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He steps closer, his breath puffing in the air around us. What is he doing? My body is rigid as he leans closer. He’s so close that I can see so many different colors swirling in the hazel. I hold my breath. And then he steps back, maybe thinking better of what he was going to do. Was he going to kiss me? God, I kinda wished he had so then it’s out of my system. That’s what I tell myself, unsuccessfully.
He walks away, turning his head and calling over his shoulder, “You’re going to fall for me, Mia Hark, and I’m going to fucking love tasting your lips.”
I gasp, and then quickly hold my breath. He turns the corner with one last look behind him. My body reacts in ways I hadn’t thought possible, and I really don’t know how I’m going to stop the ice from melting because no one has ever got around my first barrier.
What. An. Asshole.
A sexy asshole.
CHAPTER SEVEN ¦ THE CALL
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Austin
The bone aching need had all but consumed me in that moment. I have no fucking clue how I’d walked away from her; my dick hadn’t been too happy about it either. What gives me the push to keep going is the feeling that she’s relenting, maybe. The taste of her lips, the battle with her tongue, would have only soothed the itch. The fire raging in my gut pisses me off because there’s nothing I can do. She’s in charge here. I’m not the player the whole campus believes me to be, but, fuck me, how the hell have I picked the one woman who makes my balls blue?
The blaring of the 4 a.m. alarm has ripped me from the near pornographic thoughts of her. And now I need to deal with the most painful hard-on I’ve ever had. For the first time since joining Boston Brooks, I don't want to go to the boathouse. I want to close my eyes and be with her the only way I can at the moment, and it’s the only place she doesn’t reject me. Every move I make could possibly push her away and I’ve seen her walk away from me too many times already. I know my girl canrun, and she looks sexy doing it, but we need to avoid that. I head to the shower, my hand already wrapped around my dick.
Kit whistles, signaling that Coach, who is walking around ensuring we continue to push ourselves ahead of the regatta, is close by.
"Whitlock!"
Fuck. Doesn’t he get tired of shouting my name? Surely, he can shout someone else’s? "Coach?"
"Are you ready?"
I stare at him. Blank for a second. “I’m as ready as I always am." There's more to his question because I know Coach.
He smiles. "Mia Hark."
Her name echoes off the walls in the boathouse. Two goddamn words and the world stops. I notice the quick hesitation in my boys’ rowing before they continue, but their ears are all but twisted back, listening in. My body reacts like I hadn’t had a cold shower this morning. "Coach?"
"Off Topic."
Fuuuucck.
His daughter must have told him. Drew is not a gossip, but Coach will find out. I hadn't thought to let him know. I hadn’t thought of the link.Friendshas taught me many things, and one of them is to follow the trail back. But I’m not Ross, and Mia isn’t Rachel.
Coach always expects the truth from his crew, and if he doesn't get it the first time, he sniffs it out like a bloodhound andpunishes you for lying. "I'm aware of what's been said on that ridiculous podcast." I reign in my growl, knowing he will ream my ass for having a bad attitude.
I blame Mia. Why won’t she allow one fucking taste? And I’m talking any part of her body. Coach takes a moment, the hard blues softening. Silence moves through the room as he pulls off his hat, pushing his hand through his greying hair as he sighs.
"Whitlock, I know what's been said, and I hate that bloody thing as much as anyone else. What I need to know is how it's impacting you?"
Massively.But I hold that back and open my mouth to answer just as my cell fires to life. The room stills again. Coach has strict rules when it comes to tech in his house. The last person who'd been in the firing line had to start drills at 3 a.m. For more than a week. I'm not going to lose an hour of Mia dreams.
I stare at Coach. Waiting for the bomb to drop.
"You going to get that?" he seethes.
I breathe. My head trying to grasp onto something to say. How do I answer that when Coach only wants to hear one word? "I..."
The ringing ends, dealing withthatdilemma. "I?"
The ringing starts again. I grind my teeth together.
"Answer it!"
