He smiled. 'Yep.'
'Besides…' Now she stepped away from him, rolling her head on her shoulders, warming up. 'I'm going to kick your ass.'
'I thought this was a lesson.'
'How about a game, instead?'
'But…' He had to laugh. 'I'm a pro.'
'Ex-pro.' She unzipped her sweatshirt, and let it fall. 'And not in street ball.'
She wore two tank tops, a light blue one over a white one, both thin enough that her breasts were perfectly outlined. Perfect handfuls.
His palms suddenly itched.
She put on her socks, then took her shoes from him and slipped into them. She stood, her hands on the hips of her surfer shorts, which cracked him up. She lifted a brow. 'Bring it on.'
'Some fighting words right there.'
She let out a slow smile that just about did him in. 'Yep.'
'Half-court?'
A sound of irritation sounded from her. 'Full.'
'Single point baskets to five?'
'Eleven. And we'll call our own fouls.'
Fouls. So this was going to get rough, was it? 'Don't you want a handicap?'
'Well, if you're offering.' She shot him a smile that fried his brain cells. 'I go to five, you to eleven?'
Her fingers were playing with the tiny little straps on one shoulder, almost nudging them off, and he lost his train of thought.
'Jack?'
'Sure.' How hard would it be to beat her? He grabbed a ball from his ball stand, but she snagged it out of his hands and started dribbling down the court away from him.
And then executed the most out-of-step, awkward layup he'd ever seen… and made the shot.
Twirling around she shot him a cocky grin.
He laughed. 'I guess we've started.'
'Yeah. One zip. Want to up the stakes?'
She was hot as hell, standing on the court with that sexy little smile. He'd probably trip over his own tongue playing her, but she couldn't possibly beat him. 'Sure.'
'Winner picks their prize.'
He was going to trip over his own tongue right this second. 'Anything?'
She batted her lashes, and a groaning laugh escaped him because she was teasing him; she couldn't be serious-
'You're on.' Whether it was taking advantage or not, he would win, and he would claim his prize. In his bed.
'Ready?' She dribbled slowly and easily, making a classic rookie mistake by letting the ball get too far away from her body.
The steal was easy, and he jogged down the court away from her, making a layup that would have had any basketball fan sighing in pure pleasure.
Then turned to face her as he tossed her the ball. 'One all. Your ball.'
Sam took the ball and, being the fast study she was, dribbled closer to her body this time, eyeing her opponent carefully. He looked so fierce standing there blocking her, so intense.
He wanted to win, badly. Hmm, Sam thought, wonder what he has in mind for a prize?
The thought made her want to grin, but she held it in. Because she wanted to win, too. Yes, she'd had a moment when she'd wanted to back out and run like hell, but he'd been right. She needed to see this out, at least for the night. She owed that to both of them.
Feigning right, then left, she had to pull back when he didn't give an inch. Twice he reached out and nearly snagged the ball from in front of her nose. He was right, he was a pro. But she had something he didn't, and she planned to use it. Make that 'them.' She supposed the feminist in her would never ever consider using her breasts to win a basketball game, but she really, really wanted to win.
Backing up a step, she shot him the best come-hither smile she had. Turning in a circle, she ran around him, dropping her left shoulder so that the straps of her tank tops, thin and inconsequential, slipped off.
As Jack passed her and then faced her, blocking her in, she straightened again.
Her breasts, full and unencumbered by a bra, were held in by only the right straps.
Jack didn't miss the show; in fact, he executed an almost comical double take and then tripped over his own two feet. Taking full advantage of that, she took off toward her basket.
And made the shot.
'Foul.'
'Was not,' she said, and tossed the ball at his chest. 'Two one. Your ball.'
He eyed her good and long, a sparkle of heat in that gaze that made her want to jump him. He'd begun to sweat, just a little, and he looked like one tall, sinful treat.
She left the two straps hanging down on her biceps.
'So this is how you want to play it,' he said very softly.
She just lifted a brow.
'Well, then, understand this. I could look at you all day, and I will, but you're still going down.' With that statement, he easily got past her, loped down the court with the confidence of a man not being guarded, and made his shot, a beautifully impressive slam dunk. 'Two-two.'
She smiled. 'Don't take your victory lap yet.'
'No?'
'Oh, no.' Breasts straining against the thin material of the tank tops, jiggling with her every movement, she dribbled, eyeing him. She could feel the breeze on the exposed skin above the tops, and also below, where she had a good three or four inches of flesh showing between the low slung surfer shorts and the hem of the tanks.
Still dribbling, still smiling, she stopped shifting around and looked right at him. She could tell he was torn between playing the game and lusting after her. He wanted to win, badly, but he wanted to toss the ball away and grab her as well, and it made the amusement drain right out of her as she went into her own lust mode.
When he caught the look in her eyes, he groaned. 'You are killing me.'
'I plan to,' she purred, and blew right by him. But when she tossed up the ball toward the basket, she missed. She heard him coming after her and grabbed the ball again, putting it back up.
She knew he could have deflected it from going in, but instead he caught her around the waist and hauled her close.
The ball sank in the basket.
'Foul!' she cried anyway, laughing, but again the chuckle faded away when she caught the utter intense, serious, almost terrified look in his eyes. 'What?' She put her hand on his chest, feeling his heart pounding beneath her fingers. 'Jack? What is it?'
'I don't know. I think it's you.'
She let his mouth close on hers, allowing herself to fall into the kiss for a long, wet, deep, hot moment. Then she pulled back and licked her lips. 'Three two. My ball.' She grabbed it and felt it was a testament to the power of the kiss they'd just shared that she made it all the way to her basket and shot before he even blinked and looked in her direction. 'Four two,' she said, and smiled. 'Game point.'
But she'd unleashed the beast with both her actions and that kiss, and for the next few moments he played like… well, like the former NBA superstar he was, racking up the score until it was at nine four.
Damn, he was good. But she had plans for him, and they included him losing so she could claim her prize. Him.
