“What are you talking about?” This was exhausting—the fighting, the constant back-and-forth. It was how we’d always been, and I was tired of it. I just wanted him to listen to me. For once, to truly hear me.
“Kiss someone who didn’t want me to.” His hand lifted slowly, grazing the curve of my side, the faintest touch. It was only then that I realized my hand was still on his shoulder. I quickly pulled it away, my gaze not leaving him, still trying to make sense of him, of myself.
“Valentine.” I let my hand reach for his face, my fingers brushing through his hair, the way I’d wanted to all day.
He leaned into my palm, his eyes softening just for a moment. “I thought I told you not to call?—”
I didn’t let him finish. This time, I was the one to act first. Despite all the warning signs, despite every part of me screaming this was a terrible idea, I couldn’t stop myself from closing the distance. I kissed the cleft in his chin then the corner of his mouth—testing, teasing.
His hands were on my face before I could process what was happening, turning me toward him as his lips covered mine. At first, it was just lips on lips, breaths coming fast and sharp, hands tangled in hair, each of us trying to figure out what this was. There was something innocent about it, but it also felt like something we couldn’t take back.
When my chest brushed against his, a growl escaped him—a low, primal sound—and suddenly, he was pulling me onto the bed, flipping me onto my back as if he couldn’t get close enough. He didn’t touch me anywhere else, but the kiss was so intense, so charged, that it felt like everything in the world had narrowed down to just this moment.
A whimper slipped from me as his weight settled on top of me, surrounding me. Our fingers intertwined, and he lifted them above my head, pressing our joined hands to the mattress. “Frankie…” The sound of my name on his lips, not “Coach” or “Coach Frankie,” sent a jolt of heat through me.
When was the last time anyone had made me feel like I was their first choice? Like I was the one they wanted? Travis hadn’t whispered my name in bed like this. Hadn’t kissed me like I was the only person in the world. Ever since my grandmother had passed, I’d never felt like anyone’s first priority—always second, always an afterthought. But now, with Teddy, I could feel it; I was all he wanted, all he was thinking about.
He pulled back, his eyes locking with mine. We both gasped for air, as if the oxygen had suddenly disappeared. “Are you sure?”
My body betrayed me with a single, slow nod.
“You’re not going to run from me again?” he asked, his gaze intense.
I shook my head, the unspoken answer clear between us.
“I need you to say it, Co—Frankie. Please.”
“Let’s forget who we are. Just for tonight.” I’d come up here to talk, but now… well, this was one way to do it.
He smiled, a wicked curve of his lips. “I could never forget who you are.” His voice dropped lower, sending a shiver through me. “But if you want to forget, then do something for me.”
“What?”
“Let go of the control you hold so tightly. I can make you feel good, darlin’. Better than you’ve ever felt.” His body pressed against mine, the hard length of him brushing against my most sensitive spot. “But only if you let go of this need to be right. To give orders.”
A moan escaped me as he moved against me, relentless, pushing me to the edge.
“What was that?” he teased.
“Fucking tease,” I muttered, breathless.
He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to my lips, his grin turning predatory. “Sounds like we need to wash that dirty mouth out.”
Holy hell.
“Do you promise to try?” His voice was laced with a challenge, but I couldn’t focus on anything but the heat between us.
“Huh?” I barely got the word out, my thoughts scattered.
“I’m in control.” His grin widened, wicked and hungry.
“Fine.” The word slipped out, and the moment it did, everything shifted.
His palms slid down my arms, grazing over my chest, stopping just above my breasts. His eyes darkened, piercing mine. “Take your shirt off.”
I was helpless to deny him. The command did something to me I couldn’t ignore. I pulled my shirt off and unsnapped my bra, tossing it aside.
“Fuck, Coach,” he murmured, his voice raw.
