Page 6 of Coach (Shady Valley Henchmen #8)

Este

A chorus of cheers came from the lower floor, followed by one of the guys declaring, “Blackout party!” That got more whoops of excitement.

While my heart decided to kick up to a strobe-like beat in my chest.

I’m not exactly proud of this fact, but I’d developed a pretty debilitating fear of the dark a few years back. For good reason, if you asked me.

But I was still, you know, a full-grown adult. With a childlike phobia. It was embarrassing.

The air felt thicker within seconds, too heavy to breathe.

My hand slipped up, covering my throat that felt too tight.

I stumbled back into the wall, gasping for air, my chest caught in a vice grip.

“Hey,” Coach called, voice soothing. “Hey, you’re alright,” he said.

“I can’t… breathe.”

“Yes, you can,” he said. My eyes hadn’t adjusted to the dark, but I swore I felt him move closer.

“No, I—”

A hand pressed to my stomach, making me jerk.

“Imagine sucking a breath in all the way down to my hand.”

“I can’t breathe into my chest, let alone my stomach.”

I was sounding a little snippy. And I was sure I would regret it later. But in the moment, I was freaking out too hard to care.

“Okay. We’ll start smaller.”

If he was bothered by my tone, he didn’t show it. His voice was as calm as ever.

The hand slid up from my stomach, landing briefly on my jaw, then slipping over to press one of my nostrils closed.

“What?”

“In for eight.”

My chest felt even tighter.

“In for eight,” he demanded again.

I sucked in a breath just to appease him.

“Out through the mouth.”

I let out a frustrated huff.

His finger shifted to my other nostril, pressing. “Again, for eight.”

We repeated the process, two, three, eight times.

Until, little by little, I felt a little less constricted.

Coach’s hand slid away from my nose, pressing to the side of my neck instead.

“Tell me something you can hear.”

“That… clicking.”

“The air hockey puck hitting the wall of the table,” he explained. “What about something you can smell?”

With him so close, all I could smell was that earthy, spicy scent that clung to him.

“Your cologne.”

“Too much?”

“No. I like… no, it’s good.” So good, in fact, that I was suddenly able to suck in a deep breath again, just to get more of it.

“What about something you can feel?”

“Your hand.”

Why did I sound breathless again?

His fingers tightened on my neck. A shiver coursed through me.

“Another thing you can feel.”

“Your breath.”

“Good. Feel a little calmer?”

His hand shifted backward, sliding into my hair, fingers gently massaging my scalp.

I was pretty sure a little whimper escaped me, but I hoped the sounds of the party that was still going on (clearly, someone had a battery-powered speaker ready to go) drowned it out.

“Yeah,” I said, letting my eyes drift closed, trying to focus away from the darkness and into the sensations.

There were times in my life when good things happened in the dark. Late-night confessions with friends. Making love with a new partner.

It wasn’t always scary.

It didn’t have to be right this moment.

The more I drifted into the sensation, the more I seemed to, you know, lean a little toward him. Until I found my face turned into his neck, my chest pressed to his.

Coach was unbothered.

In fact, his other arm glided across my hips, holding me more tightly to him.

The scent of him surrounded me. I would be smelling like him for hours. I had the absurd urge to never shower again just to hold onto it.

I couldn’t say exactly how long we stood like that. But the tingle from his fingers had steadily worked its way from my scalp down my spine, then spreading through my chest, stomach, lower.

Interest thrummed through my nerves, sang in my veins.

“Want to talk about it?” he asked.

“Not really.”

“Good. I specialize in not talking.”

“How long do you think we’re going to be out of power?”

“Good question. I figure if it hasn’t flicked back on yet, we’re out for a few hours.”

“So we’re going to be stuck in here for hours?”

“We’re stuck between floors. So yeah.”

“Shit.”

“I’ll keep you calm,” he assured me.

I had no doubt that was true.

“I’m worried about Trix. With no air.”

“It’s getting pretty cool at night now. I’m sure she’ll be alright. But if it goes on too long, I can have one of the girls go over and check on her. Take her back to one of their houses if necessary.”

“You don’t think the whole town is out?”

“They have generators because of the kids.”

“Oh. Okay. That makes me feel a little better.”

Feeling weird about still snuggling into him when I wasn’t actively having a panic attack, I slowly forced myself to move away. Which was much harder than it should have been.

“So, do power outages happen a lot around here?” I asked, stepping back until I was against the cool wall of the elevator again.

“A couple times a year. But it usually clicks back on pretty quickly. Someone must have hit a pole or something.”

