Page 116 of Courtside

“Hi.” She held her hand up in a wave and then immediately regretted it, lowering it and instead shoving it into the way-too-small pocket of her shorts.

His wide mouth pulled up into a hesitant smile that was so hopeful it made her chest ache. “Hey.”

“I’m so tired of missing you.”

A breath left David’s mouth in an audiblewhoosh. “Come here, Lefty.”

She closed the distance between them, burying her face into his solid, warm body and wrapping her arms around his middle. She inhaled deeply, unashamed to be drinking in the scent of him. Taking in his comfort.

She felt his arms encircle her, holding her tightly against him. She felt the low, contented hum vibrate in his chest and the press of his face into her hair.

This. This was exactly where she wanted to be.

“I’m so sorry, Sage. I need you to know how sorry I am.” His voice was gentle against her scalp.

“I know,” she replied, and shedidknow. She knew because she knew David and trusted him more than was logical. And she knew that they needed to talk, to clear the air between them so that they could move forward together. But first, she let herself simply enjoy him. Sage nuzzled her face into his chest, wrinkling her nose and grinning at the tickle of his chest hair.

“I was about to hop in the shower,” David said, like he was offering an explanation for his lack of a shirt.

Not like he needed one.

She tilted her head up, eyes grazing the underside of his strong jaw before meeting the maple brown of his gaze. “Great,” she said, her smile spreading across her face. “I need a shower too.” Extracting herself from his arms, Sage walked around him and into the apartment, heading straight for David’s bedroom.

“Fuck,” she heard him mutter behind her, but she was distracted by the unmistakable tinkle of Daisy’s collar as the golden dog ran out of David’s office. Her long ears flapped with every bounding step, and Sage dropped to her knees.

“Hey pretty girl,” she sang, burying her face into the soft hair on Daisy’s back. “I missed you so much.”

Daisy licked her face in response, and Sage told herself it was because the dog missed her too, and not because she tasted of salt and sweat. She felt the weight of a hand on her upper back and she looked up, finding David staring down at her with unmistakable intention.

“Should I get the guest shower set up for you?” His voice was low and rough, textured in a way that she swore she could feel against her skin.

“Nah,” she said, climbing to her feet. “Yours should be fine.”

His nostrils flared as his eyes darkened. “Well come on then, Lefty.”

Sage followed him through his neatly tidied bedroom and into the bathroom, which, in all the time they’d spent together, she’d never been in. “Holy shit,” she said, taking in the white, stone counter, raised sink bowl, and, most impressively, the walk-in shower tucked into one corner. “Do you pay extra for this?”

David let out a low laugh. “Oh yeah.”

Sage started undressing, tugging off her shirt and wrestling her way out of the still-damp sports bra that seemed determined to stick to her body.

She noticed David staring at her bare skin, and she threw her discarded t-shirt at him, catching him right in the face.

“You’re a mess,” he grumbled, shaking her shirt from his face and looping his thumbs into the waistband of his sweats.

Luckily she didn’t need her eyes to remove the rest of her clothing, freeing her up to take in her fill of David’s naked body. His thighs flexed as he stepped out of his pants, and she stared unabashedly at the thick length of him, already bobbing, half-hard between his legs.

He moved to the shower, reaching in and fiddling with the knobs until the hiss of good water pressure hitting the tile filled the room.

“I got some stuff for you,” he said, kneeling down to open the cabinet under the sink. “There are a few shampoos for you to choose from. I tried to get organic ones, but I didn’t really know what I was looking for. I noticed that you smell like flowers, so I got a jasmine one — I hope that’s alright. And I’ve got clean towels, and a scrubby thing if you like that, and —”

“David.”

He pulled back and looked up at her. “Hm?”

“Get in the fucking shower.”

His expression softened, his smile curving into the same one he gave her when she did something especially ridiculous, or when she woke up in the morning to find him already awake and watching her. It was one of those expressions that reminded her that what she had with David Hughes was uniquely good.

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