CHAPTER 28 JOLENE

My breath catches in my throat as he steps out onto the small platform. He stands—like he always does at press conferences—giving an impression of power.

I can't help but think of when he's on top of me powering into me.

God, there's something so illicit about doing it in secret.

Would I love to shout to the world that he's mine? Yes, of course. But we both know that's just not possible.

Unless…

I've considered talking to my mom about it.

Maybe it's not as big a deal as I've made it out to be in my head.

But I always stop short whenever I open my mouth to say something.

I'm fucking the son of dad's enemy just doesn't sit right. It's not like I'd say it that way to my mother anyway, but the mere thought of my father finding out feels like a betrayal of the worst kind.

And so here we are, weeks after our beautiful weekend in Ohio holding onto a secret for the sake of everyone we love.

We've had a hard time finding time this week to be together. The boys are out of school for the summer, and they were home this week, so Sam and I were balancing and trading duties. They start camp at their school next week, so it'll be like they're still in school, but this week has been tough. On top of that, Lincoln had OTAs, and this is the first press conference he's held regarding how the week went.

He hasn't even taken Sam anywhere in the last few days. At least when he picks her up and drops her off, I get to see him for a minute. I get to steal a kiss. But he's been busy here at the Complex.

I've stopped by to watch OTAs and take notes, but there are restrictions in place for the media, so I'm only allowed to attend one practice, I can't film anything, and I can't ask players questions during practice.

Head coaches can choose whether or not to open additional practices to the media, but Coach Nash has elected not to…for now. I get it. He's trying to keep his new playbook private, and he's trying to protect his players.

Still, I was hoping the fact that he's fucking someone in the media might help change his mind. Apparently not.

"Good afternoon, and thank you for coming," he begins. "OTAs have exceeded my expectations this week, and as we gear up for a brand-new season, I can't help but feel incredibly privileged to be part of such an incredible organization. I'll take a few questions."

"We're hearing conflicting reports about the playbook," Kyle Broderick from the Vegas Sun says. "Care to comment on that?"

"The playbook is a living document, as you well know. Players are starting to get a feel for what my expectations are, and our walkthroughs this week have shown me that this team is smart and ready to learn."

"What about the reported clashes you're having with your OC?" Kyle presses.

Lincoln tilts his head and looks confused for a beat. "There have been reported clashes?" He shrugs. "News to me."

"Tell us about the competition for QB," another reporter asks.

"We've got a healthy competition going for many of our positions. There's a ton of talent on this team, and I'm watching for many different factors as we progress through OTAs and into camp season," he says.

I raise my hand, and Jack, the mediator of this press conference, points to me. "Coach, talk to us about how you're going to keep a winning culture around here with so many new, young players."

He grins at me. He didn't grin at any of the other reporters, and I get the sinking feeling that everyone will be onto us.

"We've got a lot of leaders on our team. A few key players retired, sure, but we still have many of our starters from last season. Bryant, Woods, Higgins, Garrett, Harris…the list is endless. We've filled those spots over this offseason, and I'm excited about the young talent we're working with. In addition, we retained several key members of the coaching staff, and Jack Dalton is neither gone nor forgotten." He nods at his boss standing beside him. "I don't think this culture knows anything except winning, and we will maintain that at all costs."

At all costs.

I wonder what that means.

I wonder what the expense will be if it all comes down to it.

I wonder what he's willing to sacrifice to win.

And I also wonder whether this is just lip service. He wants those sound bites floating around, and he's smart enough to say the things he knows he has to in order to set the tone.

It's quite a tone he's already setting, and I'm excited to attend another practice next week to learn more.

The press conference comes to an end, and I wait for the press area to clear out before I use my keycard and head toward the back elevators.

I spot Jack talking to him. I can't quite make out what they're saying, but Jack is nodding and I get the sense that he's happy with how Lincoln handled the press.

"Coach, a word?" I ask when both their heads swing in my direction.

