Bad Coach (An Alpha Male Bad Boy Romance) (Forbidden Romance)

by Claire Adams

  Instead, the guys were broken up into different groups: a group to go and gather the various forms of alcohol that would be served, a group to hit the local Costco and get snacks and other things for people to eat, a decorating crew, and the people in charge of getting the word out across campus that the party was happening and what time it would start. The level of organization and planning that went into a frat party surprised me, and I almost felt bad as I admitted to Devon that I had had no idea that they put so much work into it. Devon laughed, tousling my hair and giving me a quick kiss. “The whole point is to make it look effortless,” he told me. “So if you never thought that we put any work into it, we were successful.”

  I decided that while I wanted to look good—after all, I had Devon’s looks to live up to, as his girlfriend—I didn’t need to go overboard. It was just a party, after all. I took a shower when I got back to the frat from my classes for the day, and went into Devon’s room, picking out a cute dress that came down to a few inches above my knee, with a strappy top to it. I dried my hair quickly, digging my blow dryer out of my suitcase. It was the first time all week I had thought to use it, but I was grateful to have it.

  With my dress and hair done, I did my makeup quickly, putting on little more than it would take to emphasize my features: a little blush, a little eye shadow, eye liner and mascara, and a lip stain so I wouldn’t have to worry about re-applying lipstick all night. I put on some stockings and ankle boots and decided that that was perfect. There wasn’t any need for a fancy hairstyle, or an outfit that would call attention to my assets; I already had a date to the party, and I knew who I was going to bed with that night.

  I went downstairs just as the music started playing, and wandered around the living room, smiling at the members of the frat who had assembled there. Devon was helping someone finish putting some bunting up, but the moment he was done with that he was at my side, his arm around my waist, kissing me on the cheek. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were out to catch you a guy tonight,” Devon murmured in my ear. I laughed.

  “I’m just trying to look good enough to be your girlfriend,” I told him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders.

  “Like I said: if I didn’t know better.” Devon grinned at me and kissed me on the lips, his hands wandering over my body just a little bit.

  People started to show up, coming into the frat house in pairs and groups, and in what seemed like only a few minutes—though I realized later it was about an hour—the whole frat was packed with people. Some girls I knew had come out to party, and I found myself chatting with them a little bit, though I didn’t leave Devon’s side to do so. Drinks began to flow, and Devon put a cup of punch in my hands, nursing a beer of his own while we wandered around, talking to people and just having a good time.

  The experience was so different from the first party I’d come to at the Phi Kappa house, that every so often as the night wore on, I found myself actually surprised that I was in the same place. Where before I’d been left behind by my friends on more than one occasion, this time I was never once alone for the entire night; Devon didn’t act jealous or possessive, but he never wandered from my side, either—and he kept an eye on me even when he was talking to someone else.

  The music got louder as more and more people started coming into the party, all of them greeted with a drink of some kind from a toga-clad Phi Kappa guy. Devon led me out onto the makeshift dance floor in the living room and we moved together, laughing and kissing, just as though we’d been dancing together for ages, as if we’d been a couple for years instead of a couple of weeks. I could see the looks of envy from the other girls at the party; whatever hopes they had of attracting his gaze away from me were utterly and completely destroyed, as Devon kept his arms around me, his hands wandering over my body but not quite groping me. We kept dancing until we were both drenched in sweat, moving through one song after another, and I couldn’t remember being happier in my entire life.

  When we were both too hot and sweaty to want to keep going, Devon led me into the kitchen and put another drink in my hand, leaning in and kissing me lightly on the lips. “To think,” he murmured in my ear, smiling against my skin. “I thought that it was so cool to party it up as a single guy. Much better this way.” I laughed, giving him a playful shove and barely managing to keep my drink in my cup.

  “You met me at the last party,” I told him tartly. “And you had a great time then.” Devon laughed, wrapping his arms around me and holding me close.

