Page 83 of Coach's Temptation

The tender moment shatters as freezing water crashes over us. I gasp, the shock of ice hitting my skin making me jump. My polo instantly plasters to my body, water streaming down my back and legs.

"Oh shit! I'm so sorry!" Ryder's eyes go wide with horror as he stands frozen, empty tray still in his hands. "I was aiming for Connor, I swear!"

Connor doubles over laughing, pointing at Hunter's drenched suit. "Your face, Coach! Someone get a picture!"

I glance at Hunter, and my breath catches.

Water drips from his hair, running in rivulets down his neck. His expensive suit is completely soaked through, clinging to every muscle. But it's his expression that makes me take an instinctive step back.

His jaw flexes, a muscle ticking dangerously as he stares Ryder down. The rookie shrinks under that lethal glare, looking like he wishes he could disappear into the plane's luxurious carpeting.

The entire cabin falls silent, everyone holding their breath, waiting to see if their coach is about to throw someone out of the plane at 30,000 feet.

I shiver, cold seeping through my now-transparent polo and leggings. The thin fabric clings uncomfortably to every curve, making me acutely aware of just how revealing this situation has become. Laughter continues to ripple through the cabin as the team takes in our bedraggled state.

I grab Hunter's soaked sleeve, tugging him toward the back of the plane. "Come on, Coach. Now you definitely need that drink."

As we squelch past Connor, still howling with laughter, Hunter's hand shoots out lightning-fast and flicks his ear.Hard. Connor yelps, rubbing the spot with an exaggerated pout.

"That's for encouraging him," Hunter growls, but I catch the tiny quirk at the corner of his mouth.

Water drips from both of us, leaving a trail across the aisle as we reach the back of the plane. My wet clothes stick everywhere, and Hunter's thousand-dollar suit is definitely ruined. But somehow, I can't stop grinning.

"Champagne fixes everything."

I reach for the bottle but suddenly I'm yanked away from it by an arm around my waist.

Hunter's grip is so firm I'm forced against him as I spin. Before I can protest, he pulls me into the tiny airplane bathroom. It’s bigger than a regular one, but with Hunter’s broad frame taking up most of the space, it feels impossibly small.

He slams the door shut and flicks the latch, locking us in. The click echoes in the confined space, making my pulse quicken.

"Really?" I raise an eyebrow, trying to keep my voice steady despite the heat building between us. "And how many people just say that?"

Hunter doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he presses me against the cool wall, his hard body pinning me in place.

His eyes darken, smoldering as they lock onto mine. "You think those morons are paying any attention to what we're doing?"

I swallow hard, my heart pounding in my chest. "Hunter..."

His name comes out as a whisper, almost a plea. He leans in closer, his breath hot against my ear.

"You wanted to celebrate..."

I shiver as his lips brush my earlobe. My hands move on their own, sliding up his chest and over his shoulders, feeling the solid strength beneath.

"You’re all wet," I murmur, trying to regain some semblance of control.

He grunts and shakes his head, then, before I can react, his hand is sliding down the front of my leggings, slicking through my folds and rubbing against my heated core.

A dark chuckle rumbles from his chest. "Hmmmm, and so are you."

The growl in Hunter’s voice sends heat spiraling straight to my core, and my knees wobble as his fingers glide through my slick, swollen lips. His thumb circles my clit, the rough pad pressing firmly, making my body arch off the wall.

“Fuck, Hunter,” I gasp, my hips instinctively grinding against his hand. "We shouldn't—"

“You like this, don’t you?” he growls, his lips brushing my neck as he slides one thick finger inside me, pumping slow.

“Yes,” I whimper shamelessly, my hips thrusting to meet his touch. “God, yes.”

---