Page 1 of Half-Court Heat (Hoops & Heartstrings #2)

Chapter

One

T he russet brown bikini accentuated her deep mahogany skin like a sunset reflecting on calm waters.

The suit’s rich, earthy tone seemed to glow against her complexion, highlighting the natural radiance of her skin.

It was as if the color was chosen specifically for her, perfectly harmonizing with and illuminating her beauty in the late afternoon sunlight.

Hell. Knowing her, the color had been picked just for her.

My gaze traced the contours of her reposed form.

The thin string crossing her back was doing an admirable job of keeping her generous breasts in check.

I silently admired the strength in her shoulders and the gentle dip before the small of her back.

A bead of sweat had collected in that shallow hollow, and I felt the strangest urge to lean in and lick it away, craving the taste of salt on her skin.

My eyes continued their indulgent tour—up the smooth curve of her backside and down the steep drop of her hips. The way the fabric of her bikini bottoms disappeared into those deep curves was seriously distracting. Even though we were alone, I felt my cheeks warm.

“Enjoying the view?”

I cleared my throat and adjusted my sunglasses on the bridge of my nose, fully aware that I’d been caught. I had hoped the mirrored lenses might conceal the path of my stare, but there was no hiding from her.

“You bet I am,” I shot back.

Eva was lying on her stomach along the ledge of our private swim-up pool, her chin resting on her folded arms. She looked utterly peaceful. No competitions, no cameras, no adoring fans. Just Eva, relaxed in the sun with that easy smile.

“Do you need more sunscreen?” I asked.

Her lazy grin broadened. “Sounds like a ploy to get your hands all over me.”

“I care deeply about your health,” I deadpanned.

Her fingers skimmed the top of the chlorinated water. I knew she liked the attention, even if she’d never say it out loud.

The late-afternoon sun soaked everything in warmth, making the private pool outside of our hotel room shimmer.

I sat on the edge with my legs dangling in the cool water—a welcome contrast to the heat.

It was quiet. Just the soft lapping of water against the pool’s edge and the distant murmur of laughter drifting from the main resort.

It was our first real time alone since the playoffs had ended. From here, everything—the extended season, the brutal road trips, the constant noise—felt far away. For the first time in months, we had no practices, no schedules, no early mornings. Just us.

Eventually, I eased into the pool, careful not to splash and disturb Eva’s zen. Unlike her revealing bikini, I wore swim shorts and a bikini top that bordered on sporty. I winced when the chilled water touched my bare midsection.

“What do you want to do tomorrow?” I asked, sinking deeper into the pool.

Eva lifted her head just enough to glance at me. “How about we don’t plan anything? Just go wherever the day takes us.”

“That sounds perfect.”

I imagined lazy mornings tangled in bed, the soundtrack of tropical birds and waves crashing just beyond our windows.

“Are you actually going to use the pool you paid extra for?” I asked.

Eva had insisted on covering the cost of our vacation. I’d pushed back—hard—but she’d calmly dismantled my soapbox. You can pay for the next one, she’d promised.

The idea of there being a next vacation with her made me giddy, and we’d barely started this one.

Eva gracefully rose to her feet and walked along the pool’s ledge. She didn’t strike me as the cannonball type, which gave me extra time to admire the way the sunlight kissed her nearly bare skin.

Her movements were unhurried, yet deliberate.

Sleek muscle shifted beneath smooth, sun-warmed skin with every step.

Even in something as revealing as her bikini, there was nothing performative about her—only a calm, physical confidence that made it impossible to look away.

She carried herself like someone who knew her own worth and had no need to prove it.

Powerful . That’s the word that came to mind.

Eva descended the concrete steps, one by one. Anticipating the tropical vacation, her hairstylist back in Chicago had twisted her hair into a multitude of micro braids that she arranged in a bun to avoid getting damp in the chlorinated water.

When the water reached her navel, she let out a hiss. “Oh, that’s cold!” she complained. “You could’ve warned a girl.”

“It’s not an ice bath,” I smirked. “Getting soft with all this time off?”

Eva’s postseason had ended earlier than mine, with Chicago falling to New York in the semis.

I hated that I was on the road when it happened.

But if we were going to make this work, I had to accept reality: with our schedules, we wouldn’t always be there for each other’s losses or wins.

