Page 33 of Coach's Temptation

"This kitchen is bigger than my entire apartment."

She spins, taking in the copper pots hanging overhead, the wine fridge humming quietly in the corner.

"Just putting this out there, but I now think that I should be making twice what I do. Minimum."

"Why's that?" I lean against the doorframe, arms crossed, enjoying the sight of her perfectly round ass in my kitchen more than I should.

"Because I keep the players standing so you can actually put them on the ice, Coach." She opens the fridge, peers inside at my meticulously organized shelves. "I'm literally the reason you have a job."

"You want a raise? Take it up with ownership."

I move over to the fridge, close the door and double tap my fingers on the outside of it. The stainless steel effect disappears, replaced by a perfect view of the inside of my fridge.

"You don't need to open the door. It's more eco-friendly that way."

Her mouth almost reaches the floor. "And when I ask for a raise, I'll use your fridge as Exhibit A as to why they'll give it to me."

I laugh and push off the doorframe.

"Come on. I'll show you where you're staying."

The stairs curve up to the second floor, each step solid oak beneath our feet. Natalie's hand glides along the railing as she follows me up, her footsteps echoing in the cathedral ceiling space.

The upstairs hallway stretches before us, lined with more windows framing the mountains. Moonlight spills across the hardwood, making it look smoother than usual.

I stop at the first door on the right.

"Here. Your room."

She crosses her arms, one eyebrow raised. "Awfully confident."

"No, just practical." I push the door open, revealing the guest suite with its king-sized bed and yet more mountain views. "Bathroom's through there. Closet's bigger than you need."

She steps inside, taking in the gray and white bedding, the reading nook by the window, the en-suite bathroom with its rainfall shower.

Everything pristine, untouched… waiting.

Her gaze flicks to the en-suite bathroom, where a deep soaking tub sits beneath another window with a goddamn view.

She turns back to me, expression unreadable. “Let me guess. Heated floors?”

I nod.

She mutters something under her breath aboutunfair advantagesand steps back into the main room.

She runs a hand along the smooth bedspread like she’s trying to convince herself this isfine. Like she hasn’t just stepped into some kind of mountain retreat that most people pay a shit-ton of money to experience.

I watch her drop her bag onto the bed, see the way her fingers flex around the strap before she exhales deeply.

She’s here.

She’s really here.

Natalie moves around the bed, fingertips brushing over the pristine gray bedding, andfuck me, I feel it.

The way she fits in this space. Like she’s been here a hundred times before. Like she belongs.

Her hair spills over her shoulders, messy from the rain but still damn beautiful and dark. Her yoga pants hug those curves that test my patience at the best of times.

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