Kane and Noel are both still in their Christmas briefs. There’s a sheen of sweat along Noel’s throat, a drop sliding down between his pecs, and I have to physically lock my knees to stop from swaying.
“Where did you learn those moves?” I ask, shamelessly staring. I can’t help it. I’m drinking in every line of muscle, every bead of sweat, every flex and stretch. “Because I might need some private shows. Like, soon. Very soon.”
Noel laughs, still catching his breath, hands braced on his thighs. “That was more exhausting than tracking down criminals,” he says. “Who knew dancing could be such a workout?”
The way his stomach tightens when he laughs is so unfair.
“I didn’t think I’d like it so much,” Kane admits. He drags his forearm across his forehead, smearing sweat and leaving his hair even more of a chaotic mess. My gaze tracks the movement, the way the muscles in his arm tighten, the way a glistening trail runs from his chest down over his abs and disappears into that stupid green waistband. “But hearing them scream like that?” He huffs out a breath, still wired. “Kind of addictive.”
He appears lit from the inside, eyes bright with leftover adrenaline. It does dangerous things to my heart rate.
“So what persona are you doing next?” I ask, trying very hard to focus on the logistics of the event and not on how badly I want to lick a line up his chest. “There are more costumes to select from behind you on the desk, as the guys left them here.”
“Wait.” Kane’s eyes almost bulge out. “We’re doing more than one performance? I gave everything I had. All my moves.”
I blink. “Well, yeah. I don’t have any other entertainment lined up. You two are it for the rest of the night. Maybe two or three more songs?”
Noel straightens, rolling his shoulders back like he’s settling a mantle over them. “Okay, leave it to us,” he says, alreadystriding toward the pile of costumes the original dancers abandoned. “We’ve got this.”
He passes close enough that the heat from his body brushes mine, and the scent of him punches straight through me. My fingers twitch with the urge to touch him, to see if he’s as hot under my palm as he appears.
Kane moves in on my other side, slower, staying right in my space. He’s close enough that the fine hairs on my arm stand up, that I can hear the rough drag of his breath. I try not to stare. I fail spectacularly.
There’s a flush along his throat, color high in his cheeks. He appears wild. Untamed. Like if I told him I wanted him right now, he’d put his hands on me and forget there was a room, a bar, a world beyond us.
“You know,” he murmurs, leaning down until his mouth is right at my ear. His breath is hot against my skin, and my stomach drops like I’ve missed a step. “If you want your own personal dance, we have conditions.”
The way he sayswesends a bolt of heat straight through me. I giggle. “Oh yeah? Like what?”
He smiles, slow and satisfied, like I’ve given him exactly the answer he wanted. His fingers find my hip, just the tips pressing in through my clothes, not quite a grab, but not quite innocent either.
“We go all the way,” he says, voice dropping, each word a deliberate stroke. “Everything off. And you have to watch us. Completely naked too. Only fair, right?”
My face burns up, and the heat doesn’t stop there. It rushes through my chest, my belly, lower, leaving me lightheaded. I swallow, my mind trying to picture it and immediately shorting out.
“Yeah, I don’t think so,” I manage. “None of you would be able to concentrate on your moves if I was watching naked.”
His thumb flexes against my hip in a tiny, possessive squeeze, like he’s imagining it too.
“Oh, we would,” Noel calls from the costume heap without even turning around. He’s bent over a box, briefs stretched obscenely tight, and I lose my train of thought for a second. “We’d be very motivated to perform our absolute best.”
The wordperformdoes not feel safe in this conversation.
“Focus on your next performance first,” I say, the words a little breathier than I’d like. “Then we can discuss… private shows.”
Kane’s gaze drops to my mouth, then back up. There’s something hungry there now, layered over the amusement.
“Careful what you promise, Hannah,” he murmurs. “We take our commitments very seriously.”
Across the room, Noel straightens, holding up a new costume piece. “Good news,” he says. “Round two is going to blow their minds.”
Kane doesn’t look away from me. “Yeah,” he says softly. “Pretty sure that’s becoming a theme tonight.”
Before I can turn away, Kane hooks two fingers in the waistband of my jeans and tugs.
I stumble a half step, and then his mouth is on mine.
There’s no hesitation, no testing the waters, just a hard, hungry press that steals the air from my lungs. He tastes like sugar and salt and faint beer, his lips hot and a little rough, and my hands go to his bare chest on instinct.
