Page 31 of Beneath the Stands (Sugarlake 2)

“Sounds good.”

I park next to her when we get there, watching as she hops out of her car and prances over to my driver side window, miming for me to roll it down.

“Lotta people here,” I say.

She nods, her eyes scanning the groups filling the patio tables. “Yep. Lotta students, too. I recognize some of ‘em from my classes.”

I palm the back of my neck. This wasn’t the best idea. She’s probably right, I shouldn’t be seen with her. Especially since I’ve already bent her over a sink and fucked her until she couldn’t speak. If whispers started, there wouldn’t be a way to keep my guilt under wraps. I’ve always had a shit poker face.

She leans into the window of my car, her arms resting along the frame, fingers dangling inside the door. From this angle, I’m level with her chest and I can’t help where my eyes go. Her tits are just right there.

I swallow hard, visions of those same tits in my hands as I impale her from behind filling my mind. My mouth runs dry and I shift in my seat.

“Eyes up here, friend.”

My gaze snaps to Becca’s face.

Her eyes glint. “Maybe we should get the burritos to go? I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to be eatin’ together at places crawlin’ with students.”

“Sure.”

“Okay.” She smiles. “I’ll go in and grab the food. But I get to pick, and you’ll just have to suffer through whatever I choose for you. I’ll follow you back to your place?”

She sashays away before I can protest and my gut jolts at the thought of her being in my house. Alone. With me. This is a terrible idea. My mind knows it and repeats it to the rest of my body on a loop, but it doesn’t stop the thrill of anticipation at the thought of having her all to myself.

She comes out with a bag of food and I start my car, reversing out of the lot and driving home, my nerves making my stomach jostle, my foot jerky on the gas pedal. I glance in the rearview mirror as I turn on my street, making sure she’s following me.

Once I’m in my driveway, I blow out a breath, my knuckles tightening around the steering wheel as I give myself a pep talk. You can do this, Eli. There’s nothing wrong with being friends.

I step out of my car and lean against the side, watching as Becca stares at my house with wide eyes.

“Whew, buddy.” She whistles. “This is quite the place you got here. I didn’t realize assistant coaches had such a nice salary.”

I shrug. “NBA pays well.”

Her eyes squint. “You didn’t play in it very long.”

“Doesn’t matter. Contract was guaranteed, regardless of injury.” I wave my arm toward the door. “Let’s go inside before the food gets cold.”

I’m not uncomfortable with the amount of money I have. I was paid out my forty-four million dollar contract from New York. I’m set for life. Which is just one of the reasons why I wish Lee wouldn’t fight me so damn hard when I send them money every month.

Becca makes it sound like she’s been struggling. Lee even makes it sound like they’ve been struggling, so I don’t know why she’s being so hardheaded. I can help. I want to help. I wish she’d understand that. But I guess that would involve her looking outside the bubble where only her issues matter.

Becca and I eat our burritos on the living room floor, our backs against the couch.

“I know you’ve been dyin’ to ask me. So go for it.” Becca pats her mouth with a napkin.

“Ask you what?”

She squints her eyes. “Don’t you wanna know what I thought about your supreme coachin’ skills? Stroke that ego of yours a bit, and make your head swell ten times its normal size?”

My cock jerks, stiffening instantly at her words. That mouth of hers makes words sound so damn filthy.

“If you insist.” I smirk.

She rolls her eyes, reaching over and pushing me playfully. “And your sister calls me crass. Come on, Eli. You bleed basketball, it’s the only thing runnin’ through those veins. Don’t need me to say how obvious it is to everyone around you.”

The smile drops off my face, self-doubt wringing my insides tight. I used to think that, but now… how can I be sure?

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