Page 62 of Power Play
I raise an eyebrow, a playful spark in my eyes. “Plans? Should I be worried?”
“You’ll find out,” he says, his voice low and full of promise.
The doorbell rings a little later, and I’m back in my favourite oversized sweatshirt, my hair still messy, but Murphy is already up and dressed, looking impossibly good. He answers the door, and I catch Mia standing there, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
“I can tell you’re both glowing,” she teases, her eyes flicking between us. “What’s the matter, didn’t get enough last night?”
I roll my eyes. “Shut up.”
Mia just laughs, clearly amused. “Well, I’ve got brunch plans. You two coming?”
I glance at Murphy, who’s already walking over to grab his coat. “We’ll be there,” I say, rolling my eyes. But deep down, I can’t help but smile.
As we walk out the door together, I catch Murphy’s hand, and he squeezes mine gently, a reminder that even when the world is watching, even when things seem chaotic, we’re stillus. And right now, that’s all that matters.
CHAPTER THIRTY
MURPHY
It’s Sunday morning and I’m staring at the ceiling in Sophie’s flat, arms behind my head, feeling like I’ve been hit by the most glorious truck of my life. A Sophie-shaped truck. One with wild hair, a filthy laugh, and legs for days that have been tangled with mine all weekend.
I can hear her humming in the kitchen, opening drawers and moving about like she’s not the reason my thighs are sore and I can’t think straight.
I grin at the ceiling.
Saturday night was... yeah. Fucking brilliant. We were both wrecked after, in that lazy, satisfied way. And the way she curled into me afterward, murmuring half-asleep jokes and tracing circles on my chest, like it was the most natural thing in the world? I was gone. Fully, stupidly gone for her.
I roll out of bed, pull on my joggers, and pad into the kitchen. She’s got her hair pulled into a curly messy topknot, still wearing one of my hoodies and some sleep shorts that should be illegal. She’s got two mugs on the counter and the smell of coffee makes me groan happily.
“Morning, Sunshine,” I say, leaning on the counter.
She gives me that smug smile that makes me feel like a schoolboy. “Morning, Sex God.”
I nearly choke laughing. “Sex God? That what we’re calling me now?”
“Only because calling you ‘Sweaty Beast Who Made Me Scream’ doesn’t fit on a coffee mug.”
I grin wide. “I can get one custom made.”
She pushes one of the mugs toward me and I take a grateful sip.We drink in silence for a bit, just smiling like idiots, and I don’t even care how soppy I probably look.
Eventually, I glance at my phone. “I should head back soon. Boys are meeting for Sunday hang. Pint and a fry-up situation. You’re still coming over later, right?”
Sophie nods. “Yeah, I told Mia I’d stop by hers first and then I’ll come find you.”
“Tell her to bring cake. Or Jacko. Jacko with cake. Actually, just Jacko andhiscake.”
She laughs, setting her mug down. “I’ll see what I can do.”
By the time I get to the pub, the boys are already at our usual corner booth, sprawled out like they own the place. Dylan’s brooding over a Guinness, probably thinking about his dad. Jacko’s got three plates in front of him, all stacked with food, and Ollie looks as though he just woke up in the clothes he wore out last night.
“The fuck happened to you?” I say to Ollie, sliding into the booth.
“I slept in the rookie’s bathtub. He locked his bedroom door.”
“I said you could have the couch!” The rookie yells from the other side of the table.
“You also said you were gonna eat an entire jar of pickles at three in the morning and then passed outonthe couch, mate.”
