Play With Me (4 page)

And back at Northwest, even though everyone had been major assholes to her after their first month together, they had been
immature
assholes, and she had known right away how to handle them.

But the mix of Greek and American players staring at her right now?

They were anything but immature.

Hell, they were perfect in every way, all of them capable of being a triple-double threat. They all had their problems, but did they really need someone like her to point it out? Wouldn’t they be able to figure it on their own anyway?

“Wyndham?”
 

She jumped at Coach Rob’s tone, realizing that she had actually been silent for one full minute.

“Anything you want to say?”

Her mouth slowly opened—

Say something, Lace Wyndham,
she chided herself. “Good job, guys.” The words came out as a nervous croak, and God, she wanted to hang her head in shame right after. This was not her, dammit, but they were just too intimidating. Not one of them had been condescending or rude to her, and somehow that had even been more crushing. It was as if for these guys, she just didn’t exist.

At her words, Coach Rob simply nodded. “You can go now,” he told the guys.

There was a chorus of “Bye, Coach” from the players, but all of them only nodded at Lace when they walked past her on their way to the dugout.

“Not going home yet?” Coach Rob asked.

She shook her head. “I thought I’d shoot a few baskets for a while just to clear my head, if that’s okay.”

“It’s no problem. Just make sure to have maintenance lock up when you go.”

“Got it.”

Soon, she was all alone, with even the groupies hanging out at the bleachers gone as well. Lace slowly walked towards the wheeled steel cart of basketballs, pushing it near the free throw line so she could start shooting.
 

Dribble. Aim. Release.
 

The ball hit the rim but didn’t go in.

Dribble. Aim. Release.

The ball rolled around the rim before falling
outside
the ring.

Dribble. Aim. Release.

Lace stared in horror as this time, her shot actually fell short. Oh God, an air ball. A goddamn air ball. She couldn’t even remember the last time she had one. What was happening to her?

Behind Lace, someone started to dribble.
 

She whirled around, hoping it wasn’t one of the players. It wasn’t. It was someone…better or worse, she couldn’t make up her mind just yet.

Silver Fucking March.

As always, he was dressed like a model, a dark-haired, blue-eyed six-foot-plus angel in a pricey handmade pinstriped suit. Walked like one, too, his every step practically a demonstration of flawless grace. Did he
not
do anything wrong? Just looking at him made Lace hate herself more, the way she couldn’t do anything right.

He suddenly passed the ball to her, but even though she was caught by surprise, she had no problems catching it. By reflex, she started dribbling, too, finding it almost soothing as she asked, “What are you doing here, March?”

He stopped half a foot away from her. “Hello to you, too, Wyndham.” Before she could snarl at him, he added casually, “Horrible shooting, by the way.”

Lace wanted to kill him. “Thanks for the compliment, ass—”

A finger on her lips.

She stilled.
 

Déjà vu.

But more than that, she remembered. The thing she had done her best
not
to remember since they last saw each other.

She remembered the way her heart beat so hard it was all she could hear, the way his lips felt so smooth and firm at the same time, and hot, so, so hot. She remembered the way her fingers shook when they curled around his length, remembered the way that part of him didn’t seem to stop growing in her grasp—

Oh dear God, now that she remembered—

When her gaze jerked to his, her eyes were wide, her cheeks flushed red.

“I don’t like it when you swear, little lamb.”

She scowled. Actually, she had to force herself to, and thank God she managed. Thank God she managed to ignore the larger part of her, which wanted to submit to everything he said. It was so mortifyingly stupid, the way he made her feel so weak and girly with just one look. One word. One touch.
 

Pulling his finger away, he said in that beautifully smooth tone of his, “I saw how your practice went, too.”

“Ah.” She was
not
going to cry. She was
not.
Not, not, not—

Suddenly, she was in his arms, the ball falling from her fingers. Her tears started to soak his undoubtedly expensive shirt. She tried to shove him away, but he was too strong for her. It always surprised her, how someone as fashionable and gorgeous as Silver March could be so strong. Irritated her, too. Did his perfection know no end?

“It was horrible.” God, was that really her talking? Like a damn crybaby? If she wasn’t careful, she might start sucking her thumb next. If that happened, she would kill herself. She really would.

“Yes,” Silver said over her head. “It was. Even more horrible than your shooting earlier.”

“I’m just having a bad day,” she said defensively, wiping away her tears. “I’m normally 9 out of 10, asshole—”

“
Lace
.”

Her shoulders slumped, and even she knew the name-calling had been uncalled for. “Sorry.” She felt his lips brush the top of her head, and somehow that made her want to cry even more. “Don’t you dare pity me,” she said fiercely against his shirt.

His smile was something she could feel more than see, and his tone was rich in amusement as he said, “Pity is the one thing I’ll never feel for you, little lamb. Lust, exasperation, anger, yes, but pity? You’re too strong to be pitied.” He pulled away, making her look up. When their eyes met, Silver said seriously, “You just forget sometimes how strong you are, that’s all.”

