Page 195 of The Coach

Jackson: I need you.

Me: Jackson…

Jackson: I’m not sleeping in this fucking hotel alone when you’re a mile away. Come to me, baby.

Heat floods through me.

Me: Oh?

His reply is instant.

Jackson: Leave through the back entrance. Take the second cab in line outside. Driver’s name is Luis. He’ll bring you straight to me.

Me: You planned this?

Jackson: I don’t leave things to chance, Ivy. I need you in my bed. Now.

Holy shit.

I grab my bag and head for the door.

By the time I reach Jackson’s floor, my heart is racing.

Everything about this feels dangerous and thrilling, like we’re doing somethingwe’re not supposed to be doing.

I knock once.

The door swings open immediately.

And then—Jackson’s hands are on me.

He pulls me inside, presses me against the wall, and captures my mouth with his.

The door slams shut.

My bag drops to the floor.

I barely have time to process before his hands are everywhere— on my waist, sliding down to grab my ass, lifting me against the wall.

I gasp against his mouth.

He grins against my lips, those strong hands gripping my thighs.

“Took you long enough.”

I laugh breathlessly, looping my arms around his neck. “Well the driver?—”

He silences me with another kiss.

Deep. Slow. Devouring.

His tongue slides against mine, his teeth nipping at my lower lip.

I shiver.

His voice turns rough, dark with need.

"I told you, baby. I need you. Right now."

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