Page 97 of The One Night Dash
The question lands heavy. My heart stutters, because the truth is there in the way I can still feel his hands on me, the way my chest aches just thinking of him slipping upstairs to give me space.
I bite my lip, shrugging weakly. “It’s more.”
“Does the sex just keep getting better or …?” Sofie asks.
“You all just interrupted what would have been our first post-sex cuddle session.”
“Okay, not cool.” Claudia stands. “We need to let her go get her cuddle on.”
“Nice try.” I shake my head. “We can talk about the fact that he loves me and I love him, too. That this was no One Night Dash—I want to keep him for all the nights. But first,” I nod to Claudia, “are the rumors we’re hearing true?”
“He’s a great guy.”
“Do you love him?” I ask.
“He’s a great guy,” she repeats.
“So, does this have anything to do with Dingy’s insistence on shared custody so he looks good to the owners of his new team and that daughter of his?” Nalani asks.
Claudia straightens her shoulders as she sits up taller. “Deacon Moretti is a great guy. When he asks, I will accept, and it won’t be a long engagement.”
“But it will be one hell of a wedding and heavily covered by the media,” Sofie says.
“That would be great, Sofie,” Claudia says softly.
“All right, well,” Nalani claps as she stands, “Noelle has a cuddle session to get to, and we have a wedding to plan.”
“Don’t plan it withoutmoi!” I gasp.
“We wouldn’t dare,” Sofie says, hugging me.
We all hug and say our goodbyes, agreeing to get together before the game tomorrow night, before heading to the game.
I hear the creak of the stairs, and before I can even straighten the stack of books still lying sideways, the door swings open. Dash steps through, hair damp from washing up, wearing that grin that melts me on sight.
“Saw Sofie’s car leave,” he says, voice low and smug like he already knows the answer. “Miss me?”
The smile breaks across my face before I can stop it. “Missed you big, Sterling,” I admit, soft but certain.
He claps his hands together like he’s closing a deal, eyes never leaving me. “All right. We’ve got shelves to fix, food to grab, and talks to be had.”
“Talks to be had?” I echo, a flicker of nerves cooling all the warm fuzzies I was feeling.
“Yeah,” he says, striding over and sliding his hands around my waist. In one easy lift, he’s got me at eye level, his nose brushing mine in a playful nudge. “We hit the schedule lotto this week. We’re home through Thanksgiving. Nothing out of town until December fourth.”
Then his grin falters, forced, and he buries his face in my neck with a groan. “And I’m gonna need to get as much of you as I can before then. Because that date? Like a fucking storm cloud hanging over my head.”
I should probably be cool, keep it casual, don’t act like his words are not making me dizzy, but I just can’t. Should I internally preen over this? Is it too much too soon?
Yes. And maybe yes. But preen, I do.
My hands slide up into his hair, and for a moment, I just let myself glow in it—his want, his honesty, the way I’m being held by Dash like I’m a size two bunny, and I am not,not at all.
“You keep looking at me, and the rest of your bookstore is gonna look like a tornado hit it. I’m patient enough to clean up the most favorite mess I ever made, but we fuck the whole place up, that’s a lot of wasted time cleaning.”
“I have an idea.”
“Give it to me, Pembrooke.” He heads toward our mess, still carrying me.
