AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Do you now?” His voice held a dangerous edge. “I thought I told you no more tennis dresses.”
“That was because you didn’t want other men looking at me. This dress is for your eyes only. Unlike the Venetiville tennis courts, your court is secluded and no one can watch who’s playing.”
“There are security cameras there, so my men can still see you,” he gritted out, as his large hand ran along the sensitive skin of my inner calf and stroked up my thigh.
Goosebumps pebbled on my upper arms. I bit my lower lip, trying to concentrate on our discussion rather than on the caress of his calloused fingers on my skin. “If you play with me, you’ll be there to protect me, so the cameras on the court can be turned off.” My voice came out breathy, and I was acutely aware of the dampness pooling between my legs.
“And if I win, what do I get?”
“Whatever you want.” I played regularly, and I knew that Mr. Tennis-Hater here wouldn’t beat me. “And if I win, I get what I want.”Like being allowed to play tennis whenever I wanted.
He regarded me before standing up. “Stay here,” he commanded.
I watched while he exited the room and went upstairs. He returned a few minutes later, dressed in black shorts and a fitted black tee.
He clicked on an app on his cell phone and pressed a couple of buttons. “Security cameras overlooking the court are off now. I’ll just let the guards know not to disturb us there.” I watched his fingers fly over the screen of his phone before he pocketed it and held out his hand to me.
“You don’t have a racket,” I pointed out.
“I’ll collect one on the way.”
Before we left the house, he opened a storage closet which was full of sports equipment. Moving aside a bag of golf clubs, he selected a racket, zipped it into its carry-case, and slung it over his shoulder. “All set,” he announced.
We walked out to the court and coming up to it, I admired the well-kept green grass. Although I had seen the court, this was my first time actually on it, and it felt really good.
After collecting some balls, he walked over to the other side of the net. “I’ve got time for one set,” he called.
My face fell slightly. “Only one set?”
“Yes. I’ve got things planned for this afternoon.”
I would have liked to have spent the whole afternoon out here, but I wasn’t going to argue. The very fact that he had let me keep the dress on and had agreed to play with me was a huge step forward in itself.
After a warmup of hitting the balls back and forth, each practicing our forehands, backhands, serves, and volleys, we got ready for the first game.
My first shot was an ace, making me shoot a triumphant smile at my husband. “You’re going to have to move faster than that if you want to beat me,” I called in a saucy voice.
He scowled but walked to the other side of the court to get ready for my next serve.
My serve was out of the lines, so I hit a less aggressive second serve, which he was easily able to return straight down the line and out of my reach.
“Good return,” I said in surprise.
We continued playing, and each won our own service games until the score was four games each. I quickly came to realize that he was, in fact, pretty good at tennis. He’d fail to ever mention that, and I was beginning to regret saying he could have whatever he wanted if he won. I knew I had to make sure I won the set.
It was my service again, and I won my first two serves.
But then Lorenzo won every single point in the rest of the game, taking the score to 5-4 to him.
He got ready to serve. “If I win this game, I win the set,” he said cockily, as if I needed reminding.
I hunkered down, ready to receive his serve.
But he aced it before I barely got moving.
His next shot was also an ace, putting him 30-0 up.
The next serve I backhanded down the line, and although he managed to return it, I ran up to the net and lobbed it out of his reach. 30-15 now, but he was still in the lead.
