Joyce had always been the star swimmer on the university team—fast, fierce, and a little too rebellious for her own good.
At 21, with a toned athletic body, long legs, and a competitive streak that often got her in trouble, she pushed every limit. Tonight was no exception. She’d shown up late to practice again, skipped the required warm-up drills, and mouthed off to Coach Harlan when he called her out in front of the team.
Now the pool was empty, the lights dimmed, and the rest of the squad long gone. Joyce stood in the locker room in nothing but her tight black one-piece swimsuit, water still dripping from her skin, her heart racing as Coach Harlan locked the door behind him.
Marcus Harlan was 39, tall and powerfully built from years of competitive swimming and coaching. Broad shoulder
