She catches on quickly and plays along. “O-Oh, yeah. I just meant that we ate a little something before coming. But thank you. This is great. We’re so hungry, we can eat a horse.”
Michaela and I wince slightly at her exaggeration, but it gets the job done.
Coach Thane looks relieved. He mutters something under his breath and gestures for us to take a seat at the island counter.
We do.
Upon closer inspection, the pancakes have colourful sprinkles inside of them. With his back to us, I shoot Michaela a pleading expression, pressing a hand to my chest to silently convey, ‘He’s the cutest thing ever.’
She playfully rolls her eyes and mouths, “You’re hopeless.”
“I know,” I mouth back.
We slice into the warm pancakes. The first bite hits my palate and it’s so good, I suppress a moan. Of course, he’s a great cook, on top of being a fantastic coach. He’s perfect and now I’m sad because I want him and can’t have him.
He’s poured us black coffee in two matching ceramic cups with hearts on them. I find myself wondering about the story behind them. Did they belong to his mom? Michaela? Or did he buy them recently, in case Michaela ever returned? The last thought grows a lump in my throat and makes it harder for me to chew my bite. Oh, I’m pathetic. Pathetically creating narratives in my head. Pathetically infatuated with this man now that I know he’s got a gentle giant side.
Coach Thane returns to the counter with his own plate of scrambled eggs and bacon. Wordlessly and almost hesitantly, he pours milk and sugar into Michaela’s coffee cup. Her eyes snap up to him like she’s surprised he remembered how she takes her coffee. “This okay, Michaela?”
“Y-Yes.”
He turns his attention to me. I’m not ready to be hit with the full force of his piercing green eyes. Dare I say…his gaze dips to my lips for a split second before it swerves back to my eyes. “Marlow,” he rasps and good Lord, I love the way my name sounds in his mouth. “How do you like your coffee?”
“Extremely sugary,” Michaela quips teasingly.
I snake my tongue out to lick at the maple syrup on my bottom lip, blushing. “She’s right. Three sugars. Three creams.”
Is it my imagination or does one side of his lips slightly quirk up before he tames it? “Nothing wrong with that.”
Then he proceeds to make my coffee how I like it, using his big hands to grab the creamer pot and sugar, eyeballing the exact measurements and stirring the whole thing together.The man of my dreams is making me coffee and I’m swooning so hard right now, it’s not even funny.
“Taste and let me know if it’s good.”
Those words, spoken in that deep commanding voice, nearly have me shivering. The intention behind them was good, but now I’m picturing bad things. Like Coach Thane whispering sinful instructions in my ear with his baritone, his breath fanning against the side of my neck.
Oh, my goodness.
I’m going to have to break out my vibrator tonight and get some relief. It just hits me that living under his man’s roof is going to be a problem. I’m going to keep fantasizing about him again and again and again.
For now, I sip the drink he made me like a good girl, peering at him over the rim of the cup. My heart expands in my chest when he watches me with something dark and pleasant. “It’s perfect, Coach Thane.”
“Thane,” he demands and my pussy clenches in response to the way he utters his name. “Call me Thane, Marlow.”
Call me good girl, Thane,is what I want to say, except that wouldn’t be very becoming while I’m eating pancakes with Michaela sitting right next to me.
Calm down, Marlow. He made you breakfast and coffee. This isn’t a marriage proposal. Hold your horses and for God’s sake, throw a bucket of water over your libido!
“Okay. Thane.” I love the way his name sounds on my tongue too. “Thank you for the coffee.”
Heat sparks in his eyes, turning the green darker. His gaze dips to my lips again. His jaw clenches. A muscle ticks. Tension coils in his strong frame. Something about the subtle movements screams animalistic to me and causes my heart to beat a tad bit faster. “Don’t mention it.”
Suddenly there isn’t enough air in the room. Thane is sucking all of it. I can barely breathe and it’s all this man’s fault.
Our eyes meet again and hold. His palms are braced on the counter and his body is hunched forward, like he’s physically stopping himself from pouncing onto me. He’s a hunter and I’m a prey.
Michaela, without realizing the electrifying tension between us, breaks the charged moment by checking her watch and saying, “Oh, we should leave soon, Marlow.”
Both our heads—mine and Thane’s—snap in Michaela’s direction and we say in unison, “What?”
