Exasperation strangles me. “It’s not quitting. I’ve done everything you’ve asked—no,demanded—today, but I’m reaching my limit. Are you trying to punish me for something?”
He lifts his hat and runs an angered hand through his hair before settling it back on his head. His curls peek out from underneath it, and the strap sits just above his pointed brow. Fuck, it looks so goddamn good on him that it slightly eases my annoyance toward him.
Slightly.
“And what exactly would I be punishing you for?”
For tempting him to cross a line. For us almost crossing it together.
“You tell me.”
“I don’t answer to you.” He points to the bench. “Now, shoulder presses. Four sets of eight. Move it.”
Fuck this. I drop the weights with a heavy thud and take off toward the door.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Luke barks at my turned back.
I don’t bother responding. I storm out of the weightroom and straight to the locker room. The hallway is dark, and there are no signs of life besides the automated lights that flick on one by one as I walk past. In the locker room, I pass by my locker and head straight to the showers.
I turn the water on in one of the stalls, testing the temperature with my hand and keeping the rest of my clothed body out of reach. I’ll strip in a second; just gotta wait until the water?—
The air is knocked out of my chest as I’m suddenly slammed against the back of the shower. Before I can blink, I’m flipped around, and suddenly all I see is Luke.
“What the hell are you doing?” I cry.
Water cascades down his back, soaking his white T-shirt to his body, and drops splash onto me. He doesn’t seem bothered by it, though. It’s as if the water doesn’t even exist right now.
“Coach—”
My words are cut off as one of his hands clamps around my throat, and the other slams against the wall by my head. He pins me with his body, his hand, his smell, his stare, everything. I wouldn’t move even if I could.
His chest heaves against mine. I open my mouth to speak again, but he cuts me off.
“What do you want from me?” It sounds equally like a plea and a demand. His breath coasts over my cheek and ignites a familiar spark inside of me I’ve been trying to extinguish. Iswallow around the powerful hand that’s gripped around my throat.
“I want you to be my coach.”
His eyes darken, fingers tightening.
“Lies,” he spits. “What do you want?”
I stare him down, his heartbeat rattling against my own, both racing as if they’re fighting to see whose can beat faster, a dangerous dance between the two of us.
“What do you fucking want, Lennon?” he grits out between clenched teeth. His nostrils flare, and his pupils are completely blown.
The fingers around my neck pulse, not letting up or letting go, and I relish in it. In his reaction. It brings a sick smile to my lips. I don’t want him to let go. Don’t want him to stop. Don’t want his chest away from mine or the fire in his eyes to stop fueling my own.
Despite the rules, despite the potential fallout, I finally admit it out loud.
“I want you.” And he’s the one thing I can’t have.
But there’s no going back. We both know it the moment the words hit the air, and the truth of them settles into our bones. What we’ve been fighting.
“Say it again,” he says with lethal, barely contained control.
I swallow around his grip and lock my eyes with his as I repeat, “I want you.”
Our entire world pauses as we stare at each other, locked in this final battle of wills that neither of us want to win anymore.
