Black and Blonde All Over: The Series Collection by Alessandra DeLuca

Author:Alessandra DeLuca [DeLuca, Alessandra]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2014-10-19T00:00:00+00:00

Two Against One

Book Three

I couldn’t even think straight. Tuesday mornings used to be indistinguishable from every other weekday morning: get up, make coffee, dress for work. I still did all those things. But nowadays, Tuesday mornings marked the time when I would officially allow myself to start thinking about Wednesday nights; the nights my husband played pickup basketball.

His basketball games were essentially ninety minutes of torturous foreplay, most of it one-sided and none of it involving my husband. Occasionally I’d glance over at Sam running down the court and wonder when the guilt was going to kick in. And then Andre’s dark brown eyes would find me and suddenly my entire body would be pumping with heat. Andre.

His scent refused to leave my nose. I could still feel the harsh grip of his fingers around my waist, and hear the husky growl of his voice in my ears. Ten years ago I would have thought, ‘This is it; this is love’. But a faithless marriage will teach you a thing or two. It wasn’t love; it was anything but. And it was infinitely better.

“Hey, you’re playing basketball tomorrow night, right?”

On his way to the kitchen, Sam looked up at me from under crossed eyebrows and paused. “Tomorrow?”

I shot him a look. “Wednesday?”

Sam dropped his hunched shoulders. “Oh; yeah. Yeah, I’m playing.”

I tried to smother the smile forming on my lips, not that Sam was paying attention anyway. My mind’s eye was already there on the sidelines watching a shirtless, sweating Andre as he moved up and down the court, hips swiveling, biceps flexing, making his teammates look like the white boys most of them were; his eyes shifting now and then to shoot me a private look so thick with desire and intent it paralyzed me. And all right under my husband’s nose. Maybe he’d have noticed if he weren’t so busy wondering how his shirtless abs looked on the court that week.

“Where’s the sugar?” Sam’s irritable voice yanked me out of my daydream.

“In the cabinet above the dishwasher.” The same place it’s been for three years. I watched him open the cabinet and pull out one of the glass canisters. He popped the lid off and made to dip his spoon in. “That’s flour,” I said flatly.

Sam’s eyebrows knitted together and he returned his attention to the cabinet. There were only two containers left. I could have told him it was the one on the right, but if he couldn’t tell the difference between brown sugar and white, he was beyond help. When he picked the white sugar, I was actually relieved. It’s an odd thing to realize, after six years, that the person you’ve been in love with is kind of dumb.

“So I was thinking we should try that new Indian place on Powell Street tonight.”

“I can’t tonight, Brynn.” He didn’t look up at me. “I have to work late.”

In the silence that followed, I could actually hear the sugar he was spooning into his coffee as it melted into the hot liquid.

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