Hook Shot (Hoops 3)

“Hi, yourself,” she says with a tiny smile. I mold my hand to her waist, my thumb barely brushing the underside of her breast

“Kenan,” she says breathlessly. “I can’t think when you touch me like that.”

I slide my hands into my pockets.

“Look.” I lean forward, hovering over her lips. “No hands.”

With the kiss, our lips are the only point of contact, our mouths linked by a single strand of lust. Our moans meet in the middle and syncopate. Inches separate us. My arms aren’t wrapped around her, but the passion of just our lips and tongues burns away the space between us, and I feel every inch of her.

“Not out here,” she says softly, ruefully, after a few seconds, and pulls back.

She’s right. I already have Bridget hashtag hunting on Instagram. I don’t need some photo to pop up and make things more complicated with Simone before they have to be. I’m dreading talking to Lotus about it, but she needs a heads up about what happened in the counseling session with Bridget. I don’t anticipate drama, but you never know with my ex.

I press my forehead to hers for the briefest of moments, but can’t resist sneaking another quick press of our lips together. I’ve been thinking about this all day. Shit, I’ve been thinking about kissing Lotus again since our last kiss ended.

She returns the press. Our mouths don’t open. Our tongues don’t tangle, but just that simple pressure feels incredible, like there’s something we exchange even through a touch this chaste.

I close the passenger door once she’s in and climb into the driver’s seat.

“My chef delivered dinner to my place,” I tell her, pulling out into the side street bordering the atelier, “I wouldn’t subject you to my cooking.”

She bends her head, biting into the curve of her bottom lip. “Kenan, there’s something I need to tell you.”

I stiffen and my hands tighten on the steering wheel at the sober note in her voice. “That’s never good,” I murmur. Sitting at a light, I turn to study her profile. “What’s up?”

“Bridget came to the studio today.”

“Bridget? As in, my ex-wife?” Shock and fury wrangle inside me. “Came to your job? What the hell?”

“Exactly. We got word that a reality show wanted to come through. That’s not unusual. Producers are always scoping cool se

ttings for the drama the casts get into. Fortunately, my drama with Bridget was just between us. She didn’t bring any cameras to my cubicle.”

A hundred scenarios run through my head, none of them making any sense. With each second, the flame under my anger turns up until I’m boiling mad.

“Green,” Lotus says.

“Huh?” I turn unseeing eyes to her. “What?”

“The light turned green.”

A honk from behind jars me out of my enraged stupor.

“Damn.” I plow forward, struggling not to take my anger out on the car. I want to slam the accelerator and gun the engine, channel all the power I won’t let myself expend on Bridget. “I’m sorry, Lotus. What did she say?”

“She accused me of fucking her husband and offered to teach me how you like your dick sucked.”

A growl rumbles in my throat. “What else?” I ask with a calm I’m far from feeling. “And what did you say?”

Louts opens her mouth, slams it shut, and looks out the window.

“Lotus? What else? I need to know.”

“Okay, damn,” she says grudgingly. “I told her that when I do fuck her ex-husband, she’ll be the last thing on our minds.”

Her words land like a hand on my cock. How could they not? I’m silent, marinating in the thoughts, the images her words evoke.

“Kenan, did you hear what—”