Page 11 of Coach (Shady Valley Henchmen #8)

Este

The conversation went off without a hitch as Saul plowed through his pile of food.

Until the inevitable happened.

He asked about college.

Every muscle in my core engaged.

My spine fused.

“I didn’t finish,” I told him, hoping he would drop it. “I dropped out.”

Thankfully, Saul wasn’t the kind of person who asked a lot of pressing questions about the decision to drop out. He had that laid-back kind of personality that seemed to inherently accept that sometimes something wasn’t right for someone.

“Do you ever think of going back? Or are you happier on this path?”

“Oh. Um.”

That was a good question.

I didn’t have an answer handy for that one. Because the thing was, I hadn’t wanted to drop out. I really loved my classes, my friends, and the whole college experience.

I’d mourned the loss of my college career for years. And not only because I also had a lot of real-world adult job experience that made me painfully aware of how limited my options were without some sort of degree or certificate.

“What were you working to become?”

“I was working on becoming a city planner. My grandfather’s mobility started to decline in my teens.

And I was too young to drive still. But we lived so far from any of the stores.

It made taking care of us really difficult.

I wanted to get involved in city planning to prioritize walkable cities in new construction areas. ”

“Maybe that’s what you like so much about Shady Valley,” Saul mused. “You can walk from one end of it to the other without losing half the day.”

“That’s true,” I agreed. “Do you know how long the area has been partially abandoned?”

“From what I hear, a long while. It used to be a manufacturing town. Brought in a lot of families and small businesses. But when the plant closed, the town all but died.”

“Is it the prison that is starting to bring it back?”

“Yeah. Pretty quickly too. I’m sure you’ve seen the men with clipboards and rolling measuring tapes around town. Looks like there’s going to be some development starting. Whether we like it or not.”

“I know how important growth is for a community, but it would be pretty sad to see such a sweet little town get big city treatment.”

“I think the prison will discourage too much building. And I know we could really use another apartment building and some more stores. Maybe some more restaurants.”

“I wouldn’t object to a craft store. And a decent mom-and-pop home improvement one too.”

“I know some of the girls are dying for a bookstore as well,” Saul said. “I wouldn’t object either. I think I’ve read everything that interests me at the library.”

“The library is so cute.”

“A nice way of saying ‘tiny.’”

“I mean, yeah.”

“It’s actually somewhat new. It wasn’t here when I first came to town. Guess a grant came through.”

“I bet if the town came together to fundraise, we could make a big difference.”

“That’s true. There are some heavy rollers here,” Saul said.

“I noticed the, uh, well, mansions.”

“Yeah. Figure every town has its collection of millionaires. Shady Valley is no different.”

“Does, um, my boss live there?” I asked, thinking of his seemingly endless number of designer suits and watches.

“Yeah, both Konstantin and Mikhail live on Millionaire’s Row.”

“Do they own more businesses than the pool hall?”

Saul leaned back in his chair after finally finishing his whole plate—bread and all—and there was something a little guarded about his face then.

“The Novikoff family has a lot of different streams of income.”

“That makes sense. I mean, the pool hall is busy. But it’s kind of cheap. I don’t think anyone could be a millionaire on one pool hall.”

“How has working for them been?”

“Honestly, one of the least stressful jobs I’ve ever had.”

“Really?” Saul asked, brows drawing together.

“That surprises you?”

“I don’t know the brothers well, but well enough to know they’re intense. And exacting.”

“That’s accurate,” I agreed. “But they’re not really the kind of bosses to breathe down your neck. I honestly barely even speak to them. Unless something breaks during my shift, they communicate their needs via a whiteboard in the supply closet.”

“Have you made any work friends?” he asked as we both rose from our seats, each reaching for plates and empty cider bottles.

“Not really, no. My work is pretty solitary. And it’s really just Irina—who doesn’t seem to like me—and Kate and Danielle. And they just don’t seem to want anything to do with me. It’s okay. I mean, don’t get me wrong; I want to make friends here in town. But they don’t have to be work friends.”

I rinsed the dishes.

Saul loaded them into the dishwasher with the confidence and competence of a man who’d done so many times before.

Which was way hotter than it had any right to be.

“Alright,” Saul said, taking one final drag from his bottle of hard cider. “Time for dessert.”

