Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 115833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
“Okay, I see how it is.” She collected the ball, bouncing her way around me. When she leaned forward, I did the same, looking into her eyes and anticipating her next move.
She started to go right, so I did, too, but then she pump-faked it and stepped left, aiming for the goal. The ball hit the backboard and slid right in.
She grinned, and I nodded, huffing a laugh as I grabbed the ball this time. She tried squaring up with me, swatting at the ball, and I took that opportunity to run around her, leap in the air, and dunk it.
“Oh, really? It’s like that, Bishop?” she called, with a hand on her hips.
“Yeah, baby,” I said, planting a kiss on her cheek as I passed her. “It’s like that.”
The game went on for at least fifteen more minutes. She missed her next shot, while I landed my next two. Sweat beaded on my forehead as she swiped at hers with the back of her hand.
“Four–one,” I called out, and clearly that fueled her, because she took control of the ball and landed her next shot.
“Two–four,” she announced, skipping off.
“I’m about to win, so it doesn’t even matter,” I taunted, loving that fire in her eyes. She was competitive just like me, and there was something about seeing that heat in her eyes that turned me on.
“Go on, then. Take your shot,” she said, back in her defensive stance. Then her face warped as she narrowed her eyes and leaned inward. “Oh wait, I think you have something right there.”
“Huh?” I swiped at my cheek.
“No, there,” she said, pointing to the right side of my face. I swiped that side as she moved in so close her lips grazed mine. I froze, waiting for her to wipe whatever it was away and give me a kiss, but then she moved back and swiped the ball out of my hand. She hustled toward the goal with a smooth layup.
“Three–four. Gotta get that defense up, honey,” she sang.
“Oh wow! A distraction, I see!” I couldn’t help feeling both stupid and proud. “That never would’ve happened on a real court! Let me see that ball.”
She passed the rock to me, and this time I didn’t wait for her to come up. I lifted on my toes and aimed for the goal. It hit the rim but tipped over and dropped through the net.
“Deke!” she shouted with a breathy laugh.
“What?” I smirked. “It was only right. Five–three. That’s game, D.”
“I hope you don’t cheat like that on the court.”
“Never,” I said, draping an arm over her shoulder.
“I guess you won.” She looked up at me as we walked toward the gate. “Looks like I’ll be seeing you at one of your games, then.”
“For real?”
“Yeah. Why not?”
My heart pumped faster, not only from the match we played but also from knowing I’d see her again after the weekend was over. Maybe I was wrong, and this wasn’t a one-and-done thing. Maybe she was realizing that, just like me, she wanted more.
Before we left the court, I faced her and clasped her face in my hands. She kissed me back and moaned as I bumped her back until her backside hit the gate.
As if we both had the same thing on our minds, she reached for my shorts and pushed them down. I went for her leggings, helping her step out of one of the legs before tucking my forearm beneath one of her thighs. The gate creaked as our weight pressed against it, and I wasted no time sliding into her.
I’d had sex in many places and in many ways, but never on a court—never like this. This woman made me feel invincible. She made me whole every time I was inside her, and every time I held her—like all the worries, all the problems, all the guilt, and all the shame were washed away by her presence alone.
If only she knew how I felt.
If only she knew I’d give her the world if she let me.
FIFTY-THREE
DAVINA
When the sun was nearing the horizon, Deke took me on a boat ride. His boat was named The Saint.
“Because Bishops are far from saints,” he told me when I asked why he and Whitney chose that name for it. “When we go for a ride, it feels like our sins are being washed away.”
We cruised the lake, the mist sprinkling my face and the wind blowing through my blown-out curls. Lake Santeetlah was absolutely breathtaking. The clouds hung low, blending with the emerald mountains. The air smelled sweet, like remnants of honeysuckle and tree sap.
When Deke stopped the boat, he walked around the steering wheel and sat next to me on the padded bench. “Did you know the name Santeetlah derives from Native Americans?”
“No,” I said, meeting his eyes. “I didn’t know that.”