Page 11 of Falling for 42
“And made it really hard to focus on anything except….” He bites his lip, looking away briefly before meeting my gaze again. “You.”
Damn, if I don’t love the way he says that. Like I’m something he’s been waiting for and still isn’t quite sure he deserves.
“Good,” I murmur, finally closing the small distance between us and brushing my lips against his. It’s not a heated kiss, but it’s not shy either. It’s the kind that saysI’ve been thinking about this for weeks,and I’m pretty sure he knows it.
When we break apart, Malik’s grinning like he just hit a game-winning three-pointer. “You’re gonna be trouble, aren’t you?”
I shrug, already walking with him toward the lockers. “Probably. But you like it.”
He laughs, soft and genuine, before ducking into the locker room to change. When he comes back out a few minutes later, his duffel slung over one shoulder and his eyes bright, I can’t resist.
This time, I kiss him like I wanted to back on the court—slow, deep, and with no confusion about what I’m thinking.
When we finally pull apart, he’s flushed and grinning again, and I know tonight’s going to be exactly what we’ve both been waiting for.
I feel guilty that Malik settles for a drive-through, though as he inhales the two burgers and puts away practically a gallon of soda, I’m reminded that he’s likely burned a gazillion calories. When he pats his stomach, I offer him a grin, continuing to make my way to my apartment. In this moment, he reminds me of Jackson. And not in a freaky-ass way.
“You needed that, huh?”
He catches my eye before I pay full attention to the road ahead, a grin tilting his lips high. “During the season, it’s theonly time I can get away with putting a shit ton of crap that’s not good for me in my body. Mikey has us on an eating plan.”
I think he’s aiming for disgruntled, but I hear the affection in his tone. I also know that Mikey is the team captain. He also dominated in tonight’s game. Sure, it was a team effort, but Mikey was responsible for over half of tonight’s points.
“Jackson said Mikey’s likely to enter the drafts next year.”
He bobs his head, the streetlighting catching the strong cut of his jaw, making it a struggle to concentrate fully. Fuck, he’s pretty. That he’s all packed muscles and hard lines doesn’t do a thing to keep his long lashes or fuller bottom lip from capturing my attention. And yeah, while muscle tends to scream masculinity, there’s something about his features that highlight a soft vulnerability.
I wonder what he’ll think if I tell him he’s pretty as hell and I want him to sit on my face. Swallowing hard, I tune into what Malik’s saying about Mikey, trying to get the blood rushing to my cock to change direction.
“…a League champion, as one of his dads kinda helped shape his future.” He chuckles. It’s light and full of affection. “Plus, have you seen his mad skills on the court? I think he could probably shoot hoops when he was still crawling and in diapers.”
“Passion and skill make for a pretty unbeatable duo,” I say, glancing over to find Malik’s full attention fixed on me. It’s dark in the car, but the glow from the dashboard lights catches the gleam in his eyes and the slight tilt of his lips.
He shifts again, resting his elbow on the door and his chin on the back of his hand, and I swear the air between us thickens. “You’d know about that, wouldn’t you?” His voice is low, a little gravelly from the soda he’s just downed, but there’s an edge to it that has my pulse quickening.
I keep my focus on the road, though it’s a struggle not to let my mind wander. “What do you mean?” I ask, though I’m pretty sure I know exactly what he means.
“Your tattoos,” he says, and for a second, I think I’ve read too much into it. Then he continues, his words slower, more deliberate. “The shop. The way you talk about it… I can hear how much it matters to you. The skill it takes to be good at something like that, and the passion to turn it into something bigger? It’s not just work to you, is it?”
His words land heavy, like he’s not just talking about my career but about something much deeper—something sitting right there, unspoken, between us.
I risk another glance at him, and it’s like his gaze pierces straight through me. There’s heat there, a question, and something else that makes it hard to catch my breath.
“Passion doesn’t mean much without someone to share it with,” I say softly, surprising even myself with the honesty. I grip the steering wheel a little tighter, forcing my attention back to the road.
Malik exhales a soft laugh, but there’s no teasing in it. “Yeah,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the hum of the engine. “Guess that’s true.”
The weight of his words settles between us, a live wire sparking in the small space. My breathing picks up, but I force myself to focus, especially as we’re only a few blocks from my place. Still, the air feels like it’s pressing down on us, charged and heavy with everything unsaid.
“So…,” Malik finally says, his voice lighter, but it doesn’t quite break the tension. “We’re not working on the tattoo tonight, right?”
I glance at him, guilt tugging at me. “Nah,” I say, shaking my head. “You’ve got to be exhausted. Between classes, the travel,and the game, I wouldn’t blame you for crashing the second we get in.”
He chuckles, but it’s softer this time, and I catch the way his hand flexes against his thigh. “Yeah, I’m tired,” he admits, his tone hesitant. “But… I don’t think sleeping is at the top of my list.”
The words hit like a sucker punch, stealing what little air I have left. I grip the wheel tighter, trying to keep my focus as the tension between us crackles, sharp and electric.
“Whatisat the top of your list?” I ask, my voice low. My pulse is in my throat, and when I glance at him, I see him swallow hard.
