“Chin up!” a voice called out behind her. She knew that voice, and it echoed across the court until it reached her. It was Coach Brown.
Although Natalie appreciated his constructive criticism, she felt he had been picking on her since she arrived. She rolled her eyes, lifted her chin and took the shot from beyond the three-point line. The gym was silent as the ball left her fingertips and flew through the air. As it hit the backboard and bounced off the rim, she cringed. Her frustration had gotten the best of her…again.
“C’mon, Legs,” Coach Brown yelled. “I know you’re better than that!”
Coach Brown had called her Legs from day one. It wasn’t enough that she was the tallest girl on the team, that she could run faster than them all, or that she had the gams of a Goddess, but he just had to point it out He was such an ass. Natalie rolled her eyes before turning around to face him.
“Try again,” he yelled, tossing her another ball before she even knew it was coming her way.
For the next hour, Natalie took his harsh criticism and brash comments as she made shot after shot; his voice in her ear, his hands on her skin, guiding her follow-through.
Oh c’mon! Focus! What was that? His “help” wasn’t helping at all.
“Dammed!” she finally snapped. “Give me a break, will you?”
“You want to be the best, right?” he snapped back, gripping her hips with his masculine hands as he turned her back toward the goal. “Then keep shooting!”
That’s when Natalie realized why she couldn’t focus. It was the “tough love” Coach Brown gave her on the court that kept her from concentrating, it was him!
As she stood there-right foot forward, arms up as she aimed-Coach Brown pressed his body against hers, holding her hips from behind and assisting her posture. For a moment, Natalie felt like she couldn’t breathe.
It didn’t help that he was the most stunning black man she had ever laid eyes on. He was tall, lean and ripped. Not that she should know what he was hiding underneath his jersey, but she had caught a glimpse one day when she returned to the gym for her sweatshirt. A fleeting moment of silence contained them both as she quickly excused herself. Still, she knew, and those thoughts were hard to ignore whenever he was around. Speaking of around, his hands were still around her waist.
“That’s it,” he whispered, pressing his hips into her ass as he leaned in to her.
Natalie sighed, pressing her athletic body back against his to simulate his posture. Though it was a somewhat innocent move-part of the training-it didn’t feel that way to her. She could feel every muscle in his body flexing against hers. She gasped, wanting to say something, but the words never escaped her lips.
“Now focus,” he whispered again.
That was easy for him to say. Her body heat was rising with every breath. Her skin tingled under his touch and she could feel the warmth spreading between her legs. Damn! Why did he have to make her feel this way? Okay, focus, she told herself. But he seemed to be enjoying the physical contact just as much as her.
“Just let me shoot!” she insisted, bucking him off of her.
“Oh, you want to play rough, huh?” he taunted, grabbing her body and pulling her even closer. “How are you going to play against an opponent if you need space to shoot? Huh, Legs?”
His unnecessary roughness startled her at first.
“C’mon,” he said, shoving her. “Make your shot!”
He backed off momentarily, grabbed the hem of his jersey and stripped it off in one seamless motion. Puffing up his chiseled chest, he stepped toward her, continuing to taunt.
“I don’t think you’ve got it in you, Legs,” he mocked, pushing her with his chest.
Natalie stumbled backward. She had been so distracted by his sculpted body that she lost her footing and fell to the floor. Angry, she buckled her brow and threw the ball at him.
“What’s your problem?” she screamed.
“You’re my problem!” he shouted back, dodging her pitch. “You want to be an all-star, but you aren’t willing to work for it!”
“I am too!” she argued. “I’m in here every day after practice. Maybe if you’d let up a little, I could concentrate!”
“That’s your problem, Legs. You think you need to concentrate. It should feel natural. The ball is just an extension of your hand. Stop fighting it and just shoot!”
Natalie conceded and got back to her feet. She found herself face to face with Coach Brown. He bent down, picked up another ball and shoved it in her gut.
“Go!” he commanded.
Natalie’s fingers gripped the textured skin of the ball, held it close and then she shoved it back. It smacked against his taut abs.
“Let’s see you make it first,” she provoked, staring him right in the eye.
His sexy glare made her nervous. They were nose to nose, so close she could feel his breath on her lips. He wasn’t saying anything.
“Go ahead,” she urged, arching her eyebrow. “I’d like to see you make it. Then I’ll shut up and let you coach me.”
Coach Brown huffed under his breath. Though she couldn’t see his teeth, she knew he was grinding them. She had a feeling his authority had never been challenged before. She casually stepped aside to let him shoot.
“Fine,” he finally groaned, dribbling the ball to prepare his shot.
Those were the words Natalie hoped to hear. The ends of her cute little mouth hitched up and she smirked as she lifted her tank top up and over her head. Standing there in her sports bra, she tossed a glance his way.
“Oh, sorry,” she scoffed, “am I distracting you?”
For a moment, she couldn’t tell if Coach Brown was going to scold her or jump her. She couldn’t quite get a good read on him. But rather than back down, she stood her ground, staring right back at him and waiting for his response.
“That’s what I thought,” she said grabbing the ball from him and holding it under her arm. Part of her hoped he had been given a taste of his own medicine. But the other part of her hoped that he found her as attractive as she found him.
Coach Brown’s eyes made their way across the planes of her barely-there sports bra, around the curves of her waist, to where the ball rested against her hip. Natalie couldn’t help but notice the way he looked at her. A soft expression crept across his face, replacing the stern scowl she knew too well.
“If you miss this shot,” she added, “you have to leave me alone and let me practice.”
Natalie didn’t really want him to leave her alone, but she knew that if she wanted to get a few more good shots in, he was going to have to leave. He was too distracting. If he wasn’t making her mad, he was making her swoon. Still, she wasn’t quite sure how he would react to her calling the shots.
She watched as his brow buckled for a second, then released its tension. It seemed he may relinquish to her request. There was a long moment of silence full of tension between them. Then, without warning, he grabbed the ball from her grip and shot it over her head.
Natalie turned just in time to see the ball hit the rim and circle around. And just before it tipped into the net, the ball rolled off the rim and fell to the floor. Coach Brown didn’t make the shot.
“Ha!” she teased, throwing it in his face. Her natural reaction was to place her open palms on his rigid body and shove him playfully.
She suddenly found herself face to face with him, smiling. He broke a smile too, as they stared into each other’s eyes. It was an awkward moment. One of those moments where Natalie realized there was a mutual attraction between them — one where it suddenly became clear that the tension between them was sexual — that they had actually been flirting, not fighting.
“I’ll let you practice,” Coach Brown finally interjected, pulling away.
“But, — ” she started to argue, reaching for his shorts to pull him back. And then it donned on her how taboo the attraction really was and she gave in to her win.