She thought she had the court to herself — just her and that tight little outfit, working on free throws like a good girl. I came in to check on practice and couldn’t help but notice how her hips moved every time she jumped. One correction turned into me standing behind her, guiding her arms, my hands lingering just a little too long. She looked back at me with that “you gonna do something about it?” grin, and I did. Right there on the court. Her lips tasted like sweat and trouble, and the second our mouths met, it was game on. I had her pinned against the wall, moaning with every thrust, bent over the bench like she was built for it. Alaina took everything I gave her — and then some. This is what happens when a coach takes practice way too personally.

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