Hook Shot (Hoops 3)

“Yes, please, let’s try that.”

“If I’m honest,” he repeats, both brows raised meaningfully. “It makes me crazy t

hat Chase had something with you that I haven’t yet. He knows you in ways I don’t.”

“You mean because we fucked?” I cross my arms over my chest. “In this little game where you and Chase keep score, it bothers you that you’re behind? We can fuck right now and your problem will be solved, right? You’ll be even? You want to fuck me, Kenan?”

“Of course I do, but not just that.” His frown softens. His voice softens. “You know not just that, Lotus.”

I push off the door and walk over until I’m standing in front of him. “Then what is this about?” I ask, my voice softening, too. “Chase and I had sex, yeah, but I thought you wanted more.”

“I do.” He cups my hips with huge hands, and pulls me to stand between his legs. “You know I do.”

“Then don’t ruin it,” I whisper. I press closer, and, with him sitting and me in my stilettos, I can more easily link my arms behind his neck. “Don’t let him ruin it.”

His hands shift from my hips to rubbing my back through the silk.

“I haven’t been jealous of him before,” he says. “I mean, I didn’t like that you’d been with him, but you’re a grown woman with a normal sex life, so I get it.”

“Things haven’t been exactly typical for me in the sex department lately.” I laugh dryly, “but go on.”

“The photo is so gorgeous, and he wouldn’t sell it to me.” He tucks my unruly hair back, tracking the shell of my ear like he does often. “You’re fantastic in it, so uninhibited. It’s decadent, and you look like you’re . . .”

“Like I’m what?”

“Coming.”

The word caresses my lips. “I realized he’s seen your face, how you look when you come, and I haven’t. He knows things about your body that I don’t. For instance, I have no idea what the ink is at the top of your thighs. I’ve seen flashes of it, but I don’t know. He does. I guess what I’m saying is he knows you intimately.”

“No, he knows me sexually. I draw a line between those two things, and no one has ever crossed it.”

I lift a little higher to kiss his jaw.

“But you could,” I whisper. “I think you could cross that line, Kenan, and it has scared me since the moment I met you.”

I draw back a few inches to peer into his face. “That, what I just told you, is intimacy. It’s truth that I’m trusting you with. Chase never had that.”

He nods and slides his fingers into my hair, angling my head closer and taking my bottom lip between his. His hand slides down my back, drawing me even closer until our chests touch, and I’m on fire from the brush of our bodies together. As much as I told him he had no right, his possessiveness turns me on, and I’m deepening the kiss, desperate for as much of him as I can have.

“I missed you,” he confesses into the kiss.

The words fist my heart, squeeze. I nod my agreement, needing to be close. Wanting more intimacy. Craving more trust between us. I hop up onto the table beside him. Curiosity is clear in his eyes. It turns to lust when I slowly work the silk dress up my thighs.

“Chantilly lace,” I say, tracing the intricate pattern of the tattoos ringing the tops of my thighs. “There were these stockings in a little shop in Paris. At the top was the most exquisite lace I’d ever seen. No way I could afford it, so I took a picture and had it inked here.”

I study the scrolls mimicking the lace pattern. The bands aren’t very wide. “I kept them really high in case I ended up hating them so no one would be able to see.”

“They’re beautiful.” He traces the intricate pattern with one finger. His knuckle brushes against my panties, and I lose my breath. He glances up at me sharply. “I’m sorry.” He clears his throat. “I should probably go.”

I grab his finger, staring at the contrast of the ink against my skin. “Do you want to see?” I ask, my voice raspy, husky, low.

“See what?” he asks, a perplexed frown pinching between his brows.

Am I really taking this step? Stepping off a building and believing I can fly? Do I have faith in the man I’m getting to know and care about? Can I trust him? Can I trust what’s happening between us?

Real faith requires bravery.

Provoked by my own words, I step off.