Brady runs his fingers down the side of my neck. “Hair up or down?” I suck in my breath. “Up.” “In my fantasy, your hair is down, beautiful. It should always be down and wild. I fucking love your hair.” He has one hand under all my hair now, gripping the back of my neck, and it’s giving me chills. “Do you like my hair too, Brady?” Murphy runs his fingers through his hair as he and Bash walk down the hall. “Get the fuck out of here, Murphy.” “Time to go, QB. Bye, Little Sinclair.” Murphy’s smile is huge as he waves his fingers at me.
