Page 8 of Forbidden Dunk

“Sure.” She stepped aside and I walked past her, admiring the interior design just as much as the outside. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m better.”

“Really? Because I overheard your dad saying that you were sick again this morning.”

“Yeah. Have a seat, Shawn. Do you want anything?”

“A water, please.” I took a spot on the couch, pushing my long legs out, and waited for her. It was a surprise to find the house as homey as it was, given that Marketa hadn’t been living with her dad. So, either her dad had this place decorated, or he had a great eye.

“My dad.” I jumped at the noise behind me, causing her to laugh. She waved her hand around, encompassing the room. “My dad did it, designed it, I mean. He loves to do things like this, but don’t you dare tell him I said that. It’s his secret hobby. If he wasn’t coaching, he’s designing. Not too bad at it, actually.”

She sat down on the couch next to me and handed me the water.

“It’s very comfortable.”

“When I got my first job with the WNBA and had to move to a whole new place, he came to my little house and set it up for me as a surprise. I loved it. I hated leaving it.”

I watched as she frowned. That was not a look I liked. And I vowed to never have her frown again if I could help it. Which was a pretty big promise to keep when I knew nothing about this woman.

“I thought you were a player.”

A smile brightened her face, and I breathed a little easier.

“What gave it away?”

“The height, actually. You’re tall for a woman and it would be wasted on any other job than basketball.”

“Is that where the cute pet name comes from?”

I leaned closer to her, giving her the best bedroom eyes I could.

“Every woman I’ve been with has been over a foot and a half shorter than me. Do you know what it was like to fuck you when you’re just a few inches shorter? To have your legs wrapped around me and I’m not straining, and neither are you?”

“I do. Because I can’t date anyone shorter than me, let alone fuck anyone like that. But I’ve never been with someone as tall as you.”

I took her hand, rubbing my thumb over the back of it.

“I want another night, Shorty.”

“My dad said no.”

“I’m not talking about your dad,” I told her, poking her side and making her squeal. “You’ve plagued my dreams, Marketa.”

“You’ve plagued mine too.” She opened her mouth to say something else and then jumped off the couch, running to the downstairs bathroom. I waited a beat or two before I followed, rubbing her back as she knelt before the toilet.

What the fuck was going on?

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, wiping her mouth with some toilet paper. She slowly stood and cleaned herself up.

“This isn’t a stomach bug, is it?”

“No,” she whispered. “I need to tell you something.”

A ball landed in my stomach at those words. Was she about to tell me she had some STD and I was going to have to get tested? I mean, it wasn’t like I had slept with anyone since her. Come to think of it, I had no urge to sleep with anyone but her.

“Am I going to be pissed?”

“You might be.” She crossed her arms over her stomach and leaned back against the bathroom counter, her eyes on me. “I’m pregnant, Shawn. And I haven’t been with anyone but you.”

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