Page 76 of Uncoachable

“That’s unfair,” she whispers, her voice losing its edge for the first time.

“Is it?”

Something shifts in the air—a heat that presses low in my chest.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, though her voice lacks conviction.

“Then explain it to me,” I murmur, leaning down just a fraction. “Because watching you disappear like that… I hated it, Ivy. I hated seeing you hide.”

My voice drops to something husky, a tone that shouldn’t be audible in a professional setting.

We are too close now.

I can feel the subtle warmth of her body and the soft brush of a stray hair near my face.

Her eyes flicker down to my lips, just for a heartbeat, but it is enough to confirm everything I’ve been suspecting.

I catch her hand in mine.

She trembles once before settling, the heat of her skin shooting straight up my arm. Her hand is smaller than mine, the delicate curve of her wrist a stark contrast to my rough, calloused palm.

Her eyes are dark, blown wide with a frantic sort of hunger that borders on agony. Every time I move a fraction closer, a small, strangled sound catches in the back of her throat—a plea or a protest.

We are standing in a hallway where anyone could walk by at any second. There are security cameras recording the corridor, and yet I’ve never felt more alone with someone in my entire life.

I’m looking at her mouth—at the way the red gloss has faded just enough to show the natural pink of her lips—and I’ve never wanted anything more than to ruin that perfect, professional composure.

“Ivy,” I breathe.

“This is a very bad idea,” she whispers, shaking her head.

“Probably,” I agree, letting my thumb brush the back of her hand.

Her head tilts slightly, a silent invitation. I tilt mine down, closing the distance until I can feel her breath on my skin. The air between us thickens, becoming almost suffocating in its intensity.

Her lips part just slightly—vulnerable, teasing, and entirely deliberate. I lift my free hand, stopping inches from the curve of her waist, my fingers itching to pull her against me.

“HEY!”

The sound hits us like a physical punch.

I step back immediately, dragging a hand through my hair and trying to find my lungs. Iveline exhales softly, regaining her control with infuriating speed. Rage and humiliation flash through me before I can even decide if part of me is relieved.

Cash skids to a stop at the end of the hallway, loud and oblivious, a human hurricane of chaotic energy.

“There you are! Coach Talvi, you left your—”

He freezes in place, looks between us, his eyes wide, and then a smug, knowing grin spreads across his face. “Oh. I’m interrupting something, aren’t I? Is this a private practice review?”

“No,” Iveline says coolly, her voice as flat as the ice. “I was just leaving. Callahan was asking about the schedule for tomorrow.”

Cash beams, looking entirely unconvinced. “Amazing. Love the dedication to the schedule. Love this for you both.”

She shoots him a glare sharp enough to cut through glass.

He laughs, backing away slowly with his hands raised like he is surrendering. “I’ll pretend I didn’t see anything. For now. But the vibes in here are… spicy. Very spicy.”

Cash’s footsteps finally fade, but the damage is done. The bubble we were in hasn’t just burst; it has been completely incinerated.