I pull out a second Fireball and toss it in my mouth, throwing one to Monica too. “I guess I have some things to think about.”
Monica nods, unwrapping her Fireball. “You sure do. But first, I need all the details about this guy. Leave nothing out.”
I grin at her. “His name is Jordan.”
Monica sighs. “J names are so fucking hot.”
I laugh. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
* * *
“That was out!” Jordan calls as he jogs after the ball.
“No way, dude! That was so completely in.” I put my hands on my hips as Jordan trots back to the net.
“It really wasn’t.”
“Do you think maybe you need glasses? I’m concerned about your eyes.”
Jordan crosses his arms, and it does something really incredible to his biceps that has me a little breathless, lust pooling between my legs. He looks ridiculously good tonight, standing on the court under the darkening sky. The black athletic shorts and white T-shirt he’s wearing are, like, pulled from my wildest fantasies, and when he pulls off his Pittsburgh Renegades hat and runs his hand through his hair, sticking it back on his head backward, my entire body explodes into a lust-filled fever dream.
“My eyes are fine. Is it possible you forgot to learn the rules of pickleball before deciding we had to play it?”
I narrow my eyes, giving him my most menacing stare. “No.”
He stares right back, one side of his mouth quirking up in an amused smile. “You sure about that?”
“Fuck, fine!” I exclaim, letting out a dramatic sigh and dropping my head back. “I liked the shirt, okay?” I wave my hands at the black tank I’m wearing with the cartoon pickle on it, holding a pickleball racket. “Also, I thought it would be cool to play at courts set up on what is usually an ice-skating rink, as it gets dark out. I didn’t think much past that. Old people play pickleball. I figured it couldn’t be that hard.”
Jordan smirks at me. “And what did you learn?”
I heave a dramatic sigh. “It’s harder than I thought.” I study Jordan, a wicked grin pulling at my mouth. “Also, you look unfairly hot in a backward hat.”
His eyes rake down my body and back up again, setting every part of me on fire. “Is that so?”
“That is, in fact, so,” I say, trying to keep some semblance of cool.
“Well, I can’t stop looking at your legs in that tennis skirt, so we’re even.”
I pop a hip, smiling at him. “Play your cards right, and you can peel it right off me later.”
Jordan tosses his racket down and strides around the net, straight toward me. Before I have a chance to say anything, he wraps one arm around my back, tugging me to him and covering my mouth with his. Every single one of my senses hums as he takes his time licking into my mouth, tasting every inch of me, groaning when I nip his lower lip, grinding his already hard cock against me.
“Fuck, I want you. So badly, Hurricane.”
“You’ll have me, J. As much as you want. But not yet.”
I lean in for one more quick kiss before I drop down to the court, laying on my back, face to the sky.
Jordan stands above me, confused expression on his face. “Uh, what are you doing?”
“Stargazing.”
“You want me to stargaze on a pickleball court in the middle of Central Park with this?” He waves a hand at the extremely obvious dick print in his shorts, and I smother a laugh.
“Stargaze with me, and I’ll blow you on the way home.”
Jordan freezes. Dropping his head back, he lets out a muttered “fuck” before tossing his hat down on the court and laying next to me. “Why do I like you again?”
