Page 25 of Dedicated

“Unconvincing and boring,” I countered.

“I’m not going to stick my tongue down your throat in a fucking grocery store parking lot.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not fifteen?”

Great, now we were arguing in full view of the photographer. “Just a prude.” Mostly I said that because I knew it was the quickest way to get a reaction out of him.

“I’m not a fucking prude.” Evan smacked the rear window of the SUV, his brows pinching together with frustration. I could practically hear the whir of the photographer’s shutter capturing this stupid moment. “You of all people should know that,” he growled.

I got the reference immediately, amusement fading, replaced by hunger and ache as the memory of him exploding inside Ella and the harsh cry of sound he’d made flashed in the back of my mind.

And then, without warning, he crowded up against me, his hand planting at the center of my chest and shoving me up against the car. There was a split second where I felt my mouth drop open in shock before he smothered it with the crush of his.

The memory I had of his lips was muddied by Ella’s presence, just a hint of the Fireball shot he’d taken before, and the messy tangle of tongues I couldn’t really differentiate.

And nothing like what was happening now.

My lips yielded automatically beneath the pressure of his, like cracking a seal, and behind it was warmth, the spicy tinge of cinnamon gum, the silky wetness of his tongue when it slipped against mine for a slow, indulgent caress. Kissing didn’t get near enough credit, and I knew Evan probably thought I was only about plugging my dick in a hole. But I fucking loved kissing, and holy shit was Evan good at it. To a degree that, in a completely nonsensical way, I felt like he’d been holding out on me.You could have warned me you kissed like every dark devil that ever seduced, asshole.

I felt the tension of his body transferred to the slippery heat of his lips, and the few seconds of discord where our teeth clicked together as we navigated the unfamiliar geometry of each other’s mouths until we found our rhythm. And once we did, it was effortless synchronicity of give and take, the same way we were onstage.

Evan’s stubble prickled along my chin, and after a few moments, I remembered I had a body, that I was more than just the lips and tongue currently dancing with his. I caressed the tips of my fingers up his spine, and his hand slid up from the center of my chest to my throat. The tendons in my neck jumped beneath his roaming touch, and my pulse rippled against his palm as he tightened his grip around me and dipped his thumb into the shallow dish below my Adam’s apple. I groaned again, and he staggered back with a curse, his teeth scraping across my lower lip as we parted. His eyes were fever bright and glossy, the pupils shot wide as he stared at me. We were both breathless.

“How’s that? Unconvincing? Boring?” he panted out and smirked.

I swiped my hand across the back of my mouth and smirked back. “Better.”

What I really wanted to do was take hold of his shoulders, shove him into the back of the damn SUV, and pull his shorts around his ankles because holy fuck was I turned on now. That kiss was no stiff wind—it was a whole tornado, and I was dizzy with the violent intensity of it. I scanned his face desperately, trying to determine whether he felt the same. I couldn’t get a good read on his expression, though.

“Your dick has a stronger opinion, I think.” His gaze dropped to the bulge in my jeans.

Yeah, I was hard as a rock, and his T-shirt hung down too far over his shorts for me to determine whether or not he’d had the same reaction. Unfair.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” I snapped back at him.

“Touché,” he said, and for some reason we both cracked up, loud laughter that felt good barreling out of my chest, a kind of substitute release for the pressure in my cock, which I didn’t want to think about because, yeah…

Evan turned away, walked around to the driver’s side, and got in. I waved to the reporter as I adjusted myself, then climbed in the passenger seat. For the duration of the ride home, things felt normal again, the way we were before. Back at the beginning.

When you guys are working on an album, what’s your process?

Les:Besides a lot of alcohol?

Evan:Les usually has some words and some kind of gist of the melody or beat and then—

Les:And then Evan organizes it, riffs off it, and makes it about two thousand times better. “Detour” was all you, though, dude.

Evan:No it wasn’t. You figured out the chorus, remember?

Les:So the answer is complex. We don’t have a process, we just sit there and jack around together until it sounds right.

Evan:I’m side-eyeing your word choice there.

Les:Wecollaboratearound together until it sounds right.

Chapter 20