Page 18 of Lawson

“You think I didn't do this on purpose, Coach?” His grip tightens on me just slightly, that cocky grin shaping his chiseled face, and it sends a bolt of heat straight through my center.

I narrow my gaze at him, but I can't deny the chemistry that pulses through the charged moment between us.

Goddamn this guy, why can he get under my skin so well?

Is it because he’s so completely different than who I'd ever been with before? The exact opposite, to be exact?

I force myself off of him, the movements awkward on the ice but I manage to get to my feet. Lawson follows my lead, eyebrows raised as he looks down at me.

“Now what, Coach?”

“You need to pay more attention to your core, and use those thigh muscles of yours to actually propel your speed instead of locking it down.”

Lawson grins. “Been thinking about my thigh muscles a lot there, Coach?”

I take a deep breath for patience and rub the bridge of my nose. “You know what, if you're going to respond to every single thing I have to say with a cocky line, you can just move on to your next section. Clearly you don't need my help.”

I start to skate off in the other direction, prepared to take on my next player, but my shoulders drop as I realize Lawsonismy last player and that I’d arranged it that way on purpose. I always put him off until last because I knew the second I started working with him it’d be an endless barrage of ridiculous flirtation that for some reason I can’t resist.

The conversation with my friends this morning flutters back to my mind.

Ishouldresist the pull he has on me, but...

What if he can help me? What if we came to an arrangement to help me send Brian a crystal-clear message that I’ve moved on?

What the fuck am I thinking? I’m either ready to throttle Lawson or climb him at any given moment, neither of which indicates that we'd be able to pull off some ridiculous romcom-worthy ruse in order to scare away my narcissistic ex.

“Blakely!” Lawson calls after me, skating ahead of me and turning around so he can skate backward to look at me. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’ve got a mouth on me. I'm sure you've noticed that.”

“Of course, I've noticed,” I say, continuing at a slow glide, me moving forward, him moving backward. “I've spent more than two minutes with you.”

That earns me a genuine smile that I hate to say makes my knees a little weak. Thank goodness the rest of the players have already moved on to their next station or I’d be terrified of somebody catching me going all melty for our number one draft pick.

“You don't need to apologize,” I continue. “You need to work. You need to practice the things I've told you. You honestly have the makings of an unstoppable skater, which would be invaluable to this team, but you're letting your ego get in the way of that.”

Lawson blows out a breath, then nods. “Let me take private lessons,” he says.

A laugh rips from my lips. “You're joking,” I say through my laughter. “You give me enough hell during team lessons. You've said so time and again that you don't need my help.”

“I'm being serious,” he says, and it takes me a minute to realize that he’s actually looking at me with sincerity in his eyes.

The look is so new I'm totally taken aback.

“You honestly want me to coach you privately?”

His smile turns just the side of lustful, and warm shivers dance down my spine. “I do. And not for the reason you're thinking,” he quickly adds, raising his hands as we continue to skate. “But because you're right. I want this team to win.”

My lips part in shock. “Say that last part again,” I demand.

“I want this team to win,” he says, and I shake my head.

“No, the part right before that.”

“Seriously?”

“Oh, one hundred percent,” I say, smiling despite myself. “If you want me to evenentertaingiving you private lessons, I need to hear it again.”

“You're right,” he says, and while it might have been fun and games before, hearing those words come out of his mouth does something to my body.

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