Read Online Rebel with a Cause by Natalie Anderson - Free Book Online Page A

zenith, she heard that familiar sound. She looked out of the open window. He was on his make shift basketball court, wearing jeans of course. Buthis torso was covered this time—with a loose NBA style singlet.
    He glanced up to the window, saw she was watching. She pulled her head back in but she saw his grin. He bounced the ball a few times. Executed some fancy run up to the board and jumped high—landing the shot.
    He glanced back up to her. Yeah, okay, she was still watching and he knew it. Too slowly he lifted the hem of his singlet, used it to wipe the sweat from his brow—revealing his abs in the process. Deliberately. Provocatively.
    He lifted his head and looked up at her. He wanted a reaction? Impossible—she couldn’t move, just stared at him.
    His smile appeared and both his hands moved to the hem of his singlet. In a flash he’d whipped it over his head—tossing it to the side.
    Oh God, she just couldn’t take it any more. She slammed her window shut. Heard his laugh anyway. That tore it. She stood and marched down stairs, opened the back door, let it slam behind her. He turned, she saw his surprise. So he was just winding her up? He’d pay.
    She walked past him and went to where the ball was rolling towards the fence, scooped it up. It was bigger than the netball she used to play with. She prayed to the sporting gods for some kind of benevolence. It had been years since she last played netball, but she had been Goal Attack—responsible for shooting through the hoops. She rolled the ball against her palms, pulling it in tight to her chest, getting the feel for it. She was too steamed to care much anyway. Really she felt like throwing the thing at his head rather than the hoop.
    She turned. He was too close behind her. She gave him a pointed look and he took a step to the side. Neither saidanything. She looked up at the basket. So damn high. Still, she had energy in her muscles that needed to be expended.
    She aimed and threw. The net swished as the ball slid through. Confidence from her success swamped her and she turned to stare hotly at him.
    â€˜Been keeping secrets?’ His voice was low. ‘You want to play with me, Sophy?’
    â€˜I want to beat you.’
    His whole body tensed. She saw the electricity surge in him.
    â€˜No one beats me.’
    â€˜Not afraid, are you, Lorenzo?’
    The briefest pause and then that smile curled. ‘What are we playing for?’ He quietly walked closer.
    Yeah, she’d hoped she could bring out his wicked side. She just hadn’t realised quite how easy it would be. ‘What do you want to play for?’
    Was this her? Leaning provocatively close to him, practically purring?
    His amusement deepened but it didn’t bother her, for she saw the fire too. ‘You’re the one suggesting the game; you come up with the prize.’
    She just stared at him, letting her eyes say it all.
    â€˜Really?’ He dropped the basketball. It rolled away, coming to a rest against the newly painted fence.
    â€˜Don’t you think?’
    He’d gone very still. ‘I’m not sure either of us is thinking.’
    â€˜Isn’t it going to happen anyway? Hasn’t it been on the cards for days?’ She angled her head and studied him, half dying inside now with her boldness. He was so silent. Too silent. ‘Do you really want to stop it?’
    His hands were on his hips, his biceps flexing. ‘We probably should.’
    â€˜Why?’ She could see his chest rising and falling faster than before. She knew he felt it too.
    Angry fingers suddenly gripped her upper arms. ‘Why are you chasing this?’
    She flinched. Chasing? Like some infatuated teen stalking her first prey? Shocked, she blurted the truth. ‘I’ve never done this before. I’ve never had a fling. Never had a one night stand. I’ve always been “good”, always watched out for my reputation, always