Page 5 of Not My Coach

Nate’s sultry smirk is plastered amid dark stubble, and he eyes me once again with that all-consuming stare.

“What the fuck? I would never have gone out with you if I had known you were such a bitch,” he snaps and rips his keys off of the table.

He starts to storm off when Nate flies out of his chair and grabs his forearm, and in one swift movement, he pins it behind Brad, pushing his wrist between his shoulder blades.

Brad shrieks, and Nate calmly says, “Apologize.”

If I wasn’t already soaked before, I am one thousand percent now.

Somehow, Brad still doesn’t get it, and I wave my hand, dismissing the entire thing. As much as I appreciate Nate’s act of protectiveness, I don’t need it.

Nate holds him in place for a second longer, then releases him. Brad storms off, and hopefully, that will be the last I ever have to see of him.

“I’m sorry he called you that.” Nate rolls the cuffs of his white shirt and sits back down.

Answering truthfully, I reach out and trail my finger across the top of his hand. “I’m not.”

“Why’s that?” he asks genuinely.

“Because I got to see you get all bothered about it. It was sexy.” I run my finger back across his hand.

He adjusts his hips in his chair. I don’t know what it is about that movement, but it’s one of those things that’s fucking hot for no reason.

Please, dear God, let me go home with this man tonight.

God, me again. Please also let him not be a serial killer, thanks.

“No one should speak to a woman like that,” he says before flipping his hand over.

Now, he’s the one in charge of our little finger foreplay. Gently, he caresses my fingers, hand, and wrist in tiny gentle touches that somehow turn me on. If he can do that and arouse me, I can’t wait to see what happens next.

A waitress comes by with a gigantic bowl of chicken Parm and sets it down in front of him. “Here you go.”

When I say gigantic, I mean it. It could feed a family of four.

My face must reflect my shock because he laughs and says, “I told the waiter to surprise me; however, I was expecting a course for one. But as you didn’t order anything, would you like a fork to share this with me?”

He grabs Brad’s fork, and I nod. “I would love to.”

He twirls the fork in the noodles against the silver spoon, creating the perfect bite. He lifts it to his lips before smirking.

Slowly, he stretches his arm across the table. “For you.”

Lifting my hand, I reach for the fork, and he pulls it away and shakes his head.

Oh my God, he wants to feed me …

Parting my lips, I open wide enough for him to slide the fork into my mouth, and I press my lips gently to the fork as he slowly slides it out.

“Ohh … that is so good,” I groan as I absolutely devour the bite of pasta.

He takes the fork, slides it into his mouth, and licks it clean.

My pussy flutters. I think I might be in love.

As he swirls another forkful of pasta, I ask him, “What were you doing here tonight before you hijacked my date?”

He finishes twirling the fork against the spoon before looking up at me and answering, “I was celebrating my divorce.”

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