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I mean, it wasn’t my business, but curiosity got the best of me.
My Dearest Ria,
I find myself thinking of you more so than ever, knowing full well that it is beyond immoral.
Most days I am not sure what to do with myself. I am sick, angry, and most of all guilt ridden for wanting you in ways I should not. I hate myself for it. I am disgusted by it, and I know that it is wrong on so many levels. There should not be a fire that simmers within me every time my fingers grip your body in an effort to train you. Appalled over my thoughts does not even scratch the surface.
I have tried desperately to stay busy, to not look in your direction when you are working with another coach, but I have failed miserably. You are always there—on my mind, in my view.
But the worst part of all? Some days I do not give a shit that it is wrong. Some days I allow my thoughts to wander off and pretend that you are really not underage. Because I have seen the way you look at me, I feel it in the touch of your hand on my body. I know deep down you want me just as badly as I want you. My body comes to life with a craving so unfathomable at the wishful thought of your innocent tongue caressing my skin, your timid hands roaming my body. You have created a profound ache I cannot seem to sate. Your iridescent, green eyes captivate me. Your drive to never give up, no matter how much I push you down, inspires me. You thrill me, Ria. You make me want so much, to take a chance and see what happens. Something as little as a conversation with you makes me forget our situation.
It would be the sweetest sin to have you just once. But a kiss would lead to another, and another, and then my hands will roam your perfect, youthful body.
Just like it has already. And I am afraid I will not be able to stop myself next time. I want to feel your lips pressed to mine, your naked flesh on me. Our heat infused sex saturating the air as I take your tight body. This does not even touch on the things I feel, and want, to do to you, all the while knowing it is so wrong. Morally wrong. Improper. Not to mention, forbiddingly against the rules. And law.
Jesus Christ, you mess with my head whenever you are near. You, my sweet Adrianna, are pure temptation. I know I should not want you. I should not even be thinking of you in this capacity, but I seem to have no self-control when it comes to you.
Oh, but the repercussions would be so worth it. I would even let you set the pace. At first.
See what I mean, malysh? I am all over the place, I cannot think straight. And if I do not release this need pulsing inside me, who knows what will happen.
I hate that I think of you in this way, that you do this to me. It is not ethical. I am a man who can only take so much and I hoped getting my thoughts out on paper would help deal with the situation.
I wish I could give you this letter so you could see the inner turmoil I am harassed with on a daily basis, but I cannot take the chance. I could lose everything if someone found out.
For now, Katja will have to do. But I am not sure how long I can suppress this need I have for you.
K
Oh.
My.
God.
What the hell did I just read?
Finding this letter was the last thing I expected in a million years. Bewilderment clouded my head as I stood in utter shock staring at the piece of paper between my trembling fingers. Coach Kova had these thoughts of me, and Katja had to curb his needs. The same thoughts I had of him nearly every single day.
Okay, not exactly the same, but similar ones.
Holy fuck.
Kova had deep seeded feelings for me and a state of want only he could fathom, because right now, it was blowing my mind trying to comprehend just how far it went. But the thought of Katja being the one to receive these deep desires didn’t sit well with me. Jealously sprouted inside like a tree with roots growing in slow motion. It slithered around my nerves and squeezed my chest tight.
With shaking hands, I returned to searching through the rest of the drawer for the wristbands. I stood up and looked around, thinking maybe they were on the floor or a shelf, but again, I found nothing.
Expelling a thick breath, I walked back into the gym with my eyes trained on the floor and the letter folded tightly in my hand. I didn’t want to make it obvious there was something wrong, but I couldn’t make eye contact after his secret confession.
I clenched the paper tighter in my hand, frustrated by the fact that he couldn’t say these words to my face. He had to write his feelings on paper where anyone could find it. We’d been open and honest and forthcoming with each other numerous times, it’s what our connection built on from the start. At least I assumed it had.
Christ. The letter was profoundly personal. But why he left it in his desk at the risk of someone finding it puzzled me. The only logical reason for keeping it here would be due to him and Katja living together and he didn’t want to get caught. Still, that wasn’t enough in my eyes. The last thing I wanted was to be questioned about my inappropriate relationship with my coach. I wasn’t sure how many people went into his office on a daily basis, but if anyone had found that letter, it would be the end of us. Gymnastics. My life. His life.
Opening the door to the sound of someone landing a tumbling pass on the spring floor, I chewed my lip raw as I headed for Kova. My heart was racing, my skin prickled from anxiety. This was going to be the most awkward conversation in the history of the world.
“Kova?” He looked over at me when I neared. “I couldn’t find the wristbands.”
“Well, then you did not look hard enough because they are there.”
