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I deserved an award for surviving the last six minutes of my life. After taking a freezing cold shower to prevent myself from getting hard, I breathed through my mouth to not breathe in all her scents. The soap? Vanilla. It was enticing and made me want to lick the bar.
The way her body looked. Fuck. She had the body of a goddess. I’d meant what I said about her being beautiful earlier, but that was her personality and facial expressions. I had no idea what she hid under her scrubs, but now that I knew, fuck. It had been months since I’d hooked up with someone, and I was struggling.
She stood there, her cheeks red as hell from blushing and her pillow lips parting as she breathed deeply. Each breath caused her chest to rise, drawing my attention to her tits. They stood out now with that sexy top. This was a new development in my relationship with Audrey Hawthorne.
I was fucking attracted to her.
“Ready for the rage room?” I asked, my voice scratchy and throaty. Ugh. It was the lingering buzz I felt around her.
She nodded and pressed her lips together tight, her eyes roaming over my face and hair. “I like your curls.”
Her voice was barely a whisper, and I ran a hand through my hair. My hair became curly when wet. It had always been that way since a kid. And knowing she liked it caused my chest to swell with pride. “Yeah?”
She nodded but then cleared her throat and jumped toward her desk. “I’ll get my keys.”
“Want me to drive? I can drop you off back here before I head home. Only if you’re comfortable though.”
Yeah, I was selfish and wanted to be near her. She wanted to distract me from my mom, and mission accomplished. I hadn’t thought about my mom or her stroke since the second I got in here.
“I’m comfortable with you.”
“Then let’s go rage it out.” A part of me also needed to work through this attraction. Burn off the energy I had around her. If she offered to get naked and distract me that way, let’s just say I’d absolutely declare fuck yes.
Rage room would be better for us. Especially with how things were with her brother. This would add fuel to the fire and zap. The lust dulled. I couldn’t hook up with Quentin’s sister. That was an unwritten rule on the ice. Even if I hated the guy, I’d abide by those rules.
She locked up, and I followed her out of the dorm, letting myself admire the curve of her ass in her jeans. She had narrow hips, and her arms were cut. She had muscle, and I kinda dug it.
“This place is about fifteen minutes from here. They have all sorts of things we can hit. And we can pick our weapon of choice.” She grinned just as the sunlight hit her, and damn. The brown and green hues of her eyes and the shades of auburn in her hair—she was stunning. And fucking smart.
I guided her to my truck and opened the passenger door for her. There was a large step up, and I held out a hand, not expecting her to take it. But she did. Her fingers landed on mine as she jumped into the cabin, and when I released her, my hand tingled with heat.
This was gonna be a long-ass semester if we spent this much time together. I’d have to fight my attraction off every minute. I ran a hand through my hair, shaking it as I walked to my side of the truck.
We could totally do this. Be friends, nothing more. Maybe it was the fact I hadn’t been with someone in months. Hell, maybe half a year. Balancing responsibilities with hockey and my family was a full-time gig, but before my mom’s stroke, I used to hook up regularly. Nothing wild like most of the team but enough to take the edge off.
I started the truck as Audrey crossed one leg over the other, then she shifted again. “You good?”
“Are we gonna talk about what happened?”
Fuck. “Mm, do you want to?”
“I-I don’t know. I just… you saw me almost naked.”
“Pretend it was a swimsuit. I didn’t see anything more than that.” And now I was thinking about her in a wet suit, water dripping down her body… I shivered. I wanted to drag my tongue up her body. Okay, settle down. “I am sorry about opening the door without warning you. That’s on me.”
“Oh, no it’s okay. Don’t feel bad.” She cleared her throat. “You’re right. Swimming suit.”
“Yeah.”
The silence grew, and I wanted to pull the thoughts from her mind, analyze them like I would post-game film. See what landed well, what could use improvements. Like, should I have said she was hot? Would complimenting her make this less awkward or more?
I swallowed. Were these nerves? I hated them.
“This place requires us to wear a jumpsuit.” She let out something like giggle. It was her version of one, and it was cute. “Then we can pick between a sledgehammer, an axe, a bat, or a golf club. Oh man, they have a room of electronics we can just destroy.”
“I’ve always wanted to punch a computer screen.” I slid a glance at her, and her lips were curved up, her face softening instead of the worry lines I was familiar with. “Probably shouldn’t with the whole hockey thing.”
She gasped. “Theo.”
