I set my mug down, sinking into his hold, letting him sway us gently. “You’re leaving tonight,” I remind him.
“Exactly why you should come back to bed. Make the most of what’s left.” He trails one hand up under my shirt, palm warm on my stomach. “Don’t make me beg, Babygirl. It’s way too early for that.”
“Are you really gonna pout your way through the rest of the day if I say no?”
“I’m already pouting. Can’t you feel it?” His mouth moves higher, brushing my jaw. “This is me, mid-pout. It’s very tragic. Might require sympathy sex.”
I huff a laugh and lean back into him. “Gotta get used to being lonely again, Mien.”
He groans, dragging his mouth along the slope of my neck like he’s trying to devour me without the effort of teeth. “I hate leaving you, Blue. The beds are cold without you next to me.”
I roll my eyes, smiling in spite of myself, and tilt my head back so he can kiss my jaw, the stubble on his chin rasping against my skin. “You were the one who signed with the Vipers, superstar. Go blame your coach.”
Damien snorts, nipping gently at my ear. “I blame you, actually. If you weren’t so pretty, I’d still be stuck in some college town and eating cup noodles with Ryan.”
“Liar,” I say, laughing. “You’d have been in the league either way.”
He hums, unbothered, swaying us side to side. “Yeah, but you wouldn’t be here, and none of it would matter.” He goes quiet, then, the kind of quiet that only means he’s thinking something too big for words. “Wish you’d come with me this time. Pre-season’s brutal without you.”
I twist in his grip, moving my hands up his chest to cup his face. “I’ll visit for a few days once you’re settled,” I say, lightly brushing my thumb over theBluetattoo on his neck. “I have that shoot next week, and group on Wednesday. Plus, I actually have work now, so I’m busy.”
He pouts, but this time it’s exaggerated and boyish in that way only I get to see. Damien Moore—star of the Vipers, known for his ruthless defense and sharp elbows—literally whining because he’s feeling needy. “Busy. Bet I can change that.”
“You’re not seducing me at six in the morning.”
“Give me fifteen minutes and a flat surface, and I’ll change your mind.”
I roll my eyes again, but he makes a good argument when he presses his lips greedily to mine, hands sliding down to cup myhips. He tastes of toothpaste and sleep, all the things that feel like home.
When he pulls back, his eyes are bright, the gold flecks sharp against dark brown. “Let me have you for another hour. I’ll get us the good bagels later.”
“You don’t even like bagels,” I point out, pretending to protest as he drags me back toward the hall, coffee abandoned, my body already melting into his.
He just laughs. “Don’t care. I like you.”
I let him lead me back to the bedroom, where he crowds me onto the bed, sheets cool against my back as he leans over me, a grin pulling at his mouth. “How are you real?” he asks, quiet now, as if the rest of the world doesn’t exist. “How the hell did I get so lucky?”
I let him settle over me, the weight of him grounding, his hands tracing gentle lines down my sides. “Maybe you were just due for some good luck,” I say, pulling him down for another kiss. “God knows you earned it.”
He nuzzles my neck, smiling against my skin. “You’re the only thing I care about, Blue. They can call me whatever they want. I get to come home to you.”
I slide my hands up his back, feeling the tension there, the constant coil he carries even when he’s half asleep. “You don’t have to be brave all the time,” I murmur. “You know that, right?”
“Only with you,” he says. “Everyone else gets the highlight reel version. You get… all of it.”
“That’s because I saw you before the cameras,” I say softly. “Before the noise.”
He smiles at that and kisses me again. The kind of kiss that’s not about hunger but about grounding, about pressing something into muscle memory so it doesn’t fade when the distance hits. His mouth moves against mine like he’s sayingmy name over and over without sound, like he’s trying to stitch himself into me.
When he pulls back, his thumb brushes under my eye. “Don’t disappear on me while I’m gone.”
I huff a quiet laugh. “I live here. I’m not going anywhere.”
“You know what I mean,” he says, and there’s that seriousness again, the one that comes from having been left before. “Text me. Send me pictures. Let me hear your voice when you can’t sleep.”
“I always do,” I say. “And you’ll call when you’re exhausted and pretending you’re not.”
He grins. “I’ll complain about practice and then ask what you’re doing.”
