The Night the MVP Walked In On Me

The Seattle arena lights burned my eyes. Game five of the playoffs, and the roar of seventy thousand fans crashed through the stands. I sat in the front row, my college roommate Sophia pressed against my side.

Out on the hardwood, Ethan played like a man possessed.

Number 7 drove hard into the paint, shoving two massive defenders aside. Sweat shone on his sharp jawline. He slammed the ball through the hoop, the backboard shaking violently under his grip.

"Jesus, he's going to kill someone out there," Sophia yelled over the deafening crowd.

I kept my eyes fixed on my lap. "He wants this win."

"He wants you." Sophia nudged my ribs hard.

"Shut up, Soph."

The giant overhead screen flashed. Ethan's face, hard and focused, transitioned straight to a live shot of me sitting courtside. The crowd cheered louder.

"See?" Sophia smirked. "The whole league knows you're his girl, Lily. He's going to take you out tonight. Celebrate the win."

"I'm just a team operations assistant. He's the MVP."

"He pays your tuition. He gave you a spare key to his penthouse." She rolled her eyes. "You think he does that for his other assistants?"

"We grew up together. He's just protective."

"Right. Protective. That's why he glares at any guy who breathes in your direction."

"He's like my brother."

"Brothers don't buy you diamond earrings for your birthday, Lily."

"They were just studs."

"They were two carats each." Sophia leaned closer. "You don't look at a brother the way you look at him. And he definitely doesn't look at you like a sister."

I pulled the collar of my beige sweater higher up my neck. My cheeks burned fiercely. Sophia didn't know about last night. She didn't know Ethan had shoved his knee between my thighs, wrapping his massive hand around my toy.

*Want to try with me?*

His gravelly voice echoed in my skull. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the memory of his thumb grinding the plastic into my skin.

The final buzzer blasted through the speakers. Seattle won.

Teammates mobbed Ethan at half-court. He didn't smile. He didn't celebrate. He just lifted his chin, his dark eyes cutting straight through the chaos, locking directly onto mine.

My stomach dropped.

"Go to him," Sophia urged.

"I have to get clipboards from the operations office," I lied, standing up quickly.

I needed to get away from the noise. I needed to hide.

The tunnel leading to the locker rooms felt freezing. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. The air smelled of fresh body wash, stale sweat, and rubber sneakers.

I turned the corner.

A massive hand clamped around my wrist.

Before I could scream, a heavy force shoved me backward. My spine slammed into the cold brick wall. A towering shadow eclipsed the harsh lights.

Ethan.

He had just stepped out of the showers. Gray sweatpants hung dangerously low on his narrow hips. Water drops rolled down the deep grooves of his chest and abdomen. His wet hair clung to his forehead.

He planted his hand on the bricks right beside my ear.

"Running away?" he asked, his voice a low scrape.

I pressed my palms flat against the wall. "I have to get back to work."

"Work is over."

"I have inventory to do."

"Inventory can wait."

He stepped closer. His knee parted my legs, sliding high between my thighs and pinning me in place. The heat rolling off his damp skin scorched me.

"Ethan, step back."

"Not a chance."

His dark eyes dragged down my face, settling on the high collar of my beige sweater.

"You sat in the front row today," he murmured. "Watching me."

"I watch every game."

"Not like today." His rough thumb brushed the base of my throat. "You were blushing the entire fourth quarter."

I swallowed hard. "It was hot in the arena."

"Bullshit." Ethan leaned in, his nose brushing my cheek. "After last night. After what you watched on that screen. Who were you thinking about today?"

"Nobody."

"Lie to me again."

He hooked a finger under the edge of my collar. He pulled the knit fabric down just a fraction.

"Was it the guy in the video?" His thumb traced a slow circle over my collarbone. "Or was it me?"

"Ethan, please."

"Please what? You begged me last night, Lily. You wanted my fingers inside you."

"I was confused."

"You were soaking wet."

My heart hammered against my ribs. He was too close. The bulge beneath his sweatpants pressed against my stomach, heavy and undeniable. If I admitted the truth, I would lose the only safe space I had ever known. He was a superstar. I was nothing. If he knew I loved him, he would pity me. He would use me until he got bored, and then I would have nothing. No best friend. No protector. Just a broken heart.

"Answer me."

His index finger found the top button of my sweater. He flicked it open. Cold air hit my bare skin.

"Stop." I pushed at his solid chest. It was like pushing a brick wall.

"Tell me you want me."

"You're crossing a line."

"I'm erasing the line."

Footsteps echoed down the hall.

I turned my head. Marcus Reyes walked out of the physio room. The twenty-six-year-old starting shooting guard moved with quiet, aloof grace. He didn't look our way, but he was getting closer.

Panic clawed up my throat. Ten years of hiding my feelings, ten years of terrifying insecurity, boiled over completely. Ethan's aggressive heat was suffocating me. I needed an escape. I needed to push him away before he realized how pathetic I truly was.

"I wasn't looking at you!" I yelled, my voice cracking.

Ethan froze. His hand hovered over my second button.

"What did you say?" he demanded.

"I like Marcus!"

The words ripped out of me. They echoed off the concrete walls, loud and desperate.

Silence slammed into the tunnel.

Ethan's fingers curled into a fist. The mocking smirk vanished from his mouth. I watched the heat drain out of his eyes, replaced by a terrifying, empty cold.

He stared at me. His jaw locked so tight the muscle jumped beneath his skin.

"Marcus," Ethan repeated. The word sounded like ash in his mouth.

"Yes," I whispered, tears stinging the corners of my eyes.

He stepped back. The overwhelming heat of his body vanished, leaving me freezing against the bricks. He didn't yell. He didn't punch the wall.

He just looked at me like I was a stranger.

"Got it," he said softly.

Ethan turned his back to me and walked down the hall, disappearing into the locker room without a single backward glance.

My knees gave out. I slid down the wall, clutching my unbuttoned sweater, entirely broken by the lie I just told.

I buried my face in my hands.

"Did you mean that?"

A deep, unfamiliar voice sounded right above me.

I snapped my head up. Marcus Reyes stood three feet away, his gym bag slung over one shoulder, staring down at me with an unreadable expression.