Chapter 12
12
Bodhi
Pack a bag. Move across the country. Enroll in college. Join the swim team.
Didn’t they get it? Didn’t anyone get it?
My life was shattered. Never to be the same. I would never be the same. The me I was now couldn’t go back to who I was then. How could anyone expect me to just go back to school and start swimming again?
It was those old things that led me here. My old life my downfall.
Not that my current life was all great either.
But hey, there was coffee.
The sweet purr of Coach’s Mustang was a comforting rumble the entire way to the pool. The coffee in my hand was warm and filled with promises to get me through another day.
The campus was empty, the hour so early no one else was up. I’d been here before, months ago when I came to try and make up for what I’d done to my old best friend. It was funny how some things never changed even when everything else did.
The campus was clearly monied, with old stone buildings, some with ivy growing along the sides. There were mature trees just showing signs of tarnishing with the approaching fall. Sidewalks lined the lawns, and streetlights still glowed in the dusk.
My stomach cramped, but I ignored it, the feeling so familiar I’d probably wonder where it was if it ever went away. I stayed turned away from the driver. Neither of us spoke a word. He didn’t even ask me what kind of coffee I wanted, just ordered what he wanted me to have.
I thought about throwing a fit about it, but honestly, it was a relief. One thing I didn’t have to think about. It was sweet, but not too sweet, and creamy without losing the coffee taste. Just the way I liked it.
Besides, I had a feeling I’d need to save my fighting spirit for the rest of the day.
Coach downshifted and steered the sports car into the lot of the natatorium, which was a large building practically in the center of campus. The parking lot was filled with cars, Rush’s blue Corvette in the very back of the lot. Actually, I wasn’t sure which one was his because there was an identical one parked beside it.
“Practice starts every morning at five thirty. Six days a week. You need to do at least three days a week in the gym. Elite has their own.” Coach informed me, turning off the engine. “Some of the swimmers swim twice a day. You can ask them what time.”
I scoffed. “You think any of them are going to want to swim with me?”
“I don’t know what it was like at your old pool, but here, we leave it outside. Inside that building, it’s nothing but water and team.”
“You’re delusional.”
“Get your ass out of my car,” he ordered, snatching his keys and bag and slamming the door behind him. I stayed where I was, sipping the coffee and staring at his ass as he walked away.
His ass was top-tier. Probably the universe’s way of trying to make up for his gnarly personality. It was tight and round, just enough for his track pants to mold against.
The ivy-green windbreaker he wore said COACH across the back and rippled a little around his shoulders when he tensed and looked back. Lines appeared around his eyes as he squinted, his stubbled jaw popping when he clenched his teeth.
I loved riling him up. He was so easy.
The damnable whistle bounced between his pecs as he stomped back to the car, around the hood, and to the passenger side. Smirking, I took another healthy sip of the coffee.
Cool morning air gusted around me when he yanked open the door. “Get your disobedient ass out of my car before I lose my temper.”
I stepped out. “Yes, Daddy.”
Coffee sloshed when his hand snatched the front of the hoodie I wore and yanked me forward unexpectedly. My chest pressed against the window, the car door between us.
His nostrils widened, the golden orbs around his irises flaring as he leaned over the doorframe and into my personal space. Coffee-scented breath fanned over me when he spoke. “You’re playing with fire.”
“Yeah.” I agreed. “It landed me in jail.”
The crinkles around his eyes deepened, and something about those lines screamed sex appeal to me. Like his body was lived in like the best pair of jeans.
“Unless you want to go back, I’m your warden now. So do not piss me off.”
But, oh, it was so satisfying.
My lips parted, and he made a pained sound. “Not another word. Not a fucking one.”
Instead of speaking, I swiped the tip of my tongue over my lower lip. His eyes zeroed in on that action with single-minded precision.
He still wanted me. After that taunting kiss in California, he’d gone stony. Barking orders and avoiding looking at me like it had been some sort of adrenaline-induced mistake.
But the only adrenaline in this moment was the rush I got from seeing that look.
