Page 21

Zane

“Kinnick, get your ass in my office. Now!”

The moment our head coach, Coach Frye, hollers across the locker room, every muscle in my body tenses, instinctively bracing for impact.

Well, we knew this was coming.

I grunt, pushing myself to my feet. Colter watches me closely like he’s gauging whether I’m about to explode or hold my shit together.

“Good luck,” Hayes mutters.

“Yeah, you’re gonna need it,” Reed adds.

I toss my towel onto my gym bag. I haven’t even had a chance to change into my practice gear, and Coach is already on my ass.

When I step into his office, he doesn’t even look up. Just waves a hand toward the door. “Shut it.”

The door clicks shut behind me, and he exhales sharply, dropping into his chair like just seeing me is a goddamn headache.

“Today is my thirtieth wedding anniversary.”

I blink, caught off guard by the direction of this conversation.

“I woke up planning to take my wife to breakfast before dragging my ass in here,” he continues, his voice sharp and clipped. “But do you wanna know what I did instead?”

I press my lips into a thin line. I already know.

“Coach, you don’t understand—”

He holds up a hand, cutting me off. “I saw the videos, Kinnick. I don’t give a damn what your excuse is. You don’t throw punches. You don’t put this team in the middle of your personal drama, and you sure as hell don’t let some asshole get under your skin and cost me a goddamn headache.”

His glare is sharp enough to cut glass, and I force myself to meet it.

“I’m sorry, Coach,” I say, my voice steady. “The last thing I’d ever want is to be a distraction or take focus off the team. But he made me think it had something to do with Myla. That’s how this started.”

Well, that’s only part of it. It really started when I saw Wyatt walking out of that fucker’s house wearing his shirt, then had to stand there at the bar a few nights later, watching him hit on her like I wasn’t even in the room. But I don’t say that.

Coach narrows his eyes. “And I’m guessing that hit he put on you last weekend had nothing to do with it?”

I clench my jaw. “He’s a dirty player. He knew what he was doing. He just made it look like an accident.”

Coach exhales through his nose, slow and controlled. His fingers tap against his desk, a silent warning that he’s already thought through every possible consequence.

“You have any idea how bad this looks?” he finally asks. “This shit is everywhere, Kinnick. You handed every damn reporter in the country a headline on a silver platter.”

I wince. I haven’t even checked my phone yet, and I already know he’s right.

“What’s my punishment?” I ask. “Am I suspended?”

His jaw ticks. “Haven’t figured that out yet. I wanted to talk to you first. But I’ll tell you this—you better pray I don’t decide to bench you because we need you next week, and I can’t afford to have one of my best players being a damn idiot.”

“I understand, sir,” I say without hesitation. “Whatever you feel I deserve, I’ll take it. It won’t happen again.”

“You’re damn right it won’t,” he mutters. “You’re one of my leaders, Kinnick. Start acting like it.”

I nod. “Yes, sir.”

Coach levels me with one last look, then jerks his chin toward the door. “Now get your ass to practice.”

I push out of his office, rolling my shoulders like I can physically shake off the tension.

Colter and Beckham are still sitting near their lockers when I walk in. Most of the guys are already out on the field, which means they probably left before Coach started tearing into me.

Beckham looks up first. “What’d he say?”

I exhale, rubbing a hand over my face. “Still waiting to find out my punishment. Hoping he’ll take it easy on me, but I guess we’ll see.”

Colter studies me for a beat but doesn’t say anything. I can tell he’s debating whether to ask more, but he knows better.

Shoving the thoughts aside, I strip down and throw on my practice gear. My ribs are killing me, but I’m pretty sure it’s just bruising. Nothing broken. It’ll be sore, but nothing I can’t push through.

The minute I step onto the field, I know one thing for damn sure—whatever punishment Coach decides, I’m going to have to earn my place back.

Coach doesn’t take it easy on me during practice.

