Chapter 11

11

Coach (Emmett)

The small light over the stove was the only illumination in the very early morning hour. I was used to waking up before the sun did, my internal clock programmed that way for too many years to count.

Even still, I was up earlier than usual, dressed and ready to go. There was a lot to do with Elite swim season starting in just a few days. I was anxious to see how much conditioning my swimmers had lost over the summer and how much work we’d have to put in to get back to where I insisted we be.

Yeah, that was why I was awake. It had nothing at all to do with the body currently filling my couch. Not at all that every time I closed my eyes, I was back in that moment where the sound of the surf and tang of the salt air was a mere backdrop to the smaller body against mine and the sweet surrender of his lips.

I kissed him.

A brief brush of the lips.

I shouldn’t have. I knew better. His vulnerability and desperation made me fucking weak, and I surrendered, if only for a moment.

His mask slipped when the gun went off. When he forced his way back into the room, blind with fear so potent he shook like a leaf. Gone was the angry brat who would claw out your eyes, and in its place was a malnourished kitten who climbed up my body to curl up and cling.

This boy was filled with buckets of emotion, emotion so strong it made him extreme in every direction. So full that he was the physical representation of an active volcano, ready to erupt at any moment, for any reason.

Everything about him called to me. His anger to my challenge. Rebellion to my dominance. Need to my loneliness. Instinct told me he was greedy. Insatiable. And something in me wanted desperately to be consumed.

And that hair. Goldilocks.

Basically, Bodhi Lawson was my kryptonite.

So dangerous that when he tried to deepen the kiss, I was a heartbeat away from giving in and staking my claim. Oh, how I wanted to.

And it was that desperation that made me pull back.

This was wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

He was half my age. A criminal. Rush’s ex-best friend. My new swimmer.

I was his coach. An authority figure. The guy who promised to keep him in line.

You can’t save him.

Maybe I can.

Or maybe he will drag you down with him.

I slammed the coffee pot down on the burner and jammed my finger on the start button with so much force it slid backward on the counter.

The old machine gurgled and sputtered, spitting out a stream of dark brew into the glass carafe. I glared at it, mentally ordering it to hurry the hell up. When it continued with its usual too-slow speed, I stalked to the cupboard to pull out a mug and set it aside.

Helplessly, my attention veered to the body sprawled on the couch. Forgetting the coffee, I left the kitchen and crossed the room. Turn around. Walk away .

I had about as much obedience as my coffeemaker and stopped just beside the sofa.

He was lying on his back, one arm thrown up over his head, the other against his side. Golden hair waved out around the pillow like a halo. I knew better, though. Bodhi Lawson was no angel. Though, he did look even younger when he slept, a fact that made my stomach sour and my self-loathing increase tenfold.

Apparently, I was far too comfortable with self-loathing because I still stood there like an old creeper, rooted in place.

He was fucking beautiful.

Unblemished, smooth skin with a smattering of light freckles over his nose and beneath his down-swept tawny lashes. His face was long, his chin and jaw square. Pink lips parted and appeared slightly dry, but it didn’t stop me from reliving for the millionth time the sinful way they felt against mine.

Why does sin feel so damn good?

Completely disturbed by my own thoughts, I grabbed the whistle hanging around my neck and shoved it between my lips.

Phweeeeee!

He jackknifed up, leg falling off the couch, blanket slipping into his lap. One long, lean arm flung out, grasping the back of the couch for balance.

Shocked and sleepy blue eyes darted to where I stood.

Phweeeeee!

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead. It’s time for practice,” I said after lowering the whistle to my chest.

His upper lip curled in a snarl. “Fuck off. I’m not going,” he declared, throwing himself back onto the couch and rolling so his back was to me.

I blew the whistle again.

“You blow that metal windpipe one more time, I’m gonna shove it up your ass,” he grumped, not even bothering to turn around.

“We leave in ten minutes.”

He remained exactly where he was, ignoring me completely.

Incensed by this dismissive attitude, I grabbed his shoulder and pulled him around. He fell onto his back, blue eyes glaring and a stubborn tilt to his jaw.

“I said I’m not swimming.”

“And I said you are.”

“Who do you think you are, my dad?” he asked. “Because, newsflash, I don’t listen to him either.” A suggestive glint shone in his stare, his lips curling up into a shit-eating smirk. “But I’ll call you daddy if that’s what you’re into.”