“Oh, my God. You couldn’t possibly still be hungry,” I said, eyes going round.

“And yet,” he said, eyes going heavy-lidded as he moved to step in front of me.

My belly flipped.

My sex clenched.

My body knew what was going to happen before my mind could wrap itself around things.

Saul’s hands slid up the outside of my thighs, then his fingertips dipped just under the material of my shorts and panties, drawing them downward. They pooled around my ankles, and I stepped out without even being conscious of telling myself to do so.

Hands back at my hips, he pulled until I was off my feet, until I was suddenly seated.

The cold bite of the counter had nothing on the heat in his eyes as he looked down at me.

His fingers glided down my thighs, grabbing me behind the knees.

One firm tug and I slid forward, my hips perched right on the edge, knees parted wide before I could even think to protest. Not that I would have, could have.

Not when he was looking at me like hunger personified, like I was the meal he was dying to savor.

Then he was lowering down, was angling that same look up at me.

His hands gripped the backs of my thighs, anchoring me.

Then his head was shifting, his lips pressing a kiss to the inside of my knee.

A gasp escaped me at the barely there touch, at the soft tease of his silky hair against my skin.

He blazed a path upward with lips and tongue and the scratch of his scruff.

My breath was caught somewhere behind my ribs, every nerve ending sparking with longing.

Saul’s head shifted and his shoulders slotted beneath my legs.

Then his tongue swept.

My vision went white.

A low, deep moan escaped me as my thighs clamped to the sides of his head.

My hands slapped down, fingers threading through his hair.

Saul’s tongue was relentless and slow at the same time, every stroke deliberate, each flick calculated.

Like he wasn’t trying to make me fall apart. Not yet. He was studying me, learning how to unravel me little by little.

My soft sighs started to fill the small kitchen, my thighs shaking, my hips rocking against his touch.

“Saul, please,” I whimpered.

And just like that, he doubled down. His hands gripped my thighs harder, his tongue pressed harder. My vision blurred around the edges.

My head fell back with a soft thud against the upper cabinets. But I was too overwhelmed with pleasure to feel the impact.

My moans echoed, low and unrestrained.

One of Saul’s hands shifted, slid between us. Then two fingers were gliding inside me. My walls tightened, and Saul groaned against my clit as his fingers turned, stroking my top wall.

The wave crashed over me—white-hot, dizzying, delicious.

But Saul was relentless.

Even after the pleasure was sated, his fingers stroked and his tongue teased around my clit without making direct contact. Like he knew I was too sensitive, that I needed time to recover.

It didn’t take long, though, not with his expert touch, his gentle exploration.

He took his cues from my body, giving me what I needed almost before I even realized what I was craving.

He drove me up, up .

Then sent me crashing down.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Until my body was shaking, until I was gasping, unable to catch my breath, until my moans were more like cries.

Only then did his head shift away, kissing down my thigh to my knee before lifting his gaze to mine.

The hunger was still there.

Of course it was.

This was the second time he’d given to me without me returning the favor.

As if reading my thoughts, he moved back up to his feet and reached to still my hands when they started to trace across his waistband.

His fingers squeezed, then pressed my hands to the edge of the counter.

“But…” I started to object.

His forehead pressed to mine.

“If you want to continue this,” he said, his voice shivering across my skin, “you know where to find me.”

With that, he stepped away.

“Thanks for dinner, honey,” he said.

Then I watched him walk away, too weak to get to my own feet to chase him. I mean, not that I would be that desperate. I didn’t think.

Judging by the way I still ached for him, though, anything was possible.

It was embarrassing how long it took me to feel strong enough to climb down off the counter and pull my panties and shorts back into place. And I really only found that strength because Trix was whining and scratching at the door.

I made my way on shaky legs to her, then fed her some leftover steak before taking her outside to burn off some energy.

She sniffed around each pole Saul had sunk. And my pathetic ass was jealous of my dog because I couldn’t smell him.

The cement would need to set for a few days. But Saul hadn’t made any comment about coming back to do the actual fencing.

No.

He said to come and find him if I wanted him.

The ball was in my court.

As I fell into bed sometime later, I couldn’t come up with a list of reasons to stay away.

Just one.

And, unfortunately, it was the most compelling one of all.