Four games. Four wins.
A week later I was still thinking about her. My notepad was empty and the game film had long ended. I wasn’t even paying attention.
Every time I tried to focus, my mind drifted to Hannah. How her lips tasted, how she looked lying in my bed and how much I wanted her again. It was impressive that I’d managed to coach the team to four wins.
Not seeing her was driving me crazy. God, I missed her.
Me: What are you doing?
Hannah: Sitting on my deck with a glass of wine.
Me: Sounds nice.
Hannah: It would be nice to have someone to share it with.
Me: When can I see you again?
Hannah: I’ll see you at the game next Friday.
Me: Grr . . . you know what I mean. I want to actually see you—preferably naked.
Hannah: You’re bad. You can always come by the diner for some pie.
Me: I’d rather taste you.
Hannah: I’ll see you at the game on Friday. Good luck, Coach.
“All right, can anyone tell me why we’re getting our asses handed to us on that field by a team that we should be beating by twenty points?” I paced the locker room with my hands on my hips. Tension filled the room. “I got my wide receiver missing catches,” I said, scratching the back of my head. “My starting running back is dropping balls and my QB doesn’t seem to have his head in the game tonight! When I tell you to run an out, why the hell are you running a post?” I bent my head to look at Davis.
“Sorry, Coach,” drifted through the locker room.
“I don’t want you to be sorry.” My voice vibrated with anger. “I want you to get your heads screwed on straight and win this damn game. You’re better than these guys. You should be kicking their butts up and down this field.”
Sampson, one of my team captains’ stood up. “Yeah, come on, guys, we can do this!”
“Sit down, Sampson,” Miller shot out. “Nobody cares what you got to say.”
“Nobody cares what you got to say either, Miller,”
Grumbling and shouting erupted. Some of my guys jumped up off the bench yelling and hurling insults. My eyes popped wide, and Brad leveled his gaze in my direction. Looking at the clock I had seven minutes to set my players straight.
“All right, sit down,” I ordered. “Now, tell me what exactly seems to be the problem.”
Low grumbling was accompanied by scowls throughout the locker room. A full minute ticked by and my patience had thinned.
“Somebody better start talking.” I raised my voice to a dull roar. “Because we have a homecoming game to play and I’d really like to mark it up as a win tonight.”
“Coach,” Davis began, “It doesn’t have anything to do with football. Miller and his girl had a huge fight and they broke up. Sampson asked her to the homecoming dance and Miller can’t deal.”
“Seriously, girl trouble?” Blowing out a harsh breath, I scrubbed a hand over my face. “Okay, Miller, you and your girl broke up that means she is free to go to the dance with whomever she wants.” I turned to face Sampson who had a smug look on his face. “Sampson, what you did to your teammate was a dick move—plain and simple—and you’re going to have to work it out. But that crap does not go onto the field. On the field you are a team, off the field you better figure it out. Do not bring your drama to my field. You got me?”
“Yes, Coach,” they both muttered.
“I can’t hear you,” I barked.
“Yes, Coach,” roared through the locker room.
“Then let’s get out there and play some Lions football.”
Cheers and roars erupted around the room. From the corner of my eye, I saw Sampson and Miller give each other a nod. Good, guys.
Five games. Five wins.
As I walked into the gym, I was greeted by students, staff, parents, and alumni who offered congratulations and elated praise. Principal Allen tapped on the mic and said a few words about the game and then instructed everyone to enjoy the mixer.
After I talked to the head of the Booster Club, I walked out of the building to my car. I needed to get home and watch some game film. No post-game celebration for me, only work. The next game was crucial, a division rival and if we won, we’d be number one in the conference with three wins overall.
When I arrived home, it took me by surprise to find Hannah’s truck parked in my driveway. Hannah stepped out wearing a short black coat that belted at the waist and cowboy boots.
“You showing up at my house—must be my lucky night.” A smile played on her lips, and I leaned against her truck, taking her in.
She fluffed out her hair, sex and sin oozed around her. “Congrats on your win.”
“You look beautiful,” I told her.
She leaned forward grasping the collar of my shirt. “Coach, I got two hours before my son comes home from the homecoming hoopla. So I think that you should unwrap your present.”
I cocked a brow. “My present, but it’s not my birthday.”
“No, but, you won the big game, so you get something special.”
My erection pressed against my zipper listening to her words and studying her pink lips that were lush and totally kissable.
Looking her up and down, I licked my lips. “Well, where is it?” I teased, tugging on her belt loop. Anticipation hummed through my veins.
