Chapter Seven #3
River had a good voice. Jem knew that, of course; he was a professional musician. But it hit different when he was dressed like this—for seduction, of someone’s camera if not Jem personally. It was warm. It purred.
Jem was glad he’d been forced into these particular jeans. His dick didn’t have enough room to get hard.
“You….” Breathe, Jem, you moron. “You look great.”
River grinned and held his hands out to his sides. “This old thing?”
Jem laughed. Okay. This was fine. He could handle this. Maybe River looked like a walking wet dream, but he was still River—the weird, sincere, funny rich guy with terrible taste who Jem was saving from himself. “Yeah, I’m sure you had that just gathering dust in the back of your closet.”
“My closet is a many-splendored thing.” Some deft sleight of hand and suddenly River was holding a small box, which he presented to Jem. “Since the flowers still look so nice.”
Jem had texted him a picture of them last night. His mouth went dry. “The outfit wasn’t enough?”
River tsked. “Jem, I know your feelings about accessorizing. Now hold out your hand, please.”
Helpless to do otherwise, Jem obeyed.
He expected River to put the box in his palm.
Instead, he opened it and took out the heavy-looking object inside.
He slid the gold metal band onto Jem’s wrist, slow but sure, his musician’s fingers callused against the suddenly sensitive skin over Jem’s pulse.
For a handful of seconds, he was sure River could feel it racing.
Then the clasp latched and River released him to admire his new hardware.
The watch didn’t quite match River’s bracelet, but the styles were similar enough that they must be part of the same jeweler’s collection. The black-and-gold links of the band were the same width as the clock face, which was so conspicuously plain-looking that it must have cost a fortune.
“What do you think?” River ran his hand down Jem’s arm to his fingers, then raised his hand for his own inspection.
Jem thought he would be very lucky if he didn’t embarrass himself completely before the night was through. He swallowed. “It’s gorgeous.”
River hummed in obvious pleasure. “Good.” He tangled his fingers through Jem’s. “Ready to go?”
Jem absolutely was not, but he suspected he’d follow River anywhere anyway. He summoned all his confidence and said, “Let’s go.”
This time River had a driver. Jem got in the back of the car with him and they were whisked away toward the venue. River opened a tiny fridge. “Beverage?”
“Are you going to try to guess again?” But then Jem shook his head. “Better not. Don’t want to pass out halfway through the movie.”
River shook his head. “Fine,” he said with a heavy sigh, “but I’m guessing today anyway.”
Of course he was. “You forgot on Sunday.”
“I won’t make that mistake again. But I’m waiting until the party.”
Before long, the car pulled to a slow stop. “There’s probably not going to be a lot of press,” River said. “No red carpet or anything. It’s not like it’s a huge movie. But let me get out first so they don’t try to get in your face.”
“You’re the boss,” Jem agreed as he backed away from the passenger’s side door.
River was right about the press. Sure, it was disorienting to be flash photographed, to have people clamoring for his attention, but he followed River’s lead and it worked out fine.
One of the journalists asked River, “Who’s this with you?
” as though Jem didn’t have the ability to speak for himself, which annoyed Jem until River looked at him with a smile that was nothing short of besotted and said, “This is my Jem.”
After that Jem couldn’t have spoken for himself anyway.
Things were better inside the venue. Jem didn’t know if all movie premieres were like this or if this was a one-off, but he and River were shown to an actual table where they were soon joined by Ward and his wife, Amy.
Champagne was poured. Appetizers were delivered.
Surrounded by two people he’d already met and Amy, who turned out to be chatty and clever, Jem relaxed and enjoyed himself.
River egged him on to critique a few questionable fashion decisions, which Jem did under his breath, feeling put on the spot but not particularly displeased about it.
Amy stifled her giggles in Ward’s shoulder and then joined in with a few pointed barbs of her own.
After an hour or so, a server came by with a tray of entrees. “No shellfish, no red meat?”
River looked up from his conversation with Ward and smiled. “That’s us.”
And—oh. Jem went warm to the tips of his ears. River remembered. He nudged their knees together. “Thanks.”
“Wouldn’t be a very good date if you had to go to the hospital.”
True. “It would be memorable, at least. Who’s no red meat?”
“Me.” River waggled his eyebrows. “I only eat the other beef.”
This must be an old joke, because Ward and Amy both rolled their eyes.
The film aired after dinner. Jem had no idea what to think of it and hoped no one asked his opinion, because he didn’t have much to say beyond that sure was a movie. When the lights came up at the end, River caught his expression and leaned toward him. “Don’t worry, there’s not going to be a quiz.”
Jem glanced at Ward and Amy, but neither of them was paying attention. “What was that movie even about? Did you know it was going to be like this?”
River shrugged. “I was promised no Human Centipede repeats.”
Jesus. Jem could’ve been at home reading or catching up on his Netflix queue. But then he wouldn’t be here with River.
River could watch Netflix too. Jem was pretty sure even famous people were allowed to unplug.
“I guess I should be grateful,” Jem said after a moment. “I didn’t realize it could be that much worse.”
“That’s what I like about you, Jem. You’re always ready to find the silver lining.
