Page 25 of Sweet Temptation

Pulling my helmet off, I shake sweat drops from my dark hair, eying the room around me. "I think I tore a muscle," Oliver Weston, one of our D-Men, whines as he slides off his skates.

"Aw, muffin," Sam growls, yanking the tape off his socks and tossing it into the bin. Nate slides off his boxers and his jock before crawling his ass to the showers. Flexing my bruised shoulder, I follow Nate's lead, groaning with relief as the hot water pelts down on my body. I still have fucking classes after this headache. Sighing, my eyes meet Sam's as he slides into the shower stall beside me.

"Oliver fucking Weston, whining about pulling a muscle when he's only been on the team for a month. What a bitch," Sam growls.

Chuckling, I scrub the shampoo through my dark hair. "You don't like any freshman." Nate laughs beside me. Joining in on the laughter, I eye Sam with a twinkle in my eye. He hates people in general, but I keep that to myself so I don't have to be in a gun war with the mafia prince.

"Only freshmen on Sam's agenda are the freshman puck bunnies." Damien cackles as he slides into a shower stall.

"Ain't that the truth," I reply with a laugh. After finishing up, I head back into the locker room with a towel around my waist and quickly get dressed in my jeans, T-shirt, and jacket.

Waving to my teammates, I grab my bag and sling it up in my locker, then head out of the arena toward campus with a scowl on my lips again.

When I feel the harsh cold wind whip against my face, I grin slightly. That cold icy air means snow, and the snow means the start of hockey season—one of the only things my mother doesn't care that we partake in while we're here in university. I head toward campus, sighing softly once my feet enter the building. God, I hate my classes. Waving goodbye to my friends, I head in the direction of creative writing, only relaxing when I see a familiar brunette sitting in the top row.

Sliding into the seat next to Hanna and Bailey, I smirk before whispering in her ear, "You sure about just friends? You sure enjoyed my tongue an awful lot last night."

Hanna shivers before she glares at me with those bright green eyes. "Just. Friends," she reminds me. Bailey snorts, laughter bubbling from her throat as she watches the two of us. Grinning, I open my laptop and a new document as I wait for the assignment for the day.

The professor enters as if on command when the clock strikes nine. My eyes watch her stance as she eyes all of us. "I want a paper written on all the knowledge you've learned in the last two months. I don't care what part it's about, but it better be well written."

I feel my lungs close in on me as I hear the words leave her lips. A fucking paper? I definitely just failed this class. "It isn't due till Wednesday. Please don't forget, I don't like it when you rush," she adds.

My features relax as I glance over at Hanna. "Don't worry, Saint, we'll go over the paper tonight." She giggles as her fingertips touch the keyboard to her computer. How the fuck does someone type notes that fast?

I tilt my head, watching her with confusion covering my features. "Could I steal those from you?" I ask in a soft whisper. I never understood why I was put in university in the first place. I'm a made man, so why did my mother demand we attend?

Hanna nods, pulling her hands from the laptop before she starts chatting with Bailey. I feel relieved when the professor announces the end of class. Shoving all my papers and extra books into my bag, I make a beeline for the door, practically running out of that class.

"Could you walk any slower?" Hanna growls as she runs to catch up with me.

I snort out a laugh and continue walking. "I hate that class; I prefer not to stick around and wait for a lecture," I reply as I head into the quad.

"Meeting the boys, I assume," she says softly.

"Well, of course I am," I reply with a grin, leaving her standing with Bailey as I head in the direction of a few of my hockey friends standing on the lawn.

"How was creative writing? You know, with the girl you're just friends with. But wait, do you always eat your friends' pussy?" Nate smirks at me.

I glare at Sam, knowing probably half the damn team knows what Hanna said this morning. "Aw gee thanks, Delgado," I curse under my breath.

Nate grins at me before the words leave his lips. "Molly is throwing a party in honour of our win the other day. You boys in?" he asks, and I nod without hesitation.

If me and Hanna are just friends, then my dick is going to get tired of waiting on her, so a party is the perfect thing for us. Damien nods in agreement, and Sam claps his hands. "Well, obviously Berlin, what else would I be doing?" he replies. We all laugh at Sam's remark before heading in the direction of our next classes.

Besides me, of course, since my next class isn't for an hour. I wave to my friends before heading toward the arena. Might as well get some practice in while I wait. Once I snap the buckle to my helmet, my feet hit the ice and I feel at home again. Racing across the ice, I work on my slap shot.

I send the puck flying into the boards, the glass, and the net with all the power in my arms. A satisfied smile covers my lips as I walk into the locker rooms. Maybe this year is the year we take the frozen four. I smile to myself as I undress, then I shove all my gear into my bag before hitting the showers for the third time this morning.

Once I enter my financial class, I still have that rippling grin on my lips as I slide into my seat and wait for the professor to begin his lesson of the day. Knowing we might actually make it this year gives me a whole new world to look at. Skating into finals will only make this year better. Even if I know hockey will never be an end goal for me, at least it's something to enjoy.

As I write my notes while the professor talks, I can't help but wonder why Hanna pushed me away. Did someone say something to her? Is she afraid of me? I know I don't have the best track record, but I wouldn't hurt her if I could help it in any way.

I'd kill someone before she got hurt. The idea of her being hurt because of me or because of my past sends a feeling through my bones that I could live without.

FOURTEEN

Clutching my textbooks to my chest, I make my way across the lawn toward Bailey's shiny red Mercedes. "What's the plan tonight?" Bailey asks as we climb into the car.

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