Page 270 of Coach
“So.” The second my butt hit vinyl, Sisi leaned in, her eyes glittering with unholy glee. “You look well fucked.”
I choked on my water. “Jesus, Sisi—”
Mike grinned. “She’s not wrong. You’re glowing, positively radiant . . . and that’s hard to do with your olive complexion. Well done.”
“I’m not—” I rubbed my face. “I’m just . . . tired.”
“I bet you are.” Sisi waggled her brows. “Tired because you spent the night getting railed by CaptainAmerica and his super-dick. Does it wear a tiny cape, too? I always wondered.”
“Stop!” I hissed, my face already flaming. “It wasn’t like that.”
Mike leaned on his elbow. “So it was gentle and romantic?”
Sisi snorted. “Yeah, right. I’ve seen the man. That dude doesnotdo gentle.”
“I am not talking about the sex,” I declared, crossing my arms like that might protect me.
They exchanged a glance, a very dangerous, conspiratorial look.
“Oh, honey,” Sisi said, reaching across and patting my arm like a mother soothing a teething child. “You think you have a choice. That’s just precious.”
“Come on, spill it.” Mike grinned. “Positions? How many times? Did he throw you around? Use some of his tools on you? Do you have bruises?”
“I—what?! Tools? No. Jesus.”
“Jesus was there?” Sisi cocked her head. “That’s hard to believe. It doesn’t sound like his scene.”
My head fell back on the cushioned seat, and I tried to remember a time when I wasn’t blushing all the way to my toes.
Thank God, the waitress arrived. For a brief moment, the chatter at our table shifted to waffles and chicken and salad and . ..
“Did the sexy woodsman chop your tree?” Sisi asked before the waitress got away, earning an ear-to-ear grin from the older woman who, for a heartbeat, looked as though she might pull up a chair just to listen.
I dropped my face into my hands. “I hate both of you.”
Mike leaned in. “Come on. You know we’ve been waiting for this. Throw us a bone.”
“I think Shane already did that,” Sisi offered.
Mike choked laughing.
Then Sisi’s laser beams homed in tighter. I swear I could hear a mechanical cockpit voice screaming, “Collision! Collision! Collision! Pull up! Pull up! Pull up!”
Sisi fanned herself. “A strong, silent,nakedwoodworker, and our poor Mateo is smitten.”
“I amnot—”
She waggled her eyebrows. “You let him carry you to bed, didn’t you?”
“Can Ipleasejust tell you what happened before you pick me to death?” I groaned, swiping a hand down my face.
Sisi leaned back, smirking. “Fine. But know that I am pouncing the second you finish.”
Mike crossed his arms. “Proceed, Counselor.”
I huffed. “Okay. So, after . . .everything—”
“Ravishment,” Sisi whispered.