Withdrawing his hand from my shirt, he pulled away. “Let’s go.”
I went, sashaying my ass a little bit more than usual as I went ahead of him on the sidewalk. I could feel his eyes burning a hole into my back, and it only gratified me more.
The second I stepped inside the natatorium, any confidence and control I felt withered and died. Everyone looked up, and heavy silence blanketed the space. I kept my eyes moving, skimming over the Speedo-clad bodies, swim caps, and tiled pool deck. Noting the way the water waved and how the line dividers bobbed. Across the room was a wall of bleachers. More swimmers were there with towels.
The door shut behind us, and I stayed frozen in place. A hand met the small of my back, and I jolted, the touch jarring. Coach didn’t react to the way I bolted, just pressed his hand heavier, propelling me forward.
His whistle blew, cracking through the silence. “Team meeting!”
Someone jogged over to the locker room door and shoved his head in. “Team meeting!” he bellowed before letting the door fall closed and heading to the bleachers.
“Coach, you’re late. I think this calls for extra laps,” one of the guys called. Pretty sure he was one of Rush’s friends.
“Put a cork in it, Owens,” Coach snapped, moving around me to head toward the team.
He was comfortable here. They all were.
I wasn’t comfortable anywhere. Except in discomfort.
The locker room door swung open, and a few more guys came out. Three of them were dressed in street clothes, which was shocking compared to everyone else who were all practically naked.
“Navarro! Sinclair! Andrews!” Coach roared, then followed it with a blip of his whistle. “What the hell are you doing here?”
A broad-shouldered guy with black hair, an eyebrow piercing, and a leather jacket scowled. “You think you can show up with Malibu Barbie and us not be here?”
“It’s a team meeting, Max. You aren’t Elite.”
“That hurts my feelings, Coach,” the guy right beside him said. “I was an intern all last semester.” His chestnut-colored hair was only contained by the aviators pushed up on his head, and his smile was unbothered.
Win was his name. He’d threatened me more than once last semester, and he was dating him .
“An intern is not a swimmer,” Coach argued.
“This affects us. Speedo or not. We’re staying,” the leather jacket dude declared.
A swimmer with curly hair moved in beside him. Wes. And the angry one was… Max. They were dating.
I’d only met these guys twice, and both times was a shitshow. I hated all of them. They hated me. But I still learned their names. I still filed away all the info I could because… well, because.
Know thy enemy.
Yeah, that.
My eyes strayed to another black-haired guy. One who didn’t look familiar at all. He had a double piercing in his lip, an ear full of earrings, and plaid chinos with a chain draped between the front and back pockets. I liked his style instantly and wondered where he shopped. As I looked, a hand snaked out and wrapped around his forearm. It was closely followed by another, and those two hands drew his arm closer, nearly wrapping around it.
Stylish guy rotated toward the other holding his arm hostage and reached up with ring-covered fingers to cup the side of his dark head and kiss his temple. The recipient was wearing AirPods, and I remembered his name was Prism. But the guy he was clinging to, I still didn’t remember.
Win walked past them and draped his arm around the shoulders of a swimmer with hair so blond it was practically white. Blistering irritation burned me as I stared at his pale skin and pale eyes. He was my least favorite person in this entire room. Feeling my glare, he looked over, and our stares locked.
Lars. Rush’s new bestie. Blond-haired. Blue-eyed. Gay. My replacement. Just looking at him made my lip curl and limbs fill with the urge to throw a punch.
“Whatever,” Coach said. “Stand over there and keep your traps shut.”
“Haven’t even been here five minutes, and I’m already drawing a crowd,” I drawled, ripping my eyes from Lars to stare at Rush who was nearby.
“Don’t let it go to your head, bro. It’s hard not to look. Faces like yours belong in the zoo,” quipped a brown-haired swimmer standing next to the one who always wore AirPods.
“I smell smoke. Were you thinking too hard?” I asked him.
“You wanna swim extra laps, Kruger?” Coach snapped. Then he turned to me. “Do you?”
I already told him I wasn’t swimming. I meant it.
