Page 8
“Delts are looking good.”
I shrugged. “Could be broader.”
“And you’re getting more definition in your lats.”
I wiped a hand across my face, leaving my view of him only a little bleary. “You wouldn’t say that if I was stood next to Jefferson.”
Brayden snorted. “Jefferson humbles everyone. If he had an ego, he’d be deadly.” He gestured at me, a motion I figured was meant to encompass my whole body. “Doesn’t explain why you can’t take a compliment, lil bro.”
I scowled at him as I reached for the soap. It felt like common ground, this discussion, even if it wasn’t always Brayden I was having it with. The whole point of the team was relentless - sometimes uncomfortable - self-improvement. Only my bros seemed to take it as a personal affront when I didn’t want to preen about what I looked like today.
“I already got you off,” I reminded him, “so why all the flattery?”
He shook his head, though he was still smiling. Watching as I rubbed soapy hands between my legs.
“A little self-satisfaction isn’t the worst thing in the world.”
“That excuse work when you’re jerking off on-stage?”
He licked his lips. “You wanna find out and let me know?”
I paused, washing momentarily forgotten. Staring at him through the steaming glass.
“What do you mean?”
Brayden’s stare was level. He didn’t get abashed, even when he was asking a favor.
“If I can’t dance, I lose my spot. Hence my being fucked. Unless someone wants to fill in for me.” He jerked his injured leg. “Just until this thing is healed up, anyway.”
The effectiveness of my skeptical squint was sabotaged by the water splashing in my eyes. Still, I felt it still got the core message across.
“You want me to dance, instead of you?”
For someone who’d already creamed my throat a few minutes ago, Brayden’s expression still managed to look predatory.
“You’re hot, lil bro. They’d go fuckin’ feral for you.”
“And the jerking off?”
His lip curled, like I was concentrating on something singularly trivial.
“You’ll have a mask on. Nobody would know it was you.”
I shook my head, amused despite everything.
“I can’t dance.”
He waved it away. “You can learn. It’s not like they’re expecting ballroom.”
“So what are they expecting?”
Brayden’s stare traveled down my body, pointedly. His smirk loaded, by the time he met my eye again.
“You know what they expect, lil bro. And you’d keep all the tips.”
I snorted. “Like there’d be any.”
I’d heard his sigh before, or one much like it. Something close to exasperated disbelief.
