Seven
The pounding of the house music made Carey feel antsy and hot.
He sat at a small table and nursed his beer, staring at Jase on the dance floor. Fit and athletic, he’d always possessed an innate grace, but his yoga practice had given him lean, sexy muscles, the natural performer in him finally unleashed due to his work with the band.
“Hey!”
Carey tore his gaze from him as Layla bounced up, red-faced and sweating. “Having fun?” he shouted to her over the music.
“Oh, hell yeah. I about f****d Jase on the dance floor. Holy s**t, that man can move.” Her eyes sparkled. “I think I might have come a little bit out there.”
“What?” Quinn said in mock outrage as he wound his arms around his wife from behind. “I heard that.”
“What can I say? He’s s*x on legs, honey.”
Carey could certainl
