hinges than he expected, and he pushed too hard and the door banged against the wall.
“Is someone there?” Leah called.
“It’s O’Connor,” he said. “I’m going to take a shower.”
Leah pulled aside the curtain that lined her stall just far enough to poke her suspicious face through the opening. “You aren’t going to peek at me, are you?”
He grinned. “The thought did occur to me.”
“I’ll tell Rushani if you do,” Leah said, and pulled the curtain closed again.
She had already figured out who held the real power in the band. O’Connor shook his head, amused, and went into a stall on the other side of the room from where Leah was standing, completely naked, with water streaming over her bare skin…
This had not, he decided, been a particularly bright idea.
Leah was waiting for him when he went back out into the locker area with a towel wrapped around his hips. She had changed into a loose sundress that bared her shoulders and her mile-long legs. There was an uncomfortable moment when he had to admit to himself that he’d been hoping for exactly this scenario. He didn’t like to think of himself as scheming, or as deliberately manipulating the situation, but of course that was what he was doing. And Leah knew it, too, from the way she looked up at him and smirked a little.
“Busted, huh,” he said.
“Totally,” she said. “It’s okay, though. I sort of like the view.”
“I think I’m being objectified,” he said, and posed with his chin up, one hand on his hip—something he had seen in a museum, once, a Greek god carved out of flawless marble.
“Very nice,” Leah said, and clapped.
He sat down on the bench beside her, not too close, but close enough to imply that he’d like to be sitting even closer. “You did a really fucking awesome job today.”
She glanced at him through the curtain of her damp hair. “I made a few mistakes. During ‘Thunderstrike,’ right before the—”
“Stop apologizing,” he said, a bit annoyed that she couldn’t accept a damn compliment. “Why do women always do that?”
“Because if we don’t, someone calls us a bitch,” she said. She straightened up and tossed her hair over her shoulder, frowning at him. “Or arrogant. Or bossy .”
“Okay,” he said, raising his hands in the universal I’m-not-armed gesture. “Sorry. Point taken. But look, you were great, and the fans apparently loved you, according to James and his obsessive monitoring of social media.”
She smiled. “Well, that’s good to know.”
“He’s making a list,” O’Connor went on. “Of the nice things they’re saying. So he’ll probably give that to you later.”
“Great,” Leah said. She reached out and touched his shoulder, a light and glancing brush that burned like heated iron. “O’Connor. What are we doing here?”
“Do you mean that in an existential sense, or—”
“Be serious,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You know what I mean. You followed me in here.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I know I shouldn’t have. Believe me, I suffered enough thinking about you running your soapy hands across your body.”
“O’Connor!” she exclaimed.
“Too graphic? I can go into more detail, if you’d like.” He settled one hand on her knee, curling his fingers around her kneecap, watching her face carefully for any sign of distress. She watched him coolly, her eyelids drooping. Her skin was smooth and warm to the touch. He slid his hand beneath the hem of her dress and up her thigh. Her breath caught. He reversed course before he passed the point of no return, and drew his hand back down her leg.
Her lips were parted. She blinked at him, looking dazed, and then said, “Why stop there?”
He groaned. “Because I’m trying to behave myself. Like we agreed.”
“Right,” she said. She scooted away from him, and he let his hand fall from her knee. She rubbed her hands over her face. “Fuck.”
“Tell me about it,” he said.
“This
“Is someone there?” Leah called.
“It’s O’Connor,” he said. “I’m going to take a shower.”
Leah pulled aside the curtain that lined her stall just far enough to poke her suspicious face through the opening. “You aren’t going to peek at me, are you?”
He grinned. “The thought did occur to me.”
“I’ll tell Rushani if you do,” Leah said, and pulled the curtain closed again.
She had already figured out who held the real power in the band. O’Connor shook his head, amused, and went into a stall on the other side of the room from where Leah was standing, completely naked, with water streaming over her bare skin…
This had not, he decided, been a particularly bright idea.
Leah was waiting for him when he went back out into the locker area with a towel wrapped around his hips. She had changed into a loose sundress that bared her shoulders and her mile-long legs. There was an uncomfortable moment when he had to admit to himself that he’d been hoping for exactly this scenario. He didn’t like to think of himself as scheming, or as deliberately manipulating the situation, but of course that was what he was doing. And Leah knew it, too, from the way she looked up at him and smirked a little.
“Busted, huh,” he said.
“Totally,” she said. “It’s okay, though. I sort of like the view.”
“I think I’m being objectified,” he said, and posed with his chin up, one hand on his hip—something he had seen in a museum, once, a Greek god carved out of flawless marble.
“Very nice,” Leah said, and clapped.
He sat down on the bench beside her, not too close, but close enough to imply that he’d like to be sitting even closer. “You did a really fucking awesome job today.”
She glanced at him through the curtain of her damp hair. “I made a few mistakes. During ‘Thunderstrike,’ right before the—”
“Stop apologizing,” he said, a bit annoyed that she couldn’t accept a damn compliment. “Why do women always do that?”
“Because if we don’t, someone calls us a bitch,” she said. She straightened up and tossed her hair over her shoulder, frowning at him. “Or arrogant. Or bossy .”
“Okay,” he said, raising his hands in the universal I’m-not-armed gesture. “Sorry. Point taken. But look, you were great, and the fans apparently loved you, according to James and his obsessive monitoring of social media.”
She smiled. “Well, that’s good to know.”
“He’s making a list,” O’Connor went on. “Of the nice things they’re saying. So he’ll probably give that to you later.”
“Great,” Leah said. She reached out and touched his shoulder, a light and glancing brush that burned like heated iron. “O’Connor. What are we doing here?”
“Do you mean that in an existential sense, or—”
“Be serious,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You know what I mean. You followed me in here.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I know I shouldn’t have. Believe me, I suffered enough thinking about you running your soapy hands across your body.”
“O’Connor!” she exclaimed.
“Too graphic? I can go into more detail, if you’d like.” He settled one hand on her knee, curling his fingers around her kneecap, watching her face carefully for any sign of distress. She watched him coolly, her eyelids drooping. Her skin was smooth and warm to the touch. He slid his hand beneath the hem of her dress and up her thigh. Her breath caught. He reversed course before he passed the point of no return, and drew his hand back down her leg.
Her lips were parted. She blinked at him, looking dazed, and then said, “Why stop there?”
He groaned. “Because I’m trying to behave myself. Like we agreed.”
“Right,” she said. She scooted away from him, and he let his hand fall from her knee. She rubbed her hands over her face. “Fuck.”
“Tell me about it,” he said.
“This
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