The gym lights buzzed low after everyone else had left. My sneakers squeaked on the polished floor as I finished the last set of drills Coach Kane had barked at me for the past hour. Sweat clung to my skin, making my tank top stick to my breasts and my shorts ride up my thighs. I was eighteen, the star of the track team, but right now I felt like just a girl who couldn’t stop staring at her coach.
Kane was thirty-four, built like a god who spent more time lifting than sleeping. Broad shoulders, thick arms covered in dark tattoos, and a jaw that could cut glass. His black polo stretched across his chest, and those gray sweatpants did nothing to hide the outline of what I’d been fantasizing about for months.
“You’re distracted tonight, Riley,” he said, voice low and rough as he walked over
