Page 34 of Coach's Temptation

And those lips…God.So plump, red and irresistible.

Then the scent of seared steak and rosemary drifts up from the kitchen, snapping me back to reality.

I was cooking. Cooking to focus. Focus on the game. The fucking game. That’s why I need control. That’s why she’s here.

I step back, clearing my throat loudly.

“Right, um… Okay. I think we need rules.”

Natalie turns, raising a brow and falling to the bed with a plop. I catch the slight bounce of her breasts as her body sinks into my mattress.

“Rules? God, Hunter, you’re such a coach.”

Her voice is all mock innocence, eyes bright with mischief. She stretches her arms above her head, toes pointing, her spine arching just enough to have me considering throwing my brand-new set of rules out the damn window already.

But I manage to ignore her. A damn miracle in itself.

“No flirting. No lingering. No touching.”

Her lips twitch. “So… no fun, basically?”

“Exactly. Just be happy you have somewhere dry and warm to sleep.”

She tilts her head, playful, eyes gleaming. "You're right. I am happy. Thank you...Coach.”

Fuck.

This woman is going to be the death of me.

I head downstairs, shaking off the lingering heat in my blood as I move back into the kitchen.

Focus, Brody.

Plates. Steak. Potatoes.Notthe woman upstairs who just damn near made me break my own rules before I even finished making them.

I grab a second plate without thinking, slicing into the now perfectly rested steak and dividing it down the middle. I ladle sauce over each half, pile crispy roasted potatoes beside them, and set both plates on the island.

Behind me, soft footsteps pad down the stairs.

“Are you feeding me now?” Natalie leans against the counter, arms crossed, head tilting as she eyes the meal.

"You look like a drowned cat when I saw you this morning." I hand her a fork. "The least I can do is provide shelter and feed you. Now eat."

"God, the romance," she mutters, sliding onto the barstool. “It’s overwhelming.”

I pour a glass of wine, slide it toward her, then grab a beer for myself.

She takes a bite of the steak and moans—moans—before catching herself and clearing her throat.

"Okay," she admits, stabbing another piece. "I’ll give you this. You can cook."

"Damn right I can."

She laughs and shakes her head, lifting the wine to take a long sip.

"So, how was dinner with the parents? You seem hungry."

She makes a face down at her already-almost-empty plate. “It was exactly what you’d expect.”

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