“How about you just tell us what’s going on?” A guy with dark hair and an air of confidence cut in. Everyone around him nodded.
Ryan Walsh. The unofficial official captain of Elite.
Squeeeeee! My ears rang even after he dropped the whistle. “Everyone, sit!”
I started forward to sit as well, but Coach caught the hem of my shirt and kept me at his side. “Not you, Lawson.”
Oh, he was referring to me by my last name now. Instant hate.
“New semester starts today. None of you are new, so you all know the drill. Practice hard and keep your asses out of trouble. No partying. No excessive drinking and no drugs. Mandatory testing whenever the hell I feel like it. You got a problem, my door is always open. We’re the best. I expect you to act like it. Do not embarrass me.”
Everyone remained silent, so he plowed on.
“Training and meet schedules have been emailed. If you didn’t get it, let our assistant coach, Landry, know.”
I snorted. His daughter was the assistant coach. Freaking nepo baby.
“You got something to say, Lawson?” Coach challenged.
“Not a thing,” I drawled.
Coach turned back to the group.
I coughed. “Nepotism.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rush stiffen. He started forward, but Ryan caught him around the waist and said something I couldn’t hear.
Coach rotated to face me fully. His face was dark, his jaw set, and his eyes sparked with heat. “You got a problem with the way I run my pool?”
“You want to have your daughter as second-in-command, that’s your choice.”
I could hear his teeth grind. All traces of any kind of want I’d seen in his eyes before were gone, replaced by a stony, flat expression. “Landry Resch is more than qualified for the assistant coach position. If you would like to question my judgment, feel free to take yourself to the dean where you can discuss it along with my decision to bring you to Elite.”
Embarrassment heated my ears as I felt the stare of too many eyes to count. Something inside me shriveled, and all the bravado I usually embodied seemed to flee as if I were a deflated balloon. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to swim. Hell, I didn’t even want to finish college.
But the alternative was worse.
Averting my gaze, I said nothing.
After a long stretch of silence, Coach turned back to the team. “Since it’s the start of a new semester, I feel the need to remind you that there is no I in team.”
Groans echoed up to the high rafters.
Phweeeeee!
Several hands shot up to cover their ears.
“How do you expect us all to listen if you keep doing that?” Kruger complained.
“Yes, swimming is an individual sport, but we’re still on the same team. We’re all here to work. We have the same goals. Elite takes care of Elite. When someone needs encouragement, a lap counter, or some tips, we do it. A candle doesn’t lose its flame by lighting another.”
“That’s deep, bro. Did you learn that from Sally Jessie Raphael, Coach?” the dark-blond, massive swimmer asked from beside Ryan.
What the hell was Sally Jessie Raphael?
Someone I didn’t know leaned in and whispered, “It’s some old-person show Coach watches while he drinks tea.”
Coach sighed. “I will not have a battle of wits with someone who is unarmed, Owens.” Turning back to the group, he said, “As I was saying, I expect everyone here to get along. Out there”—he pointed to the large glass doors—“stays out there. In here, we’re a team.”
“And that brings us to our new teammate,” Ryan said, blue eyes steady on mine.
I lifted my chin.
“Malibu Barbie,” Win said.
A few whispers went through the group.
“Aren’t you the one that accused Rush of murder?” someone in the back called.
My shoulders tightened, and my eyes flew to Rush. Was that what he told them all? I wasn’t the one who accused him first .
The whistle cut through the whispering voices.
“This is Bodhi Lawson.” Coach smacked me on the shoulder. “He’s joining Elite from Pembrook.”
Silence.
“Tell the team about yourself,” he told me.
I said nothing.
“Now,” Coach growled.
“Yeah, I’m from Pembrook, and the girl Rush was accused of killing was my twin sister,” I announced.
Coach gave me a hard look. “I meant your name and stroke.”
“No one gives a shit about that,” I spat.
“Language,” Coach warned.
I rolled my eyes but then glanced at Rush. He was staring at me, an indiscernible look in his eyes. He’d always been intense, ever since we were kids. But it was different now. More intimidating.
