See You at the Finish Line (Run, Love, Repeat #1)

44. Adam

Paige scrambles off my lap, adjusting her clothes.

Coach stares at us, his head bouncing between me and Paige. There’s no way in hell he doesn’t know what just happened. Paige’s face is flushed and I’m sure I look like a wreck.

Paige has wrecked me—in the best way possible. What we did on my desk will forever be imprinted on my mind. I’m getting hard again just thinking about it.

“Miss ...” Coach looks at Paige for her to fill in the blank.

“Harrison, Paige Harrison,” she says like she’s James Bond. And then she curtsies. Curtsies . It takes a lot of self-control not to laugh.

“Miss Harrison, may I have a word with Mr. Ashford?”

“Yes, sir,” she says and hurries out of the room, only turning back as she’s closing the door to raise her brows at me, her face scrunching up. How can one woman be so fucking sexy one minute and then pull the most adorable face the next? I fucking love her.

I turn my attention back to the coach, trying to clear my sex-addled brain. “What can I do for you? ”

He gives me a hard look. “Do I even want to know what was going on in here?”

“Sir?”

“You know the rules, Adam. Cut it off.”

I clear my throat. I won’t be doing that.

“Sir, if I may be candid?”

He gestures for me to continue.

“I’m in love with that woman, so I won’t stop seeing her.”

Coach Whyatt stares at me hard, his face carefully blank. If he’s trying to make me sweat it out, it’s working. But I’m not going back on this, no matter how scared shitless I am.

When I don’t crack under the weight of his stare after what feels like an hour, he relents first. It’s a small victory but not insignificant.

“I see. And you’re prepared to lose your job over it?” he asks.

“I am, but I hope I don’t.”

He nods but before he sits on the chair in front of my desk, he gives me a questioning look. I shake my head. It’s safe for him to sit on. The top of my desk, however ... Nope, I can’t think about that right now. My cock is already itching for more. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted—no, needed anyone this badly before.

“Let’s table that for now. We need to talk about next week's practices.”

“You said what?” Paige is sitting at the kitchen island feeding pieces of her dinner to Q as I tell her about my meeting with the coach.

I glossed over a few details, not wanting her to know I’ve told other people I love her before she knows herself.

“I told him I was prepared to lose my job over our relationship.”

She stares at me. “Are you?”

“Is that a bad thing?” I brace my hands on the counter I just cleaned.

“I can’t decide.”

I hang my head for a moment and sigh before coming around the counter. I twirl her stool and place myself between her legs.

“Let me make something very clear. After we met, I lived two years of my life without you. I got my dream job, I live in a city I love, and bought a house I love. It means nothing to me if I don’t have you. So yes, I’ll choose you over the job if that’s what I need to do.”

“I could always find another job,” she says seriously.

“But this is your dream job, and you just got it.”

“That’s a good thing, that means I haven’t settled in and can easily make a change.”

“Do you want to change jobs?”

“No, but I also won’t pick a job over you.”

Her words soothe that shred of doubt still inside me. She’s here. She’s here with me and she’s staying. “Okay, it’s settled. We’ll fight for each other and our jobs.”

“Do you think they’ll be okay with that? ”

I shrug. “No idea.” I bend to kiss her, tasting the sweet orange sauce I made for dinner tonight.

“Maxim isn’t going to like it,” she says as I pull away. I don’t go far.

“You’re going to tell your boss?” It’s my turn to look incredulously at her.

“Adam, we couldn’t last one day without getting caught. I’d rather not have Maxim or someone else walk in when you’ve got your pants down.”

“Is having my pants down at work going to become a habit, because that is completely unprofessional.” She laughs at my attempt to be serious. It is unprofessional. But I have no self-control when it comes to this woman, so it will probably happen again.

“You know what’s unprofessional?” she says, dragging her hands up the inside of my shirt.

“What’s that?”

“You never got to evaluate my massage skills. It’s only fair that I show you how good I am.”

I swallow. I have been dreaming of that.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel like you have a full day of work and then come home just to do it all over again.”

The way she’s looking at me, I could die happy. She scoffs.

