Page 73 of Rookie Attraction
“What—” I croak, clearing my throat. “What do you like?”
It’s an innocent question—
“What do you mean?” Sel’s voice squeaks, hitting a new decibel.
—or maybe not.
“I’m referring to books,” I explain, praying I don’t catapult into panic mode. “What kind of books do you like?”
Good save, d-man. That could’ve been totally embarrassing.
Sel nudges my shoulder with his, and I finally turn to look at him, swallowing hard at the sight. He’s disheveled, like he just rolled out of bed. Sel’s been running his hands through his hair all night, a nervous habit I only picked up on recently. The dark circles under his deep brown eyes are less prominent, which I hope means he’s getting better sleep. I also notice that his scruff is turning into a close-cut beard, which highlights the curve of his full lips. Damn, he’s so fucking hot, and I can’t believe how badly I want to touch him. I curse myself for going there.
Never. Gonna. Happen.
“I like them all,” he admits with a grin. “Mostly, I love mysteries, biographies, and thrillers. Some romance too.”
“R-romance?” I stutter.
“Sports romance.”
I chuckle. “Of course.”
Sel bites his lower lip and shakes his head.
“I’ve never told anyone that,” he confesses.
“No?”
He raises an eyebrow at me, and I nudge him back.
“I get it. It’s like my lucky charm, Biscuit. I really don’t mention him to anyone outside of the rink.” I smile. “You and me, Sel, we’re busting hockey stereotypes, one audiobook and one stuffed animal at a time.”
Sel throws his head back and laughs, the husky timbre echoing around me. It’s the best sound, so it’s no surprise I’m hit with full-on shivers. Forget audiobooks, I need a recording of this man’s voice. He’s magnetic all the time, but when he lets loose, I’m in danger of swallowing my tongue.
Ping. Eighth floor.
Already? That was way too fast.
When the doors open, I hesitate, but only for a second, until I realize I’m acting a fool.
Get going. Say good night.
Only, I’m tongue-tied.
Sel gets off the elevator, and as I join him, I wonder what’s up. Is he walking me to my door? My heart pounds louder with every step. It’s only when he stops and pulls out his key card that I remember his room’s directly across from mine.
Duh, Sherlock.
The distance separating us is way too fucking close, but also too far away.
“We’ll talk more about these books tomorrow, right?” I ask, leaning against my door.
“Happy to share an earbud with you on the plane. If you want.”
“Oh, I want.”
That sounds suggestive, even if I don’t mean it that way. Or maybe I do. I don’t know anymore. When was the last time I flirted with someone? I can’t recall. Sel’s eyes darken as he stares at me. Is he staring? Nah, it’s my overactive imagination. It’s gotta be.
