Page 14

I snag the small stack of my belongings from my bed and head for the bathroom. Thankfully, Coach and his wife have a room downstairs, so I’m not worried about waking them, considering it’s now three in the morning.
I sling my towel over the rod, turn the lever over, and step under the spray once it’s warm.
Hot water cascades over my head and neck, pouring down my torso. I crank the heat higher, until it’s scalding, letting it loosen every muscle down my back. I groan at the release of tension.
And despite every instinct not to, I think ofher.Of Declan.
My cock hardens between my legs and I lower my hand, fingers wrapping around my length, lying as I tell myself that thinking of her this one time won’t hurt.
______
Coach is drilling us suspiciously hard the next morning. Ladder sprints, bear crawls, monkey rolls, pit drills—you name it; Coach is running us into the ground. Sweat rains down my neck, my pulse throbbing at its base. Every breath I take is pointless because the heat out here robs them straight back.
It’s only nine in the morning, and it’s already fucking sweltering.
Staying out late, partying, making sure the guys make it home in one piece, isn’t boding well for my performance, or my stamina.
Fuck.
I bend forward, hands on my knees as I attempt to catch my breath. Coach blows his whistle. Another order being hollered at us.
Boss steps up beside me, and I curl my fingers into his shirt, dragging him closer. “Does Coach know?” I push the words forward with each forced breath. Because if I didn’t know better, I’d say he was drilling us extra hard on behalf of one eighteen-year-old daughter.
Boss’s reaction is one of pure innocence, though. As if it hadn’t been a thought until now. “Shit, you think?” he says, brown eyes blown wide. “I don’t see how. We’ve been careful.”
“I don’t fucking know.” I come to a stand, hands at my waist as I blow a pained breath at the sky. I’m thankful today is Friday—which means the weekend is here, and no training sessions—because I’m bound to be sore as hell after this. “But Coach is clearly pissed about something,” I finish.
“Hustle! Get your asses on the line!” Coach’s voice booms from across the field, reiterating my point.
Boss lets out a low groan and the rest of us chorus his dissent. Which only pisses Coach off more. We’re going to be dead on our feet by the end of practice today.
Andthat.That has to be the reason for Coach’s brutality, and his reason for rushing us through drills this morning.
Addy steps out the slider to the Masons’ home wearing nothing but a string bikini, followed by Declan in a barely-there bathing suit as well. She closes the slider behind her. And, smart or not, whether I intend to or not, my eyes stay glued to her. She has a towel slung over her shoulder, light pink bikini hugging the peaks of her curves. But my gaze is stuck on her tanned legs—legs that go on for fucking days.
A smirk pulls at my lips before I remember myself, and exactly where I stand, and force my gaze away. Only to find the same goddamn smirk on Boss’s lips. I shoulder check him as I pass, uttering a, “Coach will have your ass,” before jogging my way across the field to join the rest of our guys.
Coach has us run a few more drills—nothing too strenuous this time,thank fuck—and then we’re led into a final stretch, informed we’ll be running three miles before we can finally head off for the day. Earlier than normal, not that I’m complaining.
A handful of us stay back, helping to pick up before our run, collecting cones and other equipment. Coach’s attitude only worsens the longer we linger, though. It’s obvious he’s in a rush to get us out of here and away from the unintentional show his daughter and her best friend have been putting on. Giggles pouring from their mouths, loud splashes echoing across the field as they dove into the Masons’ pool.
Do I need to mention the bikinis again?
Not a single gaze hasn’t strayed their way at least a time or two.
Coach grunts out his thanks for our help when we’re through and tells us to get the hell out of sight before doing the same.The guys don’t fuck with his command, heading out of the yard. Jameson, Parker, and Williams—my roommates—jog beside me, Boss and Landon, too, the rest of the guys having already taken off for the three miles Coach ordered.
Boss knocks me with his shoulder, chuckling at my side. “What’s got you all riled? You’re extra pissed off at the world today.”
“Not a goddamn thing.”
He lets out a huff, not buying it for a second. “Wouldn’t have anything to do with a blond-haired, blue-eyed,Bloodborneannihilating best friend of my girlfriend’s now, would it?” he drawls.
Parker pulls up beside us and, not one to mind his own fucking business, pipes in with, “I would sure as hell say it does. I didn’t think anything could get to this guy,” he slaps a palm against my chest before sprinting ahead and turning on his heels to face us head-on, jogging backward through the Masons’ yard, “but one mention of the girl and look how it gets him going. Almost ripped my head off last night just for looking at her.”
“Fuck off,” I respond, but there’s no heat behind my words.
He chuckles. “See? Right under his skin. Not that I blame you.” He turns his attention to me. “She’s a knockout. What I wouldn’t give for a chance at—”