As if to emphasize his point, there was a siren ringing off in the distance. Then another.

“Sorry your party devolved into a toolbox tour and a metal box prison.”

“Hey, I thoroughly enjoyed the toolbox tour. And—” I drifted off at Coach’s sudden labored breathing. “Are you okay?”

“You know your thing with the dark?”

“Yeah.”

“I have a little touch of that with small spaces for long periods of time.”

“Oh. Oh . Okay. Um… how’s this?” I asked, moving closer and lifting both my arms so I could start massaging his scalp.

I took a moment to notice the silky softness of his hair.

Just then, though, he sucked in a deep breath, expanding his chest enough to make me realize I had pressed pretty tightly against him to be able to reach up toward his head.

When I sucked in a breath as well, my breasts crushed to his chest, and there was no stopping the little shiver that racked my system.

I was close enough to hear the sexy little rumble that moved through Coach’s chest and out between his lips.

Really, it was all feelings right then. Not a single coherent thought crossed my mind.

My hands shifted down to frame his face.

His arm slid around my lower back, pinning my soft curves to his hard lines.

Then I went up on my tiptoes and found his lips in the dark—soft and slow at first.

His arm tightened around me as mine went around the back of his neck.

I moaned against his lips, and his other hand went up behind my head, slipping into my hair, giving it a little tug until I angled back.

He took charge then, angling just right to drag a moan from the back of my throat.

At the sound, Coach stepped forward, pressing me back against the wall as the kiss tipped—harder, deeper, rougher, lips dragging, tongues tangling.

“Coach,” I whimpered, fingers digging into his arms.

“Saul,” he murmured, his lips finding the shell of my ear. “Call me Saul when you’re moaning for me.”

Another shiver coursed through me as his hand glided down my side and his teeth nipped my earlobe.

“Saul,” I whimpered.

It was pure need that had me reaching down, had me grabbing his wrist, then slipping his hand from my hip downward, inward.

“Please,” I added, breath a soft sigh.

That deep rumble moved through him again as his hand slipped up under my skirt. His fingers teased up my inner thigh, and my legs parted shamelessly for him.

Each touch had fires igniting across the surface of my skin, then burning deeper.

My breath was caught, my chest tight.

His hand pressed between my thighs, and my moan mingled with his groan at finding me already needy for him.

His fingers rocked across the material of my panties, lightly teasing my clit as his lips claimed mine again.

Harder.

Hungrier.

“Please,” I begged, rocking my hips restlessly, needing more. “Saul, please.”

His teeth nipped my lower lip, pulled, and then his hand was under the material.

My cry was swallowed by his lips again as his thumb slid to my clit, tracing lazy circles as my thighs started to shake with the need for release.

It had been so long.

Years.

Some things were too dangerous.

But just this once, in the dark, where no one could see, no one could know, I was going to let it happen.

Saul’s fingers slipped downward, pressing, then gently slipping inside.

Not even his lips were enough to muffle my cries at the sensation.

My walls tightened, my hips circled.

Then Saul’s fingers started to thrust, and all I could do was cling to him, get lost in the feelings.

Saul’s lips ripped from mine.

“I want to hear,” he murmured as his fingers started to thrust faster, harder.

Pleasure started to pool in my core, a sensation that tightened, grew almost sharp.

“There you go,” he murmured as my walls clenched, as my breath caught.

A low groan escaped him as the orgasm slammed through me.

My forehead pressed into his shoulder, my cries muffled by his shirt, as the waves crashed through me over and over.

I was still gasping for air, still overwhelmed with the rush of pleasure when voices started to draw closer.

I jerked back.

Saul stiffened.

We stayed frozen for just a second more. But the voices got louder. And with them, a light flashed.

Saul slipped his hand out of my panties and took a step toward the wooden gate, partially blocking anyone from seeing me.

“Hey, someone stuck in there?” a voice called. I was reasonably sure that was the other guy from the pool hall—Raff.

“Yeah. Me and Este are trapped.”

“No shit,” Raff said. “Huh,” he went on as light flashed into the elevator car. “You know, there might be enough room here to slip you guys out if you pull up the gate.”

“You want to try?” Saul asked, glancing over at me.

My legs were still shaky as I took a step forward, inspecting the space being discussed.

Saul reached out, pulling open the wooden gate so I could see better.

“It’s definitely enough room for you,” Saul said with certainty. “Might be a tight squeeze for me.”

As if sensing the dirty direction my mind went in, Saul shot me a sexy little smirk.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to try,” he added.