Page 92 of Lucky Shot
“Breakfast.” He winks. “I ate. Now it’s your turn.”
My gaze drops to his crotch and the obvious bulge.
Laughing, he moves to the buffet of food. “Food, Red. You’re going to need your energy for the ice.”
After breakfast, which included going down on him and a lot more sticky kisses, we shower and then head to the rink.
Nick has already gone for a run this morning (seriously, what time did he wake up?!) but he leads me to a weight room where I sit, legs-crossed with my laptop, while I watch him and attempt to write.
Travis and Conrad joined him about twenty minutes ago, which put an end to our kissing between sets, but it was probably for the best. He was never going to finish at that rate.
The three of them are in a corner of the gym working out legs. Conrad has two very heavy looking dumbbells, one in each hand, as he walks and lunges back and forth. Travis is taking a break—he does a lot of that—between calf raises. And Nick is doing squats. With the barbell across the back of his shoulders, he sits back slowly, holding the weight in place. His mouth is in a thin, concentrated line and sweat makes his shirt stick to his back.Don’t even get me started on his thighs. I’m having some real dirty thoughts about those big, tree trunk thighs.
The clang of metal against metal breaks me out of my trance. Nick meets my gaze in the mirror in front of him as he reracks the barbell.
My face flushes with heat. I’m not sure I’ve ever been this attracted to anyone before. Even his little grunts of exertion are turning me on.
“One more set and then I’ll be done,” he says over the music.
“Sure. Take your time.”
He smirks and I drop my gaze to my laptop. Molly sent notes on the first half of the book. She likes the tweaks I’ve made, so far, and had a few additions that I think are good. I have a lot to do still, but it doesn’t feel quite as daunting as it did.
Nick was right about getting out on the ice, it has helped. And maybe kissing him has helped too. Whatever the reason, I’m writing again and it feels great.
I know the ending is rough and I’m dreading the rewrites when I reach that point, but I’m making progress. A hundred pages to go. Totally doable, I hope.
I manage to focus for a short time while Nick finishes up his workout. When he’s done, he takes a seat on the bench behind me and wraps me up in his arms.
“You’re sweaty,” I say, leaning into his embrace.
“Am I? I didn’t notice.”
I swat at him playfully and turn to face him. I want to kiss him, but I don’t know what the rules are. We are at his place of employment, even if there have been very few people popping in, outside of his friends. He erases my hesitation by capturing my chin between his thumb and finger and dropping his mouth to mine.
“Yowza! Get it, Galaxy!” Travis calls from somewhere in the room.
I laugh against Nick’s mouth, but neither of us pulls back. I’m pretty sure Nick flips him off because I feel his right arm lift into the air.
When we break apart, he’s grinning at me in a way that makes my stomach flip. He’s wearing a T-shirt with the sleeves cut off and a scar on his right shoulder catches my attention.
“What’s this from?” I run my finger underneath the red mark.
“I had surgery earlier this year.”
“The injury that ended your season?” I read about it, of course, and watched the video. He collided with another player during a game. He got up on his own, but immediately skated off and didn’t return. The details on his injuries were vague, but they did say he should return this season, which I’d already pieced together seeing him in person.
“Yeah, I broke my collarbone and dislocated my shoulder.”
I wince. “Sounds painful.”
“Nick and Ruby sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G,” Travis sings in a playful voice.
“It was. Not as painful as listening to him though.”
“Does that happen a lot?” I ask.
“Getting hurt or Trav being obnoxious?”
