Page 159 of The Coach

“Ivy.” His groan is raw, guttural, his own release hitting as he strokes himself through it, his cock pulsing in his hand as he comes.

We’re both gasping for breath, the only sound between us the heavy static of desire still thick in the air.

I bite my lip, coming down from my high, warmth spreading through me as I watch him recover. He looks completelywrecked—his chest heaving, his lips parted, his muscles still tight with aftershocks.

And the best part?

I did that to him.

“Damn,” I let out, grinning lazily.

Jackson chuckles, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Yeah.Damn.”

I smirk, settling deeper into the bed. “So…you glad I came home for you?”

It’s such an odd feeling to say that phrase.I came home for you. But it wasn’t a frivolous decision. Me deliberately wanting to please him—and myself—is a big deal for us getting to the next level.

His gaze darkens, something possessive flickering in his eyes. “Baby, if I didn’t have a flight to New York in the morning, I’d be in my carright now, coming to ruin you properly. Kills me that I can’t be.”

A delicious shiver runs down my spine.

“Guess we’ll just have to save that for next time,” I tease.

Jackson’s smirk is sinful. “Oh, sweetheart. Next time? I’m not letting you out of my bed forhours.”

I stretch out on the bed, still tingling from the high, my body warm and sated.

Jackson sighs, running a hand through his messy hair, looking as wrecked as I feel. His expression softens, something tender in his eyes as he studies me through the screen.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs.

My breath catches, and a smile rolls over my face.

“I mean it, Ivy.” His voice is quieter now, rough around the edges. “Not just like this. Always.”

I swallow hard, my fingers tightening around the phone. “You’re really good at this whole sweet-talker thing.”

He smirks. “Only when it’s true.”

A warmth spreads through my chest, something deeper than lust.

Something thatscares me.

But before I can spiral, Jackson exhales and shifts back against the pillows, looking relaxed, content.

“You tired?” he asks.

“Exhausted,” I admit. “You?”

“Yeah. But I don’t wanna hang up yet.”

I bite my lip. “You don’t have to.”

His lips curve into a lazy smile. “Good.”

And just like that, we stay on the phone, breathing together in the quiet, letting the night settle around us.

I don’t know where this is going.

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