If anything, he pushes me harder, like he’s making an example out of me—not just for the fight, but for the fact that two of his best players were involved. I don’t know if he’s had words with Reed or Colter yet, but from the way they’ve avoided eye contact all morning, I’m guessing they got off easier than I did.

By the time practice ends, my body aches, my ribs are screaming, and my knuckles throb like hell, but I push through it. After a quick shower, I clean up and head home, hoping to catch Wyatt before she leaves for class.

She’s already waiting for me.

Standing in my driveway, arms crossed, she’s biting her lip like she’s debating how to approach me.

The second I throw the car into park, she moves around the side, waiting as I open the door.

She doesn’t have to say anything. I already know she’s seen the videos. The worry in her eyes, the tight pull of her brows—it’s all the confirmation I need.

“I’m sorry,” she says, her voice small. “I tried to pull some strings in my journalism class and kill the school article, but I—”

I shake my head, cutting her off. “Doesn’t matter. Every reporter in the country is already running with it. Even if you buried one article, ten more would pop up in its place.”

Her lips press together, like she still wishes she could’ve done something. But there’s nothing either of us can do now.

I wrap my arm around her shoulders, pulling her into my side. The moment her body molds to mine, she slides her hands under my jacket, her nails dragging lightly up my back. Soothing. Grounding.

For the first time today, I let myself breathe.

“C’mon,” I murmur. “Let’s go inside.”

She stays tucked against me as we walk in, and the second the door closes, she turns into me again.

I reach up, brushing her hair away from her face, letting my fingers sink into the strands as I tilt her head back. Her soft brown eyes lock onto mine, full of concern, and it hits me like a punch to the chest.

I haven’t even checked my phone yet. Haven’t heard from my dad, but I know it’s coming. Either a call or a plane ticket home from Charlotte to rip into me in person.

But right now? None of that matters.

Not with Wyatt looking at me like this. Like I’m more than the mistakes I’ve made. Like I’m worth something, no matter how messy shit gets.

She’s always seen me that way. Maybe that’s why I pushed her away for so long.

I don’t think. I just feel.

Leaning in, I capture her lips in a slow, deep kiss.

She hums, her fingers curling into my shirt, holding me to her like she needs this just as much as I do. When her tongue flicks along the seam of my mouth, I groan, parting for her, letting her take whatever she wants from me.

God, I love getting lost in her.

I hadn’t realized until now just how much I needed her here. How everything feels more manageable with her by my side.

The thought slams into me like a linebacker at full force, and I stumble back, guiding her with me toward the couch. She pauses, searching my face, trying to decide whether I’m pulling away or pulling her closer.

I make the decision easy for her.

“Climb on, baby,” I rasp. “I need to feel you right now.”

Her hesitation vanishes. She straddles my lap, fitting against me like she was made to be here, and I grip her hips, pulling her closer.

Yet, it’s still not close enough.

Her arms wind around my neck, and I steal another kiss, swallowing her quiet gasp as she rocks her hips against me.

Heat flares through my body, sinking deep in my veins.

Her fingers tangle in my hair, nails scraping lightly against my scalp, and I groan, dragging my hands over the curve of her ass, guiding her into another slow grind against me.

“You feel that, firecracker?” I murmur, my voice rough with need.

She nods, her breath coming quicker, her lips parted.

“Good,” I rasp, tightening my grip on her hips. “Because I’m just getting started.”

“Love this pussy,” I groan, pressing my palm against the heat between her legs.

She arches into my touch, a needy sound escaping her throat as I claim her mouth in a deep, demanding kiss.

“You want me to get you off like this, baby?”

She nods frantically, her breath hitching as I work slow, torturous circles over her clit. Her fingers fly to my wrist, urging me lower, her body begging for more.

I smirk against her lips. “My naughty girl. So wet, just for me.”

Her head drops back, a soft whimper slipping from her lips. “This is what you do to me.”

Her hand slips between us, grazing over the front of my shorts, and I suck in a sharp breath, my hips jerking into her palm.

“Fuck.” The word rips from my throat, ragged and raw.

