Total pages in book: 16
Estimated words: 14775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 74(@200wpm)___ 59(@250wpm)___ 49(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 14775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 74(@200wpm)___ 59(@250wpm)___ 49(@300wpm)
“Everybody but Iris, you’re dismissed,” Coach Thomson calls out, and with a few pitying pats on the back, the team jogs off the field to the locker rooms.
I sigh, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning my weight on my left foot. I raise one brow at him, feeling a hit of anticipation swirl through me. Will he verbally spar with me again? How many more of his buttons can I push? My grin widens.
“Just can’t get enough of me, huh, Coach?” I tease.
He scoffs, pinning me with a glare that sends adrenaline through my veins. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he snaps. “You need to learn some respect.”
“You need to earn my respect, then,” I answer easily, loving the way frustration hardens his features. God, he’s so easy to rile. “If you’re gonna use my first name, then I think it’s only fair I get to use yours, too. Isaac, isn’t it?”
I see surprise widen his eyes. Oh yeah, I know who he is. Isaac Thomson is well known for his methods of whipping teams into shape, and though the mutterings I’ve heard of him have hardly been flattering, it’s undeniable that he gets results.
“Hasn’t anyone ever told you to watch your mouth?” he asks darkly, the rumble in his voice sending a thrill through me.
“All the time,” I answer happily. “Though nobody’s ever managed to get me to do it.”
He recognizes that for the challenge it is, taking a step closer to me. My breath hitches at the closeness. For a long second, we just stare at each other, tension rising hot and fast between us until it’s nearly unbearable.
He has to feel the tug of this attraction, too, right? Because it’s overwhelming my brain, running along my skin, settling between my legs. My mind conjures up all the ways I could tease him, all the ways I could spar with him until we’re both panting and mindless. I shuffle on my feet, squeezing my thighs together. His gaze drops, noticing the move. His eyes darken when he raises them back to meet my stare.
For a heavy second, I think he might kiss me. But instead, he steps back and orders me to run through all the drills I’ve already done again. I raise my chin, refusing to show an ounce of weakness, and jog away, determined to prove myself to him.
Half an hour later, there’s a hint of respect in his gaze, and through the tiredness weighing me down thanks to all the exertion, I feel an edge of satisfaction.
Isaac follows me over to the entrance to the locker rooms, prowling towards me. I pause outside, waiting for him until he gets close enough to talk to.
With my hands on my hips, I grin at him. “Well? Have I done enough to prove myself yet?”
The corner of his mouth turns up for a split second, a crack in his armor that I can’t help but smirk at. “Maybe,” he answers, voice low and dark.
Despite the tiredness from all the drills, my body lights up at his tone. I laugh, shaking my head at him. “If that wasn’t enough, what the hell do I have to do to make it to you for being late then? Suck your dick?”
The words are out of my mouth before my brain even realizes what I’m saying, but I stand by them. Isaac’s attitude draws mine out to play, and there’s no way I can keep my sass in check. For a split second, I wonder if I’ve pushed it too far. A dark look crosses Coach’s face, and he takes a step closer. Reflexively, I step back, pressing myself up against the locker room door. There’s barely an inch of space between us.
“That would be a start,” he growls.
Like his words electrocute me, all my nerve endings come to life. Logically, this should not be turning me on. He’s my goddamn coach, for God’s sake! And since we met, just a couple of hours or so ago, he’s done nothing but punish and annoy me. But that’s why I’m so attracted to him.
The verbal sparring gives me an adrenaline rush akin to a game win. It’s intoxicating. We’re two sides of the same coin, him a dark force to be reckoned with, and me full of rogue rebellion that nobody’s been able to tame yet. I get the strangest sense that if anyone could, it’s Isaac Thomson. And God, do I want to find out if I’m right.
So instead of trying to defuse the heat between us like any sensible, logical woman would, I stoke it higher. My hand comes up between us, fingers trailing over his chest, feeling the structured muscles of his pecs and abs as I run my touch south. I hold his gaze and hook two fingers in the waistband of his sweats, my touch teasing. A dare. Is he all bark, or will he bite?