Page 9 of Edging Coach
The man trying like hell to not fall to his knees at Devon’s feet whispered shakily, “Areyou telling me that?”
He stared at me. I stared at him. I wondered who was more surprised by my answer.
For what felt like millennia, the room was dead silent aside from the noisy heater and my pounding heart. I held my breath. I thought he might’ve been doing the same. Conflicting emotions danced in his eyes, as if he were internally debating whether to tug at this thread or prioritize his career.
After empires had risen and fallen and glaciers had formed and melted, Devon drew the tip of his tongue across his lips again.
I couldn’t stop myself and murmured, “Jesus…”
Something flickered across his expression. Maybe fear. Maybe hunger. Maybe a bit of both. Because holy shit, both of them were burning hot in me right then.
Devon took a half step closer, moving right into my space. “Kiss me.Now.”
My mouth was on his before a single thought could cross my mind.
Then his fingers were in my hair, and thoughts became impossible. All I could do was open to his probing tongue and try not to melt to the floor. I wrapped an arm around his narrow waist, as much for support as to feel more of his lean, hot body. Every welt, bruise, and ache he’d left last night glowed again, and one clear thought finally cracked through the chaos:More. I wanted more. More of him pounding into me. More of his strong hands digging in painfully on my hips, my shoulders—whatever he could grab hold of. More of that burn in my scalp as he tightened his fingers and whispered,“That’s it. So good. Mmm, yeah, that’s good.”
Just…more.
Devon broke the kiss but he didn’t let go of my hair. The hand that had appeared at some point on the small of my back didn’t lighten. Forehead touching mine, he panted against my lips. “Tabarnak.”
I managed a soft, breathless laugh. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?”
His laugh was a warm rush against my lips. Then he was kissing me again. Walking me backward. Turning me.
My back hit the wall, and a helpless whimper escaped my throat. Devon’s lips curved against mine, a brief grin, and then he was exploring my mouth again. I was rock-hard now, and so was he, rutting that thick cock against me as if he wanted to get off here and now, clothes be damned.
When his lips met my throat, all I could do was close my eyes and arch off the wall, holding on to him for dear life as he?—
“Calisse.” Devon suddenly shoved himself off me and stepped away, raking a hand through his own hair.I stared at him, trembling and out of breath as I tried to make sense of what was happening.
The Quebecois swearing that tumbled from his swollen lips this time was more earnest than before. More horrified—no longer the kind of cursing that happened at the peak of amazing sex, but the kind that followed something he was about to regret.
That was when the pieces clicked into place. When my mind finally caught the hell up and remembered who he was and who I was and why we’d come up here in the first place.
We can’t do this. I’m his coach. We can’t.
Devon turned to me, eyes wide with panic. “I’m sorry. We shouldn’t…”
“I know.” I nodded, leaning forward and resting my hands on my thighs as I tried to make the room stop spinning. “I’m sorry too. It was… It was both of us.”
He paced back and forth, muttering more curses. Then, “I should go. This was a mistake.”
“Wait.” I stood up again and faced him, pretending my heart wasn’t going wild. “We came here to talk.”
“Mm-hmm, and look how that worked out.”
“Okay. Well. Then I think we’re both on the same page. Thiscan’thappen again.”
Devon exhaled, and he nodded, his shoulders sinking with… disappointment? Frustration? “Maybe we should’ve just said that in the car and been done with it.”
“Probably.”
He swallowed. Then he gestured toward the door. “I’m gonna…”
I nodded. “I’ll see you at practice.”
He closed his eyes and murmured more Quebecois profanity. Without another word, without another look… he left.
