The Forbidden Freshman: A College Sports Romance (Nolan U Hockey Book 1)

I’m on my own in the workout room. Liam finished up a few minutes ago and hit the showers. Asher was right behind him. I’m not ready to call it quits, and I can’t explain why.

Except that I can.

Mikayla hasn’t texted me back yet.

Pathetic. I know.

I shouldn’t care if some chick didn’t find my emoji thread funny, but I was expecting a response and I got nothing.

So I’m pushing out some extra reps, giving myself a little alone time to be pissed at the fact that I’m liking lil’ mouse more and more with each text exchange, and I really shouldn’t.

She’s fire.

Which is why I haven’t tried to seek her out and see her in person. Keeping it all via the phone works great… except for the fact that my body is craving contact with her, and I can’t let it do that.

I can’t even jerk off when I think about how damn sexy she looked in the bar. My mind is a cruel tormentor, and I’ve imagined kissing her in a hundred different places, peeling off her clothes and running my tongue over the plains of her skin, and⁠—

Dammit!

I adjust my pants, growling at my tenting gym shorts and forcing out another seven reps on the leg extension machine. My thighs are burning by the time I’m done. I should wrap this up. Coach gets pissed if we push too hard and don’t listen to our bodies. Too many players get injured that way, and I⁠—

The gym door pops open, and a huffing little mouse stalks into the room. She looks livid, her pretty face bunched into a dark scowl. My eyes quickly trail her body, loving the cargo pants and tight little tank she’s wearing. No hoop earrings, no heels. Just a messy ponytail and clothes that scream Mikayla.

She huffs, fisting her hands, then jerking still when she spots me staring at her. Her eyes bulge, her lips parting as her gaze travels down my body. She legit licks her lips before catching herself and trying to hide the move with a gruff frown.

I glance down at my bare chest glistening with a fine sheen of sweat and can’t help smirking. “Hey.”

She tuts and spins away from me, pacing to the mirrors and back. She’s muttering something under her breath as she dumps her bag by the leg press and turns back to glare at me.

O-kay.

“What did I do?”

“Nothing,” she snaps.

I reach for my phone to check that I didn’t accidentally send her some offensive emoji, but… none that I can tell.

Glancing up, I watch her pace to the chest press and then over to the free weights before I can’t take it anymore.

“Seriously, would you just spill?”

“It’s not you. I’m fine!”

“Yeah, you seem fine.” I give her a deadpan stare to match my tone. That only scores me another lethal glare. “Want to talk about it?”

“No.” She kind of laughs out the word, looking at me like I’m stupid.

I nod, reminding myself why I don’t do girlfriends and drama.

Although, Mikayla’s not your typical girl. Whatever is riling her must be pretty big. And I want to help.

Standing up from the machine, I wander over to her, blocking her path when she tries to pace past me.

She growls, and I can’t help a soft snicker. She’s like a grumpy-ass chihuahua—all snarly and snappy, but if she tried to bite me, I wouldn’t even feel it.

Hmmm. Bite me.

I think about her hungry gaze from moments before and feel a semi forming. No, wait, I’m going hard as rock.

Swiveling my body away from her, I rake my fingers through my hair, desperate for any kind of distraction.

Help her blow off steam.

Images of our naked bodies thrusting together flash through my mind.

Another way, jackass!

Closing my eyes, I force my brain to think of her like a guy. That’s the only way I’m gonna get through this.

“You need to do something to blow off whatever’s going on in there.” I grind out the words while pointing at her chest.

She’s a guy. She’s a guy. She’s a guy!

Forcing my gaze away from her tits, I clap my hands and bark, “Drop and gimme fifty.”

“Fifty?” She jerks her head back.

Yeah, I get it. I’m asking too much, but she’s not frowning anymore, is she?

Her eyes narrow at my challenging smirk, then she crosses arms and eyes me up with this fiery sharp look that’s sexy as hell. “Okay, fine.”

Lifting that obstinate chin of hers, she drops to the floor, getting into push-up position and pumping out a quick ten. Holy shit, she’s strong. Most of the girls I know probably can’t even do one. Her form is impeccable.

I stand back, mouth agape, even when her pace starts to slow. She gets to twenty-eight before her arms give out on her.

I hiss, and she scowls up at me from the floor.

“Oh, shut up. You give me fifty.”

I drop with a soft laugh and start pumping them out. She lets out an irritated tut, no doubt annoyed that I’m gonna hit fifty, no sweat.

I’ve just reached twenty-one when she huffs, then jumps on my back.

“Unfair advantage,” I murmur, reaching twenty-five.

“Aw, you can’t handle a little mouse on your back?” She digs her chin into my shoulder, whispering in my ear, her breath tickling the side of my neck and setting my imagination on fire again. The wicked things I want to do to this spitfire.

I’m at thirty-two when she starts running her fingers lightly up the back of my neck, and when I hit thirty-nine, she starts trailing them down my side, the pads of her fingers whispering over my rib cage while she taunts me.

“Eighteen, twenty-nine, thirty-four.” She laughs in my ear. “You losing count yet?”

I need to shut this girl up… with my tongue.

Tipping sideways, I flip her off my back. She lands on the padded floor with a thud, then laughs as she tries to roll away from me. But that’s not happening.

