Serving Tegan (Sexy As Sin)

Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

Tegan

Everything comes screaming back in a bright flash.The warmth of Roman’s skin.The hair on his chest under my hands. His thick, long cock against my leg.

Alexandria's little friend had definitely gotten the party started, but two minutes with Roman Jostad's glorious hard-on would have sent me into the stratosphere, I just know it.

“Good morning,” I say, stepping around him like I'm just going to keep walking, even though I know he won't let me.

His hand comes up to wrap around my arm.“You owe me an explanation,” he says in his thick Scandinavian accent.

“If you want an explanation, maybe ask your protégé.”

I smile even as I yank my arm out of his grasp.I don't care who the fuck he is and how many Wimbledons he won.He doesn't get to touch me or treat me like that.

Even if I did accidentally touch him inappropriately in his room last night.At least, I wasn’t doing it intentionally.

His eyes slide to the cafeteria door that's still swinging lightly.“You know,” he says, crossing his arms, “I would have expected more from you.” I keep my eyes on his very blue ones to keep from noticing the bulge of his biceps.If ever there was an athlete who did not let himself go after he retired, it is Roman Jostad.

“Excuse me?” I ask.

He waves at the cafeteria door.“Athletes are supposed to be about honest competition. And from what I hear, women are supposed to support each other.”

I press my hand to my chest. “Um, I do believe in honest competition. And I do support women.But I don't support snakes who go around deceiving people. I don’t need you to chastise me. You’re not my coach. You have an issue with what happened last night?Maybe you should take it up with your little tennis ace in there, okay? Because that was not my doing.”

He takes a step toward me.“It was you who tried to put your hand down my shorts.”

I laugh because I don't know what else to do at this point.I take a step toward him, too, making sure he knows that I don’t back down to anyone. We’re close enough that I can feel his breath on my face. “And I apologize for that, but I didn’t know it was you.” My eyes drop to his pants. “And you were hard as a fucking flagpole.”

At this, his jaw tightens, his eyes falling to my mouth. When he doesn’t say anything, I just smile.

“Tell me, coach, why did Alexandria have a key to your hotel room anyway?”

At this, he steps back from me.“What are you implying?”

I shrug. “Nothing.Just seems a little inappropriate.”

“I accidentally grabbed her bag at luggage pickup. I sent her back to my room to get it. I was busy.”

“Sure,” I say, striving to sound chipper.I love the way it unnerves people.I can always see it in their eyes. “Hey, I'm not saying anything untoward is happening. I’m just saying it might look bad.”

I can see the way he grinds his teeth,balls his hands into fists,opens his mouth to respond,but I just raise my hand and turn my back to him.

“I’ll see you later, Coach.”

“You know, I thought you were serious about tennis.”

His words stop me in my tracks. The hallway stretches out in front of me.I have to go. I have practice to get to. Warm-ups, stretches. I don't have time for this bullshit.I don't have time for Alexandria and her games,and Roman and his insecurities.But I turn around anyway.

“Excuse me?”

“They all say the same thing,”he raises his voice to call to me.“Tegan Sharpe is the new It Girl. The next big thing.”He walks toward me slowly.“But you're just a scared little girl. Out getting drunk the night before a match?That's not what serious athletes do.”

“Oh, is that so?Tell me, Roman, what were you doing when you were my age?”

His face changes at that, going smooth.He knows I'm right.Everyone knows what Roman Jostad was doing when he was my age, when he was twenty-three and an up-and-comer, brand new to the sport. All eyes on him.

He wasn't demurely going to bed at an early nine o'clock every evening, alone in his hotel room. He was fucking everything with two legs and partying every chance he got.And he still took the tennis world by storm before that accident ripped it all away.

“Correct me if I'm wrong,”I say, feeling my mask start to shrivel a little.“But I don't think that you got in that car accident because you were sitting in your hotel room like a good boy the night before a match.”

I refuse to look away from him, holding his steady gaze.He thinks that because he's fifteen years older than me, more experienced than me, and been around longer, that he knows what’s good for me better than I do.

He doesn't.I take one more step toward him, tilt my head back to look up at him, so much taller than me. His shaggy blonde hair and his thick beard. particularly blonde in the fluorescent light.Blue eyes, shockingly blue.

“At least I'm not afraid to get out on the court, Coach.”This time when I walk away, he doesn't stop me.