Class Act: A Coach/Student Romance
Class Act: Chapter 11

IF YOU EVER NEED my help, I know a lot of wealthy men and women who are drawn to certain types like yourself.

I lost track of time as I sat alone in the den, staring at the blank TV screen with Teresa’s words rolling over and over inside my head. I’d caught the tail end of Teresa’s conversation with Emery while I was on my way to grab a beer from the fridge.

Her words might as well have been another slap to the face. Stunned, I’d backed away before either of them spotted me. Where the hell did she come off making that sort of proposition to Emery? I knew exactly the type of men she was referring to. Men she got off criminal charges because she was damn good at what she did. Men who thought the world—and whatever was in it—was theirs to manipulate and take anything they wanted.

When had my wife become a pimp for this type of man? Every time her words echoed in my head, my stomach roiled.

When she became a defense attorney, we’d talked about how to keep her professional life from affecting her personal life. So much for that conversation.

Poor Emery already had a difficult life. What if he was tempted by the offer?

I wasn’t stupid. These men were loaded. They could give the boy all the money he needed. He could get out from under his father’s roof and live comfortably, but at what cost? Hadn’t he said he was looking for love? But how many people sold out love for money?

My wife was a perfect example.

I would have felt better if my marital issues were because of Teresa having an affair. An affair I could deal with. I could confront the other man and handle what was so unsatisfying in our relationship and why she had to seek out someone else, but how could I compete with a job she loved?

With jerky movements, I turned the television on and resumed the episode of Spartacus I’d been watching before I had to pick up Mandy and Emery. The magic of the series was ruined, though. I couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t follow the story happening on the screen.

Emery wouldn’t take Teresa up on her offer, would he?

And what’s it to do with you? That boy and whatever he does is none of your business.

Teresa and I weren’t strangers to arguing, but our fights never affected our sleeping arrangements until now. Tonight, she had gone farther than she’d ever done before when she slapped me in the face. Add to that the way she’d propositioned Emery, and I couldn’t bring myself to go upstairs and lie in bed next to her. I couldn’t be anywhere near her.

Not that I could sleep anyway.

A couple of hours must have passed when the door squeaked open. My body stiffened as I braced myself for Teresa invading my space and starting another argument.

The figure in the doorway was shorter and slenderer. Emery. I should’ve known better than to think it was Teresa. If I wasn’t in bed with her, she wouldn’t have to work herself up to having sex. She was probably relieved she had the bed to herself.

Emery halted. From the genuine way he widened his eyes, he hadn’t expected to see me.

“Coach, I—”

“Abe. Call me Abe.”

We were past the point of him calling me Coach. Now it just felt awkward and pointless.

He rubbed his left shoulder with his right hand and shifted from foot to foot.

“Umm, I’m sorry. I didn’t think anyone was here, and I couldn’t sleep. Thought I would watch some TV until I felt tired.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You could have used the living room.”

“Mandy showed this room to me one day. It seemed more private. I didn’t want anyone to know I was having trouble sleeping.”

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” I muted the television. “Is it your ribs? Did you take the pills?”

He shook his head. “My ribs are fine. I-I just couldn’t sleep. Can I stay down here and watch with you?”

He clutched the front of the shirt he was wearing. My shirt. It was so big on him the neckline slipped down one shoulder, and the hem reached all the way to his knees. At least he was decently covered.

If only I didn’t know he had to be naked underneath. I’d thrown his clothes in the washing machine, but I’d been too distracted to take them out and put them in the dryer. I really should, though, so he didn’t have to wear my clothes.

I should have let him borrow something from Mandy. My stomach clenched at the thought of him wearing anything belonging to my daughter. Or anyone else.

Not cool, Abe.

“Abe? Can I?”

“May I.”

He looked confused for a moment. Then his features cleared, and the playful little smile I’d become used to, even when he was hurting, lifted the corners of his mouth. “May I watch television with you, pretty please?”

The words were perfectly fine, but the way he watched me wasn’t. I had no idea how I knew, but I was sure Emery had the potential to be a proper brat. The kind of brat that could get me into trouble. A brat I should be sending back to his bed instead of nodding to him to join me.

“Sure. I’m watching Spartacus, but you can change it.”

“Ooh, bloody.” He crossed the floor to the couch and sat next to me, even though he could have taken the armchair. He pulled his legs up to his chest, with his feet on the couch, and tugged the shirt over them.

“Aren’t you hurting your ribs like that?” I asked.

“Who knows? I’m too high on medication to feel any pain right now. I might have taken the pills too soon.”

I frowned. “Then you should be in bed.”

“I’m fine.” He plucked the remote from my lap and unmuted the television. Instead of giving it back, he kept the remote in his hand, but at least his focus was on the screen.

If I’d thought watching Spartacus with Emery would be no big deal, I was quickly dissuaded from that notion. He reacted aloud to the plot unfolding on the screen. He muttered under his breath, sighed in frustration, and chuckled with glee. In no time, Emery became the source of my entertainment rather than the television.

When the episode ended, Emery paused the television. “Abe.”

Maybe I shouldn’t have allowed him to use my first name after all. The way the syllable whispered from his lips sent a shiver down my spine.

I swallowed hard but didn’t respond.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

“Talk about what?”

