Page 96 of Playing for Keeps
Luke hesitated for a second, then nestled back around me, placing a soft kiss on the back of my neck. Which caused my breath to stutter. This had to be more than fucking to him, right?
Instead of focusing on the darkness, I concentrated on the pressing heat of Luke’s body against mine.
And I fell into a dreamless sleep.
* * *
The next morning Luke was antsy. The New Zealand squad was due to be announced to the public tomorrow, which meant today they’d be ringing people who’d made the team.
I almost wished it was my weekend with Theo, because at least then there’d be a six-year-old to distract Luke, even if it meant we couldn’t get up to any of our usual fun stuff.
“You’re reminding me of that tiger at Orana Park, the way you’re pacing around,” I said when Luke couldn’t seem to settle into anything. He’d sit down, scroll through his phone for a minute, then jump back to his feet.
“I guess I’ve been compared to worse things than a tiger,” he said.
“Do you know what my favorite pick-up line is?” I asked.
“No.”
“What winks and fucks like a tiger?”
“What?” Luke asked.
I winked at him.
Luke shook his head, but I could see a smile fighting to make an appearance. And that was what I wanted. That was pretty much all I ever wanted.
“Come on.” I stood up and tugged him in the direction of his backyard.
“What are we doing?”
“Getting you out of your head.”
“My bedroom is the other way.”
“Fuck, you’re never satisfied. Put a pin in that thought. Because I’m thinking it’s time for a different type of challenge. Still involving balls and sticks, of course.”
Luke had an amused look on his face as I set up a golfing challenge in his backyard. But my genius quickly became apparent. Between Luke’s love of all things golf and his competitive nature, pretty soon he was engaged with trying to beat me and had forgotten about the fact his phone wasn’t ringing.
He easily won the challenge where we had to chip the ball into the peg basket on the washing line.
“Is this where I concede your superiority with balls and sticks?” I leaned forward and brushed my lips over his.
“Always with the ball and dick jokes,” he murmured against my lips.
“There is no higher form of humor,” I replied.
He’d just deepened the kiss when his phone chirped. He pulled back and fumbled to get it out of his pocket.
“Is it Coach Wilson?” I asked.
“I don’t know.” He stared at the phone in his hand as if it was a live grenade.
I nudged him. “Well, answer it.”
He lifted the phone to his ear. “Luke Hunter.”
Whatever he heard on the other end made his eyebrows shoot up, and he gave me a nod.