Sometimes all we’d have were phone calls, late-night texts, or surprise ice cream deliveries.

“I’ve half a mind to call the front desk to dump a truckload of ice in here. I’ll turn this whole damn pool into one big ice bath,” she challenged. “ Then we’ll see who’s soft.”

“Not everything has to be a competition, you know.”

Eva scoffed. “Says the girl who couldn’t handle losing a single game of Horse.”

“That was one time,” I protested, although I couldn’t stop smiling.

Eva hummed and gave me a skeptical look.

We drifted around the pool separately, letting the water carry us, until the space became too much—like some invisible tether kept pulling us back together. Eva wound her legs around my waist, and I caught her instinctively by the hips.

I could feel the flex of her thighs against my sides, the shift of muscle as she adjusted. Her skin was warm from the sun, her thighs slick from sunscreen and sweat. It was impossible not to notice how good she felt under my hands.

I slid my hands to the small of her back, holding her easily in the water and guiding us into a slow, aimless drift. On land, she had inches on me, but here, she was weightless.

Her chest brushed mine with every breath, every movement. I tried not to stare at the way her bikini clung to her—how the wet fabric molded to the shape of her breasts, how the outline of her nipple teased just beneath the thin triangle of fabric.

She was trying to kill me. I was sure of it.

“Keep looking like that and I’m going to forget we’re supposed to be relaxing,” I murmured my warning.

Her fingers traced the line of my collarbone and dipped below the edge of my bikini top. “What if I don’t want to relax?”

I swallowed. Hard.

Eva leaned in. “You said we didn’t have to plan anything.”

“I didn’t realize that included seduction by pool float,” I breathed.

Her low laugh vibrated through me. She kissed the corner of my mouth, then deeper. Her lips tasted of lime and sea salt, and I kissed her back like I’d been craving it for weeks. Months. Maybe always.

Under the water, her hands slid over my hips, then around to grip my ass. I drew in a sharp breath as heat bloomed low in my belly.

“You were saying something about sunscreen?” she teased against my lips.

“I think we need to reapply,” I practically panted. “Thoroughly.”

She smiled, but there was something soft behind it. Her eyes searched mine, and her hand reached up, fingers brushing a damp strand of hair from my forehead. Her fingers lingered, and I felt a warmth spread through me that had nothing to do with the sun.

“Can I say something?” she asked, her voice quiet.

“Of course.”

She didn’t speak, not right away.

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else right now. Not with anyone else.”

Her words were solemn, and her fingers grazed the side of my cheek. Her touch was gentle; it was like she was committing every detail to memory.

I felt my heart catch, the weight of her words settling into a warm, steady ache.

“This is exactly where I want to be,” I agreed.

I leaned against the bar top and swirled the rapidly melting ice cubes at the bottom of my paloma.

I’d finished getting ready in the room well before Eva, so she’d insisted I go ahead to the resort restaurant to make sure we didn’t lose our reservation.

I was more than happy to abandon going out and order room service instead, but Eva had pushed me out the front door.

My attention drifted to the televisions hanging over the bar.

Each oversized flatscreen featured a different sporting event.

Amazingly, I wasn’t thinking about the next time I would be back on a basketball court.

For the first time in as long as my memory stretched back, I wasn’t experiencing competition withdrawals.

I had a hunch it had everything to do with the woman with whom I was on this vacation.

I’d never thought of myself as an adrenaline junkie.

I had no interest in skydiving or bungee jumping, but I did thrive under the pressure of a clock counting down and a rabid fan base screaming from the sidelines.

But all of that seemed to soften and fade away when I was in Eva’s proximity.

We still brought out each other’s competitive side, but we’d found new things to one-up each other on.

Orgasms, for example.

My memory didn’t have to stretch back too far to recall the official start of our vacation. Jet-lagged and slightly sticky from the flight, Eva had still looked impossibly good in high-waisted shorts and a ribbed tank top knotted at her waist. All I could think about was getting her alone.

We hadn’t made it an hour into the trip before I had her pressed up against the cool tile wall of our room, kissing her like I’d been parched for weeks and she was the only thing that could satisfy me.

She’d laughed into my mouth, told me we had all week, but I couldn’t help it. The plane had landed, but I hadn’t.

We hadn’t even unpacked. Just dropped the bags, drew the curtains, and tumbled into bed like the heat between us couldn’t be postponed.