God, why is that so hot?
Heat floods every limb, and my legs begin to shake.
“I've missed you, Coach.”
I haven’t said a damn word, and I can't retreat any farther or leave—the bed is behind me and Bash directly in front—I'm caged in. Nowhere to go. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.
His eyes scan me from head to toe.
Say something, Greer!
“Oh,” I clear my throat, “you did?”
He nods, and his focus centers on my lips. “Sure did.”
Then why didn't you call or text?
The question is on the tip of my tongue, but I bite it back because I don't want to look like that girl, the one who needs a man to call her the morning after.
I can do casual. I can do casual with Bash.
I think.
He closes the distance between us and wraps one arm around my back while the other cups my cheek. “I was trying to give you a little time and space, Coach. To think about what happened and to figure out how you felt about the situation.”
“Oh.” My response comes out breathy and needy, not at all the strong, confident woman I had hoped I would sound like when I finally came to face to face with him again.
“Oh?” He raises a dark eyebrow at me and grazes his thumb over my bottom lip. “That's the only response I get? Oh?”
I suck in deep breath and shrug. “I'm not sure how else to answer that.”
He leans in until his lips are a mere hairsbreadth from mine. “How about you tell me that you've been thinking about me, too? That you’ve been fantasizing every waking moment about what it felt like to be with me. What it felt like when my cock was pounding into you. How it felt when my tongue was deep in your pussy.”
Christ.
My legs tremble, and I wobble, but his strong arm around my waist holds me steady.
His lips barely brush mine. “Why don't you tell me that, Coach?”
“I…I can't.”
Long, strong fingers tighten on my hip. “Why not?”
Because admitting that would give him all the power. I can’t do that. Power is like gold to a man like Bash.
Another gentle brush of his lips sends a rolling shudder through me.
“Come on, Coach. Do it. You’ll feel so much better after you do.” His hand drops from my back down to my ass and squeezes firmly. His fingers slowly inch their way around until they find the hem of my skirt.
I bite my lip to prevent the moan threatening to work its way up my throat from slipping out.
Heroin.
Bash Fury isn’t crack. He’s ten times worse. He’s heroin. One hit is all you need to become addicted.
And I sure as hell am.
To his touch.
To his kiss.
To everything about him, even his damn arrogant grin.
BASH
She's like putty in my hands. The way she's responding to me tells me everything I need to know. She's spent the last two weeks thinking about me just as much as I’ve been thinking about her. Reliving every moment we spent together that night. Reliving every touch, every kiss, and every orgasm.
And the longer I kiss her, the more I know I'm making the right decision. Not to walk away.
Because I can't. Not when she occupies every waking thought.
Carter asked me where this was going, and I didn’t have a fucking clue. I had no idea what would happen between us when I got back. If I’d listened to my head, nothing would have happened. We would have gone back to coach and player, hopefully with some of the tension between us relieved so we could remain professional. But fuck if I can remember the last time I listened to my head.
The longer I was away, the more I realized that this thing with Greer didn’t need to be one-time only. We both know what’s happening here, and if we want to use each other to scratch an itch and offer relief during a very stressful time, why the hell wouldn’t we?
Especially after having experienced how extraordinary we are together.
I need a repeat.
But I can see she's utterly exhausted. She doesn't need another marathon of sex tonight.
What she needs is to be taken care of. It's not something I can claim to be very good at, but I can damn well try.
I reluctantly drag my mouth away from hers, and her head follows me up.
Her eyes fly open. “What?”
I chuckle and press another quick kiss to her lips. “Hold that thought.” I lower her down to the bed, and she sits there staring at me with her mouth open. I lean over her and drop my palms on the mattress. “You're exhausted, Coach. It's been a long road trip for you, and we have a game tomorrow. You need to relax. I'm going to go draw you a bath. We’re making use of the whirlpool tub tonight.”
Her eyebrows fly up. “Are you serious?”
I grin and stand. “As a heart attack. Don't look so shocked, Coach. I'm not giving up on what we just started, only delaying it a little bit.” The disappointed look on her face makes me chuckle again. I wink at her. “I promise, I won’t leave you hanging, Coach.”
She blushes a beautiful shade of pink, and I make my way to her bathroom and crank on the faucet. I run my hand through the water until it hits the right temperature, then plug the drain.
Greer appears in the doorway and leans against it, watching me. “We’re really going to take a bath together?”
I push to my feet and pull my shirt up and over my head, letting it fall to the floor. “Yep, we are.” I pop the button on my fly and lower the zipper. Her eyes follow the movement, and I cough. “My eyes are up here.”
She grins at me—a carefree, genuine smile that doesn't hold any of the apprehension or reluctance it once did. What happened before I left town broke open the dam that had been holding back our attraction for each other. That had been keeping us from exploring whatever the hell this is.
I shove my pants down, and my semi-hard cock springs free. She eyes it and licks her lips.
“If you want to taste it that badly, Coach, all you need to do is ask.”
Her eyes widened, and her jaw drops. That pink flush turns bright red. “I wasn't…” She buries her face in her hands. “Shit.”
A light, tinkling laughter floats through the small bathroom.
I kick off my shoes and pants and stalk over to pull her into my arms. Her hands still cover her face, and I tug at them until she lowers them. I tilt her chin up to make her look at me. “There's nothing to be embarrassed about, Coach. I fucking love the way you taste, and if you want to find out if you feel the same way, I’m more than willing to let you do some exploring in that regard.”
In fact, that would be one of the many fantasies that’s been running through my head over the last few weeks. My dick deep down her throat. Coach staring up at me and sucking me hard.
Fuck.
I grind my hips against hers, pressing my hard cock between us. She reaches down and grabs my shaft, and I lean forward to kiss her deeply. Instead of the harsh, aggressive kiss I gave her earlier, this one is languid, lingering, exploring, and tasting. It’s unhurried and sexier than any kiss I’ve had in my entire life.
Shit.
I hadn't planned for anything to happen in that tub other than maybe give her a nice shoulder massage to release some of the tension there, but I don't know any man in the world who would turn down a blow job from a woman like Greer Waterson.