Page 10

TEN

BECCA

I’m running late to meet Eli. Ever since he razzed me on the first day about cutting it close, I’ve made it my mission to show up before him, but last night I stayed up finishing a twenty-page paper that I procrastinated on. So between that and my brain dissecting the “lunch date” from yesterday, I didn’t get much sleep.

I saw a different side of Eli at that diner. My loyalty has always been, and will always be, with Lee, but I guess I never realized how things might have been for him back home, and now that I’ve started thinking about it, I can’t stop. The longer it rolls around in my brain, the more frustrated I get, my heart squeezing at the fact I can’t remember Lee ever talking about how Eli handled their momma’s death or how he was dealing with not playing ball. I have to wonder if she even knows or if she’s been so lost in her misery that she never asked.

Someone ought to.

I saw the shadow of the ghost that haunts him. It causes an odd sensation in my chest, seeing him look so lost, a familiarity that fills the space between us, one that makes me want to dive inside his darkness and find the cracks of light. And then I snap myself the hell out of it because I don’t want anything to do with Elliot Carson.

The lack of sleep has clearly gone to my head, and I have got to get it the hell together, so I’ll steel myself against whatever is malfunctioning in my body and brain when it comes to him.

Maybe I’ll find myself a big, fat dick to ride this weekend and I’ll fuck the thought of him away.

I walk into the arena with a new resolve, but all of that goes to complete shit when I drink in the scene in front of me.

Eli’s shooting hoops, and he’s shirtless. Honest to God, he’s not wearing a stitch of clothing other than his basketball shorts and shoes. There’s nothing but the sound of his sneakers and the bounce of the ball.

Just him, the free throw line, and the focus of his craft.

My brain short-circuits, heart pumping blood so fast my body can’t keep up. I put my hand on the concrete wall to keep upright. A light sheen of sweat glistens over his chest and abs, making him look ethereal under the fluorescent lights. He’s clearly been practicing awhile.

I stand stock-still, my eyes devouring every line of his body, the control in his stance, the precision in his movement. It’s a thing of beauty. He’s a thing of beauty. My bag slips from my shoulder and drops to the ground, the sound harsh against the quiet of the air, echoing off the bleachers.

Eli spins toward the noise, his posture relaxing once he sees me.

“Hey, figured I’d warm up while I waited.” He runs his fingers through his hair, his abs flexing with the movement.

I’d respond, but my mouth is suddenly parched and I’m afraid my voice won’t work.

His smile slowly drops while I stand there gaping. His eyes darken, the current of our energies dancing off each other, making the air grow heady.

I clear my throat, trying to snap out of it. “Yep. Hi. Sorry I’m late. I overslept.”

He smiles and fuck the butterflies in my stomach for daring to flutter from his grin.

“What are we doin’ today?” I ask.

He waves his arm at the cart of basketballs and the few stragglers on the floor. “Take a guess.”

“Hmm. You decide you want me on your team after all?” My mouth curls up.

He smirks, bouncing the basketball between his legs. “Baby girl, you’ve been on my team since you walked on this court. I’ve just had you benched.”

My eyes narrow even though my stomach flips at his words. I stretch my arms above my head, cracking my neck, and I don’t miss how his eyes follow the hem of my shirt as it rises, or how his Adam’s apple bobs with his swallow.

I grin, my hands going to my hips. “Put me in, Coach.”

“I seem to remember you going on about HORSE. Let’s see what ya got, big talker.” He tosses the basketball toward my chest, making my breath whoosh out of me when I catch it.

And so we play.

I throw from about two feet away and squeal when it goes in.

He easily mimics the move.

Then he shoots from the free throw line, jogging backward after he makes it. “Nothin’ but net, baby.”

“Kobe!” I yell, attempting the same shot. The ball bounces off the rim and rolls to Eli’s feet. He’s keeled over laughing as he picks it up, so I flip him off.

He does some fancy move where he runs up to the rim and jumps, twisting his body to toss the ball through the net with one hand.

I scoff. “Hardly fair, Big Head. I barely know how to shoot. You’re just showin’ off now.”

