Page 213 of The Coach

I shiver. “When I do what?”

“When you stand up for yourself. When you put people in their place. When you’re so fucking strong.” His fingers dig in, pulling me flush against him. “I should’ve bent you over this table the second she walked away.”

A small sound escapes my throat, half laugh, half moan.

“Jackson.”

He smirks, brushing his nose against mine, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper.

“Kidding. Obviously other peopledocome up here. We should probably eat.”

I swallow, acutely aware of the way his fingers are tracing slow, lazy circles on my thigh.

“We should.”

Neither of us move.

Heat pools low in my belly, dangerously fast, because I know that look in his eyes.

The same look that ruined me on Friday night.

The same look that completely destroyed me Saturday morning.

The same look that says,I need you. Now.

“Or. I should take you home.” His breath is warm against my cheek.

A shiver runs down my spine. “Should you?”

His grip tightens.

He drags his lips up my jaw, to my ear.

“Come on, baby,” he whispers. “Let’s get out of here.”

I exhale sharply, so turned on I can barely think.

“Jackson…”

He takes my hand, lifting it to his lips, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to my palm.

My heart flips.

And just like that?

I nod.

“No, I really mean home. Let’s fly back to Chicago tonight. You called out of work tomorrow, right?”

I nod.

“You’re coming back to my place tonight and then I’ll take you back tomorrow.”

“Ooh. Can we take the train to Riverbend?”

Jackson laughs. “You’re such a train girl. Of course we can.”

Chapter Forty-Three

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