Page 12 of Shot Taker

My hands fist under the table.

Because it wasn’t brutal enough already that she’s under the same roof as me during the day, now I know she’s there at night too.

Chloe opens the gift and raises her brows as she takes in the small purple object about the size of her palm. “It’s a vibrator.“

“The best vibrator,” Brooke explains as though she hands out sex toys every day of the week. “Different speeds, vibration patterns—pretty cool stuff. It even has an app so you can control it remotely—which makes long distance relationships a lot easier.”

Miles frowns. “But it’s not—”

“A cock? The best things aren’t.”

“Is that true?” Miles asks Nova with a grin.

Nova laughs. “Women are better at getting themselves off than guys are at getting them off.”

I take a sip of my drink like I’m not remembering how she looked touching herself in the bunkbeds at Kodiak Camp, her skin shining with lake water and sweat.

Brooke nods. “Toys can be a great way to explore different sensations and figure out what works for you. You can find lots of ways to use it with a partner or even solo!”

“When’s your birthday, Nova?” Miles asks.

“In the spring.”

“You want a vibrator or a watch or a book? I’m taking notes.” He grins.

“If I wanted a vibrator, I’d go out and get one. Spring’s a long time to go without satisfaction.”

The group erupts. Jay cracks up, and Brooke claps her hands in delight.

What the fuck?

Nova’s holding court in the middle of the team—myteam—like it’s hers and I don’t even exist.

Miles leans in. “If I can help in that department…”

She smiles into her drink. “I have your number.”

I’ve always thought the league needed more quality shooting guards.

Shame we’re going to be down one when Miles meets his demise in about five goddamn seconds.

I have zero problem with a woman taking things into her own hands. It’s healthy and sexy, and watching Nova do just that gave me enough material to last until all-star break.

But if those hands are anyone else’s...

“I mean it. You want to experiment, I’m your guy,” Miles goes on, oblivious.

My brain is a second from imploding, and I swear I hear the clock ticking down.

“You’re not her type,” Mari says to Miles. “Nova likes good boys.”

I cough.

“My sister’s right,” Nova says, her gaze flicking to me as she shifts in her seat. “I like men who are emotionally available. And who have space next to their overinflated egos.”

Hollers go up.

Bullshit.

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