“And yeah, I thought Rush did it. The cops said he did. The witnesses from that night said he did. There was evidence…” My voice trailed away as I remembered the day my entire life crumbled.
“He was your best friend,” an accented voice accused.
My eyes fired to Lars, my Swedish replacement, and I felt my lip curl. “My sister was dead.”
“You trashed his whole life, bro,” curly-haired Wes put in.
What about my life? No one ever thought about that. About what I’d lost. How I felt.
It was always about Rush.
Of course it would be. This was his turf. His family. I didn’t belong.
Rush stepped forward, and all attention shifted to him. “I appreciate the loyalty, bros. And the fact you believe me and have my back.”
The knife twisting in my heart went a little deeper. He would never forgive me.
“But that’s the past. Old news. Me and Bodhi buried the hatchet.” He straight lied. “Everything between us is copasetic. He needs a place to start over, and well, Coach thought it would be good for him here.”
Coach thought. Not him.
“I know we all, ah, got off on the wrong foot.” Rush went on, and Max made a rude sound.
“But Bodhi is Elite now.” Rush finished.
I couldn’t help but notice the way his blond-haired girlfriend, our assistant coach, beamed at him like he was some sort of hero.
Lame.
“And Elite takes care of Elite,” Ryan said, stepping up beside Rush.
“God. I’m turning into you, Walsh,” Rush muttered, and Ryan laughed, clapping him on the back. “Welcome to the dark side.”
“We have cookies,” Jamie put in.
“Pretty sure you ate them all,” Kruger muttered.
My stomach rolled with nausea.
“So you’re cool with this?” someone on the bleachers called to Ryan.
Coach made a sound. “I’m the coach around here. Not Walsh. And I said Lawson deserves a chance. Understood?”
A general assent went around the room. The vise around my chest loosened just a little.
“Good,” Coach announced. “Start with underwaters. Go get wet!”
Everyone was up and moving toward the pool. Several guys took a running leap and launched themselves in. Water splashed onto the deck, and I stared at it like it was a foreign substance.
“Lawson!”
I glanced at Coach.
“Go get changed.”
I wondered how long it would take him to notice I hadn’t brought a duffle bag. That I had nothing to change into.
“Go,” he said, pointing at the door like he was putting a dog out to pee.
I went because it was better than staying here.
The locker room was quiet, the air still. Rows of lockers lined the space, and wooden benches stretched down the center of each aisle. I wandered down one and found Coach’s office to the right. The door was open and the light on. Beyond it were the toilets and sinks, and across the space were the showers.
It was an ordinary locker room. If you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all.
After tossing my coffee into a nearby trashcan, I started toward the office, planning to snoop through Coach’s desk, when the door smacked open and footsteps echoed through the open space. Pushing my hair behind my ears, I turned as several bodies came around the lockers.
Win was first, his stare hard. The bottom of my stomach fell out, the anticipation of confrontation making me queasy.
Yeah, yeah . It’s so hard to believe I didn’t like confrontation.
Liking something and being good at it are two completely different things.
Even though an inkling of unease rippled through me, I straightened my spine, drawing up to my full five-eight height.
Fine. Maybe just under five eight. Don’t tell anyone.
Behind him was Max and the one with good pants. I focused on him for a little longer than the others because he made me less nervous. I wasn’t sure why. I mean, he looked just as hardcore as the one in leather.
It’s probably the piercings.
My piercing doesn’t make me look hardcore. Malibu Barbie.
Honestly, I’d been called worse.
“Stay away from Lars,” Win said almost immediately.
Frankly, it was a relief. Trying to come up with scathing barbs and sarcastic one-liners on the fly all the time was exhausting.
“Shouldn’t be hard considering I can’t even stand the sight of him,” I retorted.
Win lunged, and a leather-covered arm towed him back.
“I’m serious, Lawson,” Win said, pushing Max’s arm away. “Lars is off-limits to you.”
What must it be like to have everyone protecting you all the time?