” He stood up and offered Jem his hand—the one with the glittering bangle that matched Jem’s new watch.
A tattoo of a raven perched just above it.
“We’ve got about an hour before the party starts, and I need to change. ”
“Are you two coming?” Jem asked Ward and Amy.
She shook her head. “Nah, I’ve had enough socialization, thanks. Nice meeting you, though.”
“So why the wardrobe change?” Jem tried to keep the disappointment from his voice as they waited for the car. River should wear what he wanted. Although maybe this way Jem could stop staring at his legs. Or his chest.
Probably not.
“This may shock you,” River said as they slid into the back seat, “but I’m not great at sitting with my legs closed.” He gave a rueful smile as Jem closed the door behind them. “Tablecloths cover the sin. Couches at parties, not so much.”
Okay, he definitely needed to change or Jem was gonna have a problem.
“Right.”
But then River turned his back to Jem in the limo and said, “Here, can you help me unzip?”
Jem’s brainwaves flatlined. “Uh.” Faced with River’s shockingly unmarked nape, he tried to remember how fingers worked. First he had to remind himself he had hands. “You’re just going to change in the car?”
River glanced over his shoulder. “If that’s okay. We don’t really have time to go home first. I packed another outfit.”
Well, Jem hadn’t thought he was just going to take the dress off and stay naked. He took a deep breath. “It’s fine. Uh, let me just….”
Let me just help you take your dress off in a totally unsexy way, while we are in the quiet back seat of a limo and I am wearing the tightest jeans known to man. Yep. Jem forced himself to go slow enough to avoid catching the fabric. Every tick of the zip opening burrowed into his hindbrain.
Finally he cleared his throat. “You’re good.”
“Perfect.” River flashed him another over-the-shoulder smile. A moment later he was wriggling the dress over his head. Jem fixed his eyes to the window into the driver’s compartment and counted backward from a hundred. He didn’t want to know what River was wearing under the dress.
“I gotta say,” came River’s voice from very close to Jem’s left, where Jem was resolutely not looking, “I love the vibe of a guy in a dress? It’s not transgressive really—clothes are clothes—but it feels transgressive and it makes conservatives mad.
Also skirts are fun to swing around. But the shoes that go with the look?
Fucking terrible. Whoever invented those should be shot. ”
There were twin thunks as, presumably, the offending shoes Jem had declined to observe earlier hit the car floor. Without meaning to, he glanced down. River’s toenails were a shiny burgundy. “Did you get a pedicure?”
“Had to put my best foot forward.”
Jem snorted. “Naturally. I like the color. Very you.”
River stuck his right foot next to Jem’s red sneaker. He had hairy toe knuckles and surprisingly delicate ankles. “We match.”
Which was definitely on purpose, Jem was sure. “And you’re going to throw it all away for the sake of not flashing a bunch of Hollywood types.”
“Ye of little faith.” River rustled in a bag, pulled something out, and shimmied into it. “See?”
Automatically, Jem looked. River had pulled on a linen dress shirt in the same deep color. He still wasn’t wearing any pants. Jem tore his gaze away before he could start speculating about the strength in River’s thighs. “I think you forgot something.”
“Don’t worry, Jem, the underpants are for your eyes only.” More shimmying and shuffling, and then River said, “I’m decent now, you adorable prude.”
Jem flushed and met his eyes. “It would’ve been rude to watch.”
River shot him a grin, unfortunately not less alluring now in the shirt and black jeans. “You’re cute.” He pinched Jem’s cheek. “But honestly, I suffer from a criminal lack of modesty. Comes with the job.”
“So why not keep the dress on and flash everyone at the party?”
He shook his head. “I told you, that view is only for you. Now.” He turned in the seat to face Jem fully. “People are going to make certain assumptions about the wardrobe change.”
“They’re gonna think one of us jizzed on your dress,” Jem translated.
“Or that it was a casualty of us not being able to keep our hands off each other, yeah.” His dark eyes glinted with mischief. “So we should make sure you match.”
Oh Lord. “Please tell me you don’t want to ruin these clothes.” If anything happened to this jacket, Jem would cry.
“Oh, sweetheart, I wouldn’t do that to you.” He laughed. “Take the coat off and leave it in the car, though. And, hmm….”
Jem twisted out of the jacket. When he’d set it on the seat, River reached over and pulled on the hem of his shirt until the left side came untucked. Then he raised his hands toward Jem’s hair. “May I?”
Jem closed his eyes and tilted his head down.
The gentle scrape of River’s fingernails against his scalp sent sparks shivering down Jem’s spine.
Heat flooded his face. There was something about this—about being paid to do what he was told, to let River dress him and style him and touch him as he liked—that made him feel too big for his skin, like the pressure inside was going to split him open.
River took his time mussing Jem’s hair until it was disheveled to his satisfaction and then pronounced, “There. Perfect.”
Jem inhaled sharply and pulled back. He needed a moment to get himself together. With limited options available, he glanced at his watch.
That didn’t help—he had a visceral flashback to River putting it on him—but it did remind him they still had forty minutes before they’d arrive at the party. If he didn’t fill it by talking, his mouth would try to do something dumber. “So, what did you do all week?”