Page 94 of Shot Taker

I press her against the window until she melts again.

“That first night, I knew you were different,” I murmur as I kiss a path down her throat, taking my time.

“Only because I called you on your bullshit. You didn’t know what to do with me.”

I spin and lift her, her skirt riding up as her legs hook around my hips. I’m used to lifting hundreds of pounds, and she’s nothing by comparison.

Nova grips my shoulders. Her body is sweet and soft, and I’m hard and hungry.

I set her down long enough to yank off her skirt. “I want you in my jersey and nothing else.”

Her pale skin shines in the moonlight, the curve of her breasts and swell of her hips making my throat dry with longing. I can’t see the freckles that dust her shoulders, but I trace them from memory.

I step back to her, my hands skimming up her sides. She sighs against my mouth.

Tonight, I’m going to take my time.

“Get the ice bucket.”

I wait for her to bring it over and open the lid.

Surprise flares in her eyes, coupled with curiosity. “What are you going to do?”

“You’ve been playing a basketball groupie the last few months. Let’s see if you’ve paid attention. Now, lift the jersey as high as it’ll go.”

She uses both hands to hold the shirt up under her arms.

I take the round ice cube, the large kind like you’d use in scotch, and rub it across the hardened tips of her breasts. “It’s all about assembling the right offense to get past the defense.”

When she shivers, her thighs clenching, I do it again.

I’m enthralled by the way her body pulls tight. She doesn’t hide from me, just watches me through lowered lashes.

“You haven’t scored enough this year?” she protests when I move it to the other nipple.

“Not even close.”

Nova’s low moan is muffled by her lip caught between her teeth. The melting ice trails down the curve of her breast in a tiny river.

“Spread your legs.”

She does it without being asked twice.

“Your backcourt handles the ball. Brings it up the court. Takes care of it.” I bend my mouth to skin, licking the underside of her breast.

She hiccups.

I trace the melting ice along the bone of her hip. “Gotta protect it so you get it where you need.”

Across her stomach.

“Get into the paint, where you can make something happen. The other team’s trying to stop you, but you know the secret to being a great shooter?”

Down the inside of her thigh.

“Clay…” Her hips arch toward me.

“Understanding the ball wants to go in the net.” I want to take her, to make her mine every way there is. “Spread yourself for me.”

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