I felt my lips curl into a sneer. I stepped forward and poked my finger into Win’s meaty shoulder. “Yeah? Or what?”
“Or your stay at this school will be short-lived.”
I snorted. That wasn’t even a threat. I didn’t want to be here any more than they wanted me here.
“I don’t know how you managed to con Rush and Coach after your little pyro stunt and tour in the slammer, but the rest of us aren’t going to be so easy to fool.”
I sucked in a quick breath. “You know about that?”
The room seemed to tilt a little. The floor threatened to open up and swallow me whole. These guys knew what I did. They knew why I was here.
Something a lot like shame burned the back of my neck. How was any of this supposed to be a fresh start? There was no fresh start if everyone was gossiping about my past.
This isn’t a fresh start, Bodhi. It’s punishment.
Something flickered in Win’s eyes. But then it was gone, and his stare was unreadable. “You think you can burn down someone’s house and us not know about it?”
Stepping closer, our toes bumped as I angled my face to look up into his. “Well, if you know what I’m capable of, maybe you should think twice about pissing me off.”
Win’s tongue slid over his teeth. “That a threat?”
“No more than the one you just came to deliver.”
“Okay, whoa.” The guy with the lip piercing intervened. His hand wrapped around my bicep and pulled me away from Win. “No one’s threatening anyone. We came in here because we don’t want any trouble.”
“What’s your name?” I asked, abrupt.
“Arsen.”
“Should be your name,” Win spat.
I rolled my eyes. “Your two brain cells worked real hard for that one.” I turned back to Arsen. “And you’re with the one with the AirPods?” I asked, pointing to my ears.
His posture changed, somehow swelling, and his dark eyes narrowed. “You got a problem with Prism?”
I smirked. “Thought you didn’t want any trouble.”
“I don’t. Doesn’t mean I won’t start and finish it if you mess with mine.”
“What the fuck is in the water around here?” I wondered. “All of you act like you’ve OD’d on steroids.”
The corner of Arsen’s lip curved up. “We’re territorial.”
“Yeah? Well, I’m not interested in your territory. I’m here to serve my time and then get the hell out.”
“Then we won’t have any problems.” Max spoke up. “Fair warning, though, we got eyes on you.”
“Yeah? Enjoy the view,” I retorted and walked away. I kept my pace lazy and uncaring until I was around the corner and out of sight. Only then did I slump and drag in a ragged breath. It wasn’t as bad as I expected… but somehow that didn’t make me feel better.
Not wanting to be alone with the Elite bodyguards anymore, I shoved open the locker room door and strolled out. Practice had been hella fun, but I was done.
The sound of Coach’s whistle echoed around the open space. “Lawson! I told you to suit up!”
And I told you I wasn’t swimming.
What the fuck was I even doing here anyway? I shouldn’t have come. A barely-there kiss in a moment of weakness and I was on a plane. I should have just taken my chances at Two Towers. One asshole cellmate was better than all of this.
Panic squeezed my lungs, making it hard to breathe. I was trapped here at the pool with these assholes. Trapped in my own damn body. An intense feeling of needing to flee, to get the hell out, came over me, and my heart started to pound.
Frantic, I looked at the door and the view of the outside through the glass. My body rotated, and I made it one single step.
Suddenly, my hands and legs were being grabbed. My entire body went horizontal as I dangled over the floor between two massive, wet, Speedo-wearing men.
“Welcome to Elite!” a voice boomed.
The two men started swinging me like I was some sort of human hammock. My brain was scrambled. Panic still had me in a chokehold, and I couldn’t keep up with what was going down.
My eyes whipped around, but it was like I couldn’t see. It was too much at once… and then I was airborne. The hands no longer gripped me as my body sailed through the air and dropped.
Splash!
The cold temperature was something I’d once been conditioned to but now a complete shock to my system. Water rushed around me, saturating my clothes and swallowing me whole. Maybe it was the weight of my wet clothes, but suddenly, my body felt heavy. Heavier than ever before. Despite the buoyancy of the water, I sank toward the bottom of the pool, my body like an anchor. I hadn’t been in a pool since Brynne. Since the police retrieved her dead body from Pembrook’s pool.
