Page 47 of Make the Play

“You’re dreaming, friend.” I laugh.

“I have a feeling about this, Corie. A good one.”

“It’s just for now,” I remind her. “Thank you for covering for me.”

“Oh, I have rules.”

“Okay?”

“I need details. All the juicy details.”

I chuckle. “CliffsNotes,” I counter.

“You and I both know I’ll get it out of you,” she goads.

“Fine.”

“Fine. Enjoy your day with Mr. Sexy Quarterback.”

“Thanks, Sloane.”

“I’ve got you, bestie.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

I place my phone back on the nightstand and close my eyes. Tomorrow can’t get here fast enough.

ChapterThirteen

Knox

I barely slept a wink last night. I can’t remember the last time I was so excited about something that it kept me awake. I was up at four instead of five, and it was well after 1:00 a.m. the last time I looked at the clock before sleep claimed me.

I’ve finished my workout and changed the sheets on my bed. It’s not that I expect us to end up there, but I needed to do something. The cleaning lady just changed them on Thursday, but again, I needed something to do.

Now, I’m sitting in the living room, staring at Sports Network, which I have muted on the television, waiting for her to get here. I told her she didn’t have to text me, and I meant that, but this waiting is going to kill me.

It’s a few minutes after eight when I hear a soft knock at the door. I scramble to my feet, and my phone and the remote that were on my lap fall to the floor. I don’t bother to pick them up as I race to the front door. I take a calming breath and pull it open, only to have that same breath pulled from my lungs at the sight of her.

“Hey.” She waves and holds up a bag. “I brought breakfast. I know you eat healthy and probably had a shake or something, but I’m starving, so I guessed what you might want.”

She’s standing before me in a pair of athletic shorts and a tank top, and her hair is pulled up in a messy knot. She’s standing in my doorway, looking more beautiful than I’ve ever seen her. She’s not putting on a show, getting all dressed up and slathering her face with makeup. I don’t even think she’s wearing any.

She’s just Corie.

She’s here to see me, just Knox.

No games. No pretenses.

Stepping forward, I slide my arm around her waist, rest my palm against her cheek, and kiss her. I have to. I have to show her that I’m glad she’s here. I have to taste her again, because I didn’t get to last night. So, instead of a goodbye kiss, she’s getting one hell of a hello.

Pulling out of the kiss, I grab her hand that’s not holding the bag of food and lead her inside. I take us straight to the couch, where I sit, and pull her onto my lap. This time, I don’t have to behave. I can let my hands linger in places they’ve craved to touch every other time we’ve been in this position.

“Knox, we have to eat,” she says, squirming as I bury my face in her neck.

“You can eat right here.”

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