor’s name glaring across the screen.

I swipe to answer, chest heaving, voice barely steady. “What?”

“Sable? Thank God.” Her voice pours out fast and panicked. “Sam’s in the bathroom puking his guts out. I can’t get him up. Where the hell are you?”

Noah crooks his fingers, fucking them into me deeper. Pleasure slices through me so hard I nearly drop the phone. Oh, God—too good. My body arches against the wall, a breathy sound catching in my throat before I choke it back. My thighs are shaking. My eyes squeeze shut and all I want is to let go, let him keep going, let⁠—

No. No. Not now.

I grab his wrist and shove his hand out of me, biting down a gasp I do not want Eleanor to hear. He blinks up at me, dazed and flushed, mouth parted, wet fingers trembling at his side.

“Be there in a minute,” I snap into the phone, then hang up and shove it back into my clutch. “Every damn time,” I mutter, trying to smooth my dress with hands that won’t stop shaking.

“What’s going on?” he asks, voice rough.

I blow out a heavy breath. “Sam,” I say. “Drunk off his ass, probably. I guarantee he was doing shots with the guys from Price & Crane again. Every single time we’re at one of these things, it’s the same thing. You’d think he’d learn by now.”

“Uh—” he stutters, wiping his fingers across his slacks. “I’ll help.”

“It’s fine,” I say, smoothing my hair, ready to face whatever fresh hell is going on in the restrooms right now.

Noah straightens and clears his throat. “Sable—I’m helping.”

I open my mouth to argue, but he cuts me a look—jaw tight, eyes set in a way that won’t budge. His breath is still shaky from what we were just doing, but that look? It roots me right to the spot, doing something to me I don’t have time to unpack.

I blow out a sharp sigh and nod, turning down the corridor. “Fine.”

The hallway feels too bright after the dim corner we’d been pressed into. I peek around the bend—empty—and jerk my chin for him to follow.

We move fast, and a few seconds later, the silence of our shadowed heat is quickly replaced by the raw, ugly sound of someone retching in the restroom.

Perfect. Every damn time.

I shove open the restroom door and find Sam slumped against the sink. His shirt collar’s soaked, half of it sticking to his neck, the other half splashed with something I really don’t want to identify. He’s muttering nonsense to his reflection, eyes half-lidded, like he’s in deep philosophical conversation with the faucet, with Eleanor hovering right by him.

“Thank God,” she says, turning the second she hears our footsteps. Her eyes flick up and down, pausing just a second too long on me. Then Noah. Then me again.

I don’t bite. I don’t even blink. I go straight for Sam and grab a wad of paper towels.

“Sam,” I mutter, crouching down beside him. “You’re a mess.”