Page 32 of Dedicated

“Chill out, we’re not—”

He lurched forward to try and pass me again, and I yanked him into me. He was going to drive me to desperate measures? Fine. I snaked my hand between us to palm his erection, attempting to ignore just how much touching him like that had my own cock ready to explode, because dammit, I was trying to make a point. He went stone still, eyes flaring wide, and we spent a handful of seconds staring each other down, his chest rising and falling in rapid breaths against mine. That close, I could see the heat in his cheeks, feel it rising from his skin.

“You want to take your hand off my dick?” he finally asked, giving me a cool expression that didn’t quite dampen the color in his face.

“You’re hard as a fucking rock.” I was proud of myself for not moaning it, because God knew I’d dreamed of touching him just like this for months. Hell, years.

“Where are you going with this?”

“Where do youthinkI’m going with this? You enjoyed that back there.” I inclined my head toward the room we’d just been in, in case he’d somehow forgotten the way he’d been rubbing up against me.

He pressed his lips together so tightly they paled, then he hitched one shoulder. “I wouldn’t read into it too much, Les. Boners happen.”

I snorted and shook my head, curling my fingers tighter around the hard heat of his bulge. The crinkle at the corners of his eyes was minute but telling. “You were into it,” I said slowly, “withme.”

“I know how to put on a show, same as you.” His brows pinched together as his mouth turned down.

My grip on his waistband stopped him from going too far when he tried a different tactic and took a step backward. I let the hand on his cock fall back to my side but closed the distance between us, still determined to hash this out. “And you were into it with Ella and me, which is why it was so confusing that you were such a dick about everything the next day.”

“I wasn’t a dick.” His tone was insistent, but the tiny thread of guilt in the eyes that darted away from mine spurred me on as I gave him a flat, unpersuaded stare.

“You said”—I held up a finger as I quoted him—“‘That was something I’ll live to regret.’”

“That doesn’t sound like me being a dick; that sounds like evidence that I’m psychic.”

Stubborn fucker. I cocked my head at him, one brow winging up. “And then you gave me the cold shoulder, and you did that for the next six months.”

Evan scoffed with a choked-out laugh. “I did not.”

“You did. Look, I get it. You were worried it would change our partnership, relationship, whatever.”

“And it did.” The conviction was back, the guilt gone, and I could tell in the uptick of his breathing that he was exasperated. Which was fine with me, because I was, too. It was about time we confronted this shit.

“Becauseyouflipped out about it and made the last tour miserable trying to pretend it didn’t happen. But it doesn’t have tobea big deal. It wasn’t for me. It was… fun. It was hot. I fucking liked watching you with her. I liked touching you. I liked screwing her with you. I liked”—I paused, because I was too close to telling him how much I likedhim—“it with you.” I watched Evan’s face as I spoke, because there was a change happening. The cracks started forming when I said I liked watching him, and by the time I finished, he seemed almost hesitant. His shoulders had gone rigid as steel girders, and he glanced away from me with a flare of his nostrils.

I loosened my grip on his waistband and slid my hand behind the band of his boxers. The humid warmth of naked skin and the wiry curls of his pubic hair met the tips of my fingers as I brushed them lightly over his cock. He swallowed visibly, gaze shifting back to meet mine before he set his jaw as if steeling himself for something far worse than the potential of an orgasm.

“Do you like this?” I watched him, trying to read any minute changes, and he watched me back just as intently. His eyes were the stormy dark of clouds threatening to break. My pulse raced; I could feel it thundering at my temples and throat. When he said nothing, I let my hand dive deeper, hot skin against hot skin as I gripped his shaft between two knuckles and dragged a rough caress up his length. That tight set of his jaw broke open on a stuttered breath.

“Tell me the truth.” I rubbed the pad of my thumb over the crown of his cock and felt a slight tilt of his hips in response. “Do. You. Like. This?”

“Yes.” He exhaled, closing his eyes. Resignation and confession that stood my hair on end.

I reached deeper, cupping his balls, squeezing the heel of my hand against them, and fuck, I wanted to rip his clothes off right there and get down on my knees, same as I’d wanted to that night with Ella but had been too scared to push it. “Do you want me to stop?”

“Yes.” A ragged sound that escaped him while his eyes were still tightly shut.

He seemed so desperate and conflicted that I stopped provoking him, removed my hand, and took a step back. “Porter—”

He shook his head, eyes flying open, his lips parting to speak.

“Hey!”

I whipped a glance over Evan’s shoulder to find the booth attendant hobbling toward us.

Evan gave me a wild, disoriented look and then shoved me roughly toward the exit. “Go!”

I took off, Evan on my heels as I stumbled through the door, and heard him call out, “Your exits are supposed to be clearly marked!”