Page 25 of Not My Coach

Scanning the room, I feel like I’m inside Nate’s home. The decor is eerily similar both here and there.

The main wall in his office is painted black with a laser-cut metal Nighthawks logo centered high. An oversize black desk is centered in front of the pitch-black wall with a light-gray chair behind the desk. The rest of the room fits the same aesthetic—shades of black, gray, and white decorating every inch. White paints the other three walls.

The doorknob jingles behind me, and all the hair on my body rises as I scoot behind the door right as it’s pushed open.

Oh God. I’m going to be caught by some staff member. I’ll just say I was looking for the bathroom.

No one walks into the room, and I think I might be safe from being found. Maybe they heard something, wanted to check, and can now close it and walk away.

“I can smell you, Evie.” His voice is powerful as it fills the office and rattles me to my core.

“Shit,” I mumble.

Stepping forward into view, he shuts the door behind him and walks over to his desk without glancing at me or saying a word.

Pulling his chair out, he takes a seat, folds his hands together, and says, “You need to leave. You can’t be in here.”

I know he is just trying to do the “right” thing, but I really wish he wouldn’t.

“I thought you were a lawyer,” I tease him, quoting the occupation he told me he held on our date.

His eyes snap up to mine, and at the slightest twitch of a smirk, I step toward him, knowing I can wear him down.

“Yeah, well, at the time I told you that, I didn’t picture a conversation like this ever happening. How was I supposed to know you would turn out to be a crazy Nighthawks fan?”

He smirks for real this time, and I smile.

I take another step closer to him. “So, you’re a liar then? Was everything you said that night a lie? Am I really not your good girl?”

His jaw tics, and my insides squirm.

“Evie,” he growls, desire flaring in his eyes, “you need to leave. This is inappropriate.”

Swaying my hips forward, I approach his desk and tap my fingers across the black top. “It would only be inappropriate if you fucked me across this desk. Maybe not even then …” I trail off.

He grunts and adjusts his hips.

Drawing closer to him, I say, “Perhaps it was just a fluke. Maybe we aren’t good together. Maybe your dick really isn’t that big, and I was just confused.”

He scowls at me, and his clasped hands are squeezing so tightly that his knuckles are bright white.

“Maybe I faked all of my orgas?—”

His hand wrapping around my throat cuts me off. He’s standing now, looming over me with a dangerous look in his eyes. My panties dampen, and my pussy pulses when I finally have his hand around my neck again.

His voice is deep as he growls into my ear, “A fluke? Faked it?”

Shrugging, I keep challenging him. I’m so close to snapping that damn restraint of his. “Yeah. I don’t think I even came once?—”

He cuts my airway off and sneers, “Watch it.”

“There he is,” I whisper through his tight grasp.

“That mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble if you’re not careful.” He steps closer to me and hovers his lips over mine, teasing them with the softest brush.

“Yeah? Who’s going to do anything about it? Not you. You’re too scared.” I bite down on my lip and watch as a war wages in his eyes.

He tugs my head forward and presses his lips against my ear, and his words drip with desire. “You’re going to regret saying that, sweetheart.”

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