Page 28 of The Coach

“You’re amazing,” I tell her once I’ve caught my breath.

She chuckles sweetly. “You’re only saying that because you just got a blowjob under your desk.”

I raise a brow, surveying our surroundings. “Yeah, I never thought that was going to happen to me. Ever. I’m gonna have a scar from this pen,” I tell her, holding up my palm where I dug the pen into it, leaving a mark.

She smirks at me. “I’m glad I could give you the experience,” she replies, her hand going to my other calf and rubbing it gently.

She seems to calm when she touches me; it’s clear to me that’s how she shows her affection. I briefly wonder if she needs it to ground herself in some way, if it helped her stay tethered to the moment.

“I’m gonna have to pay you back for that, though,” I warn, thinking of all the things I could do to her to make her pay. In a good, fruitful way that I don’t think she’ll be complaining about.

“Oh?” she asks slyly. “When is this going to happen?”

“Tonight,” I reply immediately. “Definitely tonight.”

I hear yelling in the locker room and look at the clock. It was time for practice.

Mick senses this as well and says, “Then I’ll see you tonight, Coach.”

I groan and bend, taking her mouth with mine, keeping us out of sight, and pressing one, two, three kisses to her lips before I pull back and look at her. “I’ll have you screaming that name by the end of the night.”

She winks at me. “Prove it.”

I fucking plan on it.

eleven

MICK

Tanner opens the door with a whoosh mere seconds after I knock.

The movement catches me so off guard that it takes a moment to catch up. By then, he’s pulled me inside, backed me against a wall, and is kissing the ever-loving hell out of me.

I moan into his mouth, my jersey from the game still on my back, the high from us winning still lingering in the air between us.

It was a nail-biting game. With only seconds left in the third period, the Vapors had shot the puck and secured the win. I’d watched the team, watched the crowd scream and chant the name of the player who won with the goal, but my gaze had ultimately landed on Tanner’s smiling face and found his eyes already locked on me.

With hundreds of people standing around me, it would have been impossible for anyone to know who he was looking at.

But I knew that look was for me.

I flushed, remembering the other day in his office.

We had intended to meet that night, and I was looking forward to it, but when some trouble with a player came up, Tanner had to put his work first and “let me down.”

His words, not mine.

I’ve only known him for a short time, and even though we are still getting to know one another, I could tell Tanner was the type of person who put a lot of pressure on himself.

I assured him it was fine, but when he called that night, I knew he was more frustrated than upset.

Then he told me what was going on with his player, something that he probably wouldn’t share with just anyone, but it had made me feel special, like I was important enough—trustworthy enough—to share his secrets with.

“Tanner,” I gasp into his mouth, not really wanting or needing to say anything. His mouth is doing enough speaking for us both as it trails down and onto my neck. He sucks lightly, and I hold in a giggle at the feeling of his tongue tickling me.

There was some music playing in the background, and I pull away enough to see the setup in his living room. I let out a happy sigh when I see some lit candles on the stand under his TV, the lighting is set low to set the mood, the music is calm and soothing and sweet, and the couch looks very, very inviting.

“Did you do this for me?” I ask, feeling his hands grasp the edge of my shirt and pulling it over my head, my arms going up to help him.

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