Thoughts of my twin assaulted me, and I forgot I was underwater, trying to breathe. My nose burned as water rushed in and singed the back of my throat. I coughed, bubbles bursting around me. As I squeezed my eyes closed, my lungs seized, and I told myself to swim to the surface.
I didn’t want to swim.
I couldn’t.
Images of my sister floating in the water filled my head. Her long tawny hair waving around her pale face, her eyes wide but unseeing. I wondered if bubbles were the last thing she saw and if the cold bite of the water made her afraid.
Did she feel trapped as I did now? Did she hope I would come for her…? Was she hurt when I never did?
A sob ripped out of me, and more chlorinated water rushed in. I forgot about trying to swim and fixated instead on the last moments of Brynne’s life.
The edges of my vision began to dim. The bright blue of the water and rising bubbles seemed to fade. I was tired. I missed my family. I should go to her and apologize.
I’m sorry, B.
A strong grip wrapped around my arm, and my body went from floating to being towed. Water rushed around me, tugging at my clothes, but it was no match for the determination holding me in its grip. The cold seeping into my bones was battled by something large and warm wrapping itself around me. The sound of splashing, yelling, and a few grunts swirled around, teasing my consciousness but not enough to rouse me completely.
I was dragged over cold tiles and pushed onto my back. The air was cold, the fingers on my chin not. My head was tilted back and pressure, so much pressure, slammed into my chest.
“You will not do this.” A familiar voice floated overhead. “You breathe. Fucking breath right now .”
The pressure was unbearable. My lungs screamed in protest.
A grunt. A curse.
Warmth covered my lips, and air forced its way into my mouth and all the way down my throat. Another breath filled me, and I felt my chest expand. The weight on my chest was suddenly bearable.
“C’mon, Goldilocks,” he whispered. “Breathe for me.”
I gasped, the wheezing sound it made loud in my ears. And then I was spewing water all over the deck as I sputtered and coughed.
Rough hands pulled me onto my side as I gagged and spit, and then I collapsed, spent, against the unforgiving floor with a groan.
Wet strands of my hair plastered my cheeks and offered a shield from everyone standing around. I felt their eyes even if I didn’t look.
“Coach—” Someone began.
“I don’t want to hear it,” he growled, the words quiet but so menacing they literally silenced everything. “Not one goddamn word.”
I was heaved up into a set of arms, my body like a limp noodle.
“Extra laps. Every last one of you.”
He carried me into the locker room, the door slamming behind us. Quiet pressed in, and I started to shake, from cold or trauma, I didn’t know. Tears rushed to the backs of my eyes, and I let them come. They’d be disguised by the water already clinging to me.
“I said I wasn’t swimming,” I rasped, my voice raw.
He cursed, the sound of his voice comforting even if it was aggressive and crude. My body jostled with every step he took, his feet practically pounding into the floor as he walked. His body was tense, and I knew he was likely angry with me. In that moment, I had no room to fight back or to care.
Inside his office, he put me on my feet. I swayed, legs wobbly, and he palmed my hips. “Can you stand there for me, sweetheart?”
My lower lip quivered, and I nodded.
“Good boy.”
I nodded again, and he stepped away. The sound of a locker opening filled the room. Water dripped off the tip of my nose and the ends of my hair as I stared sightlessly at the floor. A warm towel draped around my shoulders, and large hands rubbed up and down to dry me faster.
I shivered, and he moved to my hair, drying the strands until they were no longer dripping. Tossing the towel onto his desk, he grasped the hem of the hoodie.
“Arms up,” he instructed, and I lifted so he could peel the hoodie and T-shirt off in one go. It made a wet slap on the floor at my feet, and he used the towel to pat my chest and then wrap it around my back and shoulders.
“Pants,” he said, stepping back.
I stared at him blankly.
