Page 16 of The Pucking Date
I shift on my towel. Adjust.
But it’s no use. The second my gaze drops to where Sophie’s hands glide over sun-kissed skin, all my blood travels south.
I shouldn’t be thinking about it.
Shouldn’t be imagining how it’d feel to straddle her hips, palms skimming over that smooth, warm back, taking way too long to rub in the sunscreen. Letting my thumbs drift lower. Teasing the edge of that barely there suit until she’s squirming beneath me, not her sister.
I scrub a hand over my face and exhale through my nose like that’ll do a damn thing to cool me off.
For one deranged second, I actually consider getting up, walking over there, and telling Sophie, “I got this.”
As if I wouldn’t get drop-kicked into next week by both Novak sisters.
Jesus. Get a grip.
I shift again, trying to discreetly cover the growing problem in my shorts.
Seven weeks ago, I had her. Now I’m back to square one, losing my mind while she stretches out, frying my brain and pretending nothing happened between us.
That microkini is a fucking war crime. She’s not just sunbathing, she’s smoldering. Weaponized temptation wrapped in barely-there fabric and zero acknowledgment of the fact that she’s wrecking me.
My jaw clenches when Sophie’s hands linger too long. Not because it’s rational. Because it should be my hands.
My fingers tracing her ribs. My mouth against her skin. Her voice saying my name, the way it did when she came apart in my arms.
I drag my arm over my face, blocking the view before I do something epically stupid. Like stare harder. Or combust. Or remind her—out loud—that I already know how she tastes.
God, I need help.
Or distance.
Or the strength to walk away.
Probably all three.
“You’re salivating.” Nate chuckles, plopping himself on a towel next to me.
“Shut up,” I grouse, not looking away.
A blur of motion slams into my side.
“Coach Finn!”
A ten-year-old boy launches himself onto my towel like a missile.
“Easy, killer,” I laugh, catching him before he takes us both down.
Jake grins up at me, sun-streaked hair and sandy legs. Dmitri ruffles his hair. “Hey, buddy. Practicing that full-body check already?”
His mom, Melissa, jogs over. Dmitri’s girlfriend Erin is astep behind with Amneris and her little friend, Kaycee, in tow.
“Jake, come on, give Coach Finn a minute to relax.”
“But he’smycoach now!” Jake declares proudly.
Melissa beams at Dmitri and me. “Thanks again for coaching the kids. Jake’s obsessed.”
“Jake’s in good hands now,” Dmitri says, tossing a volleyball from hand to hand.
