The Girlfriend Game by Sierra Hill
Twenty
Kendall
It’s been a perfect day.
The best day I’ve had in a long time.
Every moment with Zeke has been enlightening, seeing him outside the space we’ve worked in together or online where I haven’t been able to see the emotional aspect of his personality.
For one, I’ve learned Zeke is a very hands-on kind of man. He always finds a way to have a physical connection with me, even with the slightest of touches.
As we walk down the quaint streets of Poulsbo, a small town on Bainbridge Island that’s known for its Scandinavian heritage, Zeke’s hands constantly drift toward me. A passerby walks toward us, smiling cordially, as Zeke’s palm settles on the small of my back in a protective gesture, moving me into his side as we pass touristy boutiques, shops, and bakeries. The scent of caramel rolls and cinnamon buns wafts out into the streets, reminding me that I’ve had little to eat since breakfast. My stomach growls in a very unladylike way.
“You hungry? Let’s check this place out,” he suggests, stopping at a window to view the menu placard posted on the large picture window of the cafe. I take a moment to study his profile, his handsome features showcased against the glimmer of the sunshine shimmering in the reflection.
His sinfully dark hair, while cropped short on the sides, is a little longer on top, accentuated with soft curls that bend and wave in perfect form. From the looks of it, he styles it with some hair product, the glossy sheen and texture making me want to run my fingers through it.
A slight wrinkle around the corners of his eyes pops out as he squints to read the menu. And those lashes. Thick, dark lashes that fan out to frame the top and bottom of his deep brown eyes. Zeke won the gene pool lottery when he was born. Tall, handsome, and athletically gifted.
The corners of his mouth tip up into a smirk as he slowly turns and pins me with his gaze.
“See anything of interest? You’re looking awfully hungry, Kendall.” The words are laden with sexual innuendo, his tone tongue-in-cheek. “Perhaps I can help with that.”
He stands to his full height-all six-foot, seven-inches, and takes hold of my hand in his, tugging me into him so we’re toe-to-toe. A light gasp escapes me as I tip my head back to look at him smiling down on me.
“You keep looking at me like that and I might flip you over my shoulder and carry you back to the boat, where I might do all the dirty things I’ve been thinking about doing to you.”
My mouth dries and my heart bounces in my chest, heat flaring hot between my thighs. My nipples pucker noticeably underneath my T-shirt as I stare longingly at his full lips, which at the moment, curve up into a knowing smirk.
“Oh? Like mopping the deck floor and cleaning fish?”
A loud laugh breaks free from his mouth as he throws his head back. “Well, lookie there. You can be funny. But that’s not the kind of dirty I was thinking of. I was thinking more like this.”
His eyes darken and, without warning, Zeke moves in, stepping into me, wrapping one arm loosely around the lower part of my back. I find myself rising to my toes to meet him, lifting my arms to clutch at his broad shoulders. Holding on and finding purchase for what I know is coming. The inevitable.
Zeke cups my cheeks and I lick my lips. He angles my head to the side and with a decisive hum, he places his mouth on mine and kisses me.
His mouth is hot, and his groan desperate. Or maybe that’s all me. I can’t seem to get enough of the way the soft stubble on his mouth tickles my sensitive lips. His tongue glides over mine, exploring my mouth so thoroughly that it sends streaks of awareness and pleasure between my shaking thighs.
I’m wet with need. Lust and desire for this man that has built over weeks and months has turned me into a woman who cares nothing about the fact that we are standing in the middle of a sidewalk in broad daylight, kissing so passionately that my toes curl.
A bell on the café door chimes as several people walk out, one giving a shrill wolf whistle. It’s enough to cut through the haze of my lust, pulling me from the trance Zeke’s kiss put me in.
I press my hands into the warm center of his chest, feeling the vibration of his disgruntled groan.
“Fuck,” he rasps, covering my knuckles with his hands. “I really wish we were back on your boat right about now.”
He heaves a sigh and grabs my hand in his again, tugging me forward and through the open door that he holds open to let me pass. Such a gentleman.
