Page 48 of 40-Love
“Wow.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Oh, wow.”
He didn’t lift his racket, even when she waved hers back and forth.
Maybe another snap of the fingers in front of her chest would do the job. “Hit the ball, Lucas.”
His expression still dazed, he did. Her return arced over the net, and she watched it land in the far corner.
He ran for the ball. “Nice shot.”
“Thanks. I have a great teacher.” She experimented with a bit more force, and the racket responded, sending the ball within inches of the baseline.
“You should know that this is the best time I’ve ever had on a tennis court, bar none.” He was hustling, but she could still hear the smile in his voice.
“Bullshit. You won a Grand Slam.”
“Yes. But Alvillar’s cleavage was much less impressive than yours.”
His return shot wasn’t as controlled as usual. Its trajectory meant she’d need to run a few feet to get it. So she did, even though her knee twinged and the jiggling of her breasts wasn’t entirely comfortable.
Then there was the ball, bouncing only a foot away, within perfect reach of her racket.
What the hell? Why not see what she could do if she bludgeoned the thing full-force?
She hit through it, just as he’d told her, using her shoulders and every ounce of her strength. The ball slammed against the sweet spot of the strings with a satisfying littlepingand whipped across the net.
Where, she saw an instant too late, Lucas was standing frozen.
The jiggle. Oh, Jesus, her boobs had immobilized him yet again.
And before she could finish shouting his name, before he could tear his stare from her admittedly ginormous rack, the ball whacked him directly in the face.
Fourteen
Lucas collapsedto his knees on the concrete, clutching his nose.
Fuck, that hurt. Although he supposed it served him right for ogling Tess’s astounding cleavage—again—when he should have been paying attention to the rally.
Rapid footsteps echoed through the court, and she appeared by his side. “Oh, shit, Lucas. Are you all right? Can you move your hands so I can see your nose?”
“Uh…” Jesus, his face was throbbing. “I’m not sure.”
She was kneeling beside him, her arm around his shoulders to offer support, and he could feel her trembling as she nudged the fingers covering his nose. He moved them a fraction and peered down at them to check for blood.
None. And when he scrunched his nose, it didn’t feel broken, just sore. It appeared Acute Breast Paralysis had bruised him, but not severely injured him. Not yet, anyway.
Her voice was hushed as she repeated her question. “Are you all right?”
He really shouldn’t tease her. But how could he resist?
“My face!” he howled, anguish in every syllable. “Oh, God, my beautiful face!”
Her patting hand on his shoulder stilled. “Are you fucking with me?”
“How can you ask me that?” He lowered his hands to his sides so she could get a good look at his total lack of serious injury. “How can you question the severity of my wound, when my distinguished nose and razor-sharp cheekbones have been desecrated, my stunning good looks ruined forever?”
She pursed her lips and gave a little nod. “You’re fucking with me.”
“I’m hurt you would say that.” He blinked at her soulfully. “You should take pity on a poor man whose handsome visage has been ravaged by your errant ball.”
