"Hey!" Foreman had thought he'd gotten past any distraction Amber could throw at him, but he'd been expecting fouls, not for her to open up a discussion about whether he'd been right to browbeat House into signing off on his article. By the time he recovered, Amber was around him and the ball was spinning through the hoop for another stolen point--that should've been his turn, again. "Oh, is that what happened," he said, and with a quick swipe, he smacked the ball out of her hands and was heading up to the foul line. "So did mine!"
He'd never intended to make the game deadly serious. Winning was certainly what he'd intended. Amber wouldn't respect him if he just handed her the game, and she had to know that he was more skilled than she was, and more in practice. Even though she was better than he'd first suspected, that couldn't make up for the fact that he'd been playing since high school, had never really gone more than a month without playing at least one damn competitive game. If she'd wanted, Foreman would've been happy to give her some pointers, instead of just trashing her up one side of the court and down the other. Amber probably would take it as some weird form of pity that he offered to teach her. Maybe later, after he'd proved that he wasn't going to let her win, she'd want to learn how to beat him on a regular basis. Now that could get interesting.
Hell, in Amber's eyes, he was probably cheating by giving her any leeway at all. Well, no more of that. Foreman played all out, snapping the ball to Amber and stealing it back seconds later, as soon as the inevitable holes opened up in her defense. The game they'd been playing so far had dragged out because he'd given Amber all the time in the world to get her shots off. Now he was ready to finish it, and he scored three times in a row in under five minutes, while Amber's blocks got wilder and slower. He was lifting his arms for another shot, the words, "Game point," practically already forming on his lips, when Amber slammed into him from behind.
Foreman staggered forward a few steps, trying to hold onto the ball, but Amber knocked it out of his hands, sending it bouncing out of bounds. No way was she getting it back on a foul. Foreman spun around, easy to do since both their arms, and Amber's body, were slick with sweat, and wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her in place. Not hard, although he wasn't about to let her go chase after the ball. He didn't try any dirty tactics, just grinned at her, showing off all the fun he was having. "Personal foul gets me two free shots," he said. They were both breathing fast, and damn it, he was not going to get hard just because the scent of Amber's sweat and the warm press of her body against his didn't exactly remind him of the subject of basketball. "Unless you want me to finish this off the hard way?"
no subject
He'd never intended to make the game deadly serious. Winning was certainly what he'd intended. Amber wouldn't respect him if he just handed her the game, and she had to know that he was more skilled than she was, and more in practice. Even though she was better than he'd first suspected, that couldn't make up for the fact that he'd been playing since high school, had never really gone more than a month without playing at least one damn competitive game. If she'd wanted, Foreman would've been happy to give her some pointers, instead of just trashing her up one side of the court and down the other. Amber probably would take it as some weird form of pity that he offered to teach her. Maybe later, after he'd proved that he wasn't going to let her win, she'd want to learn how to beat him on a regular basis. Now that could get interesting.
Hell, in Amber's eyes, he was probably cheating by giving her any leeway at all. Well, no more of that. Foreman played all out, snapping the ball to Amber and stealing it back seconds later, as soon as the inevitable holes opened up in her defense. The game they'd been playing so far had dragged out because he'd given Amber all the time in the world to get her shots off. Now he was ready to finish it, and he scored three times in a row in under five minutes, while Amber's blocks got wilder and slower. He was lifting his arms for another shot, the words, "Game point," practically already forming on his lips, when Amber slammed into him from behind.
Foreman staggered forward a few steps, trying to hold onto the ball, but Amber knocked it out of his hands, sending it bouncing out of bounds. No way was she getting it back on a foul. Foreman spun around, easy to do since both their arms, and Amber's body, were slick with sweat, and wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her in place. Not hard, although he wasn't about to let her go chase after the ball. He didn't try any dirty tactics, just grinned at her, showing off all the fun he was having. "Personal foul gets me two free shots," he said. They were both breathing fast, and damn it, he was not going to get hard just because the scent of Amber's sweat and the warm press of her body against his didn't exactly remind him of the subject of basketball. "Unless you want me to finish this off the hard way?"