Page 11 of The Coach

Her eyes grow wide with shock, and she crosses her arms then says, “Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

She places her hands on my chest, and I can practically feel how icy her skin is through my suit, then she shoves at me. I move right back into her space. “If you honestly think that, then you don’t know me at all.”

“I don’t know you at all,” I retort, frustration leaking into my voice.

“Maybe you would if you had called me.”

I frown and cock my head to the side. “How would I have called you? You didn’t leave your number.”

“I left it on your fridge.”

I pause to think, not recalling seeing any notes on my fridge. “There was nothing on my fridge.”

She rolls her eyes, her lips so fucking close to me that I want to hold off all arguments and take her lips with my own. I hold myself back, barely. “Whatever.”

I take a hand and nudge her chin up, her eyes connect with mine again, and I say, “I promise, I didn’t see anything. If I had.” I take my other hand and twist the brim of my ball cap out of the way so my forehead can connect with hers, all my willpower to hold back disappearing. Her chest rises and falls with deep breaths. “I would have called you. I would have begged to see you again. I would have done everything in my power to get you back to my bed.”

She swallows hard at my words, and I redirect our conversation. “Now, I need to know the truth. Are you seeing one of my players, Mick?”

Her eyes hold mine, shifting between them, something like lust lingering in them. “Brother.”

I feel my concentration waning. “What?”

“That’s my brother.” Her tongue darts out to lick her lips. “Lincoln—Ellis—that’s my brother. I’m Micayla Ellis.”

Relief surges through me, and the tiny amount of restraint I was holding on to slips. My hands cup the back of her skull, and I bring her mouth to mine, devouring and licking and tasting her. My heart pounds in my chest, and the moment sends a click through my brain, like something falling into place.

Her hands grasp my forearms, holding me close, and I move until there’s not a single gap between the two of us.

Fire ignites as we kiss, and I take and take from this woman in front of me. She is everything.

It was such an instant connection with her at the bar. Every moment since we’ve met has been natural, comfortable. She is easy to be around, easy to talk to, and fucking hell, the most amazing kisser I’ve ever had the pleasure of kissing.

She moans into my mouth, and I swallow it, moving one of my hands down, my fingers clasping lightly over her throat and angling her exactly where I want her.

“Tanner,” she whispers against my lips. “Wait.”

I stop, keeping my hold on her and opening my eyes to take her in. Her eyes are wide with desire, her breath coming out in pants matching my own.

“You’re my brother’s hockey coach.”

My brows furrow. “Yeah.”

“I can’t—we can’t do this.”

If possible, I frown harder. “Why not?”

She scoffs out a laugh, clearly amused by something. “Because it wouldn’t be a good idea! The hockey coach dating a player’s sister? Are you kidding me?”

I lick my lips, rearranging my hands until they rest on her hips. “Are you… did you not enjoy our date?”

“Date? You’re counting that?” She smiles at me, and I give a small grin back.

“Yeah, I’m counting it. It was one of—” I cut myself off, turning my head to the side. Fuck. It’s been so long since I’ve dated that I don’t know the proper protocol anymore. I vaguely remember something about not showing every fucking feeling you have before you’ve even taken the woman out.

“One of what?” she asks, her own hands sliding up to rest on my shoulders.

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