I looked up. He stepped closer, his head tilted to the right.

I eyed his hands. They were at his side.

I wanted them on me. Once he reached for me, he could make the world go away. All the hurt and sadness, all that was stripped away under his touch, but he didn’t lift them to me.

“The correct usage of crazy aside, you are a complete ball of psychosis at times.”

That’s what he said.

My chest filled with warmth.

He laughed, a self-deprecating edge to it. “Having said that, you were like an itch. I needed to scratch it, and the more I did, the more it grew until it took me over completely.”

He began to scratch at his chest idly. “It was on the outside at first, then on the inside. I felt like I was being tickled constantly. I liked it, but it was odd at the same time, and then suddenly one day, I found myself wondering about you. I wanted to know what you were doing, how you were. I mean, you were thirteen feet away in a ball cage, but I still had the thoughts. They just built and built, and you started to fucking take over. All my brother shit, that got pushed aside. You and basketball. That was what I thought about, and it was nice—a nice break from everything else. And somewhere along the line I began worrying about you, caring about you, doing things to make you feel better, to make sure you were okay. Then we started screwing and I thought, Okay, this will get her out of my system. It was the opposite. You started to consume me, and I hated it. I loathed it, but I couldn’t do anything about it. It’s like you decided to take over everything inside my body, move in, and be content to live with me for the rest of time, and I had no say about it.”

He scowled at me. “It was really fucking annoying. Now you’re in there, and I give a shit. And I want you around me all the time. And I loved that your boss got canned, and I loved fucking you away from camp. And then I had to leave, and I just wanted to be back with you. I didn’t care where it was. Here, I mean, not really here. We’re in Chicago, but you know what I mean. If I’m on the road or in Seattle or at your place—wherever you are. I just want to be around you, and I want to make you happy, and I don’t ever, ever want you to walk away from me again.”

He stepped closer, within touching distance. His eyes were so fierce, shooting daggers at me. “Got it? You’re all about being exposed and shit—well, you’re not alone. I love you, and I have no idea what to do with this. I don’t say pretty words or make fucking declarations. I like you. I love you. I want to always be with you, and that’s that. Right? Isn’t that good enough?”

He was almost shouting at me.

I loved it.

I lapped it all up like a cat getting cream for the first time. Yes, sir. More, sir. I’ll drool for it.

He laughed at me. “You’re beaming.”

I was.

I loved to beam.

Standing up on my tiptoes, I raised my arms for him. He stepped in, folding his around me, and his head bent to my neck. I kissed his jawline, his cheek, the corner of his mouth, and I whispered against his lips, “You’re annoyed at how much you love me. That’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said.”

He barked a laugh. “I doubt it. I bet Damian said all sorts of nice things to you.”

He did, but he said not-so-nice things to me too.

“Your net worth outweighs his. How about that?”

Another bark from him, then his hands shifted to grip my ass, and he began nuzzling my neck. “God.” He pressed a lingering kiss to my throat. “I really fucking love you.”

“I really fucking love you too.”

He kissed me. My lips molded to his, my body melting.

Then he lifted his head. “Don’t ever leave me. Okay?”

I sobered at that question and leaned backward. My hands rested on his biceps. “Same. Got it?” I held up my pinkie.

He stared at me as a wicked grin curved on his face. “Really?”

I raised it higher. “Got it?”

“You and me?” He wrapped his pinkie around mine, everything in him gentle. He smoothed his hand through my hair, the touch loving, and he let out a soft sigh. “I about died when I got your texts tonight.”

I tightened my pinkie around his. “Really? How so?”

He laughed again, his hand breaking away, but curving around my back and sweeping up under my shirt. His head bent. I felt his lips tasting my neck, tantalizing, caressing and licking.

“Just almost shit my pants thinking what you’d think seeing that girl. I didn’t touch her, but I didn’t stop her from touching me.” He looked at me, earnest. “I’ve not touched anyone since you. I swear. You’ve ruined me. I’ve realized it’s either you or no one.”

I smoothed my hand up his arm, twining my fingers around the back of his neck, and I leaned back to smile at him. Dazzling.

“Oh, Reese. You’re trying to tell me an NBA player wouldn’t eventually have sex with all those girls who throw themselves at you guys? You’re right. I believe in the Easter Bunny too.”

His hands squeezed my sides, and his mouth found mine. “It’s true. I don’t care what you say.”

Then his tongue danced with mine, and soon we were doing more than kissing. Soon no more words were needed, except that I really loved the way he professed his love as he slid inside of me that night—and afterwards, and before we fell asleep, and again and again and again.