Page 24 of Half-Court Heat (Hoops & Heartstrings #2)

Chapter

Fifteen

C oach Demarios’s voice cut through the noise with a kind of calm, measured authority that didn’t need to shout to be heard.

“We’ve got to tighten up our defense,” he instructed. “No more freebies. Play smart, play hard. I want discipline out there.”

I kept my eyes on him and my jaw locked, nodding when he looked my way.

The last game was still hanging over me—getting baited by Lina Vargas, losing my cool, and Eva having to haul me backwards before I made it worse.

I hadn’t lost my spot in the starting rotation, but Coach Demarios’s trust was dangling by a thread.

The roar hit my chest the second we stepped onto the court, the Miami crowd buzzing like it was the playoffs and not game two. Across the way, Jazz was already smirking at me, the kind of half-taunt, half-affection that only my best friend could get away with.

From the tip-off, the game was physical. Arms jostling, hands swiping, sneakers squeaking on the glossed hardwood. I could feel the rhythm coming back to me in slow, careful beats—don’t overcommit, don’t get baited, keep your head down and your hands active.

Freya Lindholm, the pretty Belgian that Briana had introduced to me the night on the yacht, held her dribble steady.

Her pace was crisp, pale gray eyes scanning the court like she had all the time in the world instead of a shot-clock ticking down.

Playing defense against her felt like trying to hold onto water—you could keep it contained for a moment, but eventually it slipped through your fingers.

Midway through the second quarter, both teams were trading stops, both benches leaning forward from the intensity of the action.

I kept close to Freya at the top of the key.

She tried to split the defense, but I slid with her, cutting off her open angle to the basket.

She kicked a pass out to Jazz on the wing.

Freya’s elbow swung back as she pivoted away, catching me square in the mouth.

The taste of copper instantly bloomed in my mouth. My jaw throbbed. My first instinct—my old instinct—was to snap. To step into her space and let her know exactly how much I didn’t appreciate it. My fists itched and my pulse spiked.

Instead, I sucked in a slow breath through my nose. I wiped my mouth with the back of my wrist and kept my eyes on the ball instead of hers.

When the whistle blew for a timeout, I jogged to the huddle, my tongue pressing against the cut in my lip. Coach Demarios gave me a sharp look, and then—just for a second—something else passed over his face. Approval? It was gone before I could be sure I’d really seen it.

Eva leaned into me as we broke from the huddle, her hand subtly touching my hip. “Proud of you,” she murmured.

I huffed a breath, still tasting blood. “Huh. I didn’t even think about decking her.”

“I guess that kind of restraint deserves a reward.” Her mouth curled, slow and sly, like she already had a plan for after the game.

I couldn’t help it—my cheeks went hot, and suddenly the throbbing in my jaw didn’t matter.

“You should pack tonight.”

Eva’s voice was calm, but her eyes told a different story. They tracked me from across the bedroom, slow and hungry, like she’d already made up her mind.

I was still wrapped in a towel, fresh out of the shower, my hair damp and curling at the ends. Our second game of the new season had ended with another close victory for Team Embers. I felt good about the quick start, but even better about the way she was watching me.

Eva stood in front of the closet, one hand on her hip, the other running lightly over the black jeans I’d laid out on the bed.

I raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

She tilted her head, a smirk curling at her mouth. “Yeah.” Her tone was syrupy, but her gaze sharpened. “I want to feel it when we’re dancing.”

Her suggestive words sent a flush straight to my chest.

She walked toward me, fingers brushing over my bare shoulder as she passed. She stopped in front of my dresser and pulled open the drawer where I kept the harness in my travel bag.

“Eva.” My voice was a warning—or at least my best attempt at one.

She ignored me and pulled it out anyway. The straps of the harness hung from her fingertips like it was lingerie. “Put it on.”

I didn’t move.

I breathed out slowly, my body already responding. “I thought we were just going dancing.”

Her smile was downright wicked. “We are. You, me, and your closest friends in a crowded club, your strap in your jeans, and my ass pressed up against it all night. Sounds like a plan to me.”

My mouth went dry.

She stepped close and slipped the harness into my willing hands. “Want some help?”

“Sure,” I said, my voice lower than I meant it to be.

I had to bite back a telling moan when she dropped to her knees.

The bath towel fell from my body as she helped me step into the harness and adjusted the straps. Her fingers brushed the inside of my thighs.

“You okay?” she asked, honey-brown eyes flicking up to meet mine.

“More than okay.”

She tugged the straps snug, making sure the harness fit tight across my hips and low over my clit. Without warning, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss just below the waistband, right over the top of the silicone.

“You’re gonna drive me crazy tonight,” she murmured, fingertips trailing over the contours of the strap.

I exhaled sharply. “You’re the one on your knees.”

“Not for long.” She stood, kissed me, and swatted my ass lightly. “Now get dressed. I already called the car.”

We arrived at the club sometime after 10 o’clock, the Miami heat still thick, even at night.

My thighs shifted uncomfortably as I adjusted in the backseat of our rideshare, the harness snug beneath my clothes, my jeans tight in unexpected places.