“You’re not getting a massage every day,” she says. “It’ll be like when you come home from coaching and have to take our kids to practise. It’s different from work. ”

She freezes. I freeze. She definitely didn’t mean to say that out loud, and it shocks me. Her cheeks flush and an answering smile pulls across my face.

“Our kids?”

“I ... That’s not what I meant ... Not our kids but like your kids, you know if someday somewhere down the line you want kids and whoever you’re with wants to put them in sports and if he or she even wants to play hock—” I silence her with a kiss, tasting her mouth, opening her legs wider so I can press into her.

When I pull away, I give her a stern look. “Oh, our kids are definitely playing hockey.” I feel her relax against me. “We will be returning to this conversation, but I need to backtrack. There was talk of a massage?”

She laughs and pushes me back so she can stand before kneeling to talk to Q.

“Behave.” She points a finger in Q’s face.

“Yeah, Mommy has to show Daddy how good she is at her job,” I say under my breath.

Paige widens her eyes at me.

“Too far?”

“Get your fine ass to the bedroom right now. I’ll be up in a minute.”

“I’m already up.” I wink and dodge the towel she flicks in my direction.

I race to our room, stripping as I go. When Paige walks in she finds me lying on my stomach, naked, the room dimmed and candles lit everywhere .

“Someone’s excited,” she says, chuckling. The sound is the best music. I want to record it so I can listen to it anytime I want.

“Oh, you have no idea,” I mumble into the pillow.

“There’s one thing you need to know,” she says sternly. I prop myself up to take her in as she strips out of her clothes. The candlelight illuminates her body, casting her in a golden glow.

“What’s that?”

“This massage is going to be different from what everyone else gets. I plan on being anything but professional with you.” Her brown eyes twinkle in the flickering light.

I grow impossibly hard. “I can live with that.”

I lay my head back down. When her naked body straddles me from behind, I start to doubt whether I’m going to be able to relax during this massage. But then she puts lotion or oil on her hands and I’m gone, lost to the careful balance of firm pressure and light kneading. She pushes and pulls my muscles, not just with her hands but with her arms.

My favourite, though? My favourite is when she drags her entire body over me, pressing me into the mattress and dragging her teeth and lips down the skin she massages.

She works my body until it’s completely pliable under her. I know she’s giving me extra-special treatment, but I can see why the others called her hands magic. When she’s not touching me like she wants me to come all over the sheets, her hands move expertly, finding the exact spots that need care and drawing the tension from my body .

I can’t help the moans that escape me when she finds a new spot. I don’t even realize I’m sore there until she does whatever she does with her hands. I feel the stress leave my soul. My goddamn soul.

When I try to touch her, she pins my arms to the side, only letting me work her with my fingers as she sits on my hand while massaging my arms. It’s so hot I can’t think straight. She’s wet and warm and her soft breathy moans tell me she’s just as turned on as I am.

I slide my two middle fingers into her slowly, the heel of my palm pressing against her clit. Her breath hitches but she continues rubbing and massaging. How am I so relaxed and so incredibly turned on at the same time? It’s magic. She’s magic.

She plays my body like a damn violin. I have no idea how much time has passed, but then she flips me over and works on my legs, reaching up and up.

“I think I missed a spot,” she whispers, breaking the silence.

Before I can even ask, I feel the warmth of her mouth. I exhale loudly as she takes me deep, her tongue swirling at the top when she removes herself. I start to protest but then she shifts and sinks onto me. I hiss at the unexpected pleasure that jolts through my spine.

“Fuck, sweetheart, I think you broke me.” I try to grab her hips to help her move but she leans forward, taking my hands and securing them behind my head.

This new position lets me go deeper and I buck my hips in time with her movements. She bends over, her breast lining up with my mouth. As I stick my tongue out and lick her nipple, her core clenches around me and I am not long for this world .

She increases her pace, one of her hands moving to play with her clit. I watch as she takes her pleasure.

Her face turns to the ceiling as she comes undone. I hold out until she’s finished, and then I don’t care that she hasn’t let me touch her this whole time.

I wrench my hands out of her grasp, gripping her hips as I move inside her. She rides me as she comes again and I fall apart beneath her with a groan, her name on my lips, my body boneless when I come down from my high.