Management had set up a section near the stage for the team, and that’s where we sat, watching the patrons put on a show—some with great vocals, others with enough liquor in their system to no longer care they were tone deaf—while sipping on our first round of drinks.
The scent of citrus hit my nostrils a split-second before arms wrapped around my shoulders from behind. The tips of damp hair tickled my neck as warm lips brushed against my cheek.
My anxiety melted away as the embodiment of sunshine and happiness surrounded me.
“Hey, baby.” His words were said directly in my ear to be heard over the music and lyrics pumping through nearby speakers.
Turning my head, I was lucky enough to catch those lips with mine, my hand snaking up to tangle in his golden locks, keeping him there as I slipped my tongue inside his mouth. Sasha groaned, battling back, making me dizzy as he took over the kiss.
Breaking away when we were both breathless, he pressed his forehead to mine. “So, glad you came tonight.”
After learning how his achievement tonight wouldn’t soon be forgotten by anyone in the sports world, I was grateful to have been there to witness it.
Trying to break through some of the sexual tension since we were in public, I teased, “People are telling me you’re kinda good at this sports thing. Almost makes up for your showboating.”
His bark of laughter made my soul sing, especially when he pulled away enough for me to catch sight of his wide smile. His light couldn’t be contained, and a quick peek at the ladies seated around me told me it cast a wide net—their eyes sparkled in amusement as they watched our interaction.
“Fuck, Gemma. You’re goddamn perfect, you know that?”
Heat rose to my cheeks, and I ducked my head. Sasha made sure to constantly shower me with compliments, but I still had a hard time seeing what he did when he looked at me.
Fingers gripped my chin, forcing me to meet his eye. “Perfect,” he repeated the word. “Got it?”
I gave the tiniest nod, and he rewarded me with a quick kiss.
Turning to my companions, he asked, “What are we drinking, ladies? I’ll grab you another round.”
Bristol chose that moment to drop heavily into the chair opposite me, huffing, “This place isn’t nearly as fun when you can’t drink.” She stuck her lower lip out, crossing both arms over her protruding belly. Poor thing looked like she was about to pop.
Sasha, being the good guy he was, tried to make her feel better. “I’ll get you a super tasty virgin cocktail, Mama. Just let me know what kind.”
Scoffing, Bristol glared at the man standing behind me. “I want a whiskey, Goose. Got a virgin one of those up your sleeve?”
My eyes volleyed between the two of them, and wisely, Sasha backed away with his hands held up in surrender. “If it helps, you’re glowing. Prettiest you’ve ever looked.”
When Bristol’s nostrils flared, and she looked about ready to spit fire, he turned tail and practically ran to the bar.
Groaning, she rubbed a hand over her stomach. “I need this kid out of me, stat.”
“How much longer?” I dared to ask, hoping she wouldn’t turn her temper on me next for asking an innocent question.
She tilted her face toward the ceiling and blew out a breath before responding, “Seven more weeks.”
“Seven?” I exclaimed, my eyes going wide.
Her belly was huge. I wasn’t sure how she would be able to remain upright if it kept growing for almost another two months.
Pointing a finger in my direction, she warned, “Just you wait. That’s what you get when you procreate with a freaking giant. Their spawn are big, too.” She pursed her lips, sizing me up. “Though you’re on the tall side. I bet your kid would be massive.” Grumbling, she added, “At least you have the hips for it.”
My swallow was involuntary. She had a point. Guess it was a good thing I wasn’t planning on making babies with Sasha, even though he had a one-track mind when it came to that subject.
A glass containing a fresh margarita was placed before me. I turned in my seat to thank Sasha, but the words died on my tongue when I saw Maddox standing over me instead.
“Um.” I didn’t know what to say. The last time we’d spoken had been a disaster, and I wasn’t in any mood for an encore.
Maddox nodded toward the margarita. “Consider it a peace offering.”
Before I could open my mouth to respond, Bristol shouted, “Where the hell is my peace offering?”
