Page 85 of Half-Court Heat

“I’d start slow,” I murmured. “Kissing your neck, your collarbone. Just ... easing you down.”

“Would you touch me?”

“Uh huh.” I licked my lips. “Fingertips down your sides. Over your hips. You always shiver when I do that.”

“I’m already shivering,” she rasped.

I could hear the faint shift of fabric on her end of the line. I imagined her curling her painted toes, her skin warm from her own palm. I pressed my thighs together and exhaled.

“Tell me more,” she commanded.

“I’d straddle your thigh and grind against you,” I said. “Slow. Lazy. Until I couldn’t anymore.”

Eva groaned softly, and I felt it in my bones.

“What about you?” I asked.

“I’d let you take whatever you wanted,” she breathed. “But I’d be touching you, too. Just the way you like. My fingers between your legs, teasing. Never too much. Just enough.”

I bit my lip. “God, Eva …”

“I love how wet you get for me,” she murmured. “I miss the way your body reacts—how honest you are when it’s just us.”

Her voice was pure liquid now, and I could hear her breathing shift to become more shallow, more focused. I slid my hand beneath the waistband of my underwear, already aching.

“Are you touching yourself?” she asked.

“Uh huh.”

“Me, too,” she husked. “I’m pretending you’re here, guiding my hand.”

I closed my eyes and listened to her—the uneven breath, the soft curses, the way she moaned my name.

“Talk to me, Lex. Tell me what you’d do to me.”

Fuck. I bit down hard on my bottom lip.

“Sure your knee can take it?” I was genuine in my concern.

“I’ll be careful,” she vowed. “Please, Lex. I need you.”

I clenched my phone tighter and lowered my tone. “I’d start with your breasts. I’d tongue around each nipple until they wereso sensitive you’d try to squirm away—but I’d hold you there. I’d say your name in that low voice you like. The one that makes your thighs fall open.”

Eva moaned softly, the sound cutting straight through me.

“You’d be dripping for me, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” she gasped. “God, yes.”

“I’d kiss down your stomach, slow as hell. Make you wait. Make you beg.”

“Iambegging,” she said, breath catching.

I smiled into the dark. “Good.”

I let my hand move lower, slick and aching already. My fingers slipped through heat as I pictured her—spread out and panting, eyes closed, lips parted.

“I’d use my mouth,” I continued. “The pressure, the rhythm. My tongue steady against your clit, over and over, until you were shaking.”