“Time to stop staring at my boobs and keep playing, Lucas.”
“Sorry.” He shook his head hard, as if trying to clear it. “I just…wasn’t prepared for the full glory of…” His eyes dropped again. “Those.”
“You sweet summer child.” She had to snicker. “What you can see right now is nothing. My boobs are like an iceberg.”
“I don’t—” His olive-green eyes, slightly unfocused, lifted to hers. “I don’t understand.”
She flicked a hand in front of her substantial cleavage. “Ninety percent is still below the surface.”
“Wow.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Oh, wow.”
He didn’t lift his racket, even when she waved hers back and forth.
Maybe another snap of the fingers in front of her chest would do the job. “Hit the ball, Lucas.”
His expression still dazed, he did. Her return arced over the net, and she watched it land in the far corner.
He ran for the ball. “Nice shot.”
“Thanks. I have a great teacher.” She experimented with a bit more force, and the racket responded, sending the ball within inches of the baseline.
“You should know that this is the best time I’ve ever had on a tennis court, bar none.” He was hustling, but she could still hear the smile in his voice.
“Bullshit. You won a Grand Slam.”
“Yes. But Alvillar’s cleavage was much less impressive than yours.”
His return shot wasn’t as controlled as usual. Its trajectory meant she’d need to run a few feet to get it. So she did, even though her knee twinged and the jiggling of her breasts wasn’t entirely comfortable.
Then there was the ball, bouncing only a foot away, within perfect reach of her racket.
What the hell? Why not see what she could do if she bludgeoned the thing full-force?
She hit through it, just as he’d told her, using her shoulders and every ounce of her strength. The ball slammed against the sweet spot of the strings with a satisfying little ping and whipped across the net.
Where, she saw an instant too late, Lucas was standing frozen.
The jiggle. Oh, Jesus, her boobs had immobilized him yet again.
And before she could finish shouting his name, before he could tear his stare from her admittedly ginormous rack, the ball whacked him directly in the face.
Fourteen
Lucas collapsed to his knees on the concrete, clutching his nose.
Fuck, that hurt. Although he supposed it served him right for ogling Tess’s astounding cleavage—again—when he should have been paying attention to the rally.
Rapid footsteps echoed through the court, and she appeared by his side. “Oh, shit, Lucas. Are you all right? Can you move your hands so I can see your nose?”
“Uh…” Jesus, his face was throbbing. “I’m not sure.”
She was kneeling beside him, her arm around his shoulders to offer support, and he could feel her trembling as she nudged the fingers covering his nose. He moved them a fraction and peered down at them to check for blood.
None. And when he scrunched his nose, it didn’t feel broken, just sore. It appeared Acute Breast Paralysis had bruised him, but not severely injured him. Not yet, anyway.
Her voice was hushed as she repeated her question. “Are you all right?”
He really shouldn’t tease her. But how could he resist?
“My face!” he howled, anguish in every syllable. “Oh, God, my beautiful face!”
Her patting hand on his shoulder stilled. “Are you fucking with me?”
“How can you ask me that?” He lowered his hands to his sides so she could get a good look at his total lack of serious injury. “How can you question the severity of my wound, when my distinguished nose and razor-sharp cheekbones have been desecrated, my stunning good looks ruined forever?”
She pursed her lips and gave a little nod. “You’re fucking with me.”
“I’m hurt you would say that.” He blinked at her soulfully. “You should take pity on a poor man whose handsome visage has been ravaged by your errant ball.”
“Your balls are going to be errant if you don’t stop teasing me.” But she couldn’t suppress a small smile. “And that tennis ball went exactly where I wanted it to. You just weren’t paying attention because you were too busy staring at my jiggling rack.”
He gazed down into her magnificent cleavage. “Can you blame me?”
“I guess I should consider it a compliment.” She raised her voice to an announcer’s boom. “Behold! The power of boobs.”
“Your boobs,” he corrected. “Your boobs are the only ones that cause my vital life functions to cease.”
It was the simple truth. He’d seen plenty of breasts before, large and small. But something about hers brought him