Page 139 of The Coach

Dripping wet. A towel slung low around his hips. Droplets sliding down the hard ridges of his abs, tracing every sculpted line.

I swallow hard.

He runs a hand through his damp hair, shaking out the last bit of moisture, and catches me staring.

His lips curve into that lazy, cocky smirk. “Something on your mind?”

I lift my chin, feigning innocence. “Nothing at all.”

Jackson narrows his eyes, slow and predatory as he stalks toward me. “Liar.”

I sit up against the headboard, gripping the blanket as he moves closer—tall, sculpted, stillwaytoo smug for someone who just spent twenty minutes in the shower while I was lying here overthinking everything.

He braces a knee onto the bed, leaning over me, dripping water onto my bare thigh, exposed on the side of the blanket.

I shiver.

“You’ve been looking at your phone all night, haven’t you?”

I shrug, biting my lip. “Maybe. So?”

His jaw tightens. “So I told you not to do that.”

“And?”

His smirk disappears. His fingers slide under the blanket, gripping my ankle, tugging me down slightly. “And now I have to punish you.”

A thrill runs down my spine as he puts my phone in a drawer of his beside table, and shuts it.

I raise an eyebrow, trying to act unaffected. “Oh? And how exactly do you plan to do that?”

Jackson tugs the blanket off me completely.

My breath catches as the cool air meets my bare skin. I’m only wearing one of his t-shirts—no bra, just a pair of tiny sleep shorts. His eyes drop, darkening as he takes me in.

“First,” he says, sliding his hands up my thighs, fingers teasing the hem of my shorts, “I’m going to make sure you don’t check your phone for the rest of the night.”

I shudder. “How?”

Jackson flips me onto my side in one smooth, gentle motion, mindful of my baby bump, his palm smoothing over my ass.

“Oh, baby,” he teases, his voice rough. “That was amistake.”

I inhale sharply.

He hooks his fingers into my shorts, dragging them down, baring me completely.

My pulse pounds as I feel the heat of his breath against the curve of my ass, then his mouth—hot, open-mouthed kisses down my spine, teasing, taking his time.

I squirm.

"Stay still," he orders, his hand pressing me down.

I whimper.

"Yeah," he grits out, lips brushing the back of my thigh. "That's what I thought."

Heknowsexactly what he’s doing to me.

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