Page 55 of Coach's Temptation

"Oh wow." I gasp, pressing a hand to my chest in mock surprise. "A whole beer? Somebody stop this madman."

Hunter huffs out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "Watch it, Hayes. Keep that up and I’ll have to issue you a misconduct."

I step closer, my smile softening as I watch his face. The moonlight streaming through the window catches the silver at his temples. He looks handsome like this.

Calm. Casual. Relaxed.

"I'm proud of you, you know," I say softly. "Of what you did tonight."

His throat bobs, the hint of a real smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"It feels good." His fingers press harder into his knee. "Now if only this damn knee would stop aching."

I glance down at his hand, at the way the fabric of his dress pants strains against thick, tense muscle.

I bite my lip.

"Hmmm. Maybe I can help with that."

Hunter stills.

His breath catches as I settle on my knees in front of him. The kitchen's marble floor is cold through my dress, but I barely notice as I watch his face.

His fingers still on his knee, knuckles white around his beer bottle.

"Natalie..."

My name comes out rough, a warning that lacks conviction.

"Relax, Coach." I gently move his hand aside. "This is literally my job, remember?"

He grunts as I feel the fabric of his dress pants. They're soft under my fingers as I probe the joint with my fingertips, feeling for any swelling. His muscles are tight - whether it's from the old injury or from my touch I'm not sure.

"You're carrying too much stress here." I work my thumb into a particularly tight spot, and he inhales sharply. "The cold weather probably isn't helping either."

My thumb works over that spot, and the groan that leaves his throat?

Lord help me.

My lips twitch. "Feel good?"

Hunter’s head drops forward slightly, his breath heavy as his grip tightens on the counter. "You know it does."

I hum in approval, smiling cheekily as I start working slow, methodical strokes up his leg.

Higher.

Higher.

My hand keeps moving up his leg, fingers brushing the smooth fabric of his pants. The kitchen seems to shrink around us, the air thick with the unspoken tension that’s been simmering between us.

My heart pounds as I slide my hand higher, testing him, teasing and feeling the solid muscle beneath.

“Nat,” Hunter’s voice is low, rough.

I ignore it, focusing on the way his body reacts to my rising touch. The way his muscles tense, the way his breath catches. The way his eyes darken as he watches me, but doesn't dare make a move to stop me.

I reach the top of his thigh, my fingers just grazing the edge of something harder.

---