Page 156 of The Coach

I have to go.

I grab my purse and stand. “Hey, I think I’m gonna head out.”

Lauren whips her head toward me. “What? The game’s not even over.”

I force a casual shrug. “Yeah, I know, I’m just tired. Long week.”

Jacob side-eyes me. “Uh-huh.”

Lauren narrows her eyes, clearly suspicious, but she waves me off. “Alright, go get some rest, pregnant lady.”

I nod, already moving, my pulse a wild drum in my ears.

Because rest?

That’s the last thing I’m about to get.

I step inside the door to my apartment building. It’s been a long day, but something sitting at the door to go into my unit catches my eye—a sleek black box with a gold ribbon.

I frown, my heart kicking up a notch as I approach it. There’s no note. Just my name printed neatly on the shipping label. I pick it up, head inside, and set it on my kitchen counter.

Curious, I tug at the ribbon, letting it unravel before lifting the lid.

My breath catches.

Inside, nestled in delicate tissue paper, is the most stunning set of lingerie I’ve ever seen. Deep emerald green—silky and delicate, with lace detailing that’s both elegant andsinfullyrevealing.

My phone buzzes.

Jackson: Package arrive yet, Emerald Girl?

Heat rushes through me.

Me: This is from you?

Jackson: Of course it is. Put it on. Let me see you.

I swallow hard, my skin tingling all over.

I shouldn’t feelthisexcited, but I do.

So I do what he asks.

I slip into the bedroom, stripping off my clothes, and slide the delicate fabric over my skin. The silk cups my breasts perfectly, the lace hugging my curves, the matching thong leaving little to the imagination.

I turn to the mirror, my cheeks flushing.

Damn.

I lookhot.

And I know exactly whathe’dwant to see.

I turn slightly, arching my back, letting the soft light catch the curve of my ass. The lace of the thong disappears between my cheeks, the silk bra barely containing the swell of my breasts. I angle the camera lower, making sure he gets the full effect—the dip of my waist, the tempting sliver of bare skin, the way the fabric clings to my hips like a promise.

Then, just towreckhim, I tug the waistband of the thong downjusta little, hinting at what’s underneath.

I snap the picture.

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