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"Any coach who has been coaching for ten years and says he never fell in love with an athlete or vice versa is lying." —Anonymous
"Do you think you are the first gymnast to show wear and tear on their hands from bars, malysh”
His mother sacrificed anything and everything to give the son, who was a product of rape, a life she never had, and Joy, my mom, the socialite who threw money at her problems, was the ice queen extraordinaire and more concerned about what I ate than what actually went on with me.
He turned my hand over and inspected them, his thumb delicately running in circles on my palm. "Sorry about these." Then he turned his back to me and left, leaving me speechless. It was then I realized Kova had a thickand hard erection.
Two things I was sure about. One: Hayden was right about treating my hands properly. Two: There was something mentally wrong with my coach.
Rope. I smiled to myself at his gymnastics analogy. Most people said climb mountains, but he used rope since part of conditioning for many athletes was rope climbing.
"Silver is the first place loser."
ALDC Dance Moms reference much?!
He groaned low under his breath. "Do not do that." "Do what?" "Look at me the same way I am looking at you."
Fear was a bitch, and in this sport, it could cripple you. Literally.
"After a workout, my body is weak, and my control sucks, Ria. I have no control now," and then he slammed his mouth to mine.
"Like you are hurting, upset. It…" he stammered, "affects me more than I care to admit."
"You are not making this any easier." Then he strode toward me and crushed his lips to mine.
"Do not ever be sorry for the passion that lives inside of you. It is a gift not everyone is given. It is refreshing to see."
"You are so beautiful it hurts. You hold yourself together even during the toughest times. You are a force to be reckoned with, something no one will see coming."
