Page 52 of Read With Your Heart

His eyes blink rapidly, and he nods several times, licking his lips. “I gotta go.”

“Okay, baby,” I whisper, releasing my hand from him, and he brushes past me. My heart breaks in a whole new way.

As Levi walks away, I feel eyes on me. A cold chill ripples over my skin, and I scan the space closest to me. My eyes find Trent lurking near the base of the bleachers, leaning casually against the metal supports but watching me. He’d pushed off the bleacher base once Levi disappeared and has started walking in my direction. I shiver at his menacing gaze and spin on my heels, losing myself in the crowd of people near the concession stand. Knowing Trent is still around means I’m constantly checking over my shoulder, worried he’ll corner me.

When I’m almost done with my hour-long shift, I walk toward the school, fumbling with the Velcro on the highlighter-yellow vest I wear so people know I’m security. A familiar voice startles me.

“Officer, I’d like to be arrested.”

I burst into laughter as I look up. “It doesn’t work like that.”

Leon smiles back at me. He’s wearing head-to-toe black—a black Carhartt jacket, a black shirt underneath, black jeans, and black motorcycle boots. He looks dark and menacing, but with that smile showing off his white teeth and a spark glinting in his lighter eyes, I know he’d never hurt me. I’m reminded of how he held me to his chest throughout the night, and my body heats as if it can feel him still pressed against me.

“I’d still like you to handcuff me,” Leon flirts, leaning toward me and dropping his voice. I haven’t given that kind of role-play much thought. The idea of being unable to control myself scares me, but somehow, I sense Leon would be gentle with me even if he was in charge. His teasing hints he’d be willing to let me dominate him.

“The gig doesn’t come with handcuffs. Only this lovely yellow vest.”

Leon chuckles and reaches for the Velcro strap. I don’t know how he’s doing it, but I’m turned on as the first tear of Velcro releases the vest. As ridiculous as it sounds, it’s freaking sexy as hell when he tugs at each strap as if he’s ripping off my clothing. My breath hitches with each consecutive opening. His crooked smile tells me he knows what he’s doing to me.

“Everything go okay tonight?” he questions once the vest hangs open. Images of my dress falling to the sides returns to me in a flash. Was it only yesterday? The way he touched me on my bed. The heel of his hand running over my skin. Fine prickles race up my chest, and my breasts tingle.

“All good. Just need to hand this in.” Leon tips his head, and he follows me to the school. It’s quiet inside the building where the only other people include another security person and the athletic department’s secretary, who takes the vest from me. It’s been an easy night. Typically, the evening turns into more socializing, waving at students, and greeting parents while trying to avoid the impromptu parent-teacher conference. After telling the secretary there were no issues, I let her know I’m going to give Leon a quick tour of the gym. At this time of night, all the lights are off except for a single spotlight on the center court emblem. The Tigers. Orange and black.

“Nice floor,” Leon remarks, taking in the newly restored hardwood. It gleams and standing in here under silence reminds me of my own years playing on this court.

“Was your school like this?”

“I didn’t play for the high school. I played on the street,” he says, his voice in awe as he looks around the gymnasium.

I look over at him and stare. “Is that why you like the outdoor court so much?”

He shrugs. His head lifts, and he glances at the ceiling where the hanging banners celebrate the accomplishments of the school’s various teams. We haven’t been the most winning school, but we’ve had our moments. I shared in a few of them, and my eyes drift to the year I played on the state championship team.

“I was short for basketball. Knew I’d never play professionally and didn’t want to. I just loved the game. I coach a girls’ team at the middle school in the winter, hoping I can teach them the basics and get them to love the game as well. I think sports keep kids out of trouble.” The second I say it, I regret my words. Not that I don’t mean them, but I don’t want to imply Leon was trouble.

“Yeah, I think if I have been on a sports team instead of a gang, I might have taken a different path.” His voice falls quiet.

“I didn’t mean . . .” My voice fades as he glances over at me.

“Don’t ever apologize for what you had, Tricia. You’re a beautiful woman with a big heart, and it comes from how you grew up, not from how you didn’t. Don’t deny it.” He shakes his head like he has more to say, but he doesn’t, and we fall into an uncomfortable silence. Leon takes off his jacket and walks over to a ball cart someone must have forgotten to put away. Helping himself, he dribbles a few steps and then shoots a layup. When he misses, I razz him.

“Woman, come show me what you got,” he teases.

“Shirts and skin?” I question.

“That’s how you play the game. You beat me, I get your skin. I win, you show me skin.”

I nod, processing what he said, and then I laugh. “That’s my skin either way.” His eyebrows wiggle, and he dribbles the ball from hand to hand. I’m wearing more sensible clothing tonight in skinny jeans, a school embroidered sweatshirt, and ankle booties. I shouldn’t be playing on the hardwood in the heeled shoes, but I give in, coming at him and stealing the ball. We shoot around, although with the amount of touching he does, it’s more like a full-court press against me, and I get fouled constantly. That is to say, he’s constantly touching me. Palm at my hip. Arm around the waist. When I take a jump shot and miss, I nearly slam into his chest when I land. He tugs me to him, just holding me against him. The ball slowly bounces off in the distance.

“You dance in this gym?” he questions, still pressing me to his body, and I nod. Every high school dance was held here.

“How about kissing in here?” I pretend to think about it, but I didn’t ever kiss anybody in the school gym. Eventually, I shake my head in answer to his question.

“No making out under the bleachers?” he teases, and I laugh. As I’m lowering my forehead to his chest, he picks me up by my waist and drags me under the wooden risers pulled out from the wall. Someone must have forgotten to push them in. After ducking under the edge of the bleachers, out of the line of sight from any door, Leon presses me back against the wall. He leans over me. The position is a classic high school move. A boy at his locker, arm pinned over her head, playing with the hair of the girl under him. We breathe heavily, looking at one another for a long minute before Leon lowers his face to mine and kisses my mouth. He’s slow at first just as he’s been each time. A tender tug, a soft brush, and then his tongue comes forward. I reach for him, hooking my fingers into the loops of his jeans, and pull him against me.

“What happens when the teacher gets caught making out under the bleachers?” Leon teases against my mouth.

“I’d probably lose my job, but you aren’t a student, so I think I’m safe. Sort of.” I’m joking but not completely. I might not lose my job, but it would be embarrassing to get caught, and it’d definitely be a strike on my record.