Page 24 of Press Your Luck

Did I look drunk? Perhaps that was better than the truth—looking thoroughly fucked. Either way, the last thing I wanted was to draw attention to myself after what had just transpired between Pierce and me.

I nodded in agreement. "Alright, let's go."

Max escorted me through the crowded ballroom, a protective hand on my lower back as we made our way outside to the car Todd had arranged for me. I settled into the backseat of the sedan, feeling an overwhelming sense of confusion and frustration.

Why had I allowed myself to get involved with Pierce? He was older than me, and while he was kind and gentle at times, he could also be petty and rude. Had I set myself up for more trouble?

Max climbed in the car next to me, glancing over at me with concern as he took in my messy hair and wrinkled dress. "Naomi, are you okay? What happened?”

I tried to put on a brave face, but I knew I wasn't fooling him. "I'm fine, Max. Just... a little overwhelmed by everything." My voice quavered, and I hated myself for letting him see me so vulnerable. I was his coach. A female coach who needed to show strength.

"I think it's best if I take you home. You don't seem like yourself, and the last thing either of us needs is negative press coverage."

"Max, I can handle myself." I hated that he felt the need to step in and play the knight in shining armor. But deep down, I knew he was right. The situation with Pierce had left me feeling exposed, and I didn't trust myself to navigate the rest of the evening without revealing something that could never see the light of day.

"I know you're strong and capable. But I'd feel a lot better knowing you got home safely." He gave me a sheepish grin. “Chivalry is alive and well. At least that’s how my mama raised me.”

And as much as I wanted to resist, or at least take myself home, I nodded in agreement. I didn’t have the strength to fight, and the sooner I gave in, the sooner I’d be home alone in my own bed.

As the car pulled away from the hotel, I wrestled with the decision I’d made to have sex with Pierce. A deep sense of regret twisted my insides, and I was suddenly acutely aware of just how vulnerable I was in this situation.

“Do you want to talk?” Max asked. Max was a good friend. Supportive. But I was his coach, and confiding in him would be as inappropriate as sleeping with him. Neither of which I planned to do.

"Thank you, Max. I appreciate your support, but I’m fine."

As the sedan drove me home, I worried that I’d just complicated my life even more. My dreams of making a difference for women in the world of hockey seemed to be slipping through my fingers, replaced by a tangled web of personal and emotional entanglements that threatened to consume me.

I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that I had made a colossal mistake as the memory of Pierce's hands on my body still lingered. His touch had ignited a fire inside me. A fire that had been dormant until our passionate encounter on the conference table. How could I have let myself lose control like that? He’d accused me of sleeping with Max and then had sex with me. That could only mean that he thought I was promiscuous.

A wave of self-loathing and nausea crashed through me. I’d been such an idiot to let myself get caught up in the heat of the moment. I had willingly given in to temptation, and now I had to deal with the consequences. My professional reputation was on the line, and the last thing I needed was to be associated with scandal, especially with a rival coach. Inside, I groaned, thinking about Todd and how he wanted publicity, but probably not that type.

I arrived home, leaving Max in the car, assuring him that I was fine. The last thing I needed was some photographer somewhere in the bushes snapping pictures of Max coming into my apartment. I showered to wash away the night and then climbed into bed. As I lay in the dark, I made a silent vow to myself—no more distractions, no more reckless decisions. It was time for Naomi Withers to show the world what she was made of.

13

Pierce

Igripped my aching head as the noise of hockey practice drilled into my skull like a thousand tiny ice picks. Even the fluorescent lights of the arena felt like miniature suns searing my eyeballs.

It had been a mistake to drink with and fuck Naomi. It had been a bigger mistake to think that finishing the bottle of bourbon I had at home would make it all go away.

As one of the players slammed into the boards in front of me, the sound of it rattled my brain. "Jesus fuck, it’s a practice. Could we keep it down in here?"

“Tie one on last night, Coach?” one of them called back.

“Fucker,” I grumbled. I was sure they saw me as an old man who couldn’t hold his liquor. Not unlike Naomi. Fuck. I needed to stop thinking about the fire in her eyes, or the way her dress made her look like a goddess, or how her body was warm and wet, or how perfect she felt around my dick.

"Coach." Bo snapped me back to reality. "Where the fuck are you?”

I scowled at him, rubbing my temples in an attempt to alleviate some of the pain. "I'm just having an off day."

"Off day, huh?" He raised a skeptical eyebrow. "More like hungover. You and Naomi sure seemed to be enjoying yourselves at the auction last night."

Fuck. Did he know? "You don’t know what you’re talking about."

He didn't need to know about the whirlwind of emotions and sexual tension I'd experienced with Naomi last night, and how I’d acted on them. It was bad enough that I couldn't stop thinking about her.

"Fine, fine." Bo held up his hands defensively. "Just try to keep up, will you? We need you focused if we're going to win this thing."

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