Page 19 of Mile High Coach

I can’t help it. Lovie Waters is a beautiful woman, and I’m just a man.

When I go hard against her, she sucks in another little breath, raising her chin in search of my eyes in the dark. I hold her gaze through the dark, watching her pupils as they grow even larger, feeling the subtle shift of her body as she leans in even closer to me.

What did she say out on the patio?

The most important thing here is that absolutely nobody can know about what happened between us.

We can’t be seen together.

She meant it too, based on the way she’s skirted around me these past few weeks, only interacting with me in front of other people, and only when I called her out on her “modernization” initiatives.

But now? Now, the way she’s leaning into me, the way she’s looking up at me, it says something different. It says that, in the dark of this supply closet, she might be done with pretending we’ve never touched one another before.

Reaching out slowly, like she’s a bird I might startle, I cup my hand around her elbow, guide her hand up onto my chest.

She closes her eyes when her palm makes contact with my body, then spreads her fingers out, breathing deeply through her nose. I’m really hard now, pressing against her thigh, and when I give a little push against her, a noise rises up from the bottom of her throat.

A noise that I want to swallow whole.

Lovie brings her other hand up to my chest, snaking it around my shoulders, and I get my hands on her hips, grabbingher and lifting her up onto the counter. When I get my cock pressed against her core, I realize, for the first time, that she’s wearing a dress today.

“Oh, fuck,” slips out of me, but she doesn’t seem to mind, because she’s already adjusting, letting out a muffled moan when I press against her panties—which are already damp.

I’m just reaching up, dragging my thumb over her thigh with the intention of sliding her underwear to the side, when there’s a click on the other side of the door, then the jostling of the handle.

“Oh, damn it,” the janitor I saw earlier grouses. “Goddamn thing is stuck again.”

“We’re in here!” Lovie calls, her voice sounding surprisingly professional, not breathy at all. Tucking her hair behind her ears, she pushes on my shoulders and slides down the length of my body.

“Someone’s stuck in there?” the guy calls. “Shit—give me one second.”

True to his word, there’s a moment of hesitation, then another, louder click, and a grinding sound.

Then the door pops and swings merrily open like there was never an issue at all.

“Thank you,” Lovie says, stepping out and touching the man's shoulder lightly, before disappearing down the hallway without a backwards glance.

Chapter 9

Lovie

“Hi, good morning!”

The moment I walk into the sperm donation center, a woman at the desk greets me with a wide, friendly smile. The space feels faintly dystopian, but Dr. Cohen told me I might be better off finding a sperm donor near me here, since none of the ones back in Portland seemed to be the right fit.

I felt vaguely ashamed for being so picky, but she just assured me I have good taste, and that it makes sense to be selective when it comes to something like this.

The walls here are painted soft pink and blue, surely an homage to babies soon to come. I swallow back my anxiety and greet the person at the desk, who’s sitting perkily, with perfectly curled hair and a bright smile.

“Good morning.” I pull my bag back up onto my shoulder, even though it hasn’t really slipped. “I’m here for a consultation? My doctor—Dr. Cohen—she called for me.”

“Oh, sure,” the woman at the desk says, her fingers already clacking away at the keyboard. “You go ahead and take a seat.”

I do, and the moment I look up at the TV opposite me, Harrison Clark is in my face.

He’s the kind of coach that NHL fans know nationally, and even some fans outside the sport might be able to pick him out of a crowd—but here? He’s practically Baltimore royalty.

The news and sports channels in this city cover him like he’s a Kardashian, which means he’s on the TV now, his eyes crinkling charmingly at the corner as he answers questions during a post-game interview.

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