Page 125 of The Pucking Coach's Daughter

Watching him read it is a form of intimacy I never would’ve expected.

It’s like he is reading my diary, or my deepest darkest secrets.

He mouths some of the words. Then touches the page. I know exactly which one he’s analyzing.

Ice princess in a court so cold—what will she do when the prince who claims her is made of fire?

My brows are furrowed by the time he closes it and looks up, and there’s fucking awe in his expression.

“What?” I snap.

“You’re creative. Talented.” He holds it out.

“That’s it?” I snatch the journal and hug it to my chest.

“I could go on, but you seem like you want to bite my head off. And we’re still late.”

Ugh. I shove it and the notebooks into my bag, and he takes the borrowed books. I follow him downstairs, still zipping my bag closed. He gives the books back, and we jog outside, and I suppress my groan at the motorcycle.

His lips tip into a smile. I’m still not used to him actually smiling, especially in my direction, but I’ll take it.

“Sore?” He tugs on the shoulder strap of my backpack.

I hum.

He uses it to reel me in and kisses me.

He kisses me in broad daylight.

I don’t even care, I want more.

Our mouths part, and he takes his taste of me. Too soon, though, he’s pulling away and removing my bag from my shoulder.

An old flash of fear that he’s going to be a dick and throw it comes over me, but he just hooks it over his shoulder and continues toward the bike. Giving me no choice that this is our destination.

I put on my helmet while he stows my bag under the seat. I climb on behind him, sliding close and wrapping my arms around him. It doesn’t feel weird to do it this time, and he reaches back and squeezes my thigh.

The bike rumbles to life, sending vibrations straight up through my core. I don’t think I’d normally feel it, but after last night, it verges on pain.

That goes out the window when the engine revs. I dig my fingers into his abdomen, and we shoot off down the street.

He parks on the curb in front of my dad’s house.

I don’t know why I’m suddenly nervous. I hop off the bike at lightning speed, unbuckling the helmet and shoving it back at him.

Is it because we had sex?

Mind-blowing, chemistry-altering sex?

Do not think about sex in front of Dad.

“You okay?” Oliver smirks at me. “You’re… flushed.”

“I’m not.” I turn and stalk up the walkway before he can say anything else.

Perri meets us at the front door. Her expression is way too knowing, and she pulls me into a hug as soon as we’re all inside.

“Frank has been grilling,” she says.