Doug throws his hands out, making a show of looking around the deserted campus. “If that’s true, where’s the rest of the team? Let me guess, sucking up to the new coach.”
“He’s not the new coach.” I take a step closer. “You have nothing to worry about. You’re a great coach.”
His shoulders sag as he exhales, his breath fogging the space between us. “I’m a shitty coach and you know it.”
“Not true,” I insist. He shivers and I grab his arm, hauling him back toward the gym. “Come on. If you stay out here without a jacket, you’re going to get sick, and then Coach Masters is going to get the chance to take over.”
“Coach Masters,” he snorts.
I hide my grin in the collar of my jacket, releasing my grip on his icy skin as soon as I’m sure he’s following me.
When we reach the building, I follow him inside, just in case the new coach is still hanging around. Doug might not seem as angry as he was before, but I don’t think it’s ever going to be a good idea for those two to be alone together. I haven’t made up my mind about Lane Masters yet, but I could tell he was trying to get under Doug’s skin. I just can’t figure out if it’s because Doug was starting on me, or because Coach Masters is a dick.
I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough. On the plus side, he’s seriously good looking. All the coaches at Franklin West are. Perhaps it’s some thinly veiled plan to keep students interested in sports.
“You don’t have to babysit me, you know,” Doug says as he climbs the steep stairs to his office.
“I know. I’m just making sure you don’t knock anyone out.”
He pauses at the door, looking at me over his shoulder. “Like I said, I don’t need a babysitter.”
I ignore him, following him inside. “I did honestly only have one drink last night.”
Doug sighs as he turns to me. “I know, Aldo. Like I said, I was just being a twat. I’m sorry. I’ll try harder to keep things professional.”
My chest tightens. “I really didn’t mean to hurt you.”
It’s the wrong thing to say, because Doug’s sad expression vanishes, annoyance flashing in his silvery eyes as he crosses the room to me. “You didn’t hurt me. Breaking off some stupid fling wouldn’t hurt me.”
I stand my ground, refusing to flinch as his warm breath hits my face. This is where I should walk away. Where I should leave. But I don’t. As much as I know it’s stupid to let him rile me, his words squeeze under my skin.
“So, you’re just picking on me for fun, then?” I step close enough that I can count the faint freckles on his nose. “You didn’t pick on me last year and I’m faster now. What’s your issue,Coach?”
We stand there, a breath apart, chests heaving as though we’ve just swam eight hundred meters. But I don’t move. I can’t. Fixed in place by his dark gray eyes.
“Fuck you,” he mutters, but there’s no heat in his words.
I frown, opening my mouth to question, but then he leans forward and kisses me. My brain facepalms itself as I sink my fingers into his hair and pull him closer.
Fuck.I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed this. As his dominant tongue licks into my mouth, one hand twists in my hair, the other gripping my ass, pushing our hips together, and my body lights up like a Christmas tree.
My hands drift down his back, fingers creeping under his t-shirt, sliding over his still-cold skin.
“What are you doing?” he mumbles against my mouth.
“Warming you up,” I answer. “That okay?”
He makes a low sound, somewhere between a groan and a growl, and I take it as a yes. Pushing his shirt up, I let my fingers explore his toned chest and back, my thumbs catching on his hard nipples before following the trail of dark hair down to his sweats.
I shrug off my jacket, trying not to break our kiss, but as his hands push under my t-shirt, I hiss. “Fuck your hands are cold.”
He smiles against my mouth and slides them down my sweats and inside my underwear, against my ass. “I guess I should warm them up, then.”
We stare at each other for a second, clearly weighing up the decision, but as his cold fingers squeeze my skin, I buck my hips, his hard length pressing against mine, and all reason flies out of the window.
Gripping his hair, I slant my mouth over his, devouring him as I walk us over to his sofa.
“Wait,” he pants. “Wait.Shit. Wait.”