Page 54 of Half-Court Heat


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I snorted. “That sounds dangerous.”

“It’s not,” she chuckled. “I just wanted to know where your head’s at with the new CBA negotiations. There’s going to be pressure on all of us to speak up when talks start getting serious. You’ve got a platform now—especially with how public you and Eva are.”

I nodded slowly, trying to keep up. “I mean, I’m paying attention. I’m just not sure what I’d even say that hasn’t already been said.”

“Sometimes it’s not about saying something new—it’s aboutwhosays it,” Briana noted. “You’re reliable. You’re not flashy, not trying to be a brand. That matters. People listen to that.”

I tried to lock in on Briana’s words—I really did—but Eva had gotten up to dance, and the second she moved into the crowd, my brain short-circuited.

She’d worn a deep red wrap dress that night. The material clung to her hips like it was afraid of being left behind. Her hair was still long and loose from media day, paired with strappy heels, glossy lips, and a gold anklet I hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t fair.

Briana tilted her head. “Lex?”

“Yeah?” I rapidly blinked, dragging my eyes back to her.

She smirked. “Never mind. Go dance with your girl before your neck gets stuck craning that way.”

My grin turned crooked and sheepish. “Am I that obvious?”

“Painfully,” she said, nudging me out of the booth. “Go.”

I could feel the knowing stares of my friends and teammates when I stood from our table, but I tried not to overthink it. I resisted the urge to adjust my pants again to avoid drawing even more unwanted attention to myself. I walked stiffly out of the VIP section and slid into the crowd, already feeling Eva’s pull before I even reached her.

When she turned, smiling like she’d known I’d follow all along, everything else faded. She pressed her back into me, her ass rolling against the hardness in my pants. I hissed low under my breath.

My hands settled at her hips, drawing her in as she ground slowly against the length between my legs. The way her dress clung to her body, just thin layers of silk and skin, didn’t help. Every move she made was friction. Delicious, unbearable friction.

Someone in the VIP booth next to us definitely noticed. I didn’t care. Neither did Eva. She angled her head back against my shoulder, lips parting in a silent exhale as she rolled her hips again.

I gritted my teeth. “Eva.”

“I know.”

“We should go,” I urged.

“Not yet.”

She turned in my arms and her lips caught mine, open and greedy. She kissed me like she didn’t care who saw, like she wanted to brand the night into my memory.

When she finally pulled back, her arms looped around my neck, slow and possessive. “You look hot,” she said, swaying us in time to the beat. “Like dangerously hot.”

I laughed against her collarbone. “Dangerous because I’m packing?”

“Dangerous because I might not make it through this night without embarrassing us in public.”

Her lips brushed my jaw when she said it.

I pressed into her hips, letting her feel it.

“Lex,” she warned, but it was breathless. Her fingers gripped tighter at my waist.

“You asked for it.”

“And I meant it.” Her voice dropped, barely audible over the music.

Somewhere between that kiss and the third song that bled into the next, she took my hand. “Follow me.”

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