Page 82 of Game Changer

Miles cuts toward the edge of the court and calls out. Clay’s head snaps up, and he fires a pass to his teammate, who takes a three that’s all net.

Jayden celebrates, high-fiving Clay, who looks as if he’s up in his head about something.The knee?

Even still, I’m sitting up in the corporate box, high enough that none of the players will notice me. It’s not that Clay wouldn’t be okay with me showing up, but I’m not here to see him. Not entirely.

I watch, and I draw.

“Don’t tell me you’re changing horses mid-race.” Brooke drops onto the seat next to me and makes me jump.

“How are you so quiet in heels?”

“Practice.” She tosses her braids over a shoulder, then takes in the drawing I’m working on. “You hitting on my brother?”

“No.” I flip the page to the previous one. “I have all the guys. Miles, too.”

Her eyes narrow. She tugs the sketchbook into her lap, her lavender nails brushing the edges of the page. “Damn. You should put your work in galleries. I’m not just saying that. I don’t bullshit. If they were ass, I’d tell you.”

I laugh. “Thanks?”

I like having someone in my life who says what she means. Brooke is together and confident like my sister, but we don’t have the same drama from years of rubbing against one another.

Brooke holds up the sketch of Miles mid-shot. “His mouth is wrong. It goes up right there when he’s shooting a three.”

I look between her and the guys, but his back is turned as they prep another play.

“How’d you know it’s a three?”

“The legs. The concentration on his face. He always gets that dialed-in Jason Bourne look when he’s trolling the arc.”

“See something you like?”

Miles has caught us staring, and all the guys look up. Clay swipes his face with a towel, then his gaze meets mine. His chin lifts in a nod.

A secret nod.

A high-school hot guy nod.

A guy who made you come in a bunk bed and held you while you watchedThe Princess Bridenod.

I try to play it cool and pretend I’m not lit up by the fact that Clayton Wade, the sexiest man I’ve ever seen, the best player on an entire team of professional athletes, is staring at me as if I’m the only thing worth seeing.

I can’t look away.

Just when I think I can contain the feelings, can keep myself from catching on fire…

Clay strips off his jersey.

Heat stokes between my thighs like a secret sin.

I know how those muscles feel against me. How he sounds, that low growl in my ear.

He knows I’m watching, and he likes it. He takes his time crossing to the side of the court to grab a new shirt.

If he walked up here and said he wanted to fuck me in front of everyone, it would take every ounce of my willpower not to lie down on the floor and let him do it.

Coach blows his whistle. “Back to work!”

They focus again in an instant. It takes me way longer.

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