Page 12 of Forbidden Dunk

I tilted my head, checking the sun before pointing to the hill behind her.

“That’s why you needed your shoes. It’s not steep enough for boots, but it would be nice to climb and check out the top.”

She swiveled around so fast to check out the hill behind her and once more I was lost in the smile she had. Had no one ever picked up on the simple things this woman liked to make her happy?

“It shouldn’t be too bad for me. I still need to be careful.”

“What happened? I gathered whatever did, ended your career.”

She helped me put the stuff back in the car and then she grabbed my hand as we made our way up.

“It did. I mean, I wasn’t some big hot shot in the WNBA, but I was making a name for myself. Someone collided with me and when I landed on the court, did damage that was going to be unreliable for me to play. I’m fine, but putting the pressure on it that’s required for jumping, running, pivoting, I can’t. Even when turning, I need to be careful.”

“You loved it?”

I watched as she tilted her head and then shrugged.

“Yes and no. I was good at it. My dad taught me everything I know. And I loved the game. But I didn’t love the pressure of having to be better, having to always outthink the other team, having to be one step ahead because they were out to get you.

“That’s not the sport I loved. The pros changed my view on a lot of things about it. I’m not sure I would go back even if I could. But if given the chance, I would love to coach a team. Or, well, help coach a team. Just not with my dad.”

We stopped at the top of the hill, and I couldn’t help but stare at her. She was breathtaking. It was hard to find a woman who shared my thoughts on a sport that I grew up loving, but she did.

“What?” she asked, glancing at me.

“You’re just so beautiful. Really. There’s not one thing, as of yet, Marketa, that I don’t like.”

She turned to me fully, her hands resting on my hips, and I liked having her there. Liked, again, that size wasn’t an issue. She beamed as she leaned toward me, her lips brushing over mine and I felt the surge of power race down my spine.

“Stay the weekend with me?”

Chapter 8

Marketa

Iwasn’t sure what led me to ask him to stay with me. I mean, I didn’t regret it, but he was still a stranger. Just not as bad as the first night I slept with him and changed my life forever. Not that I was thinking anything like this.

I did want him to come over. I was also in need of a repeat of that night. But I was okay with some serious petting or making out. We just started dating, if you could call it that, and we couldn’t rush right into sex again.

Was it just me, or did that shit just sound totally funny given our quick history?

“So, now that you have me here, what’s the game plan?”

I rolled my eyes at him but couldn’t stop the smile. Shawn was a great guy, not just a roll in the hay type. Oh, I had no doubt that he might not have slept with a lot of ladies, but he did have some. Which led me to question, all over again, why he was single.

Someone, over time, had to have caught his attention. Sure, being a pro b-ball player it was hard to find someone real, but still, it was possible. Many players found it while being on the court, not just before it.

“Chill,” I told him, pointing to where he could put his bag in my room.

Okay, we did have a couple of guest rooms in this big ass house, but I had to admit, there was something I wanted more than just another fucking. I wanted to be held. I wanted to feel his hands on my belly, even if the bump wasn’t there, while we slept.

Was that cheesy? Probably.

Did I care? Not one bit.

That was something I didn’t get in the past and I wanted now. Okay, well, let me rephrase that. I wanted to be held all night. That was something new to me.

Though I couldn’t phantom why the thought of that only seemed to be with him. Nothing else felt right.

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