Page 105 of The Coach

“Maybe.”

I grin. “I was thinking about that little sound you make when I first push inside you.”

She sucks in a breath.

I press my advantage.

“And how fucking tight you were for me. How soft. How goddamn perfect.”

“Jesus.” Her voice is breathy now. Barely a whisper.

But she’s not stopping me.

“You felt like heaven, Ivy,” I whisper. “Like you were made for me.”

She makes a small noise, and I swear to God, I feel it like a punch to the gut.

I grip my thigh hard.

I should stop.

I should cut this off before I say something I can’t take back.

But she sighs softly, and it undoes me.

“Jackson. I can’t talk to you like this when I’m alone in my bed.”

I close my eyes, my pulse hammering.Alone in her bed?

Then, I grin.

“Then maybe you should let me fix that.”

She laughs, flustered, but I can practically hear the arousal in her voice.

“Goodnight, Jackson.”

I chuckle. “Night, Ivy.”

She hangs up.

I sit there, staring at my phone like a dumbass.

Grinning.

Because fuck football.

This is the game I want to play.

And I want to win.

Chapter Twenty

IVY

I roll onto my back, staring at the ceiling.

No way in hell I’m sleeping. Not after that.

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