The vivid images of his hands roaming my body and not Katja’s hit me with force. Wishing I was her was wickedly wrong. I groaned, both in pain from the fall and frustration over my deviant thoughts. There had to be something wrong with me to think of my coach this way, but I couldn’t stop. I wanted him to look at me with the same intensity he did her.
His lips grazing my supple ones, his fingers digging into my backside, crushing me to him. His penis pushed against my stomach, not letting me move, hard and hot. His tongue sliding into my mouth and taking control, but with passion and heat like in the movies. He was much bigger than me. Brute strength and compelling eyes.
He ripped my clothes off, I yanked at his shirt and his buttons went flying. He couldn’t take his wild eyes off of me.
“How are you doing, Ria?”
My head snapped up in surprise and my lips parted. Coach stood beside me and stared down with inquisitive eyes while he waited for a response. Shit, my breathing deepened while my cheeks flushed from the tainted thoughts I had. I was beginning to notice he only used that nickname when it was just us.
His eyes grew heavy, pupils dilating. As if he knew what I’d been thinking. I blushed again, remembering how he said he liked the pinkish color in my cheeks.
I swallowed and said nothing, averting my gaze to his crotch for some reason. Eyes widened, I looked back at his brooding face. God, what was wrong with me? My blood heated faster, even my ears were suddenly on fire as I pictured I was Katja.
I knew two things: I was going straight to hell. And I was as red as a fire hydrant.
“Adrianna.”
“I, ah...I’m okay,” I responded, finding my voice.
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “How bad is it?”
I swallowed, wondering how much to tell him. I went for the truth.
“Pretty bad. I was bleeding a little from the fall. I’m not anymore though.” After twenty minutes of icing it, the pain was numb.
Coach’s jaw flexed. “Bleeding, huh. And your thighs,” his voice was smoky.
Unsure at this point, I pushed the chair out and removed both ice bags. Looking down, I said, “They’re pretty red. Scratched up. I’ll have a nice burn for a few days.”
Squatting, Kova got to my level. He placed a hand at the back of my chair to steady himself, the other on my thigh. I flinched, my legs automatically trying to close, but he stopped me.
“Let me see.”
I gulped. While I was uncertain of what he wanted to see, I was positively certain the stain would show through. Talk about embarrassing.
My brows creased together as a shadow cast across his eyes. His thumb began rubbing small, slow circles on the inside of my knee. His touch was exhilarating and soothing, and I couldn’t help but wonder if this was his way of apologizing for how he treated me earlier.
“Your thighs, where you hit the beam...let me see.” With that, he placed his other hand on my opposite knee and slowly pushed my legs open.
The rise and fall of his chest matched mine. Our breathing grew heavy as the air thickened. Kova’s large hands moved slowly toward my hips, pushing against me and opening my legs wider. My hips rolled up and my back arched, pushing my chest out.
He paused before he reached the apex of my thighs, and I mean right before. I held my breath and my heart froze. The room grew significantly smaller. He wouldn’t dare go any further, would he? Desire coursed through my body and the thought of stopping him never once occurred. I actually wanted him to touch me where he never should go. The forbidden facet was possibly the calculating equation. His palms and fingers dug into my flesh, scooting me closer to him.
I began to tremble under his hold and he slowly licked his bottom lip. His eyes never left mine as I let him know it was okay. I arched my back, leaving only my shoulders to rest against the chair.
Gone was the cold shock of the bags of ice I had been sitting on moments earlier, and in its place was scorching, hot heat. Need. Want. Something, I just wasn’t sure what. Kova paused, then resumed his glide up my thighs.
“It is a pretty bad burn.” His eyelids lowered and he groaned in the back of his throat. “You are going to be sore for days, make sure to put some balm on it...” he trailed off, his focus at the center of my legs. His thumb soothed the burn that marred my tender skin. He was so close to my sex, I began to throb for his touch.
I nodded instinctively, and without thinking, I reached out. My nails digging into the curve of his bicep when his thumb stopped. He created an ache that needed to be released, a buildup was flowing inside of me.
He knew what he was doing. What he was creating within me.
If I breathed, he’d touch me in a place no one had ever touched me before.
And maybe I wanted that.
My hips undulated when the back of his knuckles swept over my thigh, the tips of his fingers brushing the side of my sex, close to the seam of my lips. A little gasp escaped my mouth, my chest burned from holding in my breath. The touch was so light, so faint, but I felt it, and I think he knew too.