  “Yeah, well—it’s even better this time, so I don’t see how you can possibly be all offended.” He nipped along the column of my throat, and I nearly dropped my drink, my breath hitching in my throat. Devon pulled back and grabbed my hand, leading me out of the kitchen and into the backyard.

  We sat around outside together, sipping our drinks, talking to everyone who came by. Devon made sure that everyone who asked him about the test knew that it was me who was tutoring him, and that—in his opinion at least—I was the best tutor on the planet, the smartest girl he had ever met. The guys on his team, at the party in part to hang out with him and in part because it was a Phi Kappa party, and therefore not to be missed, joked that I would weaken his legs before the championship. No one doubted that Devon would somehow find a way to play for the big game; no one doubted that he would be up to peak still. But in spite of the jokes about me weakening Devon’s legs, everyone on his team seemed glad that I was in Devon’s life. “You know, I think you’ve steadied him a lot, already,” Miles told me, sitting sprawled out on a lounge chair next to the one Devon and I shared.

  “She did,” Devon agreed, giving my waist a squeeze. I rolled my eyes.

  “I still say that if Devon hadn’t wanted to steady down and focus, I wouldn’t have had such a good influence on him.” Miles shook his head.

  “Nah, man. Devon never even thought about settling down and getting serious about life until he met you. It’s all you, girl.” I shook my head at the compliment, but it pleased me nonetheless. I loved that not only had I been accepted as Devon’s girlfriend, but his friends and teammates seemed to all like me. Nobody thought I was doing anything with Devon or to him that he didn’t need, that didn’t benefit him. For the whole night, as the party raged around us, Devon and I were never apart for more than a few minutes; I only ever really left his side to use the bathroom. Even as I talked to people around me, I was aware of him close to me, the fact that he obviously enjoyed me having a good time.

  After a while, I had exhausted my interest in talking to anyone else, and Devon and I made our way back inside. For a few minutes, we danced together again, slow and sweet, and I could remember only too well what Devon looked like under his tee shirt and jeans, how it would look when he stripped down. “I think you’re wearing exactly the same thing you were wearing when I met you,” I commented to Devon. Devon chuckled.

  “Did you only just notice that?” he asked me, his voice low and almost purring, almost growling in my ear. “You’re slipping, girl.” He kissed me hungrily, moving and swaying in the dance with me even as he did, and after only a few moments I was totally disoriented—but I didn’t care. I could feel the room moving around me with my eyes closed; feel Devon’s hard, muscular body against mine. Everything was exactly the way it should be. I was so happy, so comfortable, so contented.

  But we were both so tired that we couldn’t keep dancing for very long; we found a spot on one of the couches that wasn’t stained or splattered with someone’s spilled drink—or, in one case, vomit—and sat down, nursing our last drinks of the night as we looked around the room. Just like the first night when we had met, Devon and I eventually started making fun of some of the drunker people at the party, quietly between ourselves, giggling and chuckling at the antics of the students and frat members. “Oh god, he is just hopeless,” Devon murmured to me, pointing out a guy who was doing his absolute best to try and keep a girl’s attention. The girl in question was absolutely drunk—on the
verge of passing out on the shelving unit she had finally sat down on. The girl was so far gone that she couldn’t have noticed the guy even if she had wanted to.

  “Oh—oh, look over there,” I said, directing Devon’s attention to a couple who had come in together, and who were now fighting bitterly. Neither Devon nor I could make out what the argument was about, but the girl was waving her hands around, gesticulating wildly, and while her words weren’t clear, she was shouting and shrieking with tones that could bend steel. We cuddled together on the couch, shaking our heads at the drunken antics going on around us. I was tired down to my bones, alcohol buzzing through my brain and making me even sleepier, and as the party began to wind down, it was easier for me to think of just suggesting we go to bed. I had no idea what time it was, but Devon pulled me off of the couch, giving me a quick kiss on the lips. “You’re about to fall asleep—don’t want to do that here. They might draw on you, even with me sitting right there to guard you.” I laughed, shaking my alcohol-fuzzy head, and followed him up the stairs to his bedroom.

