The next day, we head down to the dining hall after our workout. The moment I step inside, I smell it and my face heats. Cinnamon.
I stop dead in my tracks and look at Nick with what I’m sure is a horrified expression. We can’t eat in here. My dick is already thickening just from the memory the smell brings flashing into my head.
“Let’s find a diner or something.” I grab his hoodie sleeve and pull, but he doesn’t budge.
“Cinnamon roll day is my favorite.” Nick is smiling so big it reminds me of kids on Christmas. I’m going to kill him.
“Nick!” I whisper-yell as he pulls out of my grip and hustles toward the line. Oh, fuck my life.
I get in line behind him, cursing him under my breath and thinking about hockey stats to stop my head from going to sex, but I can still feel how hot my damn cheeks are.
Nick loads up on food, and of course takes a damn cinnamon roll and throws me a wink, the bastard.
Once I’ve gotten food, we find a table and sit down. I glare at Nick while he smiles like the Cheshire cat as I shove eggs into my mouth.
Since I’m staring at Nick, I don’t notice anyone approaching, so I jump when trays hit the table. Oiler and Johnson drop down next to us, obviously in the middle of a conversation.
“Movie marathon today,” Brendon asks and shoves food into his mouth as Paul nods.
“What are you guys going to watch?” I ask.
“Star Wars,” they say together.
A woman walks past us with what looks like the center of a cinnamon roll on her plate, she dumps it in the trash and puts her plate into the dirty dish bin. The memory of eating that same part from Nick’s hand, then sucking his fingers clean hits me like a freight train. It’s immediate and overwhelming. My face flushes and my breathing shallows as I relive it.
Nick makes a sound of disbelief, and it pulls me from the memory playing like a movie in my head.
“Why the fuck would anyone throw away thebestpart? Is she broken? What kind of trauma does that to a person?” Nick is so shocked by this that I laugh. He turns on me with wide eyes and indignation flaming his words. “That is a crime against humanity!”
“Dude, chill.” Paul is looking at Nick like he’s crazy, which isn’t wrong.
Nick looks at me half-crazed and shoves two fingers into his cinnamon roll like he did yesterday and scoops out the center. Our eyes lock as he shoves his fingers into his mouth and sucks the sweetness from his skin. A groan gets stuck in my throat, making a weird squeak sound instead.
“Uh, are you having a moment with your breakfast?” Oiler’s voice pulls my gaze from Nick. “Did you ask if it consented to public violation?”
I. Am. Horrified.
My eyes are wide and the blood drains from my face. I grab my tray and start to stand, but Nick puts his feet in my lap. The bastard is smiling like this is the funniest thing he’s ever seen while I’m trying to forget that I have a hard-on in the dining hall in front of my teammates. My knee starts bouncing, and the pressure around my ribs increases. I’m not ready for the team to know about this. While I don’t think they’ll care much, you never really know how someone is going to react.
“Ireallylike cinnamon rolls.” Nick winks at Oiler, and Johnson snorts. “All warm and gooey and sweet.” Nick hums, and I have never wanted to punch him, but I do right now. He’s about to learn how violent hockey gets.
Oiler looks skeptical, but he’s eyeing the pastry like he’s considering it.
I can’t sit here anymore. Standing, I grab my tray, and Nick’s feet fall to the floor. He watches me with a lifted eyebrow and a smirk on his face. He thinks this is hilarious while I’m trying not to panic. Great.
I deal with my tray and leave the hall toward the dorms. It’s probably time for me to sleep in my own room. Why does that thought make my chest ache?
There’s a dull pain in my breastbone that I rub the heel of my hand against as I open the dorm building door.
“Hey!” With the door handle in my hand, I turn to see Nick jogging to catch up. Why does my heart hurt? This was a close call. I’m not ready for anyone to know yet. Fuck, I don’t even know if this is anything more than just sex while we’re here on break with nothing else to do.
We walk inside and wait for the elevator in silence, but it’s not comfortable, at least not for me. He’s watching me from the corner of his eye so maybe he’s as uneasy as I am. The doors open and we step on, then I reach for the five button, but he grabs my wrist.
“We should talk,” he says, not giving anything away in those three words. Is that awe’re donetalk or alet’s label thistalk?
I nod and he pushes the three. When the doors close, he threads our fingers together and holds my hand. Slowly, I drag in a deep breath and let it out. This can’t be bad, right? He wouldn’t be trying to comfort me if he wanted to end it, right?
When the doors open a minute later, he gives me the chance to pull away, but I don’t want to. Am I ready to tell everyone I’m sleeping with him? No, but right now, I need his comfort more than I need the secret.
