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“Yeah?” His grunt is hopeful.
Clay sinks back onto the couch, pulling me over his muscled body. I shift on his lap to get comfortable and am rewarded by the feel of him hardening against me.
Damn. This man is a ride I’d give my last dollar to take.
“Vitamin D, huh?” I tease.
“Mhmm.” His slow grin is wicked. “You going to model those for me?”
“I didn’t bring a bathing suit.”
He reaches for my shirt, tugging it over my head, then skims his fingers along the underside of my breast.
“You don’t need one.”
25
CLAY
“This is a crock of shit.” Coach’s voice is raspy, but there’s no hiding his disgust.
“Interesting seeing as how I had to do hundreds of hours of rehab when I fucked up my knee.”
Coach sets down the light dumbbell and flips me off.
We’re at the gym together, working out for both of us, but mostly it’s for him.
“Body’s as strong as it’s going to be,” he gripes when we stop for a water break.
“When you’re bench pressing two-twenty, we’ll talk.” I reach for my own drink.
“You don’t need to come with me every time,” he says.
I cock my head. “Heard you don’t always show up when I’m on the road.”
“Todd is a dirty snitch.” He glares across the room at the forty-something head of therapy at the rehabilitation facility.
As if he hears us talking about him, Todd crosses the room, an iPad in hand. “How’s it going today, Coach?”
“Fine. Was good as new weeks ago.”
After months in the hospital, machines keeping him alive, he’s frailer than he’d admit.
“Yes, well, it’s good to continue to build strength and expand range of motion. Can you touch your toes?”
“Do I look like a goddamned ballerina?”
I cough and nod to a woman passing with a clipboard clutched in her hands.
“Am I cleared?” he asks Todd.
“For what?”
“To go back to work. The team needs me. The stand-in guy’s been doing all right, but he was never head coach material.”
Todd and I exchange a look. I nod to tell him I’ll take this one.
“The new guy’s holding shit down. Come watch practice if you don’t believe me.”