She watched him turn away, frowning when he bent down to pick up a ball. Again, he tossed it to her without warning and again, she caught it handily.

When he came to stand behind her, making Lace face the ring, she frowned harder. “I know how to shoot the ball.”

“I’m sure you do.” But still, his hands covered hers. He whispered to her ear, “Close your eyes.”

She said automatically, “NO.”

His laughter rocked his body, his strong hard chest vibrating against her back. “Stop being stubborn. Close your eyes.”

Even as she gritted her teeth, she found herself doing what he said.

“I want you to forget everything that happened today.”

“Easier said than done,” she muttered under her breath.

“I know. But try it anyway.” His tone was low and cajoling.

A deep sigh, and then she did as asked, doing her best to clear her mind.

“I want you to think about your favorite memories of the sport.”

Now
that
was easy. It was the first time she played ball with the men in her family, the only time she felt like they were all on equal footing.

His breath suddenly tickled her ear, electricity crackling over her skin as he said, “Now, open your eyes and try to shoot.”

Slowly, Lace’s lids drifted open. She dribbled the ball, aimed, and let it fly. It went in. Before she could jump for joy, Silver had already stepped towards the ball tray, tossing her one ball after another. Everything went in. He jogged away, positioning himself under the ring so he could catch the ones she threw and toss it back to her.

Everything went in.

“Do you get it now?”

“Get what?” She was grinning as she asked the question, could feel her face flushing again, but this time out of happiness.
 

Silver smiled, and the sight of it was so beautiful that when he threw the ball, she wasn’t able to catch it on time, and the ball hit her flat on the face.

“FUCK!”

Both of them swore at the same time, Silver dashing towards her while she slowly felt herself falling—

But Lace didn’t hit the floor, Silver catching her in time.

“Fuck.”
 

“You shouldn’t swear, too,” Lace mumbled even as she winced at the pain on her nose. That hurt, dammit! She touched her nose then lifted her fingers over her face, wincing again when she saw the blood staining her fingertips.

“Don’t move.” His voice was grim, and he hadn’t even smiled at her quip. A second later, he had whipped out a snowy white handkerchief—

The sight of it almost had Lace rolling her eyes.
Too. Irritatingly. Perfect.

“Sorry.” His voice was thick with disgust and self-loathing as he gently pressed the hanky to her nose. He was extraordinarily careful as he slowly lowered them to the floor and laid Lace’s head on his lap.

Her eyes closed. “You know, this happened to my friend, too.”

“She got hit by a ball?”

“No. A nosebleed. Her ex accidentally punched her.” The silence that followed was easy to interpret and she grinned. “It was truly unintentional, and my friend told me it had him almost paranoid about touching her for a long time.”

“I guess it means you two have the same taste in guys.” The words, delivered in a deadpan tone, had her laughing.
When she opened her eyes, Lace found Silver gazing down at her with a stoic look on his face. Slowly, Lace reached up to touch his cheek.
Why,
she wondered dizzily,
did she act so different when she was around this guy?
He was not the only beautiful man she knew, but somehow he was the only one who made her heart feel like it was being dribbled at lightning speed.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“You’re a bad liar.”

“I meant, it doesn’t hurt as much.”

Silence, and then his lips curved the slightest bit, and dammit, it dazzled her still, that sexy little smile of his. “Thank you for wanting me to feel better, but it’s your condition that’s the most important right now.”

She grimaced at his words, but even so, she reminded him, “It’s not my first time to be hit by a ball on the face, you know.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Probably not the last either.”

“I’m sorry about that as well.”

She blurted out, “You’ve got better manners than I do.”

“Do I?” He was visibly bemused. “Do you mind?”

Slowly, she shook her head, mumbling, “I think it’s…cool.” God, what was she saying? That ball must have damaged her brain someway.

Silver was stroking her hair now, his touch soft and languid, and it took every bit of her control not to shiver in pleasure.

“Tell me what’s happened to you since the last time we met.” Murmured words that were both coaxing and commanding.

This time, she was too tired to argue, too tired to pretend she didn’t
ache
to follow him. “I transferred schools with the help of some really nice friends. When I was accepted here, I applied for the position of team manager. I was interviewed on the phone by the former team captain, then I met with Derek Christopoulos, one of the board members. He interviewed me, too, and in a nutshell, he made me the unofficial coach of the team.”

Silver’s brow shot up. “
An unofficial coach?
” His eyes narrowed, and his tone became cool when he said, “You must have made a great impression on the man.”

She blinked. “Are you…
jealous
?”

“If I am?” His voice had become even cooler.

She thought about it before saying finally, “That would be…
problematic
.” And that was an understatement.

“If it is, let it be my problem.”

Seeing he wasn’t going to budge, Lace quickly reverted to their earlier subject. “It’s not a permanent position. There’s a non-league tournament about to start, and he told me if I can get the team to make it to the finals, he’ll make the position official.”