A sign in the entry suggests that we can find a table and seat ourselves. I scope out the café, filled with weekend brunch-goers, and locate a table toward the back. Pointing in the direction, I look over my shoulder at Zeke.
“How about that one?”
He nods in agreement as I lead the way, dodging around tables and chairs, as people begin to take notice of the very recognizable public figure in their midst.
I scoot in the booth-style seat as he crowds in next to me, pushing the table away from us so he can get his long legs underneath. The minute we’re settled, Zeke’s arm swings behind me, his hot palm slipping over my shoulders, the tips of his fingers dancing over the skin as his hand skims over my arm.
He bends his head, his mouth descending to the sensitive spot near my ear. “We will absolutely be finishing that later, gorgeous.”
I’m about to agree when a young boy, maybe eight or nine, walks hesitantly up to our table, his chin angled down shyly as he introduces himself.
“Hey, Zeke. I’m a big fan and I was wondering if you’d…” He peers behind him at who I’d guess is his mother, the woman urging him on with a grin and a gesture of her hand. The boy turns back to Zeke, straightening his shoulders with more confidence this time. “Um, well, would you sign my napkin?”
He thrusts a clean napkin out to Zeke, who takes it obligingly. “Hey kid, it’s always nice to meet a fan. What’s your name?”
“DJ,” the boy murmurs, blushing brightly at the attention from his idol.
Zeke smiles cordially, extracting a pen from his shorts pocket and doing his best to sign the thin piece of napkin without it ripping to shreds. But Zeke seems to be a pro at it. I suppose one learns all the tricks of the trade when you’re recognized everywhere you go.
Zeke seems so unfazed by his celebrity and truly humble with his fans, especially children. Although he’s admitted to his past party boy ways, all I’ve seen is how genuinely kind and generous he is with others. I can’t seem to reconcile this man with the one who told me about his wild days as an NBA star rookie.
Zeke has an innate ability to connect with others on a deep, meaningful level. Maybe it’s the way he looks them in the eye and makes them feel seen. He understands what they’re going through. Because even though he’s a multi-million-dollar professional athlete, at the end of the day, he’s human and knows what it’s like to suffer.
The boy blossoms under the warmth of Zeke’s attention and I find myself wondering what Zeke would be like as a father. I have yet to open that Pandora’s Box of personal questions. Maybe I should have asked when we were getting to know one another online, but I’m not stupid enough to start off with a buzz-kill question of, “Hey, I really like you and think we’d be good together. And oh, by the way, I want to have your babies. Like, tomorrow. You in?”
Whether this pans out with Zeke or not, my goal when the time comes is to find a man I love who loves me in return, a partner who is truly invested in a future including children and a family of their own. I’m not looking to trap a man into a lifelong commitment. That’s not necessary. If it happens naturally, it happens.
I want someone like my father, whose life revolves around his family and his wife.
Zeke hands back the napkin to DJ, who grins from ear to ear, his cheeks flushing with pride.
“Do you play basketball at school, DJ?” he asks, sitting forward in his chair so he can be eye level with the boy.
DJ nods enthusiastically. “I play at the YMCA. Our team is the Wonderful Wizards.”
Zeke reaches out and pats DJ on the back in a supportive gesture. “That’s great, DJ. Keep at it. No matter how hard it gets, okay? You gotta keep practicing. It’s the only way to get better.”
“Cool, thanks. I will for sure.” He smiles, looks down at the napkin, and then turns around to scamper back to his mom before he turns one last time and waves. “Bye, Zeke.”
Zeke lets out a satisfied sigh and reaches for the menu the waitress dropped off at the table during his exchange.
I gaze at his profile and smile. “That was really sweet. You’re good with kids. I don’t think a lot of players would offer their time like that to some random boy.”
He lifts a shoulder. “Eh, I’ve had a lot of practice. Comes with the territory, I guess.”
I slide my hand under the table, placing my palm over his strong thigh, and squeeze lightly.
“I think it’s just you, Zeke. They love you because you’re you.”