Page 35 of 4th Degree

“Of course. Thanks for…the opportunity.”

Shit, I need to get out of here.

“Alright, well, I'm going to get going,” I mumble. “I'll see you for class tomorrow night.”

Dominic gives me a stiff nod. But by the time I pull my sweatshirt on and gather my things, he's also packed up and turning off the lights around the gym.

“I'll walk you out,” he says.

I don't argue. I just follow him outside.

When the door locks behind us, I stand awkwardly on the sidewalk, trying to figure out how to salvage this night and get us back to normal, since that’s clearly what he wants to do. But I'm coming up empty.

Dominic's eyes look over my shoulder to the bus stop at the end of the street. He stiffens, and it's not hard to guess that he hates the idea of me taking the bus home. Memories of last week, of him trying to convince me to let him drive me, suddenly assault my brain. He sounded so worried then, and honestly, part of me wishes for that worry again, if only to get some kind of reaction out of him now.

But there's a bigger part of me that stands firm in my independence, so even though it looks like he wants to make the offer again, he takes one look at my expression that screams don't and clenches his jaw shut.

“Be safe getting home,” is all he says.

I nod. “Of course. See you tomorrow, Coach.”

And even though our separation is stilted and confusing, we’re also very clearly back to being coach and student. I should be glad that our risky moment hasn’t ruined or threatened my membership here, in this place that’s brought me peace and happiness. My life and everything in it is back to its carefully-constructed shape.

So why does that make me sad?

13

COACH

I avoid Skylar for two weeks.

I still see her almost every day, and she's still in several of my classes during the week, but I only give her as much attention as to be polite, and to be a good coach. I even keep up our extra training sessions, but I schedule them to be at the same time as other classes to ensure that Skylar and I are never alone. And with the gym filled with people and with the sounds of shouted instructions, there's no space for us to do anything but train.

The only time the strain between us is obvious is when she stays late to clean and we close up the gym together. Those are the nights that my inappropriate thoughts appear without invite and make it more difficult to be around her.

I don’t understand this pull I feel toward Skylar. My gym is not just my business, it’s also my life—one I’ve worked damn hard to build. I protect the boundaries I’ve put in place to keep those things safe, including the relationships I have with the people inside of it. I’ve never once been interested in being anything other than a coach inside this building. Even with Tristan and my fighters, who I like immensely, I don’t want to hang out with them. I don’t want to know about their personal lives—beyond maybe their mental and general well-being—and I don’t wonder about their interests outside of here. I have a clear-cut coaching relationship with them and that’s it. We’re not friends.

But Skylar is…different. I know she’s a student, but for the first time in my life, I want to erase that distance. I don’t want her to keep her questions between gym hours; I want to know exactly what thoughts are rolling around in her brain. I want to keep her late and learn about her.

As much as I tried to ignore this pull toward her, the first night she stayed late to clean made that impossible. I mean for fuck's sake, I played a prank on her. I can't remember a time that I was ever playful with someone. Who even am I? Why is this girl affecting me so much? There are so many reasons I should stay away from her—my age and our power imbalance being the two standouts—yet I can't stop myself from wanting to spend time with her. Last time, I almost kissed her…

I shut down that thought as soon as it hits. There isn't a chance in fucking hell.

Yanking off my shirt with a frustrated grunt, I remind myself of the million reasons that Skylar is off-limits as I undress and step into the shower. I’m her coach, and her kind-of boss, and even thinking about her is inappropriate.

I force my thoughts toward this week’s teaching curriculum as I scrub away the day’s sweat. Everyone’s been doing well with the judo throws, but the wrestling takedowns have been harder for people to grasp. I should make tomorrow’s class all about wrestling.

I start to mentally run through the drills, visualizing each step of the move and preparing for the ones people tend to get stuck on. Some drive straight forward, instead of to the side. Some don’t follow through. Some have to work on dropping their knee all the way to the mat.

My focus zeroes in on this last scenario. The person practicing the takedown has to kneel and pause, specifically to emphasize that step. They stay there, on their knees, red hair splayed over their shoulder as they look up at me with wide eyes, wordlessly asking for approval?—

I don’t realize I’ve wrapped my hand around my cock until the thought of Skylar sends a sharp stab of lust through my lower body. I can’t help sliding my fist over my length any more than I can stop the image in my head from crystallizing.

Skylar, on her knees before me, staring up at me like this is the only place in the world she wants to be. When I free myself from my shorts, her eyes dart down to my hardening cock, and then her tongue slides out, wetting those pouty pink lips that are just begging for me to slide between them.

My hand glides over my length, my chest heaving as I struggle to breathe through the stifling heat of the fantasy. I barely feel the water beating down on my skin anymore; all I can focus on is the friction on my cock and how badly I wish it wasn’t my hand.

I grip her ponytail with one hand and guide my cock to her mouth with the other. She opens for me right away, like she’s been waiting for this moment. Then she wraps her lips around me and sucks.

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