Page 155 of The Coach

Kyle gives me a slow, knowing smile before turning away.

I force myself to shake it off.

And then—my phone buzzes in my lap.

I glance down.

Jackson: How’s my girl?

My pulse picks up.

I bite my lip, typing back.

Me: At the high school football game.

Jackson: A woman after my own heart. You wearing something cute?

Heat rises in my cheeks.

Me: Are you flirting with me, Coach?

Jackson: Absolutely. And it’s only going to get worse. Better not send me a distracting photo, or something. That would be bad. I really don’t need to be distracted tonight. I’m not missing you and I’m not thinking about you…;)

I swallow hard, staring at the screen, reading between the lines.

Oh.

Well, damn.

I cross my legs, the cool fall air brushing against my bare skin. The game is fine—good, even. My cousin is playing well, and Lauren is fully invested, yelling like she’s been a football fan her whole life. But my mind? Elsewhere.

I glance at my phone, at Jackson’s last text, and before I can second-guess myself, I shift in my seat, snap a quick photo of my thighs in my skirt, and send it.

Me: Yeah? Well I’m Thinking about you.

It takes less than five seconds for his reply.

Jackson: Jesus fucking Christ, Ivy.

A slow, satisfied smile spreads across my face.

Jackson: You trying to kill me?

Me: You’re the one who started it.

Jackson: And I’m gonna finish it, too. Soon. I haven’t stopped thinking about Friday. Or Saturday. The way you fell apart for me. The way you begged me for more.

My breath catches, my thighs squeezing together.

Jackson: I need you again, baby.

I swallow hard, heat rising under my skin.

Jackson: You wanna be a good girl for me tonight? Have a little fun?

A full-body shiver rolls through me.

I glance up, heart pounding, suddenly hyper-aware of the noise around me—the cheers, the whistles, the sound of Jacob complaining about a ref’s call.

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