Trapped (Bullied Book 4) (Bullied Series) Vera Hollins (best large ereader txt) 📖

sweat sliding down his chiseled cheekbones and jaw only added to his appeal.

“I just want to play basketball. Nothing else.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Do you even know how to play?”

With a sweet smile, I dribbled the ball to the basket. I bent my knees and shot, having a hunch that I would make it this time. The ball balanced on the rim before it went through, but at least I didn’t miss. I grinned, feeling smug that I’d proved my point.

“It’s not that hard,” I said as I turned around to face him. My heart fluttered when I met his intense stare. It pierced through me and warmed me in many places. “I often play with my cousins in my hometown.”

“Aren’t you still sick?”

My lips curled into a smile against my will because he sounded like he cared.

“You sound like my dad.” I couldn’t resist the joke. He didn’t find it funny, scowling at me, but this only made my smile bigger.

I jogged to retrieve the ball that had stopped a couple of feet behind us. I shouldn’t have been playing because I still hadn’t recovered completely and had to sing at the festival the following week. If I got sicker, I wouldn’t have enough time to practice for my solo. Yet, I was full of excitement and energy.

I’d suggested Blake play one on one with me. I was going crazy.

But at least he didn’t look as troubled as he had before I got there. Mission accomplished.

I picked up the ball. “Since you’re curious, my nose is still runny and sometimes I feel like I’ll cough my lungs out, thank you for asking. But I’m not crippled, so let’s play.”

His lips twitched. “You think you’re funny?”

I bit into my lower lip, which drew his attention to it. “Maybe.”

He flicked his gaze up to my eyes. “Now this is interesting.”

“What?”

He motioned at me with his hand. “Your confidence. You aren’t a small, scared mouse when you’re speaking to me.”

I was surprised by myself, too. “You’ve changed too. You aren’t acting like a big, scary wolf anymore. Or at least not as much.”

He approached me, and a hint of danger filled the air between us. “You’d be a fool to think like that. I’m as bad as they get.”

I was paralyzed by his intense gaze. I couldn’t look away from him, my heart thumping loudly in my ears.

He moved so fast I didn’t even see it, stealing the ball out of my hands with one hand. He dribbled it to the basket faster than I ever could and dunked, his body twisting in the air agilely.

Just wow. My lips parted as I stared at him in awe. That body and those moves…

“Will you stop ogling at me and play?” he asked, pulling me out of my reverie. “First one to twelve baskets wins.” He passed me the ball so quickly I almost failed to catch it. “Ladies first,” he said in a mocking voice.

“You don’t need to do me favors just because I’m a girl.”

He smirked. “Don’t worry. I won’t even need five seconds to get that ball back.”

“Is that so?” I bounced the ball out of the three-point line and faced the basket. I wasn’t a big fan of challenges and usually backed away from them, but I didn’t want to do that this time. I didn’t want to act like a coward in front of Blake again.

He went into a stance in front of me, blocking me, and I darted to the side. My adrenaline soared despite the protest of my body against the strenuous movement. I couldn’t erase the smile from my face as I dribbled closer to the basket with Blake continuously blocking me. He didn’t try to take the ball away from me, which made me suspect he was going easy on me.

“Didn’t you say you only needed seconds to get the ball back?” I challenged as I got around ten feet away from the basket.

He didn’t need me to say anything else. He smirked and reached for the ball while it was in mid-air, stealing it way too easily. He spun around and did a jump shot, making a perfect basket.

“Hey! That’s not fair! You’re so much faster than me!”

He smirked and led the ball out of the trey. “So you do want me to do you favors because I’m faster than you? How’s that fair?”

I harumphed. Of course I wasn’t going to use the girl card. I blocked him, but I didn’t have anything on his size or technique. He guarded the ball too well, switching hands and spinning too quickly for me to make a good enough move. He scored another point in another flawless move. I was starting to pant and heave.

“What’s your hometown?” he asked as he moved away.

“Bridgeport.”

He rushed to the side to get nearer to the basket. I tried to grab the ball from him, but he dribbled it between his legs, spun to the side, and raced straight in. He slam-dunked it and hung on the rim. I stared at him. So hot.

“Step up your game,” he told me before passing me the ball, even though he shouldn’t have done that. “It’s three points for me and zero for you.”

I backed away from him and told myself to focus more on the game and less on his chiseled cheekbones and jaw.

“Do you miss it?” he asked as he stopped in front of me in a defensive stance. My gaze slid along the impressive muscles of his raised arms, and I internally grimaced at myself.

“Miss what? My hometown?” I switched hands, but he didn’t even try to steal the ball, never taking his eyes off of me.

“Yes.”

I gaped at him, surprised that he wanted to know that. As a matter of fact, this whole conversation was surprising. We were communicating normally. I was supposed to be cautious around him and refuse to reveal anything about myself, but I also wanted to tell him everything. I wanted to