Page 14 of Power Move
“And had a few practices. And,” I bend down to rest our foreheads together, “I’m a big fan of their sexy center.”
“Sexy?” His breath teases over my lips.
“Very.”
I slide my hand into his hair, angling his head to meet my kiss. His mouth is warm and soft, pliant under mine. He sighs, pressing closer. I could kiss him for hours.
But we don’t have hours. We have an afternoon, and then I’m boarding a plane bound for Las Vegas, the first stop on our two-game road trip this week. It’ll be another eleven days until our schedules mesh and we have the same evening free.
I ease back, smoothing the strands I mussed, and he leans into the strokes. “Hungry?”
“Starving.”
A quick knock raps against the door, startling me, and Sage, from how he jumps. I open it. Maxim and Quinn stand side by side, as opposite as two people can be. Maxim, with his long dark hair and fur coat, sweeps forward, holding a box from a bakery. “Sorry we’re late. Blame the croissants.”
Beanie pulled over his short hair, dressed from head to toe in black, Quinn ambles in after him, pocketing his keys. “Hey, Sage. Good to see you again.”
“Guys.” Sage extends his hand. He gets a handshake from Quinn and a hug from Maxim.
I slide my arm around Sage’s shoulders. “Jonas is in the kitchen.”
“He better not have drunk all the coffee again.” Maxim heads through the living room. His coat flows behind him like a cloak.
Sage leans his head on my shoulder as we walk, following Quinn. “I like your place. It’s so bright with the high ceiling and tall windows.”
The modern high-rise is a nice place I like well enough, but I mainly picked it because it was available and close to Jonas. “I never thought of it as generic until I saw your place. Yours seems more alive somehow.”
His gaze skips over the dark furniture I chose for function and necessity. Fine pieces, but nothing special. “I don’t think this is generic. It’s classic.”
I bump my hip into his. “Is that a nice way of saying boring?”
“Of course not.” We reach my couch. Sage slows his steps, running his hand along its top. “This is soft, and so big you can stretch out. I bet it’s great for watching movies. And that TV is massive. You must feel like you’re a part of whatever’s on screen. I love them. Perfect for a movie buff like you.”
His assessment warms places within me I didn’t know were chilled. He always makes me feel good. I press a kiss to the top of his head. “Thanks.”
“We so need to do a movie night here.”
“Whenever you want.” Picturing us lounging on that couch, wrapped up in each other, I tug on his belt loop. “I liked our movie night at the hotel room.”
He skates his fingers up my chest. “I did too.”
We walk into the kitchen. My friends have made themselves busy. Jonas finishes transferring the food from the stove to the center of the island, Maxim unboxes the croissants, and Quinn pours coffee into mugs, topping off mine and Jonas’s.
The three are so different. Quinn, with his gruff exterior, Maxim, with his flair for theatrics, and Jonas, with his fun-loving, golden retriever ways. I couldn’t imagine my life withoutthem. The mixup with lunch was a good thing because I want these guys, and Sage, to get to know each other. They know my past, and I can see Sage being a part of my future.
One song fades into the next. Sage’s attention falls to the food and his eyes light up. “Cinnamon rolls? I love those.”
Jonas sets the coffee creamer and sugar on the island. “We were told you like breakfast food.”
Sage’s mouth falls open and a flush of pink blooms in his cheeks. “You made all of this,” he indicates the spread, “because I said that? That’s really nice. Thank you.”
Heat sweeps through me at my friends’ scrutiny. I rub my hand over the back of my neck. My ears are stinging. “No problem. Um, everything’s going to get cold. We should eat.”
We gather around the island. Sage squeezes my hand and pulls me down for a kiss, murmuring his thanks again.
Seated across the island, Jonas catches my gaze. He raises his brows at Sage, then gives me an approving nod. I know he’s thinking Sage is nothing likethe last one. And I’m so glad.
Tearing into his cinnamon roll, Sage turns to me. “Are you feeling better now that you have some Metros game time under your belt again?”