Eli chuckles and swaggers over, placing the ball in my hands and walking around until he’s behind me. He’s so close I feel the tingles of electricity radiating off his body as they snap at my back.

I grip the ball tighter.

“First…” His fingers attempt to thread through my curls as he angles my face toward the rim. “You need to eye the target.” He pulls slightly before releasing the strands, causing a shiver to race down my spine. His rough hands ghost over my sides, goose bumps sprouting as his fingers grip my hips. He adjusts me, squeezing once, and continues his trek.

My legs tremble and I bite my lip to keep from moaning at his touch.

“Next, you need to have an open stance.” He kneels behind me, his palms sliding along the inside of my thighs until he reaches my knees, pushing them open. The light caress of his fingertips on my bare skin sends a tendril of arousal spiraling through my body, heating me from the inside and making my cheeks flush.

“Point your feet toward the left side of the basket.”

I angle them. “Like this?”

He raises back up, his breath blowing on my neck as he leans in close. “Perfect.”

His voice is raspy and low.

I suck in a breath.

Eli’s palms glide over my shoulders and down my arms until his big hands cover my small ones, and I track the movement, transfixed at the sight of them contrasting against the basketball’s leather.

“Now this part is the most important. Are you payin’ attention?”

His accent slips through, making my stomach tighten. I nod, the back of my head rubbing against his slick chest.

“Move the ball into the shot pocket.” He moves our arms until the ball is situated several inches above my waist and aiming directly at the basket. I’m panting, my chest heaving from the inability to catch my breath.

Our fingers intertwine and he manipulates them until they’re positioned the way he wants, and then he lifts our arms until they’re raised level to my head. “Hand positioning is important.”

His palms disappear and mine twitch at the loss, but soon enough they’re back, one pressing into my stomach, while the other rests on my right arm. “Make sure you use your legs, core, and arm strength to shoot.” He pushes into me and propels us forward.

The heat of his body wraps around me, and my ass pushes into his very prominent, stiff erection.

Oh my God.

I blow out a heavy breath, afraid that if I move an inch—a goddamn centimeter—that my control will snap and I’ll maul him right here in the middle of the court.

His hand leaves my stomach, moving up my body until it rests on my left arm.

“Now shoot.” His whisper tickles my ear, shock waves rippling through me.

My body obeys his command before my mind can even process what he said. I let the ball fly and it swooshes through the net.

I don’t even care. I twist my upper body in his arms, my eyes clashing with baby blues.

It’s a second…

Two seconds…

Before I can take another breath, Eli’s lips are on mine, his tongue ravaging my mouth. Our breaths meld and I moan at his taste. My hand tangles in his hair, his thick bulge pushing into me from behind, and my body is vibrating from how bad I want to feel him inside me. It’s an overwhelming need and it’s one I’m sure I’ll hate myself for later. But right now I’m lost. In his taste. His smell. His aura. In everything that is Elliot Carson.

Elliot Carson.

I jerk away, lips burning and heart screaming in protest.

What the hell am I doing?

“Becca.” Eli’s voice is cautious, his arms still outstretched.

I shake my head, fingers touching my swollen lips. “No. No. That did not just happen.”

Eli’s arms drop along with his head, his jaw clenching. “Shit. You’re right. That shouldn’t have happened.”

“Ya think, genius? What the hell were you thinkin’?”

“What was I thinking? You kissed me. ”

I huff out a laugh, my arms waving wildly. “Oh, please. You seduced me with your… your basketball voodoo.”

He stares at me, his mouth twitching. “Basketball voodoo?”

Groaning, I wrench at the roots of my hair. “You know what I mean. This”—I point between us—“can’t happen.”

“I agree.”

“For so many reasons. You’re the damn coach of the basketball team. Your sister is my best friend, for God’s sake. Not to mention that I can’t stand your egotistical ass. This cannot happen. I just…”

Eli’s in front of me now, his hand pushing against my lips. “ Christ , do you ever listen? I said I agree.”

“Oh,” I mumble against his fingers.

He smirks. “Yeah. Oh .”

Relief floods through my veins, even as my heart twinges at the thought of it never happening again.

That kiss was a mistake. One that we will not be repeating ever again.

I just wish it wasn’t such a great one.