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Clay stares me down, his eyes flicking between mine and my mouth. He’s huge and tattooed and gorgeous, his dark eyes laced with gold.
His jaw twitches, and I want to stroke it, but I can’t move, can’t do anything but stare into his eyes.
“Feel lucky today, Wade?” a fan hollers.
Clay grabs my waist with both hands, his thumbs crossing over my bare navel as his mouth descends to claim mine.
It’s not like the first time we kissed.
It’s better because I know him. The light and the dark, the good and the bad.
“Now I feel lucky,” he murmurs when he pulls back and heads for the stadium.
18
CLAY
My first game back in a Kodiaks uniform and I’m ready to light it up. We’re playing against Atlanta, who has a solid squad with some young stars.
The crowd lets out a mix of boos but mostly cheers when they announce me.
I guess some of the fans figured I wanted out too.
I’m ripping off my warmup gear when our new coach taps me on the shoulder. “I took a chance playing you both to start.”
“It’s going to work,” I tell him, hoping I’m not lying.
When Kyle dunked me earlier, I was pissed. But Nova’s face was the first thing I saw when I got out of the tank. Her pink hair. Her bright eyes. Her wide smile. When I saw my number on her cheek, I wanted to drag her into the tank with me and wrap those legs around my hips and taste her, no matter who was watching.
I settled for being close to her while she painted my face. Finding out she was trying to stay close, thinking of me even when she left, answered a question I didn’t know was haunting me.
It was the happiest I’ve felt in forever, and there’s no way I could’ve planned it. The sun beating down, a game about to begin…
It makes me wonder how the hell I let things get so off track.
But now, I have to focus on the game. To make it work with the roster we have, I’m shifting positions slightly.
When we take the court, Kyle leans over. “You should’ve stayed in LA. Kept your ring and called it a day.”
“You sound jealous.”
“You say you’re here for the guys, but we both know that’s not true.” He nods to Miles on the bench, who doesn’t look the happiest to be there.
My jaw flexes. “We want to win, it’ll take more than any one of us.”
The game starts, Atlas grabbing the jump ball.
Over the next four quarters, I play, but more than that, I watch.
There are problems with this squad.
Rookie’s trying to get too many touches. Miles has been off his shooting. Jay can direct traffic on the court, but can’t get past the big guys. Atlas is too slow to keep up with the other centers.
Those things are fixable.
What’s tougher is Kyle.
He hogs the ball. The second it’s out of Jay’s hands, Kyle takes it to the basket, working in isolation.
