Long Shot (Hoops 1)

“So how’ve you been?” she asks.

I sit back, raising the recliner again, and grin. “How much time ya got?”

She glances down at the blanketed bundle. “She’ll be in a milk coma for a little while, so probably plenty of time to hear about all your rookie adventures.”

“It’s been a wild ride,” I say, hastily trying to fix the bad impression I probably gave. “I mean … I don’t mean wild like chicks or whatever. Not like that.”

One knowing eyebrow elevates.

“Okay.” I chuckle self-consciously. “Maybe a little like that.”

She rolls her eyes and twists her lips.

“Alright. You got me.” I allow myself a wolfish grin. “A lot like that.”

“It’s to be expected.” She shifts a little, tipping her head back against the cushion of the leather couch. “You’re rich, talented, handsome. Single. I wouldn’t believe you if you told me any different.”

“So you think I’m handsome?” I tease her.

She looks away and to the side, shaking her head and laughing softly under her breath. “Like you don’t know.” She pats the little bottom under the blanket. “I’m sure you had no trouble finding … companionship … before your fat contract. And I’m sure you have to fight ’em off now.”

My smile freezes on my lips. We can laugh a little here in this barely lit room. I have a few minutes with her in a year, but she’s going home with Caleb. She’ll be in his bed tonight. Even now, she’s feeding his child.

My good humor circles a drain until it’s gone, and all that’s left is my futile resentment.

“I’m certainly not fighting ‘em off,” I say pointedly, linking my fingers over my stomach.

She stiffens for an almost-imperceptible second, before resuming her smile and meeting my eyes directly. “I’d be surprised if you weren’t taking advantage of every perk the NBA has to offer.”

“Yeah, well, when you can’t have what you really want,” I say, locking our eyes together, willing her not to look away, “you settle for whatever’s available.”

She laughs, but it rings false before she glances away and adjusts the blanket around the baby. “A man like you should never have to settle, August.”

“Same goes for a woman like you, Iris.” I plow through my hesitation to ask her the question I hope she would ask me if she saw me compromising my ambitions. “Are you settling?”

She swallows, the muscles moving in her slender throat, and takes a deep breath before looking back to me. “I’m not settling. I’m doing the best I can with the hand I’ve been dealt.”

I don’t know everything that has transpired in the year since I last saw her, but it doesn’t matter. She got pregnant. I know she has to be responsible, but putting all of her eggs in Caleb’s basket is a mistake. It’s one I can’t allow her to make, at least without warning her again. We’ve only met twice, but she feels like my friend. A friend I’d probably enjoy kissing and fucking, but a friend nonetheless.

I get up and walk swiftly over to the couch, squatting and looking up at her. If you didn’t look closely, you’d assume she was as serene as any mother nursing and nurturing. But she’s not any mother. And when I look into the turbulence of her eyes, she’s certainly not serene.

“Iris, don’t lose sight of what you want.” I risk touching her, gripping the hand in her lap. “You got pregnant, but that’s not the end of your dreams. You’re too young and talented and amazing to abandon your ambitions running after Caleb while he pursues his.”

“I’m not running after him,” she says stiffly, snatching her hand away. “You don’t know the choices I had, the hard calls I had to make.”

“I’m sure you did what you had to do because that’s the kind of woman you are.” I recapture her eyes but don’t try to recapture her hand. “But you’re only proving my point. You did exactly what you had to for this baby. Now do what you have to do for yourself.”

She looks at me, her emotions naked and spread across her face, watering her eyes. Her lips part, but whatever she plans to say gets cut off when the little bundle on her chest squirms, shifting, and the blanket falls away.

And holy Shit. I’m looking at Iris’s breast.

The nipple is piqued and the color of fresh plums against the dark gold of her skin. A milky drop clings to the tip. I can’t swallow or breathe, but my mouth automatically opens, my body demanding I suck. I should look away. I’m probably creeping hard, but I can’t help it. My fingers fold into my palms, aching to trace the blue–green network of veins just under her skin.

When I finally look up, Iris is as paralyzed as I am, watching me watching her. Her mouth falls open, her breath coming hard, heaving her breasts, one covered and one exposed to my greedy eyes. The air thickens with all the urges I’ve been suppressing and drowning in meaningless sex with other women. This is the woman I want. Crazy as it may be, this is the one I want. I couldn’t move from this spot if the place were on fire.

“You are so fucking beautiful.” My voice is hoarse and urgent. “We barely know each other. I get it, but I can’t stop thinking about you, Iris.”

My words snap the thread tying us together, and she hastily, belatedly jerks up the bra, fastening a flap and pulling her blouse together.