And hiseyes. Pale blue-gray, sharp and intense, and they’re locked on me…
He’s looking at me.
Heat blooms between my thighs. My nipples tighten against my bra, and I’m suddenly very grateful for the heavy fabric of my dress.
You are thepresident. You are working. FOCUS, Lina!
I put on my public smile and start working the room. The next twenty minutes are an exercise in self-control. I greet players, ask questions, and say all the right things. I’m good at this, decades of practice, but my body is not cooperating. Every nerve ending is tuned toHIM. I know exactly where he’s standing at all times. I can feel his gaze on me like a physical touch, tracking me across the room. And it’s making me wet…
Jesus Christ, Lina.
I make my way through the crowd slowly, methodically, saving the coaching staff for last. By the time I approach them, my pulse is erratic.
Just a handshake. Keep it professional. Do not stare at his forearms!
I greet the assistant coach first, Danny something, nice guy, but I barely register a word he says. Becausehe’sright there. Next in line. Close enough that I can fuckingsmellhim. Something clean and masculine, woodsy, with a hint of warm underneath. I want to bury my face in his neck and inhale.
FOCUS.
I turn to him. And the rest of the world falls away. Up close, he’s fucking overwhelming. His blue eyes are fixed on my face with an intensity that makes my breath catch. The lines around them, the silver in his beard, the sheerpresenceof him. He’s not traditionally handsome; his features are too rough for that, too lived-in, but he’s the most attractive man I’ve ever met in my entire goddamn life. My mouth feels dry.
“Coach Hendricks.” My voice manages to come out steady, thank God. “Thank you for being here. The country is proud of what you and the team have accomplished.”
I extend my hand. He takes it. And oh,his palm is warm and slightly rough, calloused. His hand is big enough to swallow mine completely; his grip is firm, and he’s not letting go. He holds on a beat too long. Two. Three. And I don’t pull away either.
“The pleasure is all mine, Madam President.”
His voice.God, his voice. It’s low and deep, with a rasp that goes straight between my legs. I feel it everywhere: my nipples, my clit, the sudden slick heat between my legs. It takes everything I have not to squeeze my thighs together.
“I’ve followed your career,” I manage, and I’m horrified to hear that my voice isn’t as steady anymore. “The program you built in Europe. Impressive work.”
Something flickers in his eyes. Interest. Heat.
Oh shit.
“I’m a fan of yours too,” is his insane reply.
The way he says it, low, intentional, with his pale blue eyes burning into mine…
Don’t react. Do NOT react.
“My friends call me Levi,” he adds, still holding my hand. And my brain short-circuits.
He’s not asking me to call him that. He’stellingme. Familiar. Presumptuous. Completely inappropriate.
Incredibly hot.
“Well,” I somehow find my professional voice back, easing my hand from his grip. My skin is tingling where he touched me. “Good luck in the tournament, Coach Hendricks.”
I move to the next person.
The rest of the event passes in a blur. I say words. I smile. I pose for photos. I have no idea what comes out of my mouth because my entire body is still buzzing from a thirty-second interaction.
My friends call me Levi.
When it’s finally over, I make it back to the residence on autopilot. Simone trails behind me, tablet in hand, already prepping for the next thing.
“That went well,” she says. “Good energy. The team seemed excited.”
