King of the Court

by Melanie Munton

  “Put what away? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  She pointed a finger at me. “You. Bath. Now.”

  When I was with a woman sexually, I typically liked to be in control. But there were a number of heavenly scenarios flooding my mind in which she took control that could very well open up a whole new door for me. When she used that authoritative tone of voice, it made me want to lay down immobile and completely surrender my body to her will.

  “I was actually going to go shoot around a little if that’s okay with you, Coach Bradley?”

  I cringed at those words. They made me think of her father, and he was the absolute last person that needed to invade this little sexual battle of wits.

  Her eyes sparked with interest. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she wanted to join me. Interesting.

  “Do you want to come with?”

  The brief uncertainty disappeared as quickly as it arrived. “Sure, I guess. Besides, I have to make sure you keep that brace on.”

  As we walked down the tunnel and out onto the court, this overwhelming feeling of…contentment washed over me. I mean, sure, the lust was still there. It was unavoidable when she was around. But ever since she’d snuck into my life, I felt lighter, less burdened. I found myself being less of a cynic and more hopeful about the future. I had more energy when I woke up every morning. Hell, I even looked forward to going to class.

  There was more sunlight in my life with Reese in it. It wasn’t as lonely.

  Instead, it was…full.

  This girl wielded some dangerous powers.

  Pushing those scary thoughts to the back of my mind, I grabbed a ball off one of the racks and sank a three-pointer right off. Seeing as how the gym wasn’t in use right now, only half the house lights were on, but it was enough to see the goal and the lines on the floor. The soft glow of the lights did create a certain ambience that a better man would have thought of as romantic.

  I pushed that thought away, too.

  “How’s the knee feeling?” she asked, assessing my movements as I rotated around the top of the key.

  She was taking time out of her Saturday to help me, and she deserved the truth.

  “It twinges a bit when I jump, but it’s not bad.”

  “That’s just from the workout,” she replied. “You do those same types of exercises during games and just don’t realize it. But today you did them repeatedly, and you haven’t had a steady flow of adrenaline coursing through you to distract you from your body’s signals. It’ll get better.”

  “Thanks, Doc.”

  She tossed me another ball when I banked my last shot off the rim. “Not a doctor for another year.”

  That was the moment I realized I didn’t know a whole lot about Reese Bradley, other than the fact that she was obviously very intelligent, a hard worker, bit of a geek, and had a smoking hot body that I fantasized about on a nightly basis.

  “You said you wanted us to get along, right?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said warily.

  “And we’re friends, correct?”

  “I guess so.”

  I could have gone for more enthusiasm there, but I let it go. “So, friends talk about themselves to each other. Share personal details of their lives. Get to know each other, you know?”

  “Is there another question in there somewhere?”

  I smirked and stepped in to sink a field goal from just inside the lane. “How about we get to know each other?”

  My next shot bounced off the rim and straight to Reese. She easily caught it and passed it back to me.

  “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. Our situation is already complicated enough. I don’t think we should further muddy the waters by getting any closer than necessary.”

  She was one tough nut to crack, I’d give her that.

  “Okay, I’ll make you a deal.” Tipping my chin up at the goal, I said, “For every shot I make I get to ask you one question. Which you have to answer honestly.”

  She contemplated this for several seconds. Her decision made, she put her hands up so I bounce-passed the ball to her. “Deal. But turnabout is fair game. For every shot I make I get to ask you a question.”

  What? Until three seconds ago I’d never seen her so much as touch a basketball.

  “You want to go up against me at shooting?” She didn’t look amused. “Okay, sweetheart. You’re on.” I waved my hand. “Ladies first.”

  She spun the ball around in her hands, as if familiarizing herself with its feel and weight. My attention riveted, I watched as she took a steady breath, bounced the ball once, took a side step and set her feet, and launched a perfect jump shot, her technique infallible.

  The ball swished right through the damn net.

  Mouth agape, my gaze swung back to her in utter shock. I looked at her as if she were a mermaid who’d suddenly washed up on shore. I felt like I was once again back at square one with her, never knowing what to expect next.

  “Where the hell did that come from?” I demanded.

  She fought through her giggles to say, “My dad is a successful basketball coach, remember? I think you might know him.”

  “Yeah, but,” I sputtered, “you never mentioned that you played. I just always thought you were a fan of the sport.”

  She walked over to retrieve the ball as it rolled away, rather than grab a new one. “He taught me to play when I was little. Put me on every team in every league that he could. I started varsity all four years of high school. I’ve been playing since I was four.”

  Damn if that revelation didn’t make her even hotter.

  “I just got the impression you never played sports.” Though you would never think it from her fit body.

  She dribbled the ball as she walked back to her position, even dribbling between her legs. Holy mother of God. I never thought seeing a hot girl do such a thing could be so damn sexy.

  “Why? Because of the Star Wars T-shirts and academic achievements?”

  I winced. Yeah, that made me sound like a real asshole.

