I wrinkled my nose.Apologize?
Eva sensed my hesitance. “Fine. You can pick me up and toss me around later, if it makes you feel better.”
I exhaled. “You don’t fight fair.”
Chapter
Fifteen
Coach Demarios’s voice cut through the noise with a kind of calm, measured authority that didn’t need to shout to be heard.
“We’ve got to tighten up our defense,” he instructed. “No more freebies. Play smart, play hard. I want discipline out there.”
I kept my eyes on him and my jaw locked, nodding when he looked my way. The last game was still hanging over me—getting baited by Lina Vargas, losing my cool, and Eva having to haul me backwards before I made it worse. I hadn’t lost my spot in the starting rotation, but Coach Demarios’s trust was dangling by a thread.
The roar hit my chest the second we stepped onto the court, the Miami crowd buzzing like it was the playoffs and not game two. Across the way, Jazz was already smirking at me, the kind of half-taunt, half-affection that only my best friend could get away with.
From the tip-off, the game was physical. Arms jostling, hands swiping, sneakers squeaking on the glossed hardwood. I could feel the rhythm coming back to me in slow, careful beats—don’tovercommit, don’t get baited, keep your head down and your hands active.
Freya Lindholm, the pretty Belgian that Briana had introduced to me the night on the yacht, held her dribble steady. Her pace was crisp, pale gray eyes scanning the court like she had all the time in the world instead of a shot-clock ticking down. Playing defense against her felt like trying to hold onto water—you could keep it contained for a moment, but eventually it slipped through your fingers.
Midway through the second quarter, both teams were trading stops, both benches leaning forward from the intensity of the action. I kept close to Freya at the top of the key. She tried to split the defense, but I slid with her, cutting off her open angle to the basket. She kicked a pass out to Jazz on the wing. Freya’s elbow swung back as she pivoted away, catching me square in the mouth.
The taste of copper instantly bloomed in my mouth. My jaw throbbed. My first instinct—myoldinstinct—was to snap. To step into her space and let her know exactly how much I didn’t appreciate it. My fists itched and my pulse spiked.
Instead, I sucked in a slow breath through my nose. I wiped my mouth with the back of my wrist and kept my eyes on the ball instead of hers.
When the whistle blew for a timeout, I jogged to the huddle, my tongue pressing against the cut in my lip. Coach Demarios gave me a sharp look, and then—just for a second—something else passed over his face. Approval? It was gone before I could be sure I’d really seen it.
Eva leaned into me as we broke from the huddle, her hand subtly touching my hip. “Proud of you,” she murmured.
I huffed a breath, still tasting blood. “Huh. I didn’t even think about decking her.”
“I guess that kind of restraint deserves a reward.” Her mouth curled, slow and sly, like she already had a plan for after the game.
I couldn’t help it—my cheeks went hot, and suddenly the throbbing in my jaw didn’t matter.
“You should pack tonight.”
Eva’s voice was calm, but her eyes told a different story. They tracked me from across the bedroom, slow and hungry, like she’d already made up her mind.
I was still wrapped in a towel, fresh out of the shower, my hair damp and curling at the ends. Our second game of the new season had ended with another close victory for Team Embers. I felt good about the quick start, but even better about the way she was watching me.
Eva stood in front of the closet, one hand on her hip, the other running lightly over the black jeans I’d laid out on the bed.
I raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
She tilted her head, a smirk curling at her mouth. “Yeah.” Her tone was syrupy, but her gaze sharpened. “I want to feel it when we’re dancing.”
Her suggestive words sent a flush straight to my chest.
She walked toward me, fingers brushing over my bare shoulder as she passed. She stopped in front of my dresser and pulled open the drawer where I kept the harness in my travel bag.
“Eva.” My voice was a warning—or at least my best attempt at one.
She ignored me and pulled it out anyway. The straps of the harness hung from her fingertips like it was lingerie. “Put it on.”
I didn’t move.