Wyatt’s eyes darken with satisfaction. She loves knowing exactly how worked up she has me. Before I can react, she pushes off my lap, and my body instantly protests the loss of her warmth.

I don’t get the chance to ask her what she’s doing before she sinks to her knees in front of me.

Oh fuck.

My cock throbs at the sight of her looking up at me, lips parted, hair framing her face.

“Baby,” I rasp, my pulse hammering. “What are you doing?”

Her lips curl into a wicked smile. “Let me take care of you.”

She leans in, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the front of my shorts. Heat radiates through the fabric, her warm breath setting every nerve ending on fire.

My hands clench into fists at my sides, every muscle in my body coiled tight with need.

She fumbles with my waistband, tugging my shorts and boxers down in one swift movement. My cock springs free—thick, aching, and desperate for her.

Her breath catches, eyes flicking up to mine, and fuck me if I don’t nearly lose it right then.

She reaches out, wrapping delicate fingers around the base, her touch light and teasing. I groan, gripping the tip, trying like hell to keep from coming at just the sight of her like this.

This girl, she’s gonna be the fuckin’ death of me.

She leans forward, flicking her tongue over the swollen head, and I hiss, my hips jerking on instinct.

“Take off your shirt for me, baby.”

She bites her lip, eyes never leaving mine as she peels off her hoodie, revealing bare, perfect tits.

Fuck. No bra. Thank you, Jesus.

She leans back in, wrapping her lips around me, and holy hell, she’s perfect.

She struggles to take all of me, her tits pressing into my thighs, her fingers digging into my hips as she adjusts, letting me stretch her mouth.

I reach down, pinching one of her tight, rosy nipples between my fingers, and she lets out the sweetest little squeak.

“Relax your throat, baby,” I murmur, stroking her cheek. “Take all of me.”

She moans, the vibrations shooting straight through me as she exhales through her nose and swallows me down.

The resistance at the back of her throat is brief before she takes me deeper, her fingers stroking in rhythm.

Tears prick the corners of her eyes as she looks up at me, and fuck, I’m done for.

“Holy shit,” I groan, tipping my head back. “That mouth is gonna ruin me.”

She pulls off for a breath, her lips slick, her tongue teasing the underside of my shaft before she takes me deep again.

Once.

Twice.

And I’m barely holding on.

“I’m close, baby.” My voice is rough, strangled. “You wanna swallow me, or should I come all over those pretty tits?”

She doesn’t answer with words.

She just takes me deeper.

Her fingers slide between my legs, cupping my balls, and that’s it.

With a deep growl, I slide my hands into her hair, holding her to me as I spill hot and thick down her throat.

When I blink my eyes open, she’s sitting back on her heels, her hand buried between her legs, her body trembling as she rides the edge of her own orgasm.

I groan, my cock twitching despite being spent. “Holy shit, baby. That was the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

Her cheeks are flushed, lips slick, eyes hazy with pleasure.

I grab her wrist, pulling her hand free from the front of her sweatpants, then lift her fingers to my mouth, sucking each one clean.

Her breath stutters, pupils blowing wide.

“You only do that when you’re with me.” My voice is rough and possessive. She nods, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “You can touch yourself anytime you’re with me, but only when we’re together. Because this…” I take her finger deep into my mouth, swirling my tongue around it. “This is mine.”

“Zane,” she breathes.

“Say it, firecracker.” I grip her chin, forcing her gaze to mine. “Tell me this pussy and this cum are mine.”

Her lips part on a sharp inhale before she whispers, “I’m yours.”

Jesus.

“Fuck, baby. Say it again.”

She bites her lip, her smile growing. “This pussy, my cum, all of me. It’s yours. I’m yours.”

A deep growl rumbles through my chest.

I pull her onto my lap, kissing her hard, devouring her.

I can taste both of us on her tongue, and it unleashes something primal inside me.

I drag my hands down her body, gripping her ass, pressing her flush against me, already growing hard again.

“I’m yours too, firecracker.” My lips brush over hers as I whisper, “I always have been.”