  “This is like last time, too,” I said, giving his hand a squeeze as we came to Devon’s door. Devon laughed, propelling me ahead of him and closing the door behind us both.

  “Except you’re no virgin anymore. And you’re all mine, and I’m all yours.” He wrapped his arms around me tightly and kissed me, finding the zipper on my dress by touch to help me start stripping down. I was too tired to spur him to another session of lovemaking—but I was more than happy to curl up in the bed with him, completely naked under the blankets, and rest my cheek on his chest as sleep overtook me.

  Chapter Six

  We spent Saturday morning in bed together, cuddling and fooling around, our hands wandering over each other’s bodies as much as we wanted. I had a slight hangover from the night before, but by the time Devon and I both were ready to get out of bed to find something to eat, it had all but evaporated, seemingly melted away under the heat of all the times that Devon got me off—with his fingers, with his mouth, and finally with his cock.

  “Hey,” he said, while we sat at the kitchen table, eating egg sandwiches and hash browns he had made for us. “I was thinking—I know the test is in a couple of days, but I was hoping you’d be okay with skipping our session tonight.” I frowned; the test was on Monday—and while Devon was doing really well, and making great progress, I didn’t like the idea of taking even more of a break; we hadn’t studied the night before, either.

  “Why do you want to take another night off?” I asked warily. It was only too easy for me to imagine Devon slipping back into his old ways. Devon grinned.

  “Because I have a surprise for you tonight, and I don’t think you’ll want to study during what I have planned.” I worried at my bottom lip, torn between delight at the prospect of a surprise and worry that Devon wouldn’t be prepared enough for the test on Monday. But he had brought his scores up in the individual sections so much on the practice tests; surely one more night—especially if we made it up the next day—wouldn’t be that much of a problem.

  “Okay,” I said finally. “But it had better be a big surprise if you think you’re going to justify taking another night off.” Devon laughed.

  “Oh, trust me,” he said, grinning his charming little smile. “You’re going to love it so much that you won’t even be able to think about studying.”

  For the rest of the afternoon, Devon teased me about the big surprise he had planned for me, giving me hints—that I might want to go back to my dorm just long enough to find something nice to wear, that it was going to be an all-night thing, jokes about what shoes I would wear—until I finally shoved him onto the couch in the living room of the frat house and tickled him relentlessly. “Tell me what it is!” I almost shouted, squirming on top of him to keep Devon from throwing me off. Devon grabbed my hands in his, stilling them, and shook his head, grinning up at me.

  “I’ll tell you if you give me a kiss,” he said, his dark eyes flashing. I rolled my eyes, grinning and giddy. I leaned in and kissed him lightly on the lips, pulling back before he could distract me by deepening the embrace.

  “Okay—now tell me.” Devon laughed again, pulling my body down against his. At the odd afternoon hour, the frat was nearly deserted; the rest of the guys were either out at a game of one kind or another, or enjoying drink specials at a bar, or doing something else that took them off-campus. A few had even left before Devon and I had gotten up for the day to go home and visit their families.

  “I’m taking you out for a really nice dinner, and a movie,” Devon told me, brushing a lock of hair out of my face. He smiled slowly. “You deserve a reward for being such a great tutor, and I thought it would be great to reward you this way.” I looked down at him, smiling myself.

  “God I’m so lucky,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief. “You do know that I’d tutor you even if you didn’t reward me for it other than by screwing my brains out, right?” Devon laughed out loud, pulling me down against him, kissing me on the lips hungrily.

  “Considering you didn’t even know I was planning this, yes—I know,” he told me finally. “You’ve got two hours to get ready, babe.”

