Page 250 of What We Become

“Holden,” she says against my chest.

“Mm?”

“Your hand is on my ass again.”

Did I say hip? I might have misjudged.

“Problem?”

She snorts, the sound undignified and delighted.

We sway more than dance. But Sage doesn’t seem to care. She puts her head against my chest and her arms around my waist.

“You’re smiling,” she says.

“I’m not.”

“You are. I can feel it against my hair.”

“That’s a grimace.”

“Holden Adams is smiling at his own wedding reception. Someone take a photo before it passes.”

“Don’t you dare⁠—”

A flash. Milo. Phone raised. Grinning like a man who just acquired blackmail material.

“Delete that,” I say.

“It’s already in the group chat.”

“Milo.”

“And the cloud. And Gloria’s phone. And a backup server in case of a nuclear event. Your smile is now preserved for posterity, lover boy. You’re welcome.”

I grab his collar and drag him in.

“Holden—”

I kiss him. Hard. No preamble. My free hand comes up to grip his jaw, angling him where I want him, and he makes a noise against my mouth that might be surprise or might be victory. His free hand finds my hip, fingers digging in, and he kisses back, enthusiastic, a little too much tongue.

When I pull back, he’s breathing hard. His collar sits crooked where I grabbed it.

“That’s one way to handle blackmail,” he says.

“Bring your phone.”

“What?”

“Bring it.”

I turn back to Sage. She’s watching us with her lips parted, gray eyes gone dark with want. I hold out my hand to her. She takes it. I reach back for Milo and haul him in by his wrist until the three of us are pressed together in the amber light.

“Photo,” I tell him. “Now.”

Milo’s laugh comes out shaky. “You want me to⁠—”

“Document this. Before I change my mind about public displays.”