Long Shot (Hoops 1)

He traces a tiny scar on my hip that he probably never noticed before he knew about Caleb. The first time we made love after he found out, he asked about every little scar and nick he’d never thought twice about. But each scar told a story, and he wanted to know them all. He kissed all the places Caleb hurt me, and our lovemaking was my perfect revenge. Every soft, tender thing Caleb tried to deny me, I have with August.

“I wish …” August gulps, swallowing the emotion alive on his face. “I wish I could take it all away.”

I cup his chin and catch his eyes in the dim light. “We don’t get to take away the bad things, but it’s okay.” My smile is a work of triumph—a victory cry. “I survived them.”

I reach between us and wrap my hand around him, relishing his grunt and gasp, his groan of pleasure as I stroke him long and hard, up and down. “Can we make love now?”

August spears his fingers into my hair, resting his forehead against mine, his breath laboring more with every pull. “I love you, Iris. So much.

I nod, lick his neck, and suck at his collarbone, one hand steadily pumping him between us, the other reaching up to skim over his nipple with my fingertips. All his air expels in one extended breath. With a growl, he grabs my ass and pulls my legs over his knees. I lock my ankles at the small of his back while he brushes my hand away between us. I sink onto him and moan. With our chests flush, his answering groan vibrates between my breasts. He pistons inside me relentlessly.

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“August, harder,” I beg, dizzy with pleasure.

With his lip between his teeth, his dark brows furrowed, he goes harder and deeper. He goes so deep he finds the remnants of my pain and soothes them. He goes so hard his love is an undeniable force that takes me by storm. There is room for nothing else. He takes up all the space, consumes my thoughts, and for a moment, remakes our memories so there’s only ever been him for me and only ever been me for him.

It is sublime.

*

“We should have eaten this while it was hot,” I say around a bite of not-quite-warm pizza, followed by a sip of tepid root beer.

“I wanted to eat you while you were hot,” August says, his grin cocky.

My laugh bounces off the kitchen walls. “Such a cornball.” I turn toward him on the high stools at the counter until our knees touch.

“And yet here you are.” He laughs, leaning over to brush our noses together in an Eskimo kiss.

“And yet here I am.” I roll my eyes and reach for the slice of untouched pizza on his plate. “You gonna eat that?”

He shakes his head and offers a wry smile. He only grabbed it to make me feel like I wasn’t eating alone. He’s deep in the season and eats like a Spartan solider.

“Thanks for this, by the way.” I pop a pineapple in my mouth. “You remembered.”

He runs a wide palm over my back, his touch warm through my silk robe. “Lakers means pizza and root beer. I told you I remember everything about you.” He lifts my hair and then watches it fall, a small frown pinching at his brows. “So, um, when I was reading to Sarai, she had a question tonight.”

“What’s new?” I laugh and sip my root beer, eyeing him over my bottle.

“Yeah, I know, right?” A tiny smile quirks his full lips, but his eyes are serious before he drops his gaze to the counter. “I was kind of thrown by this one, though.”

“What’d she ask?” I push my pizza away and give him my full attention.

“She asked if I was gonna be her new daddy.” He watches me from under long lashes, gauging my reaction.

I cough a little, less from the bit of pizza lodged in my throat, more from the unexpected turn of conversation. Sarai had a few questions about Caleb in the weeks following his death. She barely knew him, but that word “daddy” carries significance. She only knows the man who told her he was her daddy is gone. One day, I’ll have the hard job of the truth, but for now, she’s satisfied. Or I thought she was. I sip some root beer to make way for a reply.

“Oh. Wow.” I glance at him cautiously. “And what’d you say?”

He clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair. “I told her that I love her more than any daddy loves a little girl,” he says slowly, not looking at me for a second before very purposely looking me right in the eyes. “And that I love you more than any daddy loves any other mommy.”

The pizza may not be hot, but his words steam my heart.

“And I said that we’re already a family.” He takes both my hands between his. “And that one day, when the time is right, I’ll be her daddy and I’ll be mommy’s husband.”

I don’t know what to say for a moment, so I leave it to the quiet to absorb his perfect response, and then I speak.

“That was … ahem … a good answer,” I say, studying our joined hands. “I’m not surprised she asked, considering all that’s happened. Well, and now that we’re at your place so much, it inevitably raises more questions.”