Not the music.
Not the heat from the fire.
Something else.
He glanced toward the edge of the yard.
Law was watching him.
Not casually.
Not the way people watched the dancing.
Steady. Focused.
Like he was the only thing in the yard worth seeing.
The awareness hit sharp and low, his pulse kicking once, hard.
Sage stilled for half a second before forcing himself to move again, matching Boston’s beat, letting the rhythm pull him back into motion.
Boston slid in at Sage’s side again, shoulder bumping his, voice low under the music.
“You got it bad.”
Sage shot him a look. “What?”
Micah appeared dancing on his other side, grin slow and knowing as he leaned in, brushing close enough to be heard without raising his voice.
“Oh, honey,” Micah murmured, eyes flicking past Sage for half a second before settling back on him, “that man wants you.”
Sage’s face heated instantly.
“It’s not a thing,” he muttered, but there wasn’t any real bite in it.
Boston huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah, okay. Keep telling yourself that.”
Micah’s grin only deepened as he straightened, already moving back into the music. “You’re the only one who hasn’t figured out it’s definitely a thing.”
Sage exhaled sharply through his nose and dragged a hand through his hair, trying to shake it off—
—but his gaze betrayed him, cutting right back toward the edge of the yard.
Toward Law.
They were right.
Something had changed between him and Law.
He’d felt the attraction—hell, he’d enjoyed flirting with the older man—but he’d never once thought they’d be a thing.
Until now.
Law’s eyes were locked on his hips—his ass—and Sage slowed his movement, the heat from the fire brushing across his skinas he turned, lowering his lids to half-mast as he licked his suddenly dry lips.
Even in the dark, he caught the shift—Law’s gaze going darker, sharper, something dangerous flickering there.
Sage held the look.
