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She’d always been a watcher. People, especially. Seeing this play out in front of them turned her on more than she could’ve ever admitted.
Ethan tugged at the rounded neckline of Molly’s tank, stretching the fabric down. The hint of pale flesh revealed had Denver inhaling again, and this time she drew in a lungful of marijuana smoke from someone puffing away nearby. Her head spun, and not just from misplaced desire. But she didn’t look away, not even when she would’ve sworn she saw the pink flash of a nipple. Her neck burned and her cheeks flamed and still, she couldn’t. Stop. Watching.
Any minute now the others would return, and her unintended show would be over. As it should be. This was an intrusion on their privacy. She wasn’t that person.
Hell, she wasn’t even sure who she was anymore. Everything felt all new again. As if she’d been broken apart and fit together in a different way.
For the first time in too long, she was being truly herself. Because she could be. Ryan didn’t judge her. He had her back, as always.
And then in an instant, it was all over.
Elle and Michael came back first, and Mal was behind them, his big body blocking out everything. Ending her moral dilemma.
Thank God.
Ryan cupped her cheeks and brought her face up to his, his green eyes luminous in the near dark. “You have no idea how much I want you right now,” he mouthed, punctuating the words with the pulse of his cock between her legs.
She moaned, dropping her head back, barely aware of her surroundings. Ryan was her only focus.
Distantly, she realized Keith had come onstage. The crowd was going nuts around them, everyone jumping and cheering as he launched into one of his signature hits. The familiar opening notes of “Days Go By” revved the audience into a frenzy as Keith greeted his fans, and she didn’t even turn around.
She couldn’t do anything but stare at Ryan, and hope he understood she needed something so much more important than even music.
Him. All of him, right now.
But he didn’t give her the relief she was seeking. He turned her to face the stage and slid his hands just under the hem of her jersey, keeping the pressure light as he found her earlobe with his teeth. “Anticipation, Colorado,” he murmured.
Her snarl was loud enough to make his chest rumble with laughter.
But at least he had good timing. Keith’s next song was her favorite of his, “Somebody Like You.” The instant he started to play the telltale chords, she let out a shriek and tugged on Ryan’s hand, drawing him into the closest thing to an open area so they could dance.
Elle and Michael, and West and Lo, and Randy and Jules were all clustered in close too, each couple dancing and laughing. Michael spun Elle out, so wildly that she nearly collided into—
Mal.
For the last few minutes, Elle’s neighbors had been Randy and Jules. But they’d slid down the row into the space where Molly and Ethan had been up until a moment ago—hmm—and Mal had moved over.
“Here we go,” Ry said under his breath as Elle blinked up at Mal, her hands flattening on his chest as if she hadn’t expected him to be there.
Denver and Ryan kept dancing, their rhythm almost as natural as the one they’d found in the bedroom. But she angled herself so that she was closer to Elle and Mal, because if he started shit, she would be the one to stop it.
No one was dulling the smile on Elle’s face tonight. Not if she had anything to say about it.
Mal reached up and caught Elle’s hand, gripping it for a second before he spun her out again and sent her whirling back into Michael.
Michael looked as surprised as Elle did, but he kept up the ruse, laughing and dancing. He twirled her around on the grass, grinning as she kicked off her sneakers, and glanced over his shoulder as if he was ready to spin her into Mal’s arms again. Elle’s smile grew, burning brighter for an instant like a match struck into flame, before her gaze fell on the empty patch of grass where Mal had stood. And her smile vanished.
“Asshole,” Ryan muttered, and Denver sighed.
Attraction, lust, and love—and hell, even friendship sometimes—were a crapshoot. The best you could hope for were a few good times and a couple orgasms. And if you got really lucky, maybe someone to eat pancakes with at four a.m. when the diner was closing.
Keith was jamming out with his band, turning the song into one long, extended guitar solo. Golden hair curtaining his face, fingers flying over the strings. Ryan was singing along, staring at her as he said every word. Through twists and dips and sways, he never broke her gaze.
He wasn’t just mouthing words. He was telling her how he felt, and she couldn’t breathe for all the buzzing going on under her skin.
Song after song, they danced together. Kissing in between, laughing at nothing, occasionally swapping partners when one of their friends wandered too close. But even when they were apart, she felt his arms around her. Could hear his husky voice singing in her ear and the warmth of his kisses.
And when Keith’s extended encore ended at just about the same time that the fair’s nightly fireworks show started to celebrate the day’s festivities, she sat on Lo’s blanket and shared a bottle of moonshine with Ry and her friends—most of them, minus Mal and Molly and Ethan, who were still MIA—while they oohed and aahed at the rainbow of colors flashing through the night sky.
