Page 127 of Coach's Temptation

My future isn’t in Team USA.

It’s with her.

Chapter Thirty-One

Natalie

The penthouse suite we're staying in isobscene.

Like, there’s rich… and then there’s whatever the hell Hunter Brody pulled off here.

I stare at the ridiculous floor-to-ceiling windows, the view of the Las Vegas Strip glittering below us, and wonder…is this my life now?

Marble floors. A ridiculous bathroom the size of my apartment. Hunter has hired a fucking glam team to help me get ready for dinner tonight.

I should feel out of place. I should be nervous.

Instead, I’m standing in front of a mirror, draped in the emerald silk dress Hunterinsistedon buying back in that boutique shop in Boston, getting my makeup professionally touched up like I’m about to walk the damn Oscars red carpet.

Behind me, Hunter is sprawled across our massive king-sized bed, fully dressed, looking criminally good in a pressed black suit and tie, watching me get ready like a man obsessed.

"Ridiculous,"I murmur to myself, shaking my head at him.

Hunter hums lazily from the bed. "I agree."

I roll my eyes through the mirror. "You don’t even know what I’m talking about."

"I do, actually." His voice is deep, lazy, full of pure male smug satisfaction. "I'm staring at my gorgeous girl, getting ready for a night out in the most expensive suite in Vegas.Ridiculousis an understatement."

I grab a hairbrush off the vanity and chuck it at him. He catches it, grinning.

"This whole thing is unnecessary, you know," I say, gesturing to the glam squad still fussing over my curls.

Hunter smirks, lounging like a king.

"No, baby. This isverynecessary. And totally worth it." He rises off the bed and moves behind me, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. "Tonight's all about you, baby."

I turn in his arms, careful not to wrinkle his shirt. "You trying to get lucky tonight, Coach?"

"Always." His hands slide lower. "But first, dinner. Then Cirque. Then..." He kisses just below my ear. "We celebrate properly."

The team is heading to Cirque du Soleil to celebrate yet another victory in the series.

One win away.

One. Win.

A three-nothing lead in the Finals. One step from lifting that trophy, from cementing this team’s name into the record books forever.

Everyone can feel it.

It’s in the way Blake and Logan carry themselves around the Strip, how even Connor—who is stillclinicallyconcussed, by the way—refuses to let the energy die down.

We’ve had images streaming in from Iron Ridge. The town is alive with celebration already. Ridgeview Tavern is packed. Fans are losing their minds.

And the man leading this team? The man the whole city is looking to for guidance, for strength, for that final push?

He’s currently standing behind me, distracted as hell, brushing my hair aside so he can kiss my shoulder.

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