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W A R R E N
“Quickly!” I fasten my belt into place, doing up the buttons of my dress shirt shortly thereafter.
Our time together had been cut short by the sound of a whistle blowing out from the field, indicating that Alf had called practice and that the boys were moments away from barging into the changing room.
I can’t help but pause to watch as Delaney pulls on her satin dress, the fabric falling effortlessly over her skin. Her beautiful, gentle skin that I’d just left kisses all over and frankly, already wanted to touch again.
“I’m going as fast as I can!” Her voice is full of urgency and the faintest bit of annoyance. It’s so fucking hot.
I brush aside the smile on my lips until I can finally speak. “Listen, we don’t have much time. I need to get back out there,” I explain. “I’ll watch out to make sure no one sees you leave, alright?”
Delaney agrees to my plan with a subtle nod of her head before reaching out to me pulls me back in for another long, drawn-out kiss. I’m breathless as she whispers, “Whatever you say,Coach.”
I groan against her tongue. “Don’t tempt me again,” I have to murmur into the kiss, attempting to pull away but somehow still leaning into her, letting my lips stay on hers for as long as possible. “Because this time, wewillget caught.”
“And is that really so?—”
Another sound of the whistle is enough to jolt us both back to reality as we finally break apart. The room silent as we match each other's blank stares.
“Just be quick!” I remind her before I walk out of the change room. The relief I feel as I see all of the players still out on the field is unmatched.
Well, all but one. And that one is who I somehow manage to walk right into as I make my way down the tunnel.
“Coach?”
Wilks.
Fuck.
“Hey, why’s your hair wet?” His narrowed stare on the beads of water that drip down my forehead is diverted as Delaney makes her untimely escape from the change room and sprints in the other direction. Her own dripping wet hair is a clear indicator that causes Wilks to look back at me with a knowing smirk.
“Not a word.” My voice is that of a demand. A threat before Wilks can mutter even as much as one syllable in response. “You hear me?” I repeat. “Not a word.”
Despite the stupidly cocky grin on his face, Wilks nods his head, pretending to zip his lips as he makes his way down the tunnel.
“And oh hey, Coach?” he calls out one final time.
I halt in place, meeting his eyes as he gestures toward my button-down. “You may want to fix that.”
I dart my attention downwards, noticing how I’ve completely buttoned up my shirt wrong. One side hangs longer than the other.
“Fuck.” I attempt to fix it, yet an image in my peripheral vision demands my attention as my eyes gravitate upwards, meeting the photo of Ira that I was insistent on putting up just a few months ago. Now, it’s one that tortures me as it stares back down.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I have to say, doing my best to hide a smile as I exit the tunnel.
TWENTY-TWO
W A R R E N
“We needto get the new away kits ordered by the end of the day. Then, that stack of papers that I dropped off on your desk needs to be in by Friday! Also, I forgot to mention we’ve got some special guests coming to watch our game tomorrow. So do you think we can reserve…Warren!”
I snap my head in Alf’s direction.
I hadn’t realized that despite him standing right in front of me, I’d been distracted beyond belief.
I can’t help it. A devious face is peering down at me through the blinds, gesturing for me to join them with an obscure amount of nudity and hand gestures—leaving me stiff as a?—
“Are you even listening to me?” Alf snaps again, his patience withering by the second.
