“That was incredible,” she murmurs, her bright eyes so stunningly blue I could drown in them.
She’s not for me.
But with each smile, I believe it less.
I take a moment to soak her in and revel in our victory before turning away.
See?I can keep it together.Don’t need to grope her or kiss her or imagine what it would be like to hear her whisper, “That was incredible,” when I’m done fucking her senseless.
“Nova, you’re almost as good at basketball as you are at drawing,” Brooke comments.
The flush that crawls up her cheeks is from more than exertion.
My curiosity is piqued.“Drawing?What do you draw?”
“All kinds of things.”
Interesting.
“I’ll take a shot from anywhere in this half of the court.With my eyes closed.I make this shot, you show me everything,” I say.
Her face screws up.“From anywhere?”
I nod.
She positions me just shy of half court.
I size up the basket, then square my feet.
Everyone’s watching.
I shut my eyes and take a breath before sending the ball up.
I don’t need the hollers that erupt to know it went in.
12
NOVA
When I get back from the stadium, I park in the massive driveway before heading inside.
I told Clay I didn’t have my sketchbook on me and I’d show him another time.
The way he dragged my body against his, surrounding me with his heat, his length.Every nerve in my body was throbbing.
Not to mention how he made that basket with his eyes closed.
For an instant, I wasn't the girl who doesn’t matter lusting after the hot superstar.
I enjoy being around him, but only if I can stay on even ground.I won’t let myself be drawn in, be weak and gullible.
But the second Clay sees the drawing of him, he’ll know how fascinated I am by him.
It’s nearly dinnertime, and my stomach growls.The lights are on in the kitchen, and I head in there.The chef is probably nearly done.
But it’s Mari who lifts her head from the oven.
We’ve barely spoken two words since the day of the dress fitting.She’s been busy with work before taking time off for the wedding, but it’s still been cold.
