Sex, Not Love(28)

“The boy she has a crush on. His name is Yakshit.”

Hunter shook his head and grumbled, “Another poor bastard.”

***

“You hit sixty percent of your free throws.” Hunter said to Izzy. “You have a great shot. But you can definitely do better. You’re flicking the ball with your thumb on your guide hand as you take your shot, which is making it spray left.”

“Coach said the same thing.”

“Have you tried squeezing your thumb and index finger on your guide hand together?”

“I’ve tried, but I forget when I’m in a game.”

“You need a shooting strap. Back to basics. A J-strap and at least fifty extra free throws a day after practice until you do it automatically without the strap on in a few weeks. I can grab you one.”

“Okay! What else?”

I looked at the time on my phone—it was almost seven-thirty. We’d walked around the corner to a coffee shop after the game so Hunter could give Izzy his thoughts. But the game ran late, going into overtime, and Hunter had to excuse himself for a business call that took close to a half hour as soon as we arrived. Now, I only had a half hour before my date, and it would take me that long to get Izzy home and get back to where I was supposed to meet Marcus.

Hunter caught me watching the clock and smirked. I wouldn’t put it past him to have sat outside for a half hour without really having anyone to speak to.

“Excuse me for a minute. I need to make a call of my own,” I said.

I stepped outside and pushed Marcus to eight-thirty with an apology. It would cut the date short, because I didn’t like to leave Izzy alone at night for long and always liked to be heading home by ten. I could have postponed, but I refused to give Hunter that satisfaction.

When I returned to the table, Hunter stood. “Are we keeping you from your date?”

I flashed him a sugary smile. “No, I pushed it back a half hour.”

Hunter and Izzy went back to basketball talk as I sat.

“When you’re shooting from long range—three-pointer distance—you should drop your elbow to get more power behind your shot.”

“I thought I was.”

“Not enough. You’re also leaning forward. Here, let me show you.” He stood and held out his hand. “Natalia?”

I reluctantly put my hand in his. He helped me slip out of the booth and turned me around so my back was facing him. Gripping my hip in one hand, he used the other to control my arm. I was essentially his puppet.

“You’re releasing here.” He stopped my hand above my head.

Without realizing it, I had leaned forward, following my extended hand. Hunter ran his fingers down my side outlining the arch my torso had formed. Chills broke out all over.

“See how she’s naturally bending here? Now watch her stance when she releases earlier.”

He again controlled my arms to mimic throwing a ball, but stopped my hand a little lower for a simulated release. Again, he ran his hand down my side. Only this time, he went slower. Izzy was so enthralled with the knowledge and advice he was sharing, she didn’t seem to see anything other than shot counseling going on. But, God, I felt it.

“See? No arch,” he said as his hand reached my hip. “When’s your next game?” he asked as we sat back down.

“Thursday night.”

“Sorry, I won’t be able to make that one. How about after that?”

“We have a game Saturday morning. But it’s an away game in Westchester.”

“Work on what we talked about. I’ll be at that one.”

Izzy’s face lit up. “Okay.”

By the time we paid the check, which Coach Delucia refused to let me do, I was already going to be late (again) for my date.

Izzy began texting away on her phone the minute we walked out onto the street.

I turned to Hunter. “I guess I’ll see you Saturday then?”

“I’ll pick you up. We can drive together.”

I said yes only because I didn’t like to drive over bridges. Sure you did.

“Izzy, say goodnight and thank Hunter.”

She looked up from her texting for two seconds and gave him a genuine smile. “Thank you and goodnight, Hunter.”

“You’re welcome.”

Izzy immediately returned her attention to her cell.

“Goodnight, Natalia.”

I’d given up on correcting him and telling him I preferred to be called Nat. But why did the way he said my name have to sound so damn decadent?

I cleared my throat. “Goodnight, Hunter.”

He gripped my hip and leaned in to kiss me on the cheek. His head lingered close to my ear. “Don’t sleep with your date to try to get me out of your head. It won’t work anyway.”





Chapter 13


Natalia




“I’m sorry. What did you say?” God, I wanted to punch Hunter. This was completely his fault.

Marcus furrowed his brow. It was just the two of us at a quiet table in the back of a nice restaurant, an expensive restaurant at that. Yet I still wasn’t able to maintain my focus.

“I asked if you wanted to go to an art gallery opening on Sunday afternoon.”

“Oh. Sorry. It was a long day at work today, and I have a patient on my mind,” I lied. “Umm…sure. That sounds nice.”