Block Shot (Hoops #2)(131)

Her giggle is pure appreciation for my dirty Dr. Seuss.

“St. John’s was such a good trip.” She sighs, a rueful twist to her mouth. “Not sure when we’ll get away again. The season’s in full swing, and we’ll be at playoffs in a few weeks.”

I wish I could disagree, but our vacations will have to wait. I suspect the San Diego Waves will finally make the playoffs, so August could be negotiating the first post-season play of his NBA career. No way I’ll check out for any of that. And Banner will keep an eye on Kenan, too, and the other players we manage.

“We may not be able to go back to our island any time soon,” I say, slipping my hands down to cup as much of her butt as I can hold. “But I’m gonna fuck you in that orange dress when we get home.”

She nods a little jerkily, straining up to lick my neck. I want her to bite me, ring my throat with teeth marks so everyone at this party knows I’m hers, but she won’t. For all her wildness in bed, Banner’s too circumspect to shock her family. She has to keep us both in line because she knows I don’t give a damn.

“Are you sure we can’t just . . .” I grasp the hem of her dress, sliding it along the sleek line of her thigh. “In and out. Quick, I promise.”

“As titillating as the thought of you quickly taking your satisfaction and me not having time to come sounds . . .” she rolls her eyes and laughs “. . . it’s a firm no.”

“When have I ever left you unsatisfied?” I kiss the velvety scented curve of her neck.

“Never.” She lays her head on my chest, placing one hand over my heart. “You satisfy me completely, Jared.”

My hands tighten on her butt and slide up to her waist, drift into her hair. I want to take it down. I love seeing her hair liberated, loose. Maybe that’s left over from an entire semester wondering how long it was, how it would feel in my hands.

“Blame this dress,” I tell her. “It shows off the sexiest parts of you.”

“Let me guess.” Her laugh rumbles into me. “The ass?”

I caress the dramatic curve from her back to her butt, rubbing my hand along her spine.

“No, this is the sexiest thing about you.” The laughter leaves my voice. “This gorgeous backbone.”

She pulls back to study my face in the shadows. With the sun setting, soon we’ll have to pick each other out of the dark like we did the first time we made love.

“Your strength,” I continue, pressing my fingers along the delicate bones strung up her back. “And this.”

I skim the curve of her breasts, but don’t stop there, not until I reach the skin left bare by the neckline of her dress. Until my hand rests on her heart.

“This heart of yours.” My laugh is full of self-deprecation. “That you somehow miraculously have given to me, it’s the other sexiest thing about you.”

She traces the line of my eyebrows, the slant of my cheekbones, my lips. I know what she sees. A good-looking guy with a not-always-good heart. Not a heart like hers.

“That’s just about the most perfect thing anyone’s ever said to me,” she says.

All my life I’ve been driven, in constant motion to always achieve the next thing. Right now, I find a rare moment of contentment just holding her and considering the stunning horizon on the verge of sunset. The golden hour always takes me back to dancing with Banner months ago, green-peaked mountains on one side, aquamarine ocean on the other. We weren’t merely dancing with our bodies but were negotiating the steps of our past, our present, our future. Figuring out how it would all come together. We were battling, our wills clashing as she tried to do what she thought was right, and me dragging her in the direction of what I knew couldn’t be wrong. I have that “just know” and it hasn’t failed me yet.

And standing here with Banner in the golden hour, the early evening is completely still. There’s not even a breeze, but I’m a weather vane, and I feel the winds shifting. I “just know.”

“I have another offer for you.” I make my voice sure, when for once, I’m not.

“Is it an offer I can’t refuse?” she asks, toying with my tie, a playful smile on those beautifully symmetrical lips.

“Uh, you could say no, I guess.”

“Jared.” She laughs and shakes her head. “The Godfather? Your favorite movie? ‘I’m gonna make you an offer you can’t refuse.’”

She waves her hand, dismissing the joke I should have gotten.

“Never mind. You know I’m bad at jokes.”

“You are.” I exhale a sharp, nervous breath. “I’m usually quicker than that, though. Sorry. Uh, seriously. I have an offer.”

“Okay. I’m all ears.”

I’ve convinced teams to take risks on players they thought twice, three, four times about signing. I’ve persuaded brands to pay twice what they intended in a matter of one meeting, but I can’t come up with the words to convince Banner Morales to marry me? This is the most important pitch of my life.

“So, we have a lot, right?” I ask.

“I think we have everything we need.” She laces her fingers into the short hair at my neck.

“Not everything,” I say, taking advantage of the opening. “A wise woman once said I should be unafraid to want it all.”