Chapter 82 My Hot Coach (2)

• The hot water from the shower felt like a lifeline, washing away the last dregs of my hangover. I stood under the spray, letting it pound against my shoulders, steam curling around me like a lover’s whisper. My skin prickled as I ran my hands over my body, soaping up, my fingers lingering on the curve of my hips, the dip of my waist. The bathroom was my sanctuary, all soft light and fogged-up mirrors, the scent of my coconut body wash filling the air. I tilted my head back, letting the water sluice through my dark hair, and for a moment, I felt alive again. Not perfect, but close enough.
• I stepped out, dripping onto the bathmat, and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around myself. The mirror was too steamed to show my reflection, but I didn’t need it. I knew I looked better than I did an hour ago. My headache had dulled to a faint pulse, and my body felt lighter, ready to move. Training was in an hour, and I wasn’t about to show up looking like I’d just crawled out of a bar.
• In my bedroom, I tossed the towel onto the bed and rifled through my dresser. My purple training suit caught my eye—tight, stretchy, and shamelessly flattering. I slipped into it, the fabric hugging my curves like a second skin. It clung to my round, soft ass, accentuating every inch, and I couldn’t help but turn to check myself out in the mirror. Damn. The suit was a deep, vibrant purple, the kind that screamed confidence, and it made my ass look like it deserved its own fan club. I smirked, running my hands over my hips, feeling the smooth material under my palms. My tits looked good too, perky and just the right amount of cleavage peeking out from the low neckline.