Page 62 of Coach Sully

“Thank you,” I tell him. “I can take it from here.” To a man like Sully, I’m sure it’s intimidating seeing all these hair products. He’s not going to know how to wash textured hair. To my surprise, he selects the leave-in conditioner I would have chosen and starts working it into my ends. Huh. While it sits, he washes himself, then leans down to press his lips to mine. His cock thickens against my stomach, and I lean into his kiss as he deepens it. It’s sensual and packed with emotion as his hands glide over my body. My whimper is muffled when his tongue darts across mine. I’m about to wrap a leg around him when he reluctantly pulls away, leaving me in a lust-filled fog.

“Damn,” he mutters. “You’re such a distraction, baby girl.”

He smiles and turns me away from him, picking the comb off the shower shelf and detangling my hair with it.What the hell?“How did you know to do that?” I immediately regret my words, assuming he’s already had practice washing another Black girl’s hair. I don’t want to think about him with other women.

“I watched a video,” he says.

I spin around to face him. “When?”

“A couple weeks ago. I know how important your hair is to you, so I wanted to be able to do it. Besides… it’s my mess, I should clean it up.”

He watched a video so he could wash my hair.

“Oh.” I slowly turn back and let him to continue working the comb through my curls.

I’m thankful to be facing away from him because I’m quickly overcome with emotion. That might be the most caring thing any man has ever done for me. Nobody asked him to learn this. Weeks ago, when I was sure he was falling for other women, he was spending his free time watching videos on how to washmyhair. I wipe away the tears as he brushes away my tangles.

After we’re done in the shower, he wraps me up in a towel, then takes the oil I have sitting on my counter and dabs a small amount into his palm.

“About this much?” he asks, as if it’s no big deal.

I smile. “A little more than that.”

He adds more and shows me.

“Perfect.”

I look down as he massages it into my hair.

I’m falling for Sully. Hard.

My fridge is full of food. There are fresh flowers on my kitchen table and nightstand. My hair is expertly tended to. And he’s holding my back to his front as we snuggle naked in bed. I feel so protected with his strong arms around me, and the skin-to-skin contact has me melted into a puddle. Strong, warm palms skate over my body, leaving goose bumps in their wake. He concentrates mostly on my stomach and belly, as if he’s going to feel the baby kick at any moment.

He enjoys spoiling me. I was suspicious at first. To be honest, it’s kind of a lot, but now I see it’s just the way he is. It’s in his character to be caring and nurturing and protective. He’s a daddy by nature. He enjoys being a provider—of food, flowers, and multiple orgasms. Probably what makes him such a great captain and coach… and partner.

“Can I ask you something personal?”

I laugh. We’re well beyond that. “Yes.”

“Why did you have your tubes tied? Did you never want children?”

My heart sinks at the reminder, and I clear my throat. It reminds me of my greatest fear.

“I always wanted children, just not ones thatImade. I told you how my mom died when I was young…”

He nods against my neck and plants a kiss to my bare shoulder.

“She died of late-stage cystic fibrosis, and I’m a carrier of the gene. Watching her slowly deteriorate, struggling to breathe, and transforming into someone who was not my mom, was awful. My mom was my world, she was my best friend, and I watched her die. I was alone. I could see in her eyes that she didn’t want to leave me, it hurt her as much as it hurt me.”

Sully’s arms wrap around me, cradling me to him.

“The memory of Mom’s funeral was mostly a blur, but I’ll never forget watching my grandma that day. The pain she wentthrough burying her own daughter stayed with me. I didn’t understand the magnitude of it at the time, but as I grew older, I saw how it changed my grandma. It aged her. She was a fabulous caregiver, I loved her very much, but she was never the same.”

“I’m so sorry, Kendra,” he whispers against my skin, and pulls me tighter to his chest.

“When I was eighteen, I received the money my mom left me. I used some of it for college and the rest of it I used to make sure I could never have children. I didn’t want to take any chances to bury my own child.”

“And then you got pregnant.”

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