Without hesitation, he hooked his fingers in the waistband of the shorts I’d slept in last night and peeled them down my legs. My underwear went with them, and they joined the pile with my shirts. Still kneeling at my feet, he pulled off my sneakers and socks, tossing them away too.
And then I was standing there completely naked. Skin damp and prickling with goose bumps, toes curling into the floor.
He stood, towering over me, his body warm. With steady hands, he grasped the towel and used it across my chest, dragging it across my navel. After a rough dry of my arms, he stepped back and gazed at me. Whatever he saw had a look he’d never given me flash into his hazel eyes. It was something . So much something that it brought me back a little.
Shaking the towel out behind me, he wrapped it around my hips, rubbing his palms up and down to dry me. My body wobbled from the force of it, and my eyes closed. He kept drying, moving down each leg and then back up. I felt him hesitate. I felt him stare.
I swallowed and kept my eyes closed, waiting to see what he would do. The feel of his eyes wasn’t embarrassing. It didn’t make me shy. I wasn’t even hard. The panic and frigid temperature of the water ensured the first impression of my package was likely less than impressive.
But not unimpressive enough to keep him from staring, and if his eyes continued to linger, my soft appearance would rapidly change.
After what seemed like an internal debate, he moved, leaning around me to put the towel back on his desk.
I caught his wrist, and he stilled.
“I’m still wet.”
He exhaled, the sound of his patience leaving his body.
I liked that sound. I liked pushing this man to the very edge. I wanted him to tumble over.
“You playing me right now?” He wanted to know.
I lifted my eyes to meet his, letting him see that this was no game and that if he pulled away just then, I might shatter.
“All right now, Goldilocks,” he purred. “All right.”
The give in his voice fed the need inside me, making it multiply greedily and beg for more. I kept my lips pressed together, absolutely refusing to ask for anything else.
He palmed the towel… and then me through it. I couldn’t hold in the snuffling sound as he cupped my package with the towel, gently drying my most sensitive parts. My stomach buzzed. My heart beat faster than a hummingbird’s wings. My breaths turned shallow, and I peeked through half-closed lids at his rough-hewn face.
“Spread your legs for me.” It wasn’t a request but didn’t have to be a demand. I widened my stance, and he slid the towel lower, drying my inner thighs and dipping behind my balls.
The inside of his wrist brushed against my sack. The skin-on-skin contact made me gasp. My eyes flew to him, and he met them, the gold ring around his irises sparking like fireworks on the fourth of July.
I flung myself at him, throwing my arms around his neck and pushing close. The towel fell between us, and he grunted as I squeezed close, seeking his kiss.
My groan filled the room the second I found it, his warm, full lips offering sweet refuge. I surrendered instantly, eagerly parting so he could sweep inside, and that’s exactly what he did.
This kiss was not at all like the one before. It was not tentative or reassuring but bold and consuming. Hesitation ceased to exist, and I surrendered to the dominating way he yielded his tongue, hungry for every grunt and growl, melting for the possessive way he clutched me close as though he couldn’t get enough. I ached to crawl inside him and make a home but settled instead for kissing him with all the passion he inspired. His short beard was abrasive, rubbing against my chin, stinging my skin, and making me feel marked. Desperate for more, I clung tighter, straining up on tiptoes, and he palmed my bare ass, lifting me off my feet. My legs wound around his waist, brain registering his soaked clothes but forgetting when his fingers bit into my ass cheeks and he deepened the kiss like the world might be ending.
I thrust against his middle, my dick wide awake and hard as hell. The cold, wet fabric of his shirt was annoying, and I reached between us to tow it up and wiggle around until my hard shaft met his skin.
Our lips popped apart, both of us groaning. I shuddered, thrust against him again, and lifted my chin. His one hand came up to grasp the front of my throat, fingers splaying along my jaw. It was so possessive I whimpered, and he fed me his tongue. I sucked on him like I was starving, fingernails biting into his clothes, my bare dick rubbing over his hard stomach.
Panting, I dropped my head onto his shoulder, fingertips rubbing in the very short hair at the base of his neck.
“Coach.”
“Emmett,” he countered.
