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Buzz.

“Let me just check. It could be Ruby or my mom.”

He sighs, but releases me from his iron grip.

“It’s Dr. Parvi,” I say, reading the message. “She wants to see me.”

“When?” he asks, dipping his fingers under my panties. A shiver runs up my spine, that feel good heat that comes with being with Reese following close behind.

“In an hour.” I don’t miss the way his eyebrow raises. “And I need carbs to soak up some of this alcohol.”

“Sex then carbs.” A dark grin curves his mouth. “And I’ll give you a ride to Parvi’s office.”

Reese Cain is hard to say no to, but naked Reese Cain beckoning me with orgasms and carbs?

Absolutely impossible to deny.

* * *

After being knockedout of the Final Four in the semi-finals my work as a trainer intern at Wittmore U was finally complete. I still have a final presentation and a couple of exams, but it’s hard to believe I’m so close to graduation.

“Good luck,” Reese says, cupping his hand behind my neck and bringing me in for a kiss.

“Thanks. I’m sure it’s just a progress check on my final presentation.”

Entering the Arts & Sciences building, I head up to the fourth floor to Professor Parvi’s office. I knock on the door and her voice calls out, “Come in.”

My advisor sits behind her desk, but there’s another person in the room. Coach Green.

“Twyler, take a seat,” she says, smiling warmly. “Obviously, you know Coach Green.”

“Of course,” I say, easing into the chair across from her and next to Coach Green. I try not to show it, but I’m totally confused and a little nervous. My internship swap had been approved and signed off by everyone, but what happens if it messed up my requirements? I don’t like the sweaty feeling popping up all over my body. “Is something wrong?”

Professor Parvi nods to Coach Green, who clears his throat and says, “We didn’t get much of a chance to talk after you swapped internships, but I wanted to let you know that despite my concerns about dating a player, you did an excellent job with the team. You were always professional, punctual, and efficient.”

“Thank you,” I reply, waiting for the “but.”

“When I had a chance to go over the notes you made for Pete,” he leans back in his chair, “it was clear you had handled the situation with due diligence. You documented the issue and Pete told me directly that you had been warning him about the possible consequences of wrapping his ankle too tight.”

“I should have made a better effort to keep you informed.”

He shakes his head. “You did your due-diligence, Twyler. It’s my job to follow up on your process and keep track of what you’re doing. I’m the certified PT. You’re an intern.”

“Thank you for that,” I say, a little overwhelmed at getting such praise from my former mentor. “I really appreciate it and I’m grateful to hear that Pete’s recovering well.”

“He should be good and ready for the preseason.”

Thank God.

“Working for these teams,” he continues, “is a pressure cooker. There’s so much on the line. Not just championships, but what they mean. More money. More scholarships. More recruitment leverage. We carry the weight of these young athletes’ health on our shoulders. I allowed the pressure I was feeling to color my feelings about you having a personal relationship with Cain, when you did nothing but prove yourself competent and professional.” He glances at Professor Parvi and then back at me. “Which is why I recommended you for a work-study program up in Hartford.”

I blink.

“Hartford,” I repeat. “The Wolf Pack?”

The Wolf Pack is the Ranger’s farm team.

“Yep.”