Page 52 of The Player Next Door

“Are you embarrassed? You should be embarrassed,” he said, walking over to her and throwing his arm around her shoulders when she buried her face in her hands, laughing. He pressed an unexpected kiss to the top of her head and let her lean against his chest for a moment. She craned her head up, cheek still resting above his heart, and he smiled down at her. “Good thing you’re cute,” he added as he let her go.

Clare pouted. “Are you going to do that all night?”

Logan was dribbling and walking again, looking for another spot on the court. “Tease you? Yes, obviously.”

She followed him and he stopped dribbling with the ball against his chest. Clare moved closer and watched the corner of his lips quirk up. “There’s basketball-teasing, and then there’s . . . teasing,” she said, looking up through her eyelashes.

Logan smirked. “I thought you knew; I’m all about the anticipation,” he said with a wink, tossing the ball over her head with barely a glance at the basket. “Nice try on the distraction, though.”

She heard the ball swish through the net. “There’s anticipation, and then there’s just being mean,” she replied.

“Like I said, you can take it,” he said, but when she put her hand on his chest, he trapped it with his. Logan’s other hand tipped her chin up and he brought his mouth down gently on hers, the kiss soft and sweet. But the moment she traced his lower lip with her tongue he pulled back, eyes dancing. “There. A little something to take the edge off,” he said, and nodded his chin toward the chain-link fence behind the court. “Your ball.”

Clare rolled her eyes and jogged to get it. Her legs and arms suddenly didn’t work right, and eventually she slowed to what she hoped appeared to be a casual walk.

Logan hadn’t moved from his spot and she bumped him with her hip to nudge him out of the way. “I feel like I should ask if I should, like, aim or something,” she said, looking at him over her shoulder.

“Yes, aiming is the general point,” he said drily, and then moved so his chest was against her back. “Here, I’ll help,” he whispered, lips brushing the shell of her ear.

“Isn’t that cheating?”

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” he replied, kissing the hollow under her ear. His arms came up to surround her, helping her lift the ball to straight in front of her chest. In a soft, deep voice he started talking her through the basic points of shooting a basketball, but to be perfectly honest she wasn’t listening. She couldn’t, not with him that close, sounding the way he did.

“Okay, go,” he encouraged, and she ignored every instruction he’d given her and tossed it wildly in the vague direction of the basket, spinning in his arms and kissing him before the ball landed.

Logan stepped back at the force of her kiss and then caught her face in his hands, returning it eagerly. “You’re still losing, you know,” he managed when they broke for air.

“Do I look like I give a shit?” she said, fisting her hands in his shirt and dragging him down for another desperate kiss.

“You should make at least one basket before we go,” Logan said, running his hands down her sides. “You made sure I had fun playing Quest for Sulzuris, so let me do this for you.”

“It’s fine, I had fun,” she dismissed. It was true; she had never once liked playing any sport as much as she did right now.

But Logan shook his head and stood back. “One more,” he said, retrieving the ball and stopping directly underneath the basket. “Come here,” he ordered, and she couldn’t help but comply.

Good lord, this man was sexy.

When Clare reached him, he crouched down, balancing himself with one hand on the ground. “Climb on,” he said, and when she didn’t, he looked back at her. “On my shoulders,” he clarified. “I’ve got you.”

Clare looked at his broad back dubiously. “I still might not make it.”

“Then we’ll be here all night until you do. Come on, Thompson. I believe in you; get on.”

Gingerly, she arranged herself on his shoulders and squealed—half in delight, half in fright—when he stood. She was almost eye level with the rim this way. He kept one hand on her thigh and lifted the ball to her. “There you go, nice and easy,” he said in a surprisingly soothing voice. Maybe he could feel her trembling, but that had nothing to do with nerves.

Clare tossed the ball the remaining couple of feet and it rattled noisily against the rim before falling through. She threw her hands up in victory, and whooped, while Logan carefully lowered himself down and ducked out from between her legs.

“I did it!” she screeched, way too excited for the situation, but Logan had a way of doing that to her. Everything was heightened with him; the colors sharper and the lights brighter.

“You did it,” he echoed, scooping her up in a bear hug that turned into a kiss. Logan lifted her higher so she could wrap her legs around his waist. Her back bumped up against something and it took her a second to realize it was the post for the hoop. He pinned her there with his weight, one hand sliding under the hem of her shirt, gliding softly over her skin.

Clare gasped into his mouth, tangling her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. She could feel him getting hard, her jeans entirely too thick for her liking at the moment. Out on the street, tires slicked by on the still-damp pavement, and all at once her brain caught up with what was happening. She froze.

“Wait,” she breathed, and Logan pulled back immediately, concern on his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“We’re in public. Someone could see.”