"Of course, Ms. Bailey. In my office?"

I nod and take the elevator up with the two men as an ache presses between my legs.

Not for both men, though I'm not opposed to a threesome with the Jack Dalton, but he's happily married.

No, this ache is purely for Lincoln, and I'm about to ensure he soothes it before I walk out the front doors…maybe with his come brushing wetly against my cunt again.

God, just the mere thought of it sends a shudder right through me.

The doors glide open and Jack heads to his office while Lincoln and I head toward his.

"No interruptions, please," Lincoln says to his secretary, and she smiles politely and nods as I wave to her then follow Lincoln into his office.

He shuts the door behind him, sealing us into privacy, and no sooner is it shut than he's pinning me up against it as his lips crash down to mine.

"Jesus Christ," he murmurs against the skin of my neck as his lips drag across. "Do you have any idea how fucking hard it is to listen to you ask me a question in a press conference?"

"Mm, no," I manage on a moan.

"This hard," he says, and he takes my hand and presses it to the outside of his pants.

Whoa.

Yeah, that's hard.

I moan again. "Oh my God, Lincoln. I want—no, I need you inside me."

"You don't even have to ask," he murmurs, and he reaches in to yank his cock out of his pants. I yank my panties down, glad I wore a dress today, and I step out of them. He lifts me up and braces me against the door as he slides into me, no foreplay needed because if me asking questions makes him hot for me, him standing on that stage with all that power as he smiles down at me makes me equally hot for him.

"You're so fucking wet," he hisses. "Always so wet for me."

"Do you feel what you do to me?" I murmur, trying to keep my moans soft but failing since all I can think about is coming right here, right now.

I realize his secretary is on the other side of the door. I realize this building is not soundproof.

But I can't really focus on caring about either of those things when he's pumping into me. All I can focus on is controlling my body for a beat so I don't come too early because I never, ever want this pleasure to end.

I squeak as he hits a particularly beautiful place inside me, and he grunts as he starts to pump a little harder. He moves me up and down that beautiful cock of his, and it's mere seconds later when his body seems to tighten up and he lets out a louder groan.

Knowing I did this to him, that I'm the one who made him fall apart in his office, sends me into my own climax. I stay as quiet as I can as I fight through the brutal and beautiful moment with him as bliss overtakes both of us at the same time.

I've never felt like this. I've never had it like this. I've never come at the same time as my partner, and it feels somehow even more meaningful that the first man who ever made love to me is the one who can also do it best all these years later.

I just wish there weren't so many damn obstacles in our way.

Once our clothes are back in place, he says quietly, "Have a seat."

"Excuse me?" I say, confused. I just came up here for a private moment with the Coach. I wasn't expecting an actual meeting.

He nods toward the seat opposite his desk as he slides in behind it.

My brows knit together as I take a seat.

He draws in a deep breath and exhales loudly. "We have a little wrinkle."

"A little wrinkle?" I repeat.

He levels his gaze at me. "My parents are moving to Vegas."

"Fuck," I mutter.

He can't seem to help a little chuckle at that. "My thoughts exactly."

"It's hard enough hiding this with them in New York, but we haven't really had to test it yet. We haven't attended any of the same events yet. But we will, and your parents will be at some. My parents will be at some. What do we do then?" My voice is gaining in both volume and hysteria.

"I don't know," he says quietly.

I say the first thing that comes to mind rather than what might be the right thing. "Is it worth all this trouble?" As soon as the words are out, I regret them.

He glances at the door he just banged me up against before his eyes return to mine. "If I didn't just prove to you that it is, then I didn't do my job very well."

I squirm a little, those wet panties reminding me just how well he did, in fact, do his job. "You're excellent at your job."

He brushes his knuckles on his shoulder as his lips quirk up a little. "It's just a wrinkle, Jo. It's not the end."

I press my lips together. "I hope you're right."

As it turns out, he isn't.