“That’s not?—”
But she’s laughing as she opens the wine I bought specifically because the guy at the store said it paired well with pasta. I don’t know shit about wine.
We eat and it’s surprisingly easy.
She tells me about Rodriguez self-diagnosing via WebMD,convinced his tight hamstring is actually a blood clot. About Luca’s meltdown over someone moving his tape rolls. About Jake eating someone’s labeled lunch and the passive-aggressive note war that followed.
I tell her about Barrett’s new power play setup, about Brody’s suggestion that we do trust falls for team bonding. About how Dex nearly started a riot in the locker room by suggesting we change the pregame playlist.
Normal conversation. Like we’re normal people on a normal date instead of two people about to make everything complicated.
When we’re done, wine glasses empty, she sets down her napkin and looks at me.
“So.”
“So,” I echo.
“We should talk about what happens next.”
“Or,” I say, standing and offering my hand, “we could stop talking.”
We makeit to the couch. Barely.
Her back hits the cushions and I follow her down, weeks of careful distance finally breaking.
She tastes like wine and want, her hands gripping my shirt as she pulls me closer.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about this since the hotel,” I admit between kisses.
“I know.” Her fingers find the hem of my shirt. “Everyone’s been watching us, waiting to see what we’re doing.”
“What are we doing?”
“Still deciding.”
When my hand slides under her sweater, she arches into the touch.
“Roman—” She bites her lip as if she’s unsure how to ask for whatshe wants, all her bossiness from our sessions abandoned in this moment.
“Yeah?”
“Take your shirt off.”
I sit back and pull it over my head. Her hands immediately find my chest, my shoulders, tracing muscles like she’s studying them.
When her fingers brush my ribs I flinch slightly.
“Ticklish?” she asks, eyes lighting up.
“No.”
She does it again and I catch her wrist. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, Moxie.”
“Who says I can’t finish it?”
I kiss her again, harder this time, and she responds immediately. Her hands are everywhere before sliding down to my waistband.
When she tugs at my belt I break the kiss to look at her.