“Em,” I settled on. “ Please .”
“Please, what?”
“Please, more.”
A hint of hesitation tinged the air, and I panicked. Grabbing his prickly jaw, I squeezed. “I need you.”
His growl reverberated through his office, and my back hit his desk. Pens, papers, and God knew what else stabbed into my back and shoulders, but I barely noticed because of the way his eyes blazed with want.
No one had ever looked at me this way. As if I were the only thing to exist.
He tried to pull back, but I kept my thighs locked around his waist. Amusement flashed in his stare, and he rose enough to plant his palms on either side of my body and looked down.
Lust flared in his eyes as he swept that hot gaze over my naked skin, and then he was on me again, kissing me senseless, dragging his scruff over my jaw, and kissing down my neck. I arched up, offering every inch, and he licked and nipped before sucking the soft spot where my neck met my shoulder deep into his mouth. Pain spiked and then bloomed into this warm rush, and I sagged, boneless, across his desk.
I mewled and panted while he availed himself of my flesh, sucking until I knew there would be a stamp of ownership and something that would ache the rest of the day.
My dick throbbed between us, almost to the point of pain. I wanted to demand release, to rub against him until I exploded, but I couldn’t. My body was too languid, his presence far too domineering.
All I could do was find him with my eyes and plead.
His palm flattened on my shoulder, pinning me to the desk. I wanted to tell him it was unnecessary; I was already putty in his hands.
But then he swallowed my dick.
A strangled cry flew from my lips, and my shoulders shot up off the wood. He pushed me back down and held me there while he drew my dick so deep into his warm, wet mouth that my weeping tip hit the back of his throat. I expected him to gag, but he swallowed instead, sucking me that much deeper into the tight fit of his body.
My eyes crossed, and I think I might have prayed. No one had ever sucked me so deep, been so enthusiastic about swallowing me whole.
He held me there for long moments, strangling my cock with so much pleasure I started to shake. Right before I literally dumped down his throat, he pulled back, sucking up my shaft like I was candy and he loved sugar. His lips locked around the base of my head, and I moaned. The vacuum seal he created made my hips bow toward his mouth.
Releasing me, he wrapped his fist around my length and held tight while pushing the tip of his tongue into my slit. I shouted, legs wrapping around his head, and he did it again.
Lightning shot down my spine, lighting me up so forcefully that bright spots swam in my vision. My whole body went taut, and the warm sleeve of his mouth slid over me again.
I burst, my dick pulsing and jerking against his tongue as pleasure poured out of me and down his throat. Every time he swallowed, another jolt of pleasure would electrify me until I was weak and empty and his saliva pooled at the base of my cock.
Spent, I lay back against the desk, chest heaving. He gave me one last suck before swiping the whole of his tongue over my tip and pulling away.
I caught the sleeve of his windbreaker, fingertips keeping him from going far. I barely had the strength to cling, but desperation made it possible.
Shifting, he stared down at me, eyes molten and heavy. His thumb swiped over his lower lip, and he sucked it into his mouth. I stared at him, unable to look anywhere else.
“Just as I imagined. So beautiful it hurts.”
I swallowed. “You imagined me?”
His eyes shuttered, and it felt like someone slammed a door in my face. Panicked, I scrambled up, worried he was already pulling away.
My limbs were still unsteady, and my palm slid on a stack of papers. I fell back, but he caught me, winding an arm under my body and pulling me into his chest. “Easy, sweetheart.”
My stomach somersaulted.
“Stay for another minute,” I begged, not caring if I sounded needy and weak. I wasn’t ready for this moment to be over. I wasn’t ready to let go. “Please.”
His lips danced in the hair at my temple, breath warm against my skin. This time when he pulled away, he brought me with him. We ended up in his chair, me in his lap.
I was still naked, but oddly, I didn’t feel exposed. I brought my knees in, tucking as much of my body against his as I could.
His arms went around me, chin resting on top of my head. My eyes drifted closed as I soaked up this moment. This man.
Because I knew time was fleeting and we couldn’t stay like this.