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I heard.”

I frowned. “Heard what?”

“You and your wife arguing. I’m sorry she said those awful things to you.”

My face burned, and I glanced away. “Stay out of it.”

“I’m just trying to—”

“It’s none of your business, Emery. Drop it.”

Emery lowered his legs to the floor and got to his feet, letting the remote fall from his hand to the couch. “I’m sorry. I’ll just go.” His voice was full of hurt, and my chest ached for me to do something about it. To make him smile again.

Let him go, Abe.

I jumped up and grabbed Emery’s wrist. He jerked to a stop, but he kept his head turned away from me. He tried to tug his hand out of my grip, but I held on.

“I’m leaving you alone like you wanted, Abe.”

My heart pounded in my chest. “When did I ever say that?”

Seconds ticked by in silence. I moved closer to him, placed a trembling hand on his angular hip, and turned him to face me. His chest rose and fell, like he was struggling against his emotions.

“Do you want me to stay or not?” he asked.

Dammit, why was he so damn pretty?

“Let me go, Abe.”

“Do you really want me to?” He nodded, so I dropped his hand.

Emery rubbed his wrist. “Do you care about what I want?”

My nostrils flared. “What do you want?”

“To hug you.”

Before I could move, Emery wrapped his arms around me and pressed his face to my chest.

Push him away.

I raised my arms, but as if they had a mind of their own, they embraced him, one settling at his lower back and the other at his hip. I closed my eyes and swallowed the lump in my throat. Why was he made to fit me so well if he could never be mine?

“Emery,” I said softly. “I don’t know if I’m thinking straight.”

“What do you mean?” he whispered back.

“You heard it yourself. My marriage is in shambles, and I can’t be sure if this thing is merely a reaction rather than something real.”

Emery grabbed the back of my head and pulled it down, then captured my lips with his. Stunned, I stood stock still. Emery’s mouth moved over mine, and desire unleashed in my belly. With a groan, I pressed him closer to me and gripped his hip more tightly.

He gasped, and I took advantage of his parted lips to thrust my tongue into his mouth. He gripped my hair and moaned. I slipped my hand farther down to his ass.

So full.

Damn, he felt so good.

I felt so good.

I didn’t want the sensation to ever go away.

He panted against me in such need, his soft sighs tearing at my resistance. Here was someone who desired me. Who wanted me back. Someone I didn’t have to beg and placate to satisfy me.

I pulled up the hem of Emery’s shirt, baring his naked bottom, cupped his ass cheeks in both hands, and lifted him. Emery wrapped his legs around my waist, and I walked us back to the couch. I laid him down on the cushions, never taking my lips off his as I came down on top of him.

“Ow!” Emery gasped, and I jerked my head up.

He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. The doctor’s words echoed in my head.

“Fuck.” I pulled away from him as far back to the other side of the couch as I could. “Did I hurt you?”

“I’ll be fine. Maybe I can be on top so—”

“No.”

“No?” He struggled to sit up, and I placed a hand on his shoulder and helped him. He tried to kiss me again, but I turned my head. “Abe?”

“You heard what the doctor said.” I released him, but he clutched my shoulder.

“Do you still think it’s not real? Because maybe if your marriage was healthy, you could’ve ignored the attraction, but I think it would’ve still been there. Am I wrong?”

“It doesn’t matter. This”—I waved my hand between us—“can never happen again.”

“Why not?”

“You’re a smart boy. You can figure it out.”

“And what if I refuse to ignore us?”

“You don’t have a choice. There is no us. Would you risk your relationship with my daughter so carelessly?”

“I would risk it, but it wouldn’t be carelessly.” Dammit, why did he have to sound so sincere? “You’ve already shown your hand. I know you care about me, and I already told you that I think you could love me real hard, Abe, so yes, I’d risk it all for that love.”

“But I don’t love you.”

“Not yet.”

“I can’t ever love you.”

He released my arm and shuffled to the edge of the sofa but made no effort to pull the shirt down to his knees.

Fuck, I’d touched his naked ass.

And I wanted to do it again and more. I’d never touched another man before. Why wasn’t I freaking out?

“I feel guilty too, you know.”

“You don’t act like it.”

“What do you want me to do?” His cheeks turned bright red. “You’re married, and you’re my best friend’s father. And… and I really like you. Don’t you think I wish I could turn it off?”

I really like you.

Such a juvenile thing to say. The words reminded me of the tremendous gap between our two generations. Yet coming from him, they sounded sincere, especially with how he was looking at me.

I closed my eyes to block out his face. It was too hard to think when he was gazing at me with such hope. I couldn’t mislead him. That would be crueler than setting him straight right now.

“I’ll make up with my wife, Emery.” I opened my eyes. “Couples fight all the time.”

He scrubbed his hand over his face. “I should tell you I’m happy for you and that I hope everything works out, but I can’t.”

This time when he walked away, I didn’t try to stop him. Long after he was gone, I stared at the door, feeling a great sense of loss. Like I’d let something monumental slip from my grasp.

I was doing the right thing, wasn’t I? I had no clue if my marriage was fixable, but whether or not it was, I could never be with Emery, and it was better for us to face that fact now before we destroyed each other’s lives and the people we loved.