It served only to remind me of the last time I sat on a couch with Ash. There was no way I was going to be able to deal with all the emotions thinking about that debacle would bring up when I really needed to get out of here.
Instead, I stepped back awkwardly, hovering near the small coffee table that stood in front of the couch.
Ash had moved over to the pile of clothes in his roller suitcase, grabbing the first two pieces of clothing at random and throwing one on the bed.
With his body facing half away from me, my eyes fell to his injured shoulder. I could see a small portion of a pink surgery scar marring the still-golden tan of his skin.
Despite Ontario being well into winter, Ash looked like he’d been on a tropical vacation recently.
An ache formed in my chest at the thought of what that scar represented for him. He never spoke or complained about his injury. Sometimes his total focus as an offensive coach and how much he seemed to care about the rest of the team made me forget coaching wasn’t his full-time gig.
That pink line was also a reminder of how little I knew about so many parts of Ash’s life. Just because the poster on my teenage bedroom wall had come to life in front of me didn’t mean I knew him. I couldn’t predict if he was about to ream me out for disturbing his peace and leaving the team down a player.
Without my permission, my gaze traced his form, cataloging the pure vitality and strength he carried in his muscular body.
If the universe had set out to create the perfect male specimen, it had succeeded in Ash.
His arms and back were corded with muscle. Each curve of taut brawniness beneath his skin balanced flawlessly with his height and stature. As he bent to put one foot and then the other into a pair of wrinkled jeans, his midsection flexed with the action, and I could see the outline of a six-pack ripple over his stomach.
My ears heated with embarrassment. I should have given him privacy while he was getting dressed. But the draw tolookwas just too strong.
It was totally natural to compare how I physically stacked up against another center player. That’s all this was. Simply professional curiosity.
Ash straightened and yanked his jeans up a pair of thickly muscled thighs, which were covered by a moderate amount of dark, wiry hair.
He shifted as he pulled his jeans over his ass, giving me an unobstructed view of the significant bulge formed by his soft dick.
My god, why was I looking at the man’s dick?He’s your coach. Look the fuck away already!
But despite the shame that heated the back of my neck and across my cheeks, I couldn’t take my eyes off the way the fabric of his underwear hugged his flesh beneath it.
It was definitely more than what I was packing in my jeans. The lower half of my body clenched as I watched the denim cover his defined lower abs to sit on his hipbones.
I slammed my eyes shut since I couldn’t seem to force them away, begging the universe for my dick not to get hard over a glimpse of Ash in his boxers.
The sound of Ash’s voice pulled me out of whatever trance I’d just fallen into.
Fuck. I hoped he hadn’t seen me looking at him like some perv.
I brought my gaze back to his face.
“So, just give me five minutes, okay?” He reached for the hoodie on the bed, picking it up but not putting it on. Instead, he let it dangle by his side as he waited for my response.
“Um, I’m sorry. What?” I grimaced, wishing there was a hole I could fall into and never come out of again.
To my horror, I realized he’d been talking while getting dressed, but I had been too preoccupied with his body to hear anything.
Ash betrayed no hint of impatience at my inability to listen as he spoke. Instead, he offered me a soft smile that seemed so genuine that my shoulders relaxed, and it settled some of the tension humming in my gut.
His smile held some sort of magic power. Ash should bottle that shit.
He tugged the sweatshirt over his head, covering his unfairly fit shoulders and pecs.
“I said, I’ll drive you. Just give me five minutes to piss and throw some stuff into a bag,” he repeated.
Stunned wasn’t a strong enough word for my reaction. The jolt that zipped through my body at his words had me standing up straighter in a second. It was like an invisible puppeteer had yanked all my strings at once.
“No! No way.” I bit my lip, realizing how rude I sounded. “I mean, thank you so much for the offer. But you can’t do that. You’re Coach Landry. You’re needed here with the team and. . .rehab! You can’t miss out on that. Plus, it’s like, crazy far. I wouldneverask that.”
