“Yourballs are going to be errant if you don’t stop teasing me.” But she couldn’t suppress a small smile. “And that tennis ball went exactly where I wanted it to. You just weren’t paying attention because you were too busy staring at my jiggling rack.”
He gazed down into her magnificent cleavage. “Can you blame me?”
“I guess I should consider it a compliment.” She raised her voice to an announcer’s boom. “Behold! The power of boobs.”
“Yourboobs,” he corrected. “Your boobs are the only ones that cause my vital life functions to cease.”
It was the simple truth. He’d seen plenty of breasts before, large and small. But something about hers brought him to his knees. Literally, in this instance.
They were hers. Tess Dunn’s breasts. And that was enough to stop him in his tracks.
As was her insistence that he acknowledge his abilities, his potential, in arenas that had nothing to do with how much topspin he could put on his backhand.
“How flattering.” She touched a gentle fingertip to the bridge of his nose. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
He brought that fingertip to his mouth for a quick kiss. “I’m fine, älskling. Don’t worry.”
She glanced up at the floodlights surrounding the court. “Maybe we should check the injury under some decent light, just in case.”
They’d never been alone in private. Not once. He wanted that privacy, that opportunity for real intimacy, more than he could express. More than was wise, most likely.
But not like this. “I know you brought an overnight bag, but you said you have doubts. If that’s still true, if you haven’t made up your mind about me yet, let’s keep things public. In private, I have a feeling everything could get—”
“Combustible?” Her hazel eyes seared through him.
He inclined his head. “Yeah. Quickly. If that’s not what you want, we shouldn’t put ourselves in that position. I mean, I can obviously control myself, and so can you. But maybe it’s better to avoid temptation until you know how you’re playing this.”
She laid a palm against his cheek, and he leaned into it. “I’m not playing.”
Tennis. Truth or Dare. Both had served as inroads toward intimacy, rather than simply lighthearted games. He’d understood that almost from the beginning, and apparently she had too.
“I know.” He closed his eyes. “I know. But—”
“I like you, Lucas Karlsson.” Her words were soft but matter-of-fact. “I like you flirty, and I like you shy. You’re thoughtful and funny and smart and gentle. I trust that you wouldn’t deliberately hurt me. So I don’t have any more doubts about whether I want to spend the night with you, or whether one night will be enough. I do, and it won’t.”
Turned out, her breasts weren’t the only things that could make his world screech to a halt. Because those words, the affection and hope in them, stole his ability to do anything but gape at her and confirm the truth of what she’d said.
“Are you sure?” he whispered.
“I’m sure.” She rubbed her lips against his in a teasing caress. “Now why don’t you show me where you live, at long last?”
“I’d love—”
Wait. Was that…?
Shit. So much for romance.
“You’d love what?” She sounded confused.
He turned his face away from her, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Going to my apartment is a fantastic idea.”
She took a moment to answer. “Then why aren’t you looking at me?”
Nope. Pinching his nose wasn’t going to take care of the problem.
“Because…” Springing to his feet, he ran for a towel. “My nose just started bleeding.”
* * *
