Page 38 of Twisted Play
“Coach!” Dr. Parker hailed me from down the hall, jogging to meet me.
I stared down at the woman frowning up at me—her salt-and-pepper hair was twisted into locs she kept in a ponytail, and she glared at me through thick-rimmed glasses that did nothing to hide the irritation in her brown eyes.
“I need to talk to you about one of our student employees,”she said, not the least bit intimidated by my size or deliberately stern demeanor. “Eva Jackson.”
The last thing I wanted to talk about was a Jackson, especially the daughter of the man who’d ended my pro-hockey career, and I definitely did not want to talk about the woman I was blackmailing into being my sub. Even if she didn’t know shit about BDSM, let alone what I was training her to be. Even if she couldn’t consent. Even if I didn’t care about her consent.
Eva didn’t know what her father had done, or she’d have run screaming from the arena instead of getting on her knees for me when I interviewed her. Didn’t matter. I intended to make her father pay by ruining his daughter.
“What about her?” I said, biting out the words as I yanked my skates and stick out of the locker in my office.
“She missed practice the other day but gave me a lame excuse. I think her schedule is just too much for her—morning practices and workouts three days a week, evening practices five days a week, and then games every week during the preseason. She only gets paid for the evening practices. The rest are technically voluntary, but you and I both know they’re not.”
“Maybe this program isn’t for her then,” I snapped. “Feel free to fire her and find another assistant.” I didn’t mean it. Eva was an excellent medical assistant and an asset to the team, which infuriated me all the more. Every time I wondered if Carter had sent her to fuck with me, she surprised me with her excellence—no, an innocent like her couldn’t possibly be the tool of an asshole like him. She couldn’t hide it.
“I’d like to lighten up her schedule,” the doctor said, drawing me back to the present, “and release her frommorning practices and away games once the preseason starts.”
“No,” I snapped. “She knew what the position entailed when she applied. Every team on this campus has its own student medical assistant—which you know, since you supervise them all. And they all work the same way. Voluntary hours for class credit, required hours for work-study. If she doesn’t like it, she can leave.”
“This is the only team with such an intense schedule for so long,” the doctor replied, her hands on her hips. “And it’s not fair to Eva.”
“I don’t give a shit about Eva,” I lied. “I’m taking this team to another championship, and every single staff member, from the cleaning staff to our fucking PT, better get on board with what it’s going to take to do that.”
Instead of arguing, I left Dr. Parker standing in my office, only to slam into the object of our conversation seconds later as I rounded a corner in the warren of offices and locker rooms attached to the hockey arena.
Eva’s hand burned into my skin where it pressed against me, holding us apart. With a startled yelp, she leapt backward, skittering away from me as if she were terrified—no, as if she was hiding something.
“Oh, oh, oh! I’m so sorry, Coach—Sir—Coach!” Eva stammered, looking up from her phone, her sweetly bemused expression turning to horror as she realized she’d run straight into my chest.
Intrigue replaced my amusement at her stammer over my assigned honorific.What are you doing, Eva?
My eyes flicked down to her leggings, following the curves of her hips, reluctantly admiring how they stretched the edge of her boxy t-shirt, before snapping back up to her face.
I stepped into her space, intending to scare the shit out of her, just for the hell of it. “Where are you supposed to be right now, Ms. Jackson?”
“My bad, Coach,” Tristan said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She tried to shrug him off, though ineffectively, as his fingers squeezed into her shoulder, holding her steady. “I asked her for help with something.”
Possessiveness, hot and poisonous, slithered through my veins. Eva belonged tome—mine to touch, mine to force to her knees, mine to ruin.Mine.“And where areyousupposed to be right now, Mr. Baptiste?”
“On my way to the ice.”
“Get there faster,” I snapped. “Without Ms. Jackson,” I continued when she moved to follow.
Her green eyes widened, but she steeled her spine and looked up at me, waiting quietly for me to speak. “Do I pay you to fuck my players?” I shouldn’t have liked how beautiful her pink lips were, parted and horrified on a sharp inhale. I shouldn’t have remembered how fucking perfect they looked wrapped around my cock.
“I’m not fucking your players,” she said.
I lifted an eyebrow, and when she added, “Sir,” sullen and reluctant, my cock hardened in my pants. Taking the daughter of the man who’d fucked over my entire future and railing her in the middle of the hallway here had a twisted appeal—shoving her to her knees and making her beg for my cock, even more so.
My breath turned ragged. I had the power to force her to do exactly that if I wanted to.
When the extended silence made Eva uncomfortable, she repeated, “Sir?”
I wanted to bend her over my knee and spank her fordistracting me so goddamned badly that I’d lost my train of thought. Right. Fucking players.Don’t.
“Good,” I snarled. “Keep it that way.”
I stalked off, and she scurried behind me, the sound of her sneakers driving me mad as she followed me to the ice.
