Page 41 of Beneath the Stands (Sugarlake 2)

Eli comes next to me, hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels while he gazes at the tree. “Do you like it?”

My lips twitch. “Little plain.”

He smirks, lacing our fingers and pulling me behind him until I can smell the pine. I scan the area, surveying the boxes and bags stacked neatly in the corner of the room, right in front of the fireplace. Stepping closer, I peer into them. Lights, ornaments, candy canes, stockings. It’s all here. Everything to make a perfect Christmas. I spin around, my gaze searching for Eli’s. He did all this for me?

“I thought we could decorate it together.”

I blink back the sting in my eyes. Walking over, I grasp his neck, pulling his lips down to meet mine.

One of the chains around my heart snaps and breaks.

I don’t bother trying to catch it as it falls.

22

Eli

It’s conference tournament time. Which means March Madness is right around the corner and the regular season is almost over. I had forgotten how quickly time goes when you’re submerged in everything basketball. I’m finally starting to feel like I’m slotting a place in the hearts and the minds of these players. These halls. This court.

Rebecca.

She hates it when I call her that, so I do it as often as I can. I love drawing that little bit of extra attitude, so I can fuck it out of her when she sneaks to my house at night. It’s been five months since we gave in to the energy pulling us together, and even though we’re “keeping things casual” it feels anything but.

In two months, everything changes. She graduates. There won’t be a need for us to lurk in darkened locker rooms and hide behind closed doors. No reason for more pieces of my heart to chip every time she ditches our plans to hang with her friends. No more feeling like an absolute piece of shit when my baby sister calls and Becca answers, her eyes dimming while she avoids mentioning my name.

I want everything with her. The laughter and tears, the yelling and the make-up sex. I want to go to bed with her every night, and wake up tangled in fiery curls each morning. I want her cheering at my games, and telling me how proud she is with each win. I just have to make sure that’s something she wants too.

I think she does.

She stirs in bed next to me, throwing an arm and a leg over my body. I’ve never been a “girlfriend” kind of guy before. No need when basketball was my job, my wife, and my mistress all wrapped up in one. But lying here with Becca wrapped in my arms, I can’t help thinking I would have picked her over everything, even back then.

I grasp her hand, lightly tracing her fingers with mine, wondering what Ma would think of us being together if she were still around. The last conversation we had was her wishing for me to find a nice girl and settle down. Come home. My stomach churns as the phone call plays in my head, and my arms squeeze Becca on reflex.

She wakes, blinking at me. I brush the hair out of her face, letting my fingers trail down her cheek. The softness in her eyes dulls the ache of Ma’s memory.

“Hi.” She smiles.

“Morning, baby girl.” I peck her lips. She kisses me back but breaks it off quick, grabbing the sheet and bringing it to cover the lower half of her face.

“Eli, you know mornin’ breath is a hard limit for me. Why do you insist on startin’ the day off this way?”

I grin. “Are you insinuating that I smell?”

“You stink and you know it.” Her eyes crinkle.

“Take it back.”

“I can’t. That would make me a liar.”

She tries to scoot back, but my arm shoots out, wrapping around her waist and anchoring her to me.

“Take. It. Back.”

She stares into my eyes and slowly lowers the sheet. “No,” she whispers.

I sigh. “Then you leave me no choice.”

My arm tightens on her waist, my other hand rising to her side, fingers digging in deep as I attack. One of the things I’ve learned while discovering every inch of Becca’s body is she’s extremely ticklish.

---