I have no idea why I did that. It was the only place on Chloe’s body I felt safe to touch. I shake my head because there are no thoughts there anymore. All the blood my brain needs to function has headed south.

“What are you wearing?” I ask.

“The regular sizes were too big and there was no petite section, so I’m tween Chloe, your tennis partner with her ass and boobs hanging out.” She groans.

“Your ass isn’t hanging out.”

“But my boobs are?” she exclaims.

“Nothing is hanging out,” I emphasize.

“Why do tennis clothes have to be so fitted?” She scans her body then looks over to mine.

Normally, I don’t have issues with getting spontaneous boners in public. That was before I started hanging out with Chloe. It’s like my dick knows she’s looking and wants to say hi. Fucking idiot.

Now I’m watching her look at my crotch and I’m begging my body not to respond. It’s an impossible feat. Her gaze only makes it harder. The way her mouth parts in surprise. Her eyes widen and her tongue slips out to wet her lips.

“You two ready?” Frankie calls from the other side of the net. The attendant has cleared the ball machine and Frankie is bouncing a ball at the serving line.

“Just a minute,” I call. I grab the white club pullover from my bag on the bench and pull it over Chloe’s head. The hem matches the length of her skirt.

“What’s this for?” she asks while I adjust the collar, then roll the sleeves up on both sides.

“This is so I can focus on the game,” I say, pulling the quarter zip up to Chloe’s neck.

“I thought we were going to let them win?” She rolls her eyes at me.

“Not by much,” I reply, knowing the competitor in me will have a hard time throwing the game.

I coach Chloe on the basics and what she can do to appear knowledgeable before we explain to Fred that she’s still recovering from a recent wrist injury.

I instruct Chloe where to stand, the opposite side of where Frankie will be serving the ball. She stays close to the net, bouncing on her toes like she’s jogging in place. The action makes her ass bounce and nearly distracts me from returning the serve.

Chloe does her best to return serves and play up at the net, but in the end I’m a single playing a doubles game. After two games, my shirt is drenched.

We take a water break. I towel off and get water while Chloe takes off my pullover.

“It’s too hot to wear that.” She fans her face then reaches for my water bottle.

She takes my hesitation for rejection.

“Seriously? You can stick your tongue in my mouth, but not share your water?”