  I spent a little more time cuddling and kissing Devon before I finally pulled myself up and went into the bathroom. I had set aside one or two really nice outfits when I’d packed to come and stay with him, so at least I wouldn’t have to make a trip back to the dorms just for that. I took a shower and decided that I would need to really look my absolute best—and apparently, Devon thought the same way. While I was blowing my hair out and putting my makeup on, Devon showered quickly and got dressed in a pair of dress pants and a dress shirt, along with a tie.

  Devon sat back in his room as soon as he was finished getting ready, and I felt him watching me as I slipped into my dress; it was dark blue, with a soft pink floral pattern scattered across it unobtrusively, and long sleeves. I had a pair of low, navy blue heels to wear with it, and my bra and underwear were practically invisible underneath. I stood before him as I smoothed the dress down against my legs, smiling slightly. “God, you look great, babe,” Devon said, his gaze trailing over me slowly, taking in every inch of my body. “Not that you don’t always look good, but man.” He shook his head in disbelief. I blushed, shrugging and checking my makeup in his mirror quickly. I knew I looked amazing—that was the point.

  When we arrived at the restaurant, I was shocked; even though Devon had told me we were going somewhere nice, I was surprised to see how nice the place was. The restaurant was certainly nowhere I would never decide to go on my own—a French place called La Four, with a price tag that I knew would be out of my normal reach even before I looked at the menu. Devon held my hand as the hostess led us to our table, and as I looked around the room, it was obvious to me that we were the youngest people in the building who weren’t working there.

  “How can you afford this?” I asked Devon in a whisper as I looked over the menu. I tried to think in my head about how many hours I would have to work—how much in tips I would have to make—in order to be able to justify coming to a restaurant like this. All of my money went to cover my costs at the school; all of the things that my grants and scholarships didn’t cover, like books and lab materials and food. Devon shrugged, smiling slowly.

  “I’ve had a lot of time on my hands during my suspension,” he said. “So I took a little side-job. One of the guys works for a restaurant in the offseason, and he got me a gig washing dishes and bussing tables.” I shook my head in disbelief, smiling to myself. “I made just enough to take you out for a great dinner and a movie—and as soon as I get back on the team, I can work whenever they need me but I don’t really need the money.”

  We ordered foie gras and escargots for our hors d’oeuvre, giggling slightly to ourselves at the fact that while we knew what those things were, neither of us had ever tried them before. I had steak au poivre for my entrée—at Devon’s insistence—while he had duck, and for dessert, we shared a souff
lé. I had never had a meal so rich, so delicious in my life; while the idea of eating liver had never sounded particularly great to me, the foie gras was like meaty butter on the crispy toast—absolutely amazing, with a lingering taste of some rich, aromatic alcohol. The escargots were better than I expected, and the steak with its creamy pepper sauce and French fries tasted so good that I could barely believe that it only had a handful of ingredients. Devon and I shared bites of our food with each other, and I tried duck for the first time; while I liked my steak better, I couldn’t deny that Devon’s meal was absolutely as delicious as mine.

  By the time we left the restaurant, I was so thoroughly stuffed with food that I couldn’t even imagine getting any kind of snacks at the movie theater. Devon bought us tickets for an action-comedy, joking with me that since it was my date night, he would insist that we had to watch some weepy romance until I gave him a playful punch to the shoulder. He bought us both sodas and we piled into our seats at the back, giggling and still amazed at the dinner we’d just had.

  I barely paid any attention to the movie at all, and I knew that Devon didn’t see much more of it than I did; we were both so interested in each other, so keyed up and eager to get back to the frat house and be alone together that I almost suggested to him that the movie had been a bad idea—we weren’t getting our money’s worth. But I was happy to sit with him in the darkness, giggling and whispering to each other, teasing each other with sly little touches every few minutes and talking about what little of the movie’s plot we both managed to take in. Eventually we gave up completely on the pretext of watching the movie and took advantage of the fact that we were the only two people in the back row, plunged into the darkest depths of the theater, to make out, pulling up the armrest that separated us.