The door opens and more of the team filters in, stopping to say hi before Dean leads them into the living room where they spread out and kick back on the couch.
Nodding my head towards the corner of the kitchen where Hendrix has Poppy caged in, looking broody as he whispers something in her ear I say to Cruz, “Those two seem to be doing well now that they’ve figured things out.”
Cruz’s husky laugh tickles my ear as he leans in over my shoulder. “Yeah, they look like they are about to tear each other’s clothes off.”
I glance up at him over my shoulder. “I know the feeling.”
“Hmmm . . . now that you’ve got me, you can’t get enough?”
My chest vibrates against his arms. “You’re ridiculous. You know who you sound like when you say shit like that?” I ask, tipping my chin to where Dom, undeterred by the exchange in the kitchen, is listening with rapt attention as Indie tells him and Dean a story.
“Take it back.” Cruz turns me around so I’m facing him.
“I said what I said,” I tell him with a shake of my head.
“That mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble,Mocoso.”
Big hand trails up my arm, trailing a path over my shoulder until he’s cupping my neck. My skin heats when he ghosts his thumb over the swell of my bottom lip, looking down at me with dark eyes.
How the hell does he do that? A few words and I’m ready to drop to my knees right here and let him wreck me. The image fills my head. It’s something we haven’t done yet, but now it’s all I can think about.
“Should we go see what the others are up to?” he asks, releasing his hold on my neck and leading me through the living room to a game room where most people seem to have congregated.
“Su—sure.” My head is reeling. This man melts my brain cells and turns me into a puddle of stupid. It’s unnerving. Is it always going to be like this? More than anything, I want to turn the tables on him. Make him feel as out of control as I feel.
Cruz lets my hand drop to say hello to Xavier—pulling him into one of those one-armed hugs, before pulling me right back to him, draping his arm over my shoulder as they talk about the game.
“I am going to find the girls,” I tell Cruz, ducking out of his hold. His fingers close around my wrist, pulling me so that I bounce off his chest before he wraps his other arm around my waist and lowers his mouth to mine in a searing kiss.
“That’s better,” he says before pressing one more sweet kiss to my lips. “Have fun with the girls.”
I wobble when he releases me, still dazed from the kiss. I find Indie and Poppy in the living room—each with a bottle of beer in hand, sitting cross-legged on the massive sectional.
This place is designed for entertaining. It makes me wonder why Dean bought it when he never seems to have people over. I know his family is wealthy and that, even without baseball, he’d never have to work a day in his life.
“This place is nuts. We should come here after every game,” Poppy says as I sprawl across the oversized ottoman that’s nestled into the center of the sectional.
“You could always talk Hen into a place like this someday,” I muse, looking around the room.
“No, thanks.” Her mouth twists to the side. “It’s nice to visit, but I don’t want to live here. It’s too cavernous. I’d rather have something more . . . cozy.”
“Given this some thought?” Indie asks with a raised eyebrow.
“I meant, in general, you brat.” Unfortunately for Poppy, there’s no hiding her true feelings as her cheeks blaze with color.
“Not even a little?” I ask because I can see it—the two of them finding a place outside the city. Nothing huge, but with enough space for her to have an office and room to spare for Janet and Mia when they visit.
“Well, maybe a little daydream here or there. But we just got to a place where we are great, so that’s a long way off.”
“Mhmmm . . .” Indie hums, hiding her smirk behind her beer bottle. “Don’t act like I didn’t catch you gazing at the houses in Breckenridge dreamily, like you could picture spending the offseason there with Hen and your two and half babies.”
“Two and half? What is wrong with you?” Poppy shakes her head and Indie just shrugs.
“You had that glow about you. I thought maybe daydream Poppy was pregnant.”
“Not that watching you two spar isn’t riveting, because it is, and I want more of this in my life”—I gesture between the two of them—“but I need your help right now. I’m just going to declare it more urgent than Hendrix and Poppy’s unborn children.”
“Thanks Lilah, I think you just secured my spot as godmother,” Indie says, holding up her beer to me.
