No shit.
There was nothing but anger and pent-up animosity. Now, there's just this raging sexual tension that always seems to build between us when we’re together that will snap if we don't release it again soon.
Greer’s hand tightens on the arm of her chair until her knuckles whiten. “Yes, Bob, things have been going well. Bash and I have come to an…understanding.”
Bob claps and rises to his feet. “I'm so happy to hear that. It seems we’re in good shape heading into the playoffs. Our star player is finally getting along with the coach and hasn't had any major penalties in the last few games.” He freezes and points at my chest. “That doesn't mean you're due for one, though.”
I chuckle and hold up my hands. “I can't make any promises, Bob. You know how I play.”
He grins at me. “I don't want you to change that, Bash. It's why I brought you onto the Scorpions. But we can't afford any stupid penalties right now, either.”
“I agree.”
Greer nods. “I certainly agree, too. Nothing stupid.”
It’s obviously directed at me, and not just talking about potential penalties.
GREER
Bash needs to stop messing around.
The last thing we need is anyone, especially Bob, discovering our relationship. Or whatever the hell this is.
I glance at the man who is equally as frustrating as he is irresistible.
What the hell is this, anyway?
My hands clench so tightly on the arms of my chair, my knuckles actually ache. I shake them out and rest them on my lap.
Try not to look so worried. Bob will know something's up.
Especially if this jackass next to me keeps making sexual innuendos.
Bob is not an idiot. If Bash continues with his cocky flaunting of this in front of him, I'm going to end up fired.
We both know that's what would happen. They're not going to boot Bash and potentially take a hit on Bash’s contract when they could get rid of me much cheaper and replace me with somebody who is probably more qualified anyway.
I was a gamble. One that has paid off…
For now.
But who knows what's going to happen in the playoffs? Who knows where I'm going to be able to take this team? Unless we win the goddamn cup, there will be people calling for my replacement.
It doesn't matter what I've accomplished. And if word of Bash and me hits the media, I'll be a fucking laughingstock. I'll never get a head coaching position again. Maybe not even an assistant coach job. I'll end up coaching college or hell, maybe some kids at a local ice rink back home.
My hands start shaking on my lap, and I clasp them together and force a smile at Bob.
He grins. “So, I can expect more of the same in the coming games?”
I nod. “We don't need any more dirty play.” I glance at Bash, and his mischievous eyes connect with mine. Any concern about what Bob was going to say has dissipated and been replaced by his typical arrogance and playfulness. “And Bash has assured me he'll be on his best behavior during the playoffs.”
He flashes me a grin—one that is always a precursor to very not good behavior. The kind of not good behavior that ends up with me naked and riding his cock.
I clench my thighs together against the ache there. Even when I’m terrified of losing my job and sitting in front of my boss, Bash Fury still manages to turn my body into a quivering mass of need.
When did I become such a wanton slut? When did I let a man convince me to risk my future career just because he's good with his dick?
Bash winks at me. “I’ll be on my best behavior, but even those who are best behaved get dirty sometimes.”
Anger tightens my skin, and a warm blush spreads over my cheeks.
This asshat is going to get us caught.
Bob chuckles. “I'm so glad the two of you are getting along.” He motions for us to rise. “Even joking around now. I love it.”
If he only knew.
We both stand, though Bash seems a lot more secure than I do. My legs quiver under me, and I smooth down the front of my pants that don’t need any smoothing just to wipe the sweat off that’s forming on my palms.
Bob places a hand in each of our shoulders. “I knew you two would make a great team, if you gave it a chance.”
Bash laughs and winks at me again. “I did, too.”
Goddamn, that wink.
It makes me want to punch him in the fucking nuts and simultaneously jump on his cock. Truth be told, there's a lot about Bash that brings me to the brink of violence, but what Bob told me during our first meeting has rung true—Bash isn’t a terrible guy at all. He's the type of guy who, if we had met anywhere but on the ice, I would've ended up falling into his arms anyway.
It's just this situation…my position…it's all so wrong.
Bob claps both of us on the shoulder before ushering us out of his office. “You’ve got practice in a little while. Can't wait for tomorrow night.”
The first game of the playoffs and we're facing the Wolverines. Number one in the division and the second-best record in the entire league. It's going to be a fight with them. It always is. And they’re one of the teams that always manage to set off Bash the most. He just can't seem to keep his cool with them, so this will be a real test of his willpower and his desire not to push things with me.
Bash motions for me to exit Bob's office in front of him, and as I step through the door, he places his hand gently on my lower back. A familiar shudder runs through me, as does the memory of the last time his hands were all over me.
Was it only a few nights ago that we were in that hotel room and going at each other like wild animals? When he was kissing his way up my neck as he thrust into me with slow and long strokes…
Christ.
Heat floods through my body as I step out in the hall. The door clicks shut behind Bash, and I wheel around to face him.
His dark eyebrow rises in question. “What's that look for, Coach?”
“You know what it's for, Bash.” I hiss the words through clenched teeth and stalk down the hallway toward my office on the other side of the complex.
One thing they did right when they designed this building was put me closer to the locker rooms and keep Bob somewhere where any high-profile visitors could be wined and dined in more luxury.
I’m going to need that distance when I go off on Bash for his behavior back there.
Bash’s heavy steps follow me down the hall, and he tugs on my shoulder to force me to stop and look at him. “Greer. Stop.”
I shrug off his hand and forge ahead. “I'm not stopping, Bash, because if I do, we’re going to have a very public argument about a very private thing.”
He glances around the hallway, and I pause before the final turn before my office.
His shoulders rise and fall. “I don't see anyone else here, Coach. Practice isn’t for another hour.”
“Bob is here.” I jerk open the door to my office and step inside with him hot on my heels.
He slams the door behind us. “What is your problem?”
“What's my problem? My problem is that we just had a meeting with the fucking GM during which you couldn't even be adult enough to keep from making wisecrack innuendoes that he could've seen through in a second.” I hold up a hand to stop him from interjecting the argument I’m sure is on the tip of his tongue. “Then, you winked at me in front of him. Actually fucking winked at me. Twice!”