“Let’s go inside and I’ll show you.”
I’d like to think at some point every man has had the “trench coat” fantasy. I barely remembered the sound of the front door closing. Hannah unbuttoned her coat in my living room letting it fall to the floor. Since time was of the essence, I had her stripped out of her black lace bra and panty set and riding my cock in front of a roaring fire in mere moments.
And later in my bed, where I gripped her thighs, moving her up and down my cock, her fingers dug into my skin and I groaned at the feel of her against me. Hannah’s lips covered mine and my tongue slid across hers. This would never be enough with her; I would always want more.
On a long moan, she writhed above me, tossing her head back. “Oh, yes, Wyatt.” Her nails bit into my skin as she came around my cock. It was beautiful and perfect—the sight of her unraveling above me.
“Look at you, you are so beautiful,” I rasped.
Hannah collapsed in my arms, struggling to catch her breath. Our chests pressed together, and her arms snaked around my neck. I kissed her hard, gliding my hands up and down her back. She looked down at me, her blue eyes hooded. Hannah squeezed her inner muscles making me aware that I was still buried deep inside her.
Lifting her up, she rolled off me and then I eased out bed to discard the condom. She looked stunning with the sheet tucked under her breasts as the moonlight passed over the curve of her hip. Hannah shifted as I climbed back into the bed and I engulfed us in the thick blankets. “Are you good?” I asked, as she snuggled into my side.
“Yeah, perfect,” she answered, smoothing her hand over my chest and down my abs.
I let out a deep breath and tucked my arm behind my head.
“You got something on your mind?”
I laughed. “My players . . . the game tonight.”
“Sex with me couldn’t even get your mind off football.” She smacked at my chest.
“Sex with you is amazing,” I reassured her, running my hand up her ribcage. “During halftime, I had to solve their personal issues.”
She looked up at me her eyebrows pinched in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Well, apparently there was some friction between Sampson and Miller involving a girl, and that’s why everything was off-kilter during the first half.”
“Oh, is this that thing where Sampson asked out Miller’s ex-girlfriend?”
I blinked at her. “Uh, yeah, how did you know about that?”
“Luke told me,” she informed. “He said that it was all over the whole school.”
“Well, nice of you to give me a heads up,” I said, pinching her nipple.
“I didn’t know that was part of my duties as the uh . . . the coach’s—hmm, I guess I don’t know what this is between the two of us.” Hannah laughed gesturing between us.
I bent my head to look at her. “Hey, we don’t have to define anything, okay?”
“Okay,” she agreed.
Music started playing and Hannah slid out of the bed. She scooped her phone off the dresser and swiped at the screen.
“I need to go.”
“I assumed as much,” I replied, setting my feet to the floor and pushing up off my mattress.
“You should think about putting some rugs in here,” she informed. “The floors will be freezing this winter.”
“It’s not that bad,” I argued, pulling on my boxers. “If you’re cold, I can always carry you across the room this winter.”
She tossed her head back in a fit of laughter. “Thinking ahead to the winter, huh?”
I pulled my jeans on over my hips. “Yes. I told you once I had you—
you’d be mine.”
She squinted at me. “And I thought we weren’t defining this.”
I strode towards her, pulling my t-shirt down over my chest. “I think we can both agree that this is more than sex.”
“I don’t remember agreeing to just sex.” She eyed me while buttoning up her coat.
My hands fell to her waist. “Should we agree to something?”
She ran her hands through her hair. “What do you have in mind, Coach?”
I dropped to my knees and smoothed my hands up her calves and the backs of her thighs. “I was thinking that . . . you and I should go on a date.”
She gripped my hair tugging at the roots forcing me to look up at her. “A date? Are you crazy? You wanna show up at The Silver Saloon grab a few drinks and dance?”
I slid a black boot my way and then slipped it on her right foot. “Okay, first of all, I would never take you on a first date to The Silver Saloon. Secondly, what I have in mind is about an hour away.”
Her grip loosened from my hair. “When would you like to go on this date?”
My fingertips skated over the smooth expanse of skin as I positioned her left foot inside her boot. “Tomorrow evening. I figure that you’re free since all the kids will be at the homecoming dance.” I rose to my feet.
She shifted back on her heels. “That’s pretty presumptuous of you.”
My finger trailed over her collarbone. “Yeah probably, but trust me this will be a night you won’t forget.”
She snaked her arms around my neck. “All right, I’ll go on a date with you, Wyatt Hamilton.”
“Good.”