Page 6 of Not My Coach

Honesty. Another point for him.

“Celebrating?” I ask, hoping he’ll elaborate.

He nods and lifts the fork to my lips once more. “Open.”

I follow his order and open my mouth. He fills it once again with pasta and a small chunk of chicken.

“We’d been separated for a year. We just finished the paperwork today. A happy occasion for sure,” he says and begins creating another masterpiece on his utensil.

After savoring every tiny part of that bite, I lift my glass. “Well then, congratulations. Happy divorce day. Unfortunately for her. Lucky for me.”

He lifts his eyebrows and smiles. “Lucky, huh? How do you know I’m not a dirtbag who ruined my happy marriage?”

“Why haven’t you taken a bite of your own food?” I ask, having a feeling that what he says will answer both of our questions.

“I’ll eat once you’re full,” he says matter-of-factly.

Opening my mouth, I allow him to feed me once more. “That’s my point exactly.”

He smiles, and that darkened gaze finds my eyes once again.

“You know I can actually feed myself, right?” I chuckle as he readies another bite for me.

He gives me his full attention before saying, “I’m well aware you’re probably capable of doing a lot for yourself. But that doesn’t mean that I’m not enjoying every goddamn second of watching you part those pretty lips for me in front of a restaurant full of people.”

He’s got to be amazing in bed, right? Like, there’s no way I picture this guy being the type to lie back and expect you to do all the work. He seems like the one who tells you exactly what he wants and then takes it.

“Last one,” I mumble as he lifts the fork to my lips once more. “Thank you,” I say, swallowing my bite.

“Thank you for letting me feed you,” he murmurs before taking his first bite of his own meal.

“What are your plans for the rest of the night, Nate?” I ask as I move my foot under the table to rest it against his.

If he makes me come out and say that I want to fuck him, I will. But I also know that he is well aware that’s where I want this night to head. But just in case he needs another clue, I press my foot along the inseam of his calf, run my heeled toes up his thigh, and rest it on the chair between his legs.

His eyes dart from his bowl and up to mine, and his mouth freezes mid-chew. After a brief pause, he finishes his bite before clearing his throat and setting his utensils down.

“Going back home after this was what I had planned,” he says, and I catch the past tense he used when describing his previous agenda.

“I was thinking that it would be a waste …” I trail off.

Pushing my foot against his inner thigh and rubbing higher on his inseam, I know I have to be mere inches from touching his dick.

He grunts and asks, “What’s that?”

Pushing my foot further, I graze the center of his pants, and his eyes squint slightly before they roll.

I wait until his gaze is uninterrupted and glued to mine before finishing what I was saying. “I spent hours getting ready for tonight. I showered, shaved, did my hair and makeup. I would hate to see all of that effort go to waste. Wouldn’t you?”

He laughs softly. “What did you have in mind?”

I graze his dick again, and his lips part as he sharply inhales.

“I’ve never had sex in a restaurant restroom, but I’m willing to try with you.”

His free hand darts under the table, and he tenderly runs his hand up my ankle. “As tempting as that might be, I’m not fucking you in a restroom.”

This time, it’s my face that shows disappointment. I could use a real good dicking right now, and his is the one I want.

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