Page 133 of Double Fault

This one makes it across, and Noah swerves to his right, planting his feet in time to hit it with force.

Those thighs are impressive.

Sabrina! Now is not the time to be checking out your boss’s thighs. Get a grip.

But theyarevery impressive. Biteable, even.

Noah pulls ahead by two, but minutes later, they’re tied again.

Outside, I’m cool, calm, and collected. At least I think so. Inside? I’m a nervous, anxious wreck.

I take measured breaths, willing my anxiety to abate. When I get like this, I tend to hold my breath, and the last thing I want is to make a scene by fainting.

I can imagine it now: being hauled out of here on a stretcher, Noah freaking out and losing the game because of my inability to control my breathing.

“Are you okay?” Fisher asks, knocking his knee lightly into mine.

“I’m great.”

He gives me a doubtful look. “All right.”

When the game reaches a tie and they’re forced into a tiebreak, I’m fairly certain every person in the stadium is on the edge of their seat.

Every rally, I find myself gripping Fisher’s forearm, my nails digging into his skin. If it bothers him, he doesn’t say. He’s too focused on the game to notice my hold anyway.

I’m sweating profusely; this time it has nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with my elevated stress levels.

Breathe,I remind myself again. It’s become my mantra, and I find myself so caught up in it that when cheers ring out and Noah collapses onto the court, hands on his face, my heart stops.

“What happened?” I have to shout to be heard over the sudden pandemonium around us.

Fisher stands and yanks me out of my seat. “He did it. He fucking did it.” With a whoop, he throws a fist into the air. When he turns to me, his face is wet with tears. “I knew he could. I fucking knew it.”

“Woo hoo! That’s my dad!” Maddie cheers with her hands cupped around her mouth.

The next thing I know, Noah is getting up from the ground and running toward the crowd. Security meets him as he hurries through the stands and straight for us.

A cameraperson follows closely, documenting his every move.

In less than a minute, he’s there, hugging his coaches and moving down the line toward Maddie and me. He picks his little girl up and hugs her tight.

“You did it, Dad!” she yells, clinging to him, her face alight. “I knew you could.”

“Thanks, Mads.” He sets her down and turns every ounce of his attention on me. “Come here, Curls.”

Nothing could prepare me for the kiss.

Right here, for the world to see, he takes my face in his hands and kisses me. He kisses me like he’s dying and my mouth is the only thing that can save him. The kiss isn’t chaste. No, it’s full of intensity, full of… feelings. I refuse to call it love. Not yet.

I’m thoroughly breathless when he presses his sweaty forehead to mine.

“Hi,” he says, giving me a crooked grin.

“Hi,” I say back, my brain sputtering with static.

“I won.”

“You did.”

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