The punch of lust was instant and forceful. So much so that I sucked in a breath where it stalled in my lungs before I remembered to force it back out.

Hands buried in those golden curls as I fuck all that attitude right out of him.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I glowered. “That’s Coach to you,” I retorted, drawing that line. Reminding him exactly who I was to him. Reminding myself too.

His lips curved, the smile of a deviant as if he knew exactly the effect he had on me. “Sure, Coach ,” he drawled, and dammit if that didn’t make my dick stir too.

I needed to get laid. I needed to get all this frustration out.

Bodhi pushed his arms above his head and kicked the blanket away as he extended his legs. He stretched languidly, yawning without a care in the world. I couldn’t help but look at him. My eyes went right to his lean body laid out below me like some kind of offering. He didn’t have as much muscle definition as my swimmers should. He leaned toward the skinny side.

Too much booze and not enough nutrition.

Knowing I was unabashedly staring, he twisted, lengthening his body even more. The damned crop top he had on pulled up and the loose shorts skated down, revealing a naked torso that…

“What the hell is that?” My tone was strained and mouth dry as I pointed accusingly at his navel. More specifically, at the diamond stud piercing his belly button.

Pulling one arm down, he trailed his purple-painted fingernails over the center of his chest, down his side, and then slowly over to the stud.

I had a lot of patience. I had to. I herded Speedo-wearing morons all day. But this? This was testing me.

Golden supple skin. Softness with just a hint of definition. A sparkling gem in the center, begging for my tongue…

It looked just like the image on Bangr that I could not get out of my head.

The universe couldn’t possibly be this cruel.

You’re living proof it is.

“This?” Bodhi said, snapping me back into reality. One where he fingered the diamond. “You don’t like it?”

I choked. “No,” I deadpanned. “You can’t swim with that. Take it out.”

That hadn’t been there when we left California.

“What is this, jail?” he bitched.

Ah. They wouldn’t let him wear it.

Well, I wouldn’t either. How the fuck was I supposed to concentrate?

Rush and Landry came down the stairs, moving into the kitchen.

“This coffeemaker sucks,” Rush complained.

I took advantage of the distraction to turn away from the temptation on the couch. “Well, you could sleep at your own place.”

“You’d miss me.”

“I miss the time I didn’t know you,” I muttered, going into the kitchen to take the carafe out of his hand, the dark brew sloshing around.

“Morning, Dad,” Landry said.

I glanced at her and smiled. “Morning, ladybug.” I held up the pot. “You want some coffee?”

“You’ll share with her?” Rush complained.

“I like her.”

Landry’s nose wrinkled. “No offense, Dad, but you really do need a new coffeemaker.”

“What’s wrong with this one?” I argued, pouring the slightly burned brew into the travel mug I had out.

“Let’s go, baby. I’ll buy you a latte on the way,” Rush told her.

Rolling my eyes, I sipped at my fresh java.

It wasn’t slightly burned. It was crispy. And bitter. I acted like it tasted good and went to the fridge for creamer.

There was none.

“Who the hell used the last of the creamer?” I bellowed, the light spilling out of the ice box competing with the light over the stove.

“Sorry, Dad. I’ll go to the store after classes today,” Landry said.

I grunted. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll go.”

“I don’t mind. I’ll get some better coffee too.”

“You want us to pick you up a coffee, Coach?” Rush asked as they headed for the front door.

“No. Take Bodhi with you.”

“Can’t. The Vette’s a two-seater,” Rush called and bolted out the front with my daughter in tow.

Him and that damn Corvette. My Mustang was way better.

The second they were gone, there was no distraction, and my eyes went right back to the couch. Bodhi was sitting up in the middle, staring at the door Rush had just left through. The expression on his face pinched my heart.

I took another swig out of my travel mug and made a face. Tossing the drink into the sink, I turned off the pot and grabbed my keys from a hook near the door. “Get your shit. We’re leaving.”

“I said I’m not?—”

“I’m buying coffee.”

That got his ass up. My attention went right to his lean, bare middle and the diamond taunting me.

“I’ll be in the car,” I told him. “Hurry up.”

Then I fled into the breaking day to keep my eyes where they belonged.

Far away from my newest swimmer.