Page 53 of Dirty Pucking Player

Her eyebrows fly up. “Are you serious?”

I grin and stand. “As a heart attack. Don’t look so shocked, Coach. I’m not giving up on what we just started, only delaying it a little.” The disappointed look on her face makes me chuckle again. I wink at her. “I promise, I won’t leave you hanging, Coach.”

She blushes a beautiful shade of pink, and I make my way to her bathroom and crank on the faucet while adjusting my erection away from the painful press of my zipper.

Down boy.

At least for a while, this is one hundred percent about her. She deserves that. She needs that. And even though I don’t have any fucking clue how to take care of someone, I can fucking try.

I run my hand through the water until it hits the right temperature, then plug the drain. The level rises in the tub, and I trail my fingers through the warmth, a sudden flash of how a naked Greer will look under it filling my head.

She appears in the doorway and leans against it, watching me. “We’re really going to take a bath together?”

I push to my feet and pull my shirt up and over my head, letting it fall to the floor. “Yep, we are.” I pop the button on my fly and lower the zipper. Her eyes follow the movement, and I cough. “My eyes are up here, Coach.”

She grins at me and it morphs into a carefree, genuine smile that doesn’t hold any of the apprehension or reluctance it once did. What happened before I left town broke open the dam of animosity that had been holding back our attraction for each other. That had been keeping us from exploring whatever the hell this is. It shattered that heavy barrier and even two weeks away hasn’t been enough time to build it back up.

I shove down my pants, and my still-hard cock springs free. She eyes it and licks her lips, shifting slightly on her feet.

“If you want to taste it that badly, Coach, all you need to do is ask.”

Her eyes widened as they shoot up to meet mine, and her jaw drops. That pink flush turns bright red. “I wasn’t…” She buries her face in her hands. “Shit.”

A light, tinkling laughter floats through the small bathroom and lifts away any remaining doubts that I’m doing the right thing.

I kick off my shoes and pants and stalk over to pull her into my arms. Her hands still cover her face, and I tug at them until she lowers them. I tilt her chin up to make her look at me. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Coach. I fucking love the way you taste, and if you want to find out if you feel the same way, I’m more than willing to let you do some exploring in that regard. Watching my cock disappear between these plump, beautiful lips would be fucking ecstasy.”

In fact, that would be one of the many fantasies that’s been running through my head over the last few weeks. My dick deep down her throat. Coach staring up at me and sucking me hard. Little moans of approval and pleasure rippling across my cock.

Fuck.

I grind my hips against hers, pressing my hardness against her. She reaches down and grabs my shaft, wrapping her palm around it tightly. I lean forward to kiss her deeply. Instead of the harsh, aggressive kiss I gave her earlier, this one is languid, lingering, exploring, and tasting. It’s unhurried and sexier than any kiss I’ve had in my entire life.

Shit.

I hadn’t planned for anything to happen in that tub other than maybe give her a nice shoulder massage to release some of the tension there, but I don’t know any man in the world who would turn down a blow job from a woman like Greer Waterson.

“But,” I whisper the word against her lips, “I get to take care of you first.”

The way her pink, kiss-swollen lips turn up into a smile has my cock twitching in her grip.

It’s such a simple gesture. One I’m sure she does a hundred times a day when we aren’t playing, but not at the arena. Not with the team. Greer is all business there. She doesn’t let her hard exterior crack around the guys.

It’s a self-preservation technique, one that has probably been necessary her entire life. That’s both sad and infuriating. I don’t think anyone has ever accused me of being a feminist, probably about as far from it as is humanly possible, but Greer shouldn’t have to hide her joy or amusement just to appease some guys who think their balls are bigger than her résumé.

“You should do that more often, Coach.”

Her brow furrows. “Do what?”

“Smile.” And if I have any say in it, I’m going to ensure there’s one plastered to her face as long as I have access to her stunning body. “Now, let’s get you naked and into that tub.”

I have plans…

15

GREER

“Where are you taking me?”

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