Grabbing her arm, I pin her underneath me and reset my push-up position while she goes still and breathless. There’s no fear or surprise in her gaze. If anything, it’s gleaming hotter than I’ve ever seen it before.

I lower myself over her and murmur, “Forty,” against her cheek.

As I rise back up, I notice how blue her eyes are in this light.

“Forty-one.”

I smell the vanilla in her hair.

“Forty-two.”

Her lips don’t have gloss on them today, but they’re still pink and plump and⁠—

“Forty-three.”

Her eyes trace my face as if she’s trying to memorize it.

“Forty-four.”

A soft breath whispers out of her, hitting my chin.

“Forty-five.”

My heart rate accelerates, and as I drop to forty-six, I can’t fight it anymore. Planting my lips on hers, I sink against her mouth, holding my push-up until my arms start to tremble. Her lips are hot and soft and eager, her greedy tongue swiping over my bottom lip like she’s been wanting to do that since the day we met.

I can’t help grinning as I part my lips, flicking my tongue against the tip of hers before pulling back and resetting my push-up position.

I wink down at her and whisper, “What am I up to?”

“Forty-seven. Now get your ass back here.” She grabs my neck, pulling me on top of her with a strength that takes me off guard.

I only just manage to catch myself before squashing her. Resting my arms on either side of her head, I deepen the kiss because I can’t help it. She moans, and that hot, sweet sound sends a jolt of electricity through my body. I’m so hard it hurts, my erection poking against her thigh as she glides her hands up my bare back. She’s painting pictures through that fine sheen of sweat on my body, and it feels fan-fucking-tastic.

Her fingers dig into my shoulder blades while mine gently fist her hair, and then my hips start rocking, grinding my hard ridge against her core and dry-humping her as my body seeks that relief I’ve been denying myself.

She lifts her hips, wrapping her leg around me, her heel digging into my ass like she wants more.

So I give it to her, grinding a little harder while I plunge my tongue into her mouth.

It’s instinct. It’s primal.

I want to make her moan again. I want to bury my cock in her wet heat. I want to watch her come beneath me.

I want⁠—

SNAP!

A sharp, stinging pain hits my ass, making me jerk up and throw daggers at the guy laughing over me.

“What the fuck?” I growl at Asher, snatching the offending towel out of his fist and throwing it behind me.

His lips rise into a playful smirk, but I don’t miss that gleam of warning in his eyes.

“Whatchya doin’ there, lover boy?” He crosses his arms, wiggling his eyebrows at me before raking his gaze over Mikayla, who’s still half pinned on the floor beneath me.

I warn him away with a growl and have no choice but to rise to my knees and block Asher’s view with my body.

Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes glimmering with amusement. But now that Asher’s here, I can’t even hold her gaze.

Shit! What the fuck was I doing, letting myself get carried away like that?

“Wait-ing,” Asher singsongs, obviously expecting me to answer his redundant question.

Asshole.

“Nothing,” I mumble. “Just showing her how to… work out.”

Asher cracks up laughing. “Didn’t realize X-rated workouts were allowed in this gym. You know every inch of this arena has security cameras, right? Except the locker rooms.” He shrugs. “Maybe you should take your workout in there next time.” He winks and then starts laughing again.

I grunt, rising to my feet and reaching out a hand to help Mikayla up.

She doesn’t take it, instead jumping to her feet and brushing her hands on the sides of her cargo pants.

“Hey, Asher.” She gives him a small wave, her cheeks tinging this delicious pink.

My stupid cock remains at attention. He’s a little late in getting the memo. I still think he’s struggling to accept the fact that he’s not allowed to shoot off for a month. He’s in denial.

Mikayla’s gaze darts over my tented shorts before she shuffles to her bag. “I should go. Don’t want anyone getting in trouble. I know I’m not supposed to be here.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Asher flicks his hand through the air. “Ethan here would cover for you. He’s good that way. A real man of his word. If he makes a mistake, he follows through on the consequences, you know? He’s just that kinda guy.”

I face my teammate and pin him with a glare that could turn wood to charcoal.

He just snickers and does that irritating eyebrow wiggle again before spinning back to Mikayla with a cocky smirk.

“So, would Ethan’s little gym buddy like to come back to Hockey House for dinner?”

“Hockey House?” She gives him a pitiful frown. “You named your house?”

Asher shrugs. “What idiot doesn’t?”

“Okay.” She tips her head. “But I would like a word with the idiot who chose Hockey House, because that’s just lame.”

“Puck off.” He frowns at her.

She raises her eyebrows, biting her lips against a smile as she points at him and wrinkles her nose. “That’s lame too. Just say ‘fuck,’ man.”

Walking past him, she gives him a little pat on the arm while I fight my own grin and try not to relive every second of that searing kiss.

Asher bulges his eyes at me—is this chick for real?—while pointing after Mikayla.

I snicker and nod. Apparently so.

Which is maybe why I’m finding her so refreshing. We’re used to puck bunnies falling all over themselves to bag us. They’ll say whatever they think we want to hear. It’s a nice change to meet a girl who’ll tell it to us straight.

My cock twitches again, trying to finish what we so happily started earlier.

“Down, boy. It’s not happening,” I mumble, adjusting my shorts and heading for the shower—a cold-as-fuck shower—because I don’t think junior here is gonna understand anything else.