Free Blind Landing (Flipped #1) by Carrie Aarons Page B

balls. One glance down as soon as I know I won’t topple her, and I see it’s Nat.
    “Again? Are you trying to maim me? First your chair in the cafeteria and now your fucking gym bag?” I smile through it all, loving the way her face gets pink with annoyance as I tease her.
    “In your dreams, Russell. I only maim people that I like.” She nods her head in challenge.
    I bend down to whisper in her ear, our bodies still woven together. “I’d love to know what you do to people you want to fuck.”
    I shouldn’t say that to her. I shouldn’t even think it. I’m a coach, her coach right now even if no one knows it, we agreed not to do this, I’m only torturing myself. The list of reasons goes on and on. And I want to tear them up and throw them in the chalk bucket to bury.
    Someone coughs from over my shoulder, and I turn to see Jared assessing us with a curious gaze. I disentangle from Nat and step back, my pores aching to rub against her skin. She smirks and walks off, the curve of her pert ass in that shiny black leotard enticing me to run after her.
    “I think you might have just found the problem solver to your not-getting-laid problem.” Jared snickers and opens the door to the vault gym.
    If only he know how on the money his assumption was.

    * * *
    “ I barely even touched you that time!” I jump up, punching my fist into the air and feeling the soft blue spotter’s block cushion my feet as they touch back down. It’s only a few days after our encounter outside the vault gym, but she’s made so much progress with her fear that I can’t help but get psyched up.
    Nat smiles up at me from where she’s buried in the pit, barely any part of her body visible, save for her shoulders and head. “I know! I barely felt you. But it was good to have you there, it makes me more comfortable to actually throw the Arabian.”
    She drags her body up and out of the pit, and I swear it’s a workout just to get out of the gymnasts version of quicksand.
    “I think we can move to the regular beam with a solid mat soon.” I know that’s pushing it, but I need to move the process along. She’s only got about a month or so left before Olympic Trials. She needs to be solidly unafraid of her beam dismount in the next week if she has any hope of being in the right mental headspace for Olympic Trials.
    “Slow your roll, coach. I need to bang about a hundred more of these out into the pit before I tackle the competition set up.”
    Nat swings her body back up onto the beam, her long, athletic legs distracting me from anything else. Lately, it was all I could do to stop staring at her lush crimson lips.
    “You’re bossy, you know that?” I rub my bare abs, the heat of the summer suffusing every gym on Filipek’s campus and making me sweat in the non-air conditioned buildings.
    “Someone around here has got to take things seriously. We can’t all be a fly-by-the-seat-of-our-pants type of man.” Nat plays around on the beam, doing a few turns and random jumps while we chat.
    “Oh, so you’re a man? Coulda fooled me, you know those leotards don’t leave much to the imagination.” I can’t help it if my gaze rakes up and down her body.
    And I don’t miss the way her denim blue eyes dilate, the way her hands fidget at her sides.
    “No more flirting, friend . I have dismounts to conquer.”
    She gets into her takeoff position, tensing her body and squeezing her muscles so that her entire body looks like a strong, sexy athlete’s wet dream. Or man’s wet dream. Or mine. Fucking fine, she’s my wet dream.
    I ready myself, holding my arms out in the mock-position as if I’m going to spot her or touch her to help her through the skill. Even though I won’t. She just did the dismount flawlessly, and her body knows how to execute it even if her mind doesn’t.
    Nat is rigid, indecision in her eyes.
    “Come on, superstar. You can do this. You just did it. Fuck the fear. Shut your mind off and run.” My voice has a