Page 40 of Knot Their Opening Act

Her hips rock back and forth slightly underneath that white robe and I can feel my cock reacting inside my gym shorts.

“I don’t want you to leave. I want you to stay. I’m not—I know I barely know you. I know we have?—”

She stops herself, looking down at the floor, looking toward the door, then back at me. “I can’t keep this from you, and I don’t know if he spoke to you about it. Or if he’s too embarrassed, but I have to be very clear. My heat started last night, after my set, as far as I can tell. This morning, I was in an elevator. With Thomas.”

Thomas.That’s where you went, you bastard.

A grin spreads across my face and there’s nothing I can do about it. “No. He didn’t tell me that. But here’s what I can do. I’ll tell him about this, with your permission. Then he will undoubtedly spill. And then there will be no secrets.”

“But I don’t want Kai to know!” she stammers. Her eyes are white and even her heat-flushed face whitens slightly.

Ah, so that’s what she’s all out of sorts about.

I heave a sigh, and walk over to the sofa to sit. “Jez, Kai is his own entity. He does things his own way, and usually, we follow with complete fealty. He’s not a bad guy. What happened back then—he thought he was making the right choice, and whatever he thinks about your music, however much he wanted to protest back then that it wasn’t his style, etcetera, none of that was personal. He comes across a complete shithead sometimes without meaning to. I’m not trying to say that our effective barring you from that show was kind, or necessary, or the right thing at all. If I could take it back, I would. Your audition was so damn strong, you wrote your own songs, and you were professional, and determined, and had that something that you need to make it in this business. Kai wasn’t out to get you. He still isn’t. He may have no idea how to frame his thoughts in a non-dramatic way. Everything he does is dramatic. But he’s not here to hurt you. Hell, if he knew what was going on, if he’d been in my shoes—or Thomas’s—he would’ve stepped in to help as well. Though I suspect you wouldn’t have let him.”

This earns me a crooked grin on her beautiful face, her aqua strands falling across her cheeks. She looks so much younger without makeup on. And she’s incredibly easy to talk to.

I wish I’d tried to before.

“I can’t tell you I won’t tell him, because we’re a pack. But at the same time, he’ll probably suss it out. For one thing, he’s the only one of us not on supp?—”

“He’s not on suppressants?” she shrieks, then a hand flies to her mouth. Her eyes are even wider than before. “That means he knows I’m in heat!”

I consider this. Is that why he acted crazy on stage tonight? He’d scented her heat?

“Ah. That hadn’t occurred to me.” I rub my temples. “Hey, can I grab a bottle of water?”

After a confused second, she nods and walks over to her fridge, pulls out a glass bottle of still water, and hands it to me. Then she actually sits beside me on the sofa.

“This is fucked,” she says, chin resting in her hands, elbows propped on her knees.

I shake my head, twist off the cap, and gulp half the bottle down. God, that’s what I needed.

“Okay, first off, what he said tonight—that wasn’t on. And we all told him to fuck off with that shit. But you know that already. Right now—what you’re dealing with—it’s not about him. It’s not about us as a band, or this tour we’re sharing. Right now, Jez, what’s important is what you’re going through. Have you gone through many heats?”

She keeps her gaze on the carpet. Her bare toes and mine in sneakers still. “Not since the first time. I’ve been on suppressants religiously since I was fifteen. You want to know the funny-slash-sad part?”

She turns to me, her face reddening again, and her robe falls slightly open as she does, but she doesn’t move to close it. The hint of the curve of her breast that I can see is enough to create a heat all of my own, flooding my limbs as my pulse starts to ramp up.

“I forgot to refill my prescription before the tour started. Viv always did all that stuff for me, and somehow, between her pregnancy and my intense focus on the writing and performing and practicing and controlled image, we both missed it. And I have to see a doctor down in England in order to get this prescription restarted. So I’m going the day after tomorrow.”

“So … you’re going to experience this for another couple days, then?”

“Most likely. No telling how long it would last on its own, but either way it should calm down by Friday night, I’d say.”

“If it helps, if you knew the amount of shit we lose track of you’d be amazed we remember to get dressed in the morning. None of us can keep up with everything in our lives. Especially not on tour. Different city every night. Trying to balance and juggle all our life-shit with music-shit?” I laugh.

“So I’m learning,” Jez says. Her body is facing mine more now, and her hips are shifting uncomfortably again. “Do you think—would you?—”

“Are you ready? Are you sure?”

She nods, biting her lip, and I’m jealous. I want her fucking bitingme.

Without another word, she stands to face me, drops her robe to the floor in one smooth movement, and straddles my lap. Completely, whole-assed naked.

“Jesus Chri—” I start, but her mouth is mine, and she’s sliding her arms around my back. Her knees bend by my hips and my arms spring into action to catch up, slipping behind the small of her back and pulling her into me. Her hips grind against my groin and her beautiful breasts press into my chest, her nipples grinding into the thin fabric of my t-shirt.

I press my lips into hers, and God, does it feel good to kiss a woman who smells like this, who tastes like this—who is showing me such utterly undeserved, impossibly pure trust. I didn’t tell her, maybe now’s not the right time. But I haven’t been with anyone since we had Nyah.

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