Hook Shot (Hoops #3)(131)

“That’s not awkward or anything,” I mumble, but I can’t hold back my pleased grin. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it,” he repeats. “But soon I’ll be spooning the real thing every morning when I wake up.”

“Kenan, we’ll see.” I release a long exhale. “Let’s talk to Dr. Packer. Moving in is a big deal, especially since Simone lives with you. I just want to make sure she is a hundred percent comfortable.”

“Okay.” He drops a kiss on my forehead before pulling me to sit up on the edge of the bed. “Now you close your eyes.”

He stands, lifting his brows when my eyes remain as open as his did. “My turn.”

I roll my eyes before closing them.

“Keep them closed,” he calls, his voice coming from farther away, but still somewhere in the room.

“They’re closed, dammit,” I pretend to grouse.

I’m still trapped behind the darkness of my closed eyelids when he takes my left hand and twists the gris-gris ring off. It hasn’t left my finger in years. I suppress the instinct to open my eyes and grab it before it’s gone.

He slowly eases it onto the ring finger of my right hand. My heart assumes a thunderous rhythm, and blood rushes to my face and throbs in my ears. Sweat sprouts out all over my body as he slides a different ring onto the finger where MiMi’s ring rested before.

What if she gave me to you? What if I’m your gris gris now?

Kenan’s words from months ago wash over me, run through me.

You did good, MiMi, I whisper in silent, complete gratitude.

I thought her heart was the greatest gift she left me, but no.

It’s this man.

I can’t play along anymore. My eyes fly open to find Kenan down on one knee in front of the bed, in front of me. A vintage cushion-cut diamond set in blackened platinum glints from my left hand. I have no idea how many carats it is, but it’s huge without being gaudy. It’s antique, but thoroughly modern.

It’s perfect.

“Kenan, oh my God.” A shaky breath whooshes past my lips. I press a trembling hand to my throat. “Are you sure about—”

“I already talked to Simone,” he interrupts, his voice low, fervent. “And to Dr. Packer and to my mother. They’re all fine with it. Ecstatic about it.” He pauses and brings my hand to his lips. “I even told Bridget.”

“Bridget knows?” I gape. “How does she feel about it? How is she?”

“She’s dating one of the crew from Baller Bae,” he says dryly. “I think she’ll be fine. She’s known for a while how I feel about you.” He shakes his head and huffs out a truncated laugh. “Hell, everyone knows how I feel about you.”

“And Simone?” I ask, once more, needing to be certain. “You’re sure she’s okay?”

“She helped me pick out the ring.” His chuckle comes out deep, but I detect the faintest trace of uncertainty. “The only hold-out is you. You, uh, still haven’t said yes.”

He looks at the ring on my finger, and his shoulders and chest go so absolutely still, I think he’s literally holding his breath. Tears prick my eyes, and I blink several times, but there’s no stopping them from rushing over my cheeks. My gladiator, one of the most intimidating men in the NBA—I have his heart in the palm of my hand. But it’s an even trade because he has my heart, too.

I scoot forward until I’m at the very edge of the bed and my legs have to split and spread around his broad torso as he waits on his knees for me to answer. I cup his chin, lean forward, brush my nose against his, then slide the curve of my cheek against the raw-boned angle of his, and pull back to lock our eyes.

“Don’t look away,” I whisper, licking into the seam of those full lips. He groans, opening the way he only ever has for me.

He twines the fingers of his right hand with the fingers of my left, and strokes the sparkling declaration of his love. My tears come faster, mixing with every hungry nip and ravenous lick as I taste him. It’s not the rich, tangy flavor of his kiss. I taste the acceptance, the patience, and the unconditional love I’ve found myself seeking all my life.

I have found the one whom my soul loves.

It’s all there on his lips, in this kiss, in the emotion of the dark eyes that never look away. Without breaking the sweet, hot thread between our lips or the deep, unwavering intimacy of the look we share, I whisper into our kiss the answer he’s been waiting for.

“Yes.”