Eva hadn’t taken her hand off my leg the entire ride, fingers tracing idle patterns too close to my inseam, her thumb stroking deliberate circles just to mess with me.

The bouncer outside of the club must have recognized Eva because he nodded us inside without a word.

People clocked us immediately—a few whispered, a few stared, and someone definitely took a photo.

Eva looked completely unbothered. She squeezed my hand once before pulling me past the line outside and into the pulsing dark.

She tugged me through the crowd, straight toward the VIP lounge where the music thrummed louder, the bass so deep it rattled my ribs and threatened to steal my breath. The air was thick with cologne and champagne, neon lasers cutting across bodies in motion on the crowded dance floor.

Eva’s hand was warm in mine as we made our way to the VIP area where our friends and teammates waited. Jazz spotted us first and waved us over to the low table they’d claimed, flanked by Dez, Briana, and Rayah. A bottle of something expensive was already sweating in an ice bucket.

“Finally!” Jazz said, raising her glass. “We were about to send a search party.”

“I had to make sure Lex was fully accessorized,” Eva said with a innocent grin. Her fingers slid down my spine and rested possessively on my hip. I tried not to choke.

“Didn’t know you were a stylist, too,” Briana chimed in.

“I’m versatile,” Eva replied, casual as ever. “On and off the court.”

I eased into the booth beside Briana. Eva sat on the edge, her thigh still pressing against mine.

Jazz leaned back in the booth, her drink raised in salute. “Damn. Look at this crew. Y’all clean up nice.”

Rayah gave Eva a long once-over and let out a low whistle. “Okayyy baddie, I see you! Waist snatched, edges laid, vibes expensive! Real hot girl energy. You came in here trying to ruin somebody.”

“Just her,” Eva said, nodding towards me.

Rayah smirked. “Mm. She looks like she already got ruined.”

My face went hot. Eva’s hand slid to my thigh under the table.

Dez clinked her glass against Rayah’s. “Miami’s not ready.”

Conversation shifted—talk about the league’s launch, sneaker deals someone heard were in the works, who had the best team intro track queued up.

Briana turned to me, resting her elbow on the back of the booth. “Okay,” she said. “Business hat for a sec.”

I snorted. “That sounds dangerous.”

“It’s not,” she chuckled. “I just wanted to know where your head’s at with the new CBA negotiations. There’s going to be pressure on all of us to speak up when talks start getting serious. You’ve got a platform now—especially with how public you and Eva are.”

I nodded slowly, trying to keep up. “I mean, I’m paying attention. I’m just not sure what I’d even say that hasn’t already been said.”

“Sometimes it’s not about saying something new—it’s about who says it,” Briana noted. “You’re reliable. You’re not flashy, not trying to be a brand. That matters. People listen to that.”

I tried to lock in on Briana’s words—I really did—but Eva had gotten up to dance, and the second she moved into the crowd, my brain short-circuited.

She’d worn a deep red wrap dress that night. The material clung to her hips like it was afraid of being left behind. Her hair was still long and loose from media day, paired with strappy heels, glossy lips, and a gold anklet I hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t fair.

Briana tilted her head. “Lex?”

“Yeah?” I rapidly blinked, dragging my eyes back to her.

She smirked. “Never mind. Go dance with your girl before your neck gets stuck craning that way.”

My grin turned crooked and sheepish. “Am I that obvious?”

“Painfully,” she said, nudging me out of the booth. “Go.”

I could feel the knowing stares of my friends and teammates when I stood from our table, but I tried not to overthink it.

I resisted the urge to adjust my pants again to avoid drawing even more unwanted attention to myself.

I walked stiffly out of the VIP section and slid into the crowd, already feeling Eva’s pull before I even reached her.

When she turned, smiling like she’d known I’d follow all along, everything else faded. She pressed her back into me, her ass rolling against the hardness in my pants. I hissed low under my breath.

My hands settled at her hips, drawing her in as she ground slowly against the length between my legs. The way her dress clung to her body, just thin layers of silk and skin, didn’t help. Every move she made was friction. Delicious, unbearable friction.

Someone in the VIP booth next to us definitely noticed. I didn’t care. Neither did Eva. She angled her head back against my shoulder, lips parting in a silent exhale as she rolled her hips again.

I gritted my teeth. “Eva.”

“I know.”

“We should go,” I urged.

“Not yet.”

She turned in my arms and her lips caught mine, open and greedy. She kissed me like she didn’t care who saw, like she wanted to brand the night into my memory.

When she finally pulled back, her arms looped around my neck, slow and possessive. “You look hot,” she said, swaying us in time to the beat. “Like dangerously hot.”

I laughed against her collarbone. “Dangerous because I’m packing?”

“Dangerous because I might not make it through this night without embarrassing us in public.”

Her lips brushed my jaw when she said it.

I pressed into her hips, letting her feel it.

“ Lex ,” she warned, but it was breathless. Her fingers gripped tighter at my waist.

“You asked for it.”

“And I meant it.” Her voice dropped, barely audible over the music.

Somewhere between that kiss and the third song that bled into the next, she took my hand. “Follow me.”