Page 7 of Twisted Play
Her jaw tightened. “My work with the club teams means I have more practical, hands-on, clinical experience than a typical senior does. It also means nobody’s ever done everything for me, and I’ve subbed in for every assistant role there is, from equipment manager to assistant coach to?—”
“You’re not fucking coaching my team,” I snarled at her. Who the fuck did she think she was?
“I’m well qualified,” Eva continued, ignoring my outburst. “And you know it, or I wouldn’t have made it this far.”
Her voice wavered slightly, but she held my gaze. No, she was lying. There was something else driving her today, something more desperate than a student looking to make a name for herself. Games within games within games—Dmitri sent her to me desperate and vulnerable, and I knew exactly how I was going to force her to her knees.
“Five other students made it this far,” I snapped. “How badly do you want this position?”
Her lush lips parted in a perfect “o” before she said, “Coach, I need it. Please.”
That word—please—hit me like a bolt of lightning, therawness hiding behind her tight control. I leaned back again and watched her struggle to maintain her composure.
“Prove it,” I growled, taking the first step down a path I couldn’t turn back from. If she stormed out, told Dr. Parker, did anything but submit to me, I’d lose everything.
Something told me she wouldn’t, though—the stubborn tilt of her chin, the desperation that flashed in her eyes when she said please, the way she licked her lips as she fought to hide her nerves.
“What?” she gasped, her eyes flicking to mine. “How? Coach, I don’t?—”
“You understand exactly what I’m saying,” I said, my voice low and dangerous, self-loathing rising like bile in my throat even as my desire for her burned me from the inside out.
“You want me to—” Her eyes flicked up and down me, dropping to where the desk hid how fucking hard this tempting witch made me.
She licked her lips and shifted in her seat before pressing her thighs together, as if she wanted to relieve the pressure.
My cock twitched at the sight, and I should have hated myself for the way her fear turned me on, but I couldn’t. I wanted to see that defiance crumble. I wanted her to beg me for more. I wanted perfect control—a total power exchange—and she was going to give it to me.
“Now, Eva,” I rasped, unable to hide how much I wanted her.
“Coach, I can’t?—”
“Do you want this job or not?”
She squared her shoulders. “If I do this, the job’s mine?” she asked me, her eyes turning calculating.
Surprising—I’d thought she’d be a flustered mess, but she was made of stronger stuff.
“If you do this, I won’t cut you from consideration for your lack of experience.”
Eva’s eyebrows shot to her hairline. “Absolutely not. If I do this, the job is mine.”
“We’ll see.”
She closed her eyes in frustration, making it easy to see how badly she wanted this position.
“Why do you want this job so badly?” I asked her, unable to contain my curiosity. What was driving this quietly ambitious woman straight into my arms? What were the odds Conrad Jackson’s daughter would seek out hockey, seek outme, when she must know what her father had done? But of course, she didn’t know. Her ignorance made this betrayal so much sweeter, so much more bitter.
“Does it matter?” she scoffed. “I need it, and I’m the best candidate you’ve got.”
Outside of her lack of hockey-specific experience, she was. Glowing recommendations from every team she’d worked with, excellent grades—last semester notwithstanding—fantastic experience, and drive. Eva would work herself to the bone for the team. She wasexactlywhat we needed and everything I should avoid.
She was perfect.
I was going to hire her, break her, and abuse her.
“All right, baby girl,” I murmured, loathing how the endearment felt like honey on my tongue. Her eyes shot back up to mine, widening slightly with surprise before she controlled her expression. My cock hardened at that flash of vulnerability, and disgust churned in my gut. “The job’s yours if you can do what it takes.”
She took a shuddering breath in as I watched hercarefully, cataloging her tells—the fluttering pulse at her throat, the way she wouldn’t quite meet my eyes, the rapid rise and fall of her chest. Every sign she wasn’t nearly as in control as she wanted me to believe made me harder.
