Page 42 of Forbidden

And then Aldo happened.

Scanning the pool, I find him almost instantly, his powerful arms parting the water. He spotted a crack in my walls and poured himself in like some sort of beautiful grout. I wrinkle my nose. Wow. That’s a shite analogy. Either way, I’m not going to pretend that he’s out of my system. We haven’t spoken beyond brief coaching notes and team chats since my office, and although it’s for the best, it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.

There have been several times since the meet last week that I’ve considered asking Joy to come up to my office.Fuck. I’d kill for a repeat with that little minx. She’s the perfect balance of cute and sexy. I’ve caught her looking at me a few times, and it’s not regret that I see in her eyes. That’s a problem in itself, though. Sheshouldregret it. I’m her fucking coach. Besides, I know who her parents are, and they would have me hung, drawn, and fucking quartered if they knew I’d pounded their daughter into next week.

A movement catches my eye and I inwardly groan as I spot Masters making his way over to me. He’s not wearing the Franklin West green polo today, sporting a criminally tight white tee instead. I can make out most of his ink, it’s so damn tight. He has what look like swirling patterns creeping out over his biceps and over his pecs, but I can’t tell the details. He might be a proverbial thorn in my side, but even I can admit he’s hot. From his square jaw and perfectly styled blond hair to his broad shoulders and slim waist . . . Wait. Is it against the rules for coaches to fuck? Now that would have been useful. Sex on tap.

It's a shame he’s a dick.

And straight.

I grimace as he comes to stand beside me with a wary smile. He couldn’t be straighter if he tried. Which is ironic because he really seems to enjoy the stick up his ass. I smile at my own joke and Masters’ grin brightens. He is pretty. A faint dusting of golden stubble coats his jaw and I wonder if it’s spiky. For a brief second, I’m torn between wanting to rub against him like a cat and licking him like a lollipop. What the fuck is wrong with me?

“What’s up, Lame?”

His smile falters, but he lets it slide. “I had an idea.”

“Did it hurt?”

He drags in a slow breath through his nose, exhaling before trying again. It’s just so easy to poke him. I can’t help it. Perhaps if he snapped, I’d stop. The temptation to see just how far I can actually push him is too much.

“I was thinking we could have a team night out,” he says. “Get the team psyched for the last half of the season.”

My mouth opens with the urge to shoot him down immediately, but I pause. It’s not a bad idea. It would be good for morale and as much as I try not to let the thought creep into my head, it’s an opportunity to spend some time with Joy outside of the pool. A little voice in the back of my head whispers that Aldo would be there too, but I growl at it until it backs away.

“Fine,” I say. “Go ahead and organize it and I’ll cancel practice the next morning.”

His eyes widen in surprise. “Yeah?”

“What?” I fold my arms and turn to face him. “You didn’t think I’d say yes?”

He chuckles. “Absolutely not. I thought you’d shoot it down and I’d have to beg.”

My dick is very amenable to the idea of Masters begging, and for the tenth time in as many minutes, I wonder what the fuck is wrong with me.

“No begging required this time, Masters. Go ahead and put it out to the team.” I smirk at him. “But if any of the underclassmen come, you’ve got to babysit their asses, and make sure they don’t drink.”

Lane holds up his hands, still grinning. “No worries. I’ll organize it for this Friday.”

I wave him off, returning my attention to the pool. “Bowers! Two more!”

It’s hard to concentrate for long, however, as I watch Masters chatting with the team as they haul themselves out of the pool. The buzz of excitement is palpable, and I can feel it from yards away. He’s well-liked by the team. Which makes sense. I forget sometimes that he’s only a year older than them. The thought doesn’t sit well with me as I wonder whether I’m a little harsh on him.

No.He might be a few years younger than me, but he’s still a grown ass man. If he can’t handle the heat, he shouldn’t be in the kitchen. Or whatever the fucking saying is.

I’m so lost in watching him laughing with the team, it takes me a second to notice Joy walking over to me. Dressed in her green robe, her hair is tied up in a bun and I can still see the slightly red marks on her face from her cap and goggles. She’s still fine as fuck, though.

“Hey, Coach,” she says. “Did you seriously okay a team night out?”

I raise my eyebrows. “Are you questioning me, Captain?”

“Yes.” She grins. “I’m assuming it was Lane’s idea.”

The way she says his name with such familiarity irks me. She’s kind of hinted that she knows him somehow and it’s hard to pretend I’m not curious. It must be through swimming. He’s only a year older than her, so they would have been competing at the same time. My gut twists a little uncomfortably at the idea that they might have had a thing. Is he Joy’s type? He’s so different from me. But then, who saysI’mher type? I’m nothing like Danny, her ex. He was kind of blah. A nice kid, but just . . . generic. Brown hair, brown eyes, nice smile, good grades, blah, blah, fucking blah. Safe. That’s what he was.

“Of course, it was Lame’s idea,” I say, glancing over at where he’s chatting with Aldo. “Are you going to come?”

Joy barks a laugh, then coughs to hide it. It takes me a second to realize what’s so funny, and my eyes widen. “You dirty fucking minx.”

---