Page 54 of Play for Keeps

She cleared her throat so officiously he had to smile.

“Sweaty. Beads of perspiration dotted his brow. Occasionally, one made a fast break, the tiny droplet of exertion coursing down his temple, over the rise of his cheekbone, then sliding along the sharp angle of his chiseled jaw.”

“Sure, always the guys with the chiseled jawlines,” he murmured.

“You’re no slouch in the sculpted department, so stop moaning,” she said derisively.

Thrilled by the zing of her sharp wit, he sat up straighter, if for no other reason than to prove he was no slouch in any department. “Ma’am. Yes, ma’am.”

“God, I love the way that sounds.” He laughed, but she picked up right where he’d interrupted. “Celeste wanted to lick him. Taste the salty tang of his skin, feel his heat against her tongue. But he was in the zone, and there was nothing more mesmerizing than watching Beck take down his faceless foes. The flex of his calf muscles as he pivoted was a thing of beauty. Stepping onto the asphalt court, Celeste beamed an incendiary glare at the long, baggy shorts he wore. She used to mock the pictures of those hoopsters from days gone by in their snug, tight shorts. Now, she yearned to see him in a pair.”

“Never gonna happen,” he muttered.

“Hush.” The command was crisp, but he heard the smile in her voice.

“Sorry. Hushing.”

“Celeste never considered herself a gambling woman, but she’d bet his quads were a thing of beauty. And to run her hands up those taut hamstrings as she took him deep—‘You playing?’ At first, she didn’t realize that Beck was talking to her. He didn’t look at her. Nor did he miss a step in his charge to the basket. The chink of the metal link net made her nipples tighten to hard, aching buds. The ball fell into Beck’s outstretched hands as soft and silent as a leaf drifting to the ground. His chest heaved as he shifted his weight onto his right foot. He tucked the ball snug against his side and squared up to face her head-on.”

Millie paused to catch her breath, but Ty didn’t dare interrupt. She’d said one of the magic words—nipples—and now she, Celeste, and Beck of the chiseled jaw officially had his undivided attention.

“Emboldened by the challenge in his stance, Celeste stepped out of the shadows and into the pool of orange-gold glow shed by the playground’s lone security light. Adding a sway to her step as she approached, she smiled. ‘A little late to be playing ball all by yourself.’

“He raised an eyebrow, rolled the ball out from under his arm, and held it aloft on the very tips of his fingers. ‘I was hoping someone would come out for a pickup game.’

“‘Aren’t you lucky I came along?’ When she was within striking distance, she nudged the ball from its perch. He didn’t stop her.

“‘What do you want, Ce?’

“Unintimidated by his gruff question, she stepped up, stopping only when they stood toe-to-toe. ‘Same thing I’ve always wanted, B. You.’”

“Christ, I want you,” Ty said, his voice much rougher and deeper than Millie’s imitation of a man teetering on the edge.

“Do you want to hear this story or not?”

“Tell me your story,” he countered. “Tell me what you’d want to do if you were Celeste.”

His voice cracked at the last, but he was beyond caring. His jeans were too tight. The shirt felt like a goddamn straitjacket. He’d go full-on Bruce Banner if he didn’t get out of them soon.

He popped the button on his pants for comfort’s sake, then set to work on getting out of the shirt. His breathing was ragged, big gusts of air blown directly into the phone as he yanked the tails of the shirt from his waistband. He made short work of the last buttons. The phone dropped into his lap as he yanked his arms from the sleeves, oblivious to the fancy cuff links he’d chosen to impress her. A growl of frustration rose from his throat when his arms got stuck. Fumbling through the bunched fabric for the fasteners, he spoke loudly enough to carry through the speaker.

“Does he have a shirt on? Or is good old Beck playing skins against himself?” One hand free, he grabbed the phone and tucked it back under his ear before setting to work on the other. “Because I’m almost out of my shirt, and soon I’ll be down to my skin too. Tell me what you’d do, Millie.”

“I’d have to touch you,” she said, her voice quiet and almost quivery. “Your chest. Damp and slick. Celeste has the right idea. I want to lick you like a lollipop every time I see you running around on the court.”

“Do you?”

“God yes.”

“And if we were all alone on a dark playground court? What do you think’s gonna happen, Mil? Is she going to take him home? Is he going to fuck her on the playground?”

“Oh yes.”

She moaned the words. But she couldn’t give in so easily. If she wanted to hold him off, then he’d play along. For now. As long as she told him the whole story. Her way.

“What happens? What do they do?” he prompted.

She drew a shaky breath, then exhaled in a rush. “Do? What else can she do? She’s gonna push him up against the fence.”

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