Overview

I’m her coach. She’s twenty. The federation assigned her to me thinking I’d break her in. But Mei Liang is wild heat wrapped in grace— and I can’t stop picturing her flushed, breathless, tangled in my sheets instead of training ropes.

One brush of her thigh during a spin correction and I’m gone. She tests me with every glance, every breathy, “Yes, Miss Nadia” that slips from her lips. And god help me—I want to hear it in bed, not on the ice.

This isn’t just dangerous. It’s career-ending. But when she leans into me during a late-night session and whispers, “Do you want me to stop?” I realize I don’t.