Spy Games by Gina Robinson Page A

again for the ball.
    “Hey!” I slapped his hand away. “No reaching in.”
    “No slapping,” he retorted as he reached around and knocked the ball loose.
    “Foul!” I said, scrambling for the loose ball. “You caught my arm.”
    “I caught something, but it wasn’t your arm,” he said, coming up with the ball and taking it back to the top of the key.
    Yeah, my breast again. Which is what had distracted me. I scowled at him.
    “Lodge a complaint with the ref.” He leaned low, dribbling slowly in place as I got into position to guard him. “You going to whine that this isn’t a fair fight?” he said with mock compassion in his voice. “That I’ve got five inches on you so I should go easy?”
    I rolled my eyes. “I’ve played taller than you. My brothers are six six and six seven.” I smiled back at him. “Besides, I like it hard.” I paused to let him digest that comment. “I have two points on you. Now put up or shut up.”
    He took off. I was right on him, swerving with him, tracking him, waving my hand in his face.
    He laughed, spun around, dribbled back out and put up a long shot. “Swish!” He grinned, egging me on. “Two points.”
    “Lucky shot.” I took the ball and dribbled back to the top of the key.
    “Yeah, I’m a lucky guy.” He caught the ball I tossed him. “Only I’d like to be luckier.”
    “Stop it.”
    “Am I making you lose your concentration?” he asked, eyeing my bounce. “Face it, you like the thought.” Then he took off for the basket.
    I got in front of him and boxed him out. He dribbled around playfully while I stayed in front of him, facing the basket, with my back and rump toward him.
    Boxing out was a whole different maneuver the way Van played. With his hand on my butt to keep me away from the ball…and distracted. Definitely distracted. I’d play this game all day if it meant Van kept his hand on my booty.
    “Intentional butt grab,” I said, backing into him. “That’s an offensive foul.”
    “Never heard of it.” He gave me another playful squeeze.
    Our heights were such that as I stuck my butt out to keep him back, it nestled directly into his crotch. His very hard crotch. Which gave me an all-over body tingle.
    “Hey! Enough of the bump and grind out there!” Steve called from the sidelines. “Some of us have cash on this game. Someone score!”
    “I’m trying,” Van called back with a grin. He put up a shot, but it swirled around the rim and out.
    I grabbed the rebound. Back to the top of the key and off to the basket again.
    Van picked me up, hanging with me. I spun away from the basket, deciding to back him to the hoop. Only he was on me, literally. He had his hand on my butt as he checked me. I liked that, too. I liked it so much, I slowed my advance and stuck my butt out, right into his hand. Okay, it was part a distraction play. That’s how I justified it, anyway.
    “You like that,” he said in my ear.
    “No hands on the booty,” I said, continuing my backward assault into him.
    “Fine by me.” He removed his hand, putting them both in the air so that I bumped directly into his…front booty.
    I felt myself flush. “It’s warm here in the sun,” I said to cover.
    “Scorching.”
    I twirled to go around him and take a shot. As I went up, his hand was in my face. As I came down, my bounce was in his. Instead of moving out of the way to let me land, he grabbed me with his arms around my legs just below my booty, my chest still in his face.
    “Put me down.” Only I didn’t sound as decisive as I should have. His face nestled in my breasts was way too distracting. I was getting tingly all over, especially in my female region. “Put me down,” I repeated.
    “You missed.” He slid me down, slowly, so that I felt every hard inch of muscle on his body against mine.
    “Faster,” I said, trying to sound commanding.
    “Harder?”
    “Stop it. The guys are watching,” I said.
    “Let them.”
    When we were eye to eye with my