Page 4 of Ice Cold, Red Hot (Coldwater Firehawks Hockey #1)
SHEPHERD
The administration and the coaching staff all agreed that it was important for captains of sports teams to attend the welcome event for new students.
Of course, there was one new student I really couldn’t welcome the way I wanted to.
In fact, I had to pretend I didn’t fucking know her at all.
And when she showed up at the event with Nat, wearing a tight crop top that showed the tan stomach I’d run my tongue over this summer, I nearly lost it.
Celeste Moreno was absolutely everything I would’ve asked for if I could build my perfect woman.
Small, firm breasts, a tight athletic build, muscular legs, and an ass my hands couldn’t get enough of.
Between that body and the endless waves flowing from her dark head, she was a visual feast, and I was a starving man.
But if Celeste Moreno had simply been another hot girl on the Coldwater campus, we wouldn’t have a problem.
The most attractive thing about her, unfortunately, was her brain.
The conversations I’d had with Celeste this summer had made me think about the world in a different way.
Maybe I was a little sheltered—my parents sort of prided themselves on that, actually.
And maybe I’d made some assumptions I shouldn’t have about the way other people grew up.
Celeste was from a different world, and I admired every single thing about her—her work ethic, her determination, the sheer fire and optimism with which she approached every obstacle she encountered.
Even a week with Celeste this summer had taught me more about myself than I’d learned in the last four years at Coldwater.
She made me a better person, and that was addictive.
But now? Watching her across the event, laughing and smiling with Nat, made me realize how badly I wanted her.
It was torture watching her shake hands and laugh as Dr. Gunning introduced her to those moronic, pasty-ass grad students who worked in her lab.
I watched them fall all over her, knowing they were probably more interested in her looks than her brains, and something roared to life inside me.
I hadn’t meant to talk to her at all. The plan was to avoid her completely. Forever, if possible. But when I watched her walking away from Nat, it was like my feet were on their own program, and I found myself blocking her path without intending to.
I didn’t mean to antagonize her, and I felt bad about it.
But if it was the only interaction I could have with her at all?
Well, call me a masochist, but it was better than nothing.
Every second her eyes were on me, that her words were directed at me, felt like a vague taste of what I’d had this summer. What I’d already fucked up.
I watched her leave just as the sky threatened to open up above us. No jacket, no umbrella. And I shouldn’t have done what I did next.
“I’m leaving.” I fired the words at Griff as I passed him, my keys already in my hand as I headed for my truck.
“Dude, how am I getting home?”
“Figure it out. You’re a big boy.”
I heard Griff and the other guys laughing behind me as I bolted for the parking garage. Five minutes later I was cruising the main campus loop like a stalker, my eyes trained through the pouring rain on the figure making her way down the sidewalk at the side of the road.
I pulled up to the curb and rolled down the passenger-side window. Celeste glanced at me, did a double take, and her mouth dropped open.
“Get in.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Get in.”
I sat there waiting as the rain poured down between us. Celeste had her arms wrapped around her body, and she was beginning to shiver.
“You don’t even know me, remember? Why would you let a strange girl into your car?”
“Because it’s pouring rain and you’re freezing. I happen to live across the hall, so I know I can give you a ride home without really putting myself out.”
I knew it was the wrong thing to say the second it was out of my mouth.
“No thanks. I’d rather drown.”
Celeste kept walking, and I rolled alongside her, my irritation growing with every step she took. Why did she have to be so bullheaded? Why couldn’t she just let me do this one thing?
“Celeste. Get in the truck.”
She stared at me. “Only if you admit it.”
I sighed. I knew what she wanted. I weighed the options, finally deciding it wouldn’t hurt anything to admit it. To admit I knew her—to admit to what had happened between us this summer. It didn’t mean anything else was going to happen.
“I remember you.” I ground the words out, and they sounded so angry it surprised even me.
Celeste’s eyes flared, and she seemed to think for a moment before finally wrenching open the door of the truck and climbing in—a sopping, wet pile of girl, shivering next to me. Still, all I could think about was how close she was, how near I was to being able to touch her again.
She smelled like summer, and my fingers fastened themselves to the steering wheel out of fear that I might instinctively reach for her. Her pull was that strong.
I pulled slowly away from the curb. Celeste spoke, almost a whisper. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“Didn’t I?”
Neither of us spoke after that, but there was a silent battle transpiring between us, and another occurring inside my body. Every instinct I had was reaching for the girl next to me, demanding that I tell her the truth: That there hasn’t been a moment since we met that I haven’t thought of her.
But I can’t tell her that. And I definitely can’t act on any feelings I might have for her.
She’s a TA in my department, and even if she weren’t in my department, being a TA makes her faculty. Relationships between students and faculty are strictly forbidden, and that goes doubly so for the captain of the hockey team.
The ride back to the apartment was torturous—Celeste, eyeing me warily from the passenger seat, mistrustful and full of anger. And me, deserving every bit of it. Not just because I knew I’d hurt her, but because I fully intended to keep doing it.