Page 52 of Rookie Attraction

“Do you mind if I run alongside you? Jet lag is kicking my butt, and I need a partner for motivation,” he admits. “I’m close to crawling under the sheets and calling it a day, but I know I’ll wake up in a few hours and then I’ll be up all night.”

“Oh, yeah, sure, of course,” I reply, my voice hoarse. “I’m game for that.”

“I’ll go change.”

Thank fuck.

Within a few minutes, Sel’s back, wearing black nylon shorts, a matching tank top, and teal running shoes. Does he ever not look good? I’m not sure why I’m noticing his body, since I’ve been in locker rooms all my life. And why does my cock have a sudden interest in what’s going on here? I’ve never looked at a man that way before.

“What a gorgeous view.”

I glance at him, and he’s looking at me, not the city.

“It is. I wasn’t sure I was going to get through my workout either,” I admit. “It’s pretty distracting, right?”

I want to swallow down my words. Instead, I force myself to look away. Say something.

“How was your date?”

God, Finn, anything but that.

“It was okay. He’s nice enough, but it was business.”

I’m relieved and I don’t want to question why. And now there’s only one thing for me to do.

“Are you gonna stand there or are you gonna run?” I tease as I press the speed button on my machine. “Crank it up, old timer.”

“Hey!”

“And after that, a round of weights.”

“Do you know you can be as demanding as Coach?” he chuckles.

“It’s a talent I hide well.”

We finish a 3K run and then hit the machines—legs first, then upper body.

The longer we’re together, the easier the conversation, until I forget about my earlier reaction.

“I hope you don’t mind me saying, Sel, but that tattoo is sick.”

I point to the blue wolf face that covers his right bicep. The depth of the colors, the detail in the fine lines… the image is art and holy shit, it must’ve taken ages.

“What’s the story behind it?”

“I got it done shortly after I signed my first NHL contract. When I was a kid and started playing hockey, my mom nicknamed me kleine wolf. It’s Dutch for little wolf. Apparently I was fierce and determined, even then,” he chuckles. “The tattoo seemed to fit.”

“It does.”

He’s got another one too, a wing of a bird, that covers the same forearm. Does he have more? Maybe that bathing suit covers one? Not that the suit covers much, in which case… fuck, I do not need to go there.

“Love the feathers on your forearm too,” I add.

“Thanks, I got that one this summer.”

“You plan on getting more?”

“I’m open to it,” he nods. “I don’t see any tatts on you. Ever consider it?”