Page 107 of Snap Shot

Wade raises his eyebrows and looks over to Landon and me, who stand awkwardly outside the three-point line while watching their aggressive exchange. “Do we ever lose at ball, Landy?”

“Nope.” He pops the ‘p’.

Cocky bastard.I beg Gabe with my eyes not to step up to the challenge.

“You're going down,” she says through a dry laugh, beckoning for the ball between my hands, but keeps a hard stare on her opponent. “Two-on-two. First to eleven. Nothing dirty.” Her head whips to me. “You cover Radek. I'll whip Pretty Boy here into shape.”

“You think I'm pretty?” Wade pulls out a beaming smile at the compliment.

Gabe rolls her eyes and slams the basketball into his chest. “Back up.”

“But—”

No one listens to me. Wade and Gabe are already fighting for the ball. Landon stands behind me and tugs the back of my loose grey shirt.

“You look beautiful,” he whispers.

I'm too pissed off to deal with the butterflies flying from my stomach to my chest right now. “Shut up,” I say through gnashed teeth. “As if winking at me at Avec wasn't enough. You wanna get caught?” One step halves the short distance between us.

“They're busy.”

“Yoooo, Landy! Help me out here!” Wade somehow stole possession and tries to pass. Gabe isn't having it, but he's still trying.

“Not that busy.”

“Quit chatting and cover him!” Gabe yells.

“You heard the boss lady.”

I lower at the waist to push Landon back and extend my arms overhead, waving my hands around like a manic monkey. Between my anxiety of being caught and flailing like a starfish in heat—do starfishes go through heat?—sweat covers me, sticking the cotton shirt to the skin beneath it.

“This isn't at all how I imagined your arms above your head.” His voice against the curve of my ear draws a shiver up my spine, making my hips buck. “And stop pushing your ass against my crotch. You're making me hard.”

“It's called defense, Radek.” I bump him away again, inadvertently making contact with the big guy below. My insides clench.

“Not the way you're doing it.”

Gabe smacks the ball out of Wade's hands, regains control of it, and makes two points. “Take that!”

I run three steps to high-five her and before we can get too self-assured, Landon and Wade run circles around us. In an extra-exuberant, macho display, Wade dunks the ball with one hand.

“I'm M.J., baby!” Wade puffs out his torso with a grunt and flexes his arms before the boys bump chests.

Gabe answers with a flawless lay-up. We slap our hands together in a double-high five. Though I have nothing to be proud of. I've contributed almost nothing to this game. Other than frustrating the daylights out of myself. The back and forth continues until we're ahead by two points.

My friend-with-extra-benefits passes the ball overhead to his teammate. Gabe's defense is good enough for both of us and drives Wade back away from the net. I spin around so that my back is to Landon's front once more.

His hands palm my ass cheeks and squeeze. “I told you not to rub that perfect ass on my dick.”

“I'm playing defense!” I whisper-scream through gnashed teeth.

“No, you're making mepost up.”

“That'ssonot the correct term.”

“Believe me, baby. Itis.”

My knees wobble and I step away to stabilize.

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