  I was relieved when she just laughed it off. “I would think someone like you wouldn’t be so stereotypical. But I guess I can understand it. If you can believe it, I even played a little volleyball and ran track in high school. Though basketball was always my bread and butter.”

  “Why didn’t you try to play in college?” I asked, intrigued by this other side of her I didn’t even know existed.

  She waved her finger at me. “Ah-ah. The deal was I get to ask you a question, and I just gave you like a million freebies. It’s my turn.”

  I rubbed my chin, fighting back more questions. “Fair enough. Hit me with it.”

  “All right. How come you never talk about your dad?”

  It was like a roundhouse kick to the gut, hearing those words. I think I even stopped breathing for a second.

  Seeing my reaction, I expected her to apologize and say something like, “Oh my God, I can’t believe I said that. It’s too personal and I’m being rude.” Like most people often did.

  But she wasn’t most people. And if there was one thing I did know for sure about her, it was that she never said anything at least part of her didn’t mean.

  “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” she eventually said. “We were just talking about my dad and…”

  It was awkward when strangers knew more about my private, personal life than I’d ever want to share. With my dad’s illness and subsequent death so highly publicized, everyone in the country thought they knew my business and what I’d gone through. I even had one person tell me they’d lived it right along with me.

  Fucking bullshit.

  It pissed me off to no end when people assumed they knew shit about my past, just because they’d read about it in the papers or watched it on TV. But I wasn’t angry at Reese for her question. I could tell she wasn’t pretending to know anything about me. Her voice was full of pure curiosity.

  I snapped out of it and
cleared my throat. “No, it’s fine. I just wasn’t prepared for you to go after the whale right out of the gate.” The joke fell flat, but she smiled politely as I thought about my answer. “I don’t talk much about him because I like to keep those memories of him to myself. The media made it their business to find out how my mom and I had been dealing with my dad’s cancer from the minute the doctor diagnosed him. Everywhere we went we had cameras and mics shoved in our faces, asking us how we were handling everything.”

  I ran my hand through my hair. She must have sensed my urge to fidget, and I was grateful when she passed the ball back to me so I could occupy my hands with dribbling.

  “Then after he died, that’s when everyone wanted to hear the heartfelt stories and our favorite memories of him. Complete strangers wanted me to share my deepest feelings for the man I loved most in the world, in front of millions of viewers. And being a naïve thirteen-year-old kid, I did. I shared everything. Years later I realized I’d shared too much because the public knew more about my life with my dad than I wanted them to. Suddenly it felt like those memories weren’t just mine anymore. They were everyone else’s, too. I guess you could say I’ve learned my lesson since then. There’s nothing more I could say about my dad at this point that they don’t already know.”

  I couldn’t look at her, but I could feel her sympathy reaching out to me. And damn it, I didn’t want her sympathy. Anything from her would have been better than sympathy.

  “I know it probably doesn’t make much of a difference,” she said softly, gently. “But I bet more of those people than you think had good intentions and truly cared about your dad’s passing. He was a great athlete and an influential man. A lot of people looked up to him. I’m sure they appreciated hearing those stories about him.”

  Ten years had passed and not one person had ever said something like that to me. I’d always felt so guilty about oversharing all those years ago. Like I had betrayed my dad’s memory somehow. But she had managed to alleviate some of that guilt.

  Another kick to the gut.

  I needed to be done with the subject, though. I’d been in the spotlight long enough for today.

  I waggled my eyebrows at her, ignoring her concerned expression. “My turn.”

  The ball sailed through the air and swirled around the rim a couple of times before falling straight through. “Buckets!”

  I rubbed my hands together, searching through my many Reese questions for the right one. I figured she was right. Turnabout is fair game.

  “What’s up with you and your dad? You guys seem to have sort of a tense relationship. What happened there?”

  She grinned and tipped her head to me. “Well played.” I bowed in thanks. “It’s not a complicated story. We were really close when I was growing up. But after he and my mom divorced when I was in junior high, he pretty much made work his whole life. He started taking coaching jobs at bigger schools, which required more of his time. Then he started missing birthdays and holidays, and I knew that I was no longer his top priority. Even when it was his weekend to have me, he would spend the whole time watching game film if he didn’t have practices or games. After a while I got sick of it and stopped going to visit him. And when he didn’t make much of a fuss over it, I knew he didn’t care to see me either way.”

  I could tell there was no point in telling her that wasn’t true, that all dads wanted to see their children. Because that would have been a lie.

  Instead, I went with, “What made you take this internship, then? If you knew you’d basically be working with him.”

  She laughed mirthlessly. “I’d actually applied for the women’s team position, but my dad had a hand in talking the board into assigning me to the men’s team. I guess he’s trying to make up for lost time. We’ve been better since I took this job.”

  Hearing the hopeful note in her voice that she and her dad were getting along made me genuinely happy for her. I was coming to realize that seeing her happy had a profound effect on me.

  “For what it’s worth, I think your dad made the right call.” She turned to me, brows drawn, and I realized how bad that sounded. “About getting you for our team, I mean. I’m glad he did.”

