I breathed out slowly, my body already responding. “I thought we were just going dancing.”
Her smile was downright wicked. “We are. You, me, and your closest friends in a crowded club, your strap in your jeans, and my ass pressed up against it all night. Sounds like a plan to me.”
My mouth went dry.
She stepped close and slipped the harness into my willing hands. “Want some help?”
“Sure,” I said, my voice lower than I meant it to be.
I had to bite back a telling moan when she dropped to her knees.
The bath towel fell from my body as she helped me step into the harness and adjusted the straps. Her fingers brushed the inside of my thighs.
“You okay?” she asked, honey-brown eyes flicking up to meet mine.
“More than okay.”
She tugged the straps snug, making sure the harness fit tight across my hips and low over my clit. Without warning, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss just below the waistband, right over the top of the silicone.
“You’re gonna drive me crazy tonight,” she murmured, fingertips trailing over the contours of the strap.
I exhaled sharply. “You’re the one on your knees.”
“Not for long.” She stood, kissed me, and swatted my ass lightly. “Now get dressed. I already called the car.”
We arrivedat the club sometime after 10 o’clock, the Miami heat still thick, even at night. My thighs shifted uncomfortably asI adjusted in the backseat of our rideshare, the harness snug beneath my clothes, my jeans tight in unexpected places. Eva hadn’t taken her hand off my leg the entire ride, fingers tracing idle patterns too close to my inseam, her thumb stroking deliberate circles just to mess with me.
The bouncer outside of the club must have recognized Eva because he nodded us inside without a word. People clocked us immediately—a few whispered, a few stared, and someone definitely took a photo. Eva looked completely unbothered. She squeezed my hand once before pulling me past the line outside and into the pulsing dark.
She tugged me through the crowd, straight toward the VIP lounge where the music thrummed louder, the bass so deep it rattled my ribs and threatened to steal my breath. The air was thick with cologne and champagne, neon lasers cutting across bodies in motion on the crowded dance floor.
Eva’s hand was warm in mine as we made our way to the VIP area where our friends and teammates waited. Jazz spotted us first and waved us over to the low table they’d claimed, flanked by Dez, Briana, and Rayah. A bottle of something expensive was already sweating in an ice bucket.
“Finally!” Jazz said, raising her glass. “We were about to send a search party.”
“I had to make sure Lex was fully accessorized,” Eva said with a innocent grin. Her fingers slid down my spine and rested possessively on my hip. I tried not to choke.
“Didn’t know you were a stylist, too,” Briana chimed in.
“I’m versatile,” Eva replied, casual as ever. “On and off the court.”
I eased into the booth beside Briana. Eva sat on the edge, her thigh still pressing against mine.
Jazz leaned back in the booth, her drink raised in salute. “Damn. Look at this crew. Y’all clean up nice.”
Rayah gave Eva a long once-over and let out a low whistle. “Okayyy baddie, I see you! Waist snatched, edges laid, vibes expensive! Real hot girl energy. You came in here trying to ruin somebody.”
“Just her,” Eva said, nodding towards me.
Rayah smirked. “Mm. She looks like she already got ruined.”
My face went hot. Eva’s hand slid to my thigh under the table.
Dez clinked her glass against Rayah’s. “Miami’s not ready.”
Conversation shifted—talk about the league’s launch, sneaker deals someone heard were in the works, who had the best team intro track queued up.
Briana turned to me, resting her elbow on the back of the booth. “Okay,” she said. “Business hat for a sec.”
