Page 47 of Half-Court Heat

Her eyes sparked. “Seriously?”

“No one’s gonna be in there until morning.”

She grabbed my hand again, and we half-ran back inside, shoes squeaking against the floor. We didn’t speak, we only laughed—quiet and breathless—as we navigated dark hallways like we were sneaking into some forbidden part of a theme park. My pulse thudded in my ears the whole time.

The locker room door shut behind us with a soft click.

The overhead lights were out, but the motion sensor caught us and flooded the space with cool fluorescent light.

Eva turned to me, her expression unreadable for a moment—until her gaze dropped to my mouth.

“I was thinking about this,” she said, voice low, “even before you missed that corner three.”

“Oh yeah?”

She licked her lips. “It’s kind of hard not to when you strip out of your shorts that slowly.”

I stood a little taller. “I wasn’t putting on a show.”

“Didn’t say it was. But if it was?” She stepped forward and grabbed the bottom hem of her shirt. “I’d return the favor.”

I watched, my chest tight, as she peeled her shirt off and let it fall to the tile floor. Her sports bra followed. Then she paused, giving me time.

I didn’t need long. I lifted my own top over my head and wrestled with my sports bra. By the time I had it off, Eva was close again, her warm hands finding the sides of my waist.

We kissed harder this time—no teasing, no restraint. I backed her into a locker, the cool metal pressing against her back as our bare chests met, skin on skin, sweat still faint between us from the playground game. I loved this part—how her mouth tasted, how her hands moved, the mutual give and take before one of us took the lead.

She tugged at my waistband, not to undress me, but to feel the elastic and slide her fingers underneath. We’d talked about it early on. How I didn’t like penetration. She never made me feel like I had to explain myself or apologize.

Her hand slipped beneath the fabric, her fingers brushing the sensitive skin of my lower belly. She leaned in, her breath warm against my ear. “Tell me if anything is too much.”

I shook my head, my voice barely a whisper. “Keep going.”

Her thumb brushed slow, teasing circles against my clit through the thin fabric of my underwear. I gasped softly, my hands finding her hips, pulling her closer.

“If you get loud in here,” she murmured, “think the janitor’s coming back?”

I huffed a laugh, more breath than sound. “Only one way to find out.”

Eva kissed down my collarbone, slow and wet. My breath caught when she trapped my nipple between her lips, her tongue tracing tight circles before she flicked—gentle, teasing, electric. My knees went a little soft, and she caught me with both arms wrapped around my back.

“God,” I exhaled the breathy praise.

“I like how you say that,” she approved before digging her fingers into my hipbones.

When she sank to her knees in front of me, I rested a hand on her shoulder to steady myself. I was already dizzy from the way she looked up at me, pupils blown, mouth parted like she was hungry and about to take her time with every bite.

She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of my shorts and underwear and looked up, always waiting for the nod. I gave it, and she peeled them down—slow, reverent, like this wasn’t the locker room of a pro basketball league but some sacred sanctuary we’d made our own.

Her fingers skimmed over my hips and down the soft curve of my thighs. She didn’t rush. She gently dragged her nails up the insides of my thighs, barely grazing, just enough to make me tremble.

“Tell me what you want,” she said, her voice husky.

“You.”

“Yeah, but how?”

I bit my lip. “Your fingers. Just outside.”