Page 78 of Rookie Attraction

I should be calm at this point, but alone in the shower, wishing I was alone with Sel, my cock grows stiff again. Next thing I know, I’m frantically stroking myself off and painting the tiles with a record load of cum. At least in here, I can easily wash away the evidence.

Scoring a hand-job hat-trick should have me relaxed, but I’m still wired.

It’s only when I get dressed that I glance at my phone. It’s been silent all night, and while I’m disappointed, I’m not surprised. My hands itch to text Sel, but I’d prefer to say what I want to say to him in person. I’m hoping he feels the same. I’m so caught up in my head that I keep ignoring the problem I don’t want to face: Sel’s off limits, and I should back away. Then I don’t have time to worry about it because my phone pings with a reminder that I need to grab my shit and get downstairs to meet the guys for our bus to the airport. Our flight to Toronto leaves in a couple of hours, which means I have to get my ass moving.

Since I’m more than distracted, I check my room twice to make sure I didn’t leave anything behind, and when I’m good, I grab my bags and head for the door. A flutter of nerves in my belly kicks up, swift and strong.

As I make my way out of the hotel, most of the players are lined up for the bus. But not Sel. I don’t see him until I step on board. He’s with Berg, sitting in the back row, the two deep in quiet conversation. Disappointed, I take an empty seat at the front, beside Sorensen, and we get talking. I don’t know how I make conversation, but I do it, even though my mind is on the hot defenseman seated at the back.

Once everyone’s on board, we’re ready to roll. The rumble of the bus engine kickstarts my brain.

Sel didn’t even make eye contact with you.

What if he didn’t feel the same way about our kiss? What if it wasn’t good for him and I fucked up our friendship? This time, the nerves in my gut turn to a gnawing ache, and I place a hand over my belly.

“Drank too much last night?” Sorensen asks. “Are you gonna vomit?”

“I hardly drank at all. It’s probably motion sickness,” I explain. “I’ll be fine.”

I won’t be if I screwed everything up with Sel.

“Just don’t barf on my fit, rookie. It’s designer.”

Despite my anxiety, I laugh.

“I’ll do my best.”

After a long ride—no throwing up—we arrive at the airport, check in with security, and grab snacks before the flight. Sel and I circle each other but never make direct contact. Not until we get on the plane. He’s already got his window seat and his gaze is fixed on the tarmac. Is he ever going to look at me again?

Fuck this.

I stalk toward him, shove my carry-on in the overhead bin, and plant my ass in the seat next to his. “Hey.”

“Morning,” he mutters.

“It’s afternoon.”

Sel slowly turns his head toward me, and I’m relieved to finally make eye contact. Up close, there’s no mistaking his pretty brown eyes are bloodshot. Do I look the same? I’m running on too much adrenaline and too little sleep, but being near him again is such a fucking rush. A vivid replay of our kiss hits me, and I feel like I’m taking off. Is it the plane or is that my heart?

“Miss me?” I tease.

I catch the flare of heat in his gaze, and it gives me hope.

“What do you think?” he whispers.

I’m about to reply when I notice Sel’s gaze veer past me, his shoulders tensing. Following his line of sight, I spot Berg staring at us. Suddenly, he looks away, shoves his headphones on, and closes his eyes.

“You should move seats,” Sel adds.

I freeze, confused.

“What? Why?”

“Please,” he implores. “Sit somewhere else.”

His words sting, but I can’t ignore the worry etched on his face.

“Later,” he murmurs. “I’ll be in touch later, I promise.”