“I told you before: I’m drawn to your passion, dedication, and fiery spirit. This entire time, I’ve been the kid with a crush pulling your pigtails, hoping you’d eventually understand I secretly liked you.” I tugged on his hair at the nape of his neck, making him laugh. “I’m so glad you finally decoded the message.”
He hesitated for a moment before saying something I never expected to hear. “So am I.”
“Have you accepted that I’m not nearly as annoying as you thought I was?”
“Against my better judgment, yes.” He got out of bed and shocked me when he scooped me up to carry me to the bathroom. “Having you being submissive under me goes a long way with helping that.”
I grinned up at him once he set me on my feet in front of his massive shower. “Admit it. You’d be bored if I was like that all the time.”
“You wouldn’t be a worthy competitor if you were always that docile.” He opened the door and turned on the water. “It’s worth a little agitation sometimes.”
“What a sweet way to say you enjoy my spunky side livening things up.” I went up on tiptoe to give him a kiss. “Now, hurry and get me clean so I can sleep forever in your wonderful bed.”
He laughed as he ushered me inside. Despite his protests, his actions as he took care of me showed that he already loved me more than he could tell me with words yet. I was over the moon with joy that everything had worked out better than in my best dreams.
Chapter Five
Knight
I had wona game I hadn’t realized I was playing: capturing Kingston’s heart. His desire to compete at my level had driven him to greatness. He became so good that even I couldn’t defeat him. It was a staggering display of the depths of his love for me. It was the ultimate compliment to my abilities as a world-class tennis player. Since my unparalleled skills had created my talented rival, that meant he wasmine.
He had been right. Since my first loss to him, thoughts of him had consumed me. Caught up in making him acknowledge me as the number one titleholder, I missed the point when every thought I had was tangled up in my blinding obsession with him. Thanks to our explosive encounter after our last press conference at the Australian Open, it became crystal clear that he lit my fire more than sports ever had. My desire for him triumphed over my embarrassment at succumbing to the sexual tension between us I had willfully been blind to.
Over the past month of being together, he had found his way into my heart. Freed from hating him, I understood why the entire world adored him. He was a playful imp that livened up my life and made me realize how much I had been missing out on. The longer we were together, the more I craved him. Despite his promises, part of me still feared that by becoming my lover, our tennis would suffer as our feelings came into play. But as we played our first match against each other on my private court, it was Kingston Sabatino staring me down across the net, not my boyfriend, King.
His passion and love made our “friendly” court encounter even more exhilarating. I would have lost all sense of respect for him if he had gone easy on me. To my great relief, he played even harder than when there was an audience watching us. His seriousness pushed me to my limits. Every point I won was hard-fought, which gave me an exciting thrill I had never had before when victory had been a given with everyone else. For once, instead of fixating on defeating my opponent, I had fun playing against him and savored the challenge he presented.
That meant I made fewer technical errors, since my raging need to defeat him didn’t distract me. After three hours of fierce competition, I was riding high on endorphins and adrenaline from forcing him into a tiebreaker for the first time in my career. Our polo shirts were drenched with sweat from the effort and the heat of the sun, but neither of us would give an inch. For the last point, he served an ace right on the line in the outside corner that I couldn’t return.
Resting my hands on my knees, I gulped in air as I panted from the exertion. It took me a moment to process the whirlwind of emotions my loss stirred up within me. I was pissed I had lostagain, because Iwoulddefeat him someday.
At the same time, I was elated that I had played the best tennis game of my career. It didn’t matter that there wasn’t an audience or cameras to record for posterity how much closer I had come to defeating him than anyone else ever had.
More than that, it was a relief that he had won against me, fair and square. He hadn’t handed me an easy victory to soothe my wounded ego now that we were secretly dating. I had held my own while forcing him to put in a genuine effort to claim his win over me. Somehow, that felt better than if I had trounced him in the match.
For once in my life, I washappyI lost. We both had given it our absolute best, just like we were duking it out in a Grand Slam tournament. I couldn’t remember when I had last played to have fun and not just to win.
He walked over to me with his trademark cocky smirk, bouncing his racket on his shoulder. “How much do you want to kill me right now?”
Killing him wasn’t anywhere on my list of things I wanted to do to him. I reached out and grabbed his polo shirt, yanking on it to pull his body flush with mine. The floodgates burst open from all the pent-up lust that accumulated during our three hours of dueling. Dropping my racket on the court, I cupped his face in my hands as I crashed my lips against his. There was no finesse as I savagely claimed him, leaving him no choice but to cling to me as he submitted to my aggressive demand.
King understood my desire to win, which was why he knew how badly I needed him to beat me in our match. It made me love him with a ferocity that no one else could have withstood. He was the only person strong enough to endure all of me. Without fail, he instinctively seemed to know when to give in to me or when I ached for him to fight back.
When I stopped kissing him, we both were panting and hard. In true King fashion, he grinned as he teased me. “Ready for a rematch in bed?”
“This time, I’lldefinitelywin.”
We returned to my house and up to my room. Tearing off our clothes, I then pinned him under me to kiss until I forgot what air was. Both of us were still hot and sweaty from playing outside for so many hours, but it aroused me instead of grossed me out. I licked up the curve of his neck, moaning at the salty tang of his exertion from how hard he worked to beat me. Because he knew me so well, he didn’t protest that he was too dirty for me to enjoy. He let me run my hands up his powerful legs and arms as I covered them with admiring kisses. I threw in a few nips to make him squirm under me with tantalizing whimpers.
“I swear to fuck, if you don’t get something inside of me soon, I’m going to lose my damn mind,” he groaned.
Taking the hint, I paused long enough to grab the lube from the nightstand. He rolled over onto his hands and knees, presenting me with a temping view. Since we were both impatient, I started by sliding two slicked fingers into him. I used my other hand to tease his heavy sac.
To my surprise, he burst into laughter. “Sothat’swhat your tennis balls feel like when you cradle them in your palm as you decide which you’ll serve. I’m going to besomad at you if I get aroused the next time I watch you do that on the court because I can’t forget how good this feels.”
“You’re supposed to complain that my skin is too calloused and makes everything feel awful.” It was a complaint all of my ex-girlfriends shared about my rough palms thanks to playing tennis since I was five.
He scoffed as he rocked against me. “Screw that. I enjoy itbecauseof that. You’re touching me with all your years of dedication, hard work, and sacrifice. It’s fucking sexy. If your hands were all soft and smooth, it’d be a huge turn-off for me.”
