Ford’s POV
The walk back to Sienna's hotel room feels like a death march toward professional suicide, and I haven't said a word because what the fuck am I supposed to say?
Hey, thanks for that kiss that probably just ended both our careers in case anyone saw us. Great technique, by the way!
The rational part of my brain, the part that's kept me employed and out of scandal for the past decade, is screaming at me to walk away.
The other one, the part that's been obsessing over her for months now, wants to pin her against that door and show her exactly what she does to me.
Professional boundaries, asshole. Remember any of those?
The door of her hotel room closes behind us, and before I can even process what's happening, Sienna's hands are fisted in my shirt and her mouth is on mine.
Holy shit.
Every rational thought I've ever had evaporates as she kisses me like she's been starving for it. Her body presses against mine, and I can taste the desperation, the months of want finally given permission to exist.
For a few incredible moments of pure heat and open-mouthed mess, I let myself get lost in it. Then my brain kicks back online and remembers why this is the worst possible idea.
"Wait." I break the kiss, hands on her shoulders, trying to create distance between us before I do something spectacularly stupid. "Sienna… We can't."
Even as I say it, I don't want to stop.
Her eyes flash with fury. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?"
"I'm your coach. There are boundaries—"
"Oh, for fuck's sake!" She steps closer, throwing hand in the air and eliminating the space I just created.
"Sienna—"
"No. Now you listen!" Her eyes are blazing now, and I realize I've significantly underestimated how pissed off she is. "I see that you truly care about me. Not just as an athlete, but as a person. And I see fucking clearly that you want me the same way I want you! And you're just what? Trying to be too fucking much of a professional to admit it?"
Shit. Direct hit.
"That is coaching," I say weakly.
"Bullshit." She's close enough now that I can smell her perfume, see the light flecks in her dark eyes. "I can see it in the way you watch me. I felt it every time you've kissed me. So stop acting like you're protecting me from something I don't want!"
Double shit with career-ending implications.
"I'm trying to protect both of us from making a mistake we can't take back," I say, grasping for the last threads of rational thought.
"A mistake?" The word comes out quiet, but it hits harder than if she'd screamed it. "Is that what you think this is?"
Fuck. Wrong word choice.
"That's not what I meant—"
"No, I think that's exactly what you meant." Her voice is steady, but I can see the hurt flickering behind the anger. "You think I'm some confused kid with a crush on her coach. You think I don't know what I'm asking for!"
Christ, she's magnificent when she's angry.
"I know it could fuck up both of our careers," she continues, voice softer but no less determined. "But I'm tired of pretending I don't feel this. And I'm tired of watching you pretend you don't feel it either!"
The silence stretches between us, loaded with months of suppressed want. I can feel my carefully constructed boundaries crumbling in real time.
"So stop being a professional asshole for one damn second and fucking take me!" she practically screams, delivering the final blow.
Game over.
Those words aren’t a request. They’re a trigger. A fucking detonation.
I snapped and in one step, I closed the space between us, grabbing her face and crashing my mouth onto hers like I’ve been waiting my whole damn life.
This isn't the desperate, public kiss from the bar. There is nothing about tenderness or care she deserves, it's pure heat, desperation and chaos. A deliberate, possessive and full of months of want finally given permission to exist.
It’s everything we’ve been holding back, and now it’s devouring us.
Her lips soft, fucking perfect, and she opened for me immediately, her tongue sliding against mine in a way that made my cock throb against my zipper.
I kissed her messy, sloppy, like I was trying to mark her, to claim her, to make sure she knew this wasn’t just some casual fuck.
Sienna’s body slams into mine, hands already tangled in my shirt, yanking it up like she wants to claw through me. We’re stumbling. Grabbing. Our lips crush, teeth clash, tongues collide.
“You sure?” I growl, even though I’m already past the point of caring.
Instead of answering with words, she pulls my shirt over my head and lets her hands explore my chest.
Her touch was electric, fucking intoxicating, and when she found my nipples, pinching one hard enough to make me groan, she smiles like she's just discovered a secret.
"Just shut up and fuck me already, Coach Callen," she whispers.
Well, that's it then. Point of no return officially reached.
I grab her waist and hoist her up, her legs instinctively wrapping around me, and we’re moving. I aim for the bed but we don’t make it that far.
Halfway there, she bit down on my bottom lip hard enough to make me hiss, and I stumbled, falling onto the couch and she pulled me down on top of her, kissing me like we might die if we stop.
Sienna moved against me like she wasn’t just offering her body, but letting me into the one place she never let anyone else touch.
Clothes fly. Her tank top first, then the bra underneath—a black scrap of lace that barely contained her anyway.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” I groan, cupping her breast, thumbing the hardened peak. She looked away, probably embarrassed, but I wasn’t having it.
I tilted her chin up and kissed her again, slower now, sucking her bottom lip between my teeth. I unhooked her bra and let it fall.
Her breasts were perfect, soft and perky, her nipples already hard from the air. I bent down and sucked one into my mouth, slow and deep, letting my tongue tease it until she moaned and arched into me.
Her hips lift beneath me, her nails dragging down my back. “Ford…”
“Say it again,” I demand against her skin.
“Ford… please…”
That voice. That voice—soft and breathy and desperate—I’d do anything to hear it again.
I kiss lower, down her stomach, tasting sweat and desire and something that belongs only to her. Getting her jeans undone, I dragged them down with her panties in one motion, revealing long, toned legs and the kind of heat that could burn a man alive.
She’s glistening. Soaked. Every part of her is trembling, legs falling open, lips parted, eyes blown wide.
“Jesus Christ…” I breathe, fingers sliding through her folds slowly, watching the way her hips jerk at the contact.
She whimpers, biting her lip hard. “Shit, Ford…”
“You’re dripping,” I murmur, dragging one finger up to circle her clit, feather-light. “All this for me?”
She covers her face with both hands, cheeks flushing a deep, gorgeous red. “Shut up…”
But her hips roll into my touch, seeking more, needing it.
I press two fingers inside her, slow at first, then deeper, and she gasps, eyes flying open. She’s hot and tight and fuck, I have to close my eyes just to keep from losing it.
“You want me to taste you?” I ask, voice rough, fingers still stroking inside her as I lean in closer. “Want me to make you come on my tongue like a good girl?”
She peeks out from behind her hands, eyes wild. And then she nods.
I grin, dark and hungry, and slide her hips to the edge of the couch. Then I drop to my knees in front of her, between her thighs, and stare up like she’s the only altar I’ve ever wanted to worship at.
And just before I bury my mouth in her, I say, “Keep your legs open for me, baby. I’m going to ruin you.”