  She sent me a knowing grin. “Because now you always have a target for your inappropriate flirting and raunchy comments?”

  I laughed as I stretched out my tight right quad muscle. “That and because you provide a certain balance to the team. I don’t know, I can’t really explain it. But things are different than they were last season. In a good way.”

  She seemed pleased by that, and I mentally patted myself on the back. I hadn’t been blowing smoke up her ass, though. That was all true. Who knew that a woman would bring this team even closer together?

  She took her next shot but missed this time. I clicked my tongue at her. “Bummer.” I took the same shot on the other side of the lane and made it. I playfully flexed both biceps at her, making her groan, though she couldn’t hide the twinkle in her eyes.

  “Let’s see.” I decided to take it a little easier on her. “Tell me about your first kiss.”

  She chased after the ball, and I couldn’t help it. I stared hard, appreciating the twitch of her ass with every step she took. She was wearing these tight black pants—what did women call those? Yoga pants?—and they highlighted every single movement of her ass cheeks. Had she worn those on purpose, just to torture me?

  “Which one?” she asked. “My real first kiss, or the one you have when you’re a little kid that doesn’t really count because you don’t know what you’re doing?”

  Interest piqued, I answered, “Both.”

  She did some more impressive ball handling that had me thinking about all kinds of other things she could do with those talented hands.

  “My first ever kiss was when I was six years old.”

  I let out a mock gasp. “You scandalous little harlot.”

  She flipped her ponytail over her shoulder, giggling. “His name was Chuckie.”

  “Yikes. Did he have red hair and carry a knife around?”

  “No,” she chided. “He was a really cute little blonde boy. Are you going to let me tell the story?”

  I threw my hands up, now focused on nothing but her. “My apologies. Go ahead.”

  “We were on the playground during recess, and we snuck behind this big slide that hid us from the teachers’ view. We were sitting on the ground and he asked me if I knew what a kiss was. He said his big brother told him because he’d done it with his girlfriend. When I told him to show me…he did.”

  I could just picture a little brown-haired Reese with big hazel eyes and a dimpled green. A deceptively innocent picture because I was sure she’d run the table on little boys back then, just like she did with grown-ass men now. She probably had pretty pink bows in her hair but dirt on her knees, playing as rough as any of the other boys in her class. The image made me almost laugh out loud.

  “I bet your dad loved hearing that story from the teacher.”

  She smiled. “I think Mom and Dad thought it was funny more than anything. But I did notice Dad treating Chuckie a little differently after that day.”

  I could only imagine the fierce protectiveness he would have felt over her. I was feeling similarly protective—though in an entirely different way—and she wasn’t even mine to protect. But that wasn’t going to stop me.

  “And your real first kiss?”

  She sighed dreamily. “Mitch Kissinger. I was thirteen and he was a few years older than me.” I hated him already. “He was so cute and all the girls in school liked him. I couldn’t believe when he started paying attention to me. I went to a party one night that I was too young to be at. I mostly stayed in the backyard with some of my friends, and there was a trampoline back there. Mitch came out and started talking to me. As we laid on our backs on the trampoline, looking up at the stars, he gave me my first kiss.” She still had stars in her eyes when they swung over to me. “And let me tell you, for a girl’s firs
t kissing experience, that’s not too shabby.”

  I regretted asking the damn question in the first place.

  Scowling, I asked, “So what happened to Mitch? Did you two start dating after that?”

  She shook her head. “No. He moved away shortly after that. His dad was in the military. But I’ll never forget Mitch and his trampoline kiss.”

  I grunted. “Yeah, yeah, I get it.”

  It was ridiculous that I was jealous of a teenage kid from how many years ago that I never even knew. But I would be jealous of any guy who’d ever had even a small piece of her.

  “Now be prepared to tell me about your first kiss,” she said as she walked to the free throw line.

  She took her shot and it barely rolled off the rim, missing the basket. She threw back her head and let out an exasperated grunt.

  “Didn’t your dad ever teach you how important your free throws are?” Lightly shoving her out of the way, I lined up the same shot. I knew the second it left my fingers it was going in. I turned to her. “Or are you just that rusty, Bradley? Looks like I won’t be kissing and telling anytime soon.”

  She just glared.

  Maybe it was hearing about some of her experiences with other guys, or maybe it was just because my curiosity had been simmering for weeks. But I desperately wanted to ask her about what had gone down between her and Trey because I knew there was something. And not knowing was starting to eat me alive. If I was a bastard for pushing the subject, then so be it.

  “What hap—”

  “Hey, guys.”

  We both looked over to see members of the janitorial staff huddling at the edge of the court. “We have to clean the floors,” the same guy said. “You two about done?”

  Not even close. Disappointed, I waved and placed the ball back on the rack. “Yeah, we’re leaving.”

  She looked relieved at the interruption, but I wouldn’t let her escape that easily. “We’ll finish this conversation next time.”

  She didn’t look as relieved now, but I ignored it. The only thing I cared about was how long I would have to wait before I had her all to myself again.