Page 32 of My Brother's Teammates

Well, they know exactly what they want, but Jace’s stupid rule means that none of us can wet our dicks in that particular pussy. And because I’m being cockblocked with Charlotte, I’m misdirecting my lust at my best fucking friend, who skates past me like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

His face is wet, beads of sweat trickling down his temples and off the ends of his commercial-ready hair.

I grunt as Harrison’s ass comes right at me. The name printed across his shoulders reminds me of Charlotte.

I’m not at all turned on by her brother’s booty, but staring at it as it hangs out right in front of me brings me back to Charlotte’s body pressed against mine, the smell of her lemon shampoo as we sliced veggies together in the kitchen.

I haven’t seen her much since our near-miss kiss. I don’t want to admit it, but I can’t deny I miss her. Mateo skates past again like he’s taunting me.

He’d be down for sharing Charlie. She wouldn’t be the first ripe ass we’ve high-fived over. Would he want her to suck him? Or fuck her? Or take turns at both?

My dick swells in my strap as beads of sweat trickle down my own forehead. Bet it’s not nearly as hot as Mateo’s. He looks like a fucking Greek god out there while he’s sweating his nuts off, and I’m like a haggard swamp witch, blinking and squinting the burning liquid from my eyes.

Shit. The puck whizzes past me as I’m caught out of position again. What the hell is wrong with me?

Thank fuck Harrison, the leading defenseman in the NHL, is watching my crease while I fantasize about burying my dick in his sister’s tight ass because my own backdoor is wide open.

“What the fuck is wrong with you tonight, Ro?” The intensity in Harrison’s eyes is enough to make a lesser man tremble. “Did you wash your socks?”

I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. He knows I only wash my socks when we lose a game, and the truth of the matter is, with Charlotte around the apartment as much as she is, I’ve been avoiding the laundry room and pretty much every damn thing in my life right now. I even ran to the store yesterday to pick up some new underwear so I wouldn't have to leave my room to wash all my dirty pairs.

“If you haven’t, you’re going to need to after this weekend. Get your shit together, man. What’s gotten into you?” Harrison is still talking to me as heat weaves its way up the back of my neck. Even my ears are hot.

We haven’t lost in the last four games, so my distraction hasn’t translated onto the game sheet. Yet.

But if I don’t figure out a way to put naked, hot, and sweaty Mateo, and naked, hot, and sweaty Charlotte in a delicious Eiffel Tower with a naked should-be-concentrating on the game goaltender out of my head… this might be the night we lose. Probably by double digits, too, if my crease work is anything to go by.

I’m pretty sure Harrison grumbles, “Fucking sieve,” under his breath. And despite the flash of embarrassment and anger that rolls through me, he’s not wrong, I am a fucking sieve tonight.

Thank God it’s only practice.

Thriving under pressure is usually what I do best, but it seems keeping secrets from my best friend and living with a beautiful woman I can’t touch are my hard limits.

I grit my teeth. I don’t give a shit about what Harrison said, I’m not washing my fucking socks this weekend. We’re taking home both fucking wins from our upcoming doubleheader.

No matter what it takes.

“I’ll figure it out, Cap.” I nod at Harrison, who’s still glaring at me like he wishes any of our out-skaters were standing in my place.

To be honest, they’d probably do a better job.

He skates right up into my space and grabs my cage, giving my head a much lighter rattle than it needs. “Do you need to talk?”

My gut churns as I shake my head. “No, I’m good. I swear. It’s just practice, man. I’ve got this.” My voice is stronger than I feel on the inside, but after a long, pregnant pause, he nods.

“Good. I’d like my goalie back. The team needs you, brother.”

My heart sinks. He’s right, the team does need me. Not only that, but it’s the bro code.

Bros before beautiful redheads.

And the more I think about it, the more I really don’t think he’d take it well if I told him I have the hots for his sister. Or that I’m having dirty thoughts about one of our teammates, for that matter.

There’s only one solution.

She’s gotta go.

If not from the apartment, at least from my mind. I have to figure out a way to get over her before we find ourselves in another compromising position.

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