Page 43 of My Brother's Teammates

I may have been born on a Tuesday, but it wasn’t last Tuesday. He may not have kissed her, but something happened.

Something neither of them want to talk about.

And Roman. Fucking Roman.

He’s supposed to be the master of control, the one so buttoned up he’s beyond reproach. Didn’t look like he had an ounce of control when he had his tongue sweeping through Charlie’s mouth.

The look on his face, the tent in his pants… Fuck. And then the heated glare he sent in my direction? I must’ve been imagining things. Right? Fuck if I know, which is why I’m currently spread out across my bed, keeping my distance from all those rule breakers, trying not to touch myself at the memory of Roman and Charlotte kissing.

And fuck, the thought of kissing Roman…

While I have no problem swinging both ways, I’ve never kissed a man before.

But this is my best friend.

If it were any other man who expressed interest, I’d have his pants off and him bent over the nearest surface in minutes. If he wanted to share a girl, no problem, I’d fuck them both. But this is different. They’re different.

Not only is Roman one of my best friends, but with Charlie, there's something else simmering under the surface. I’m not sure what it is yet, but she’s more than just a warm body in my bed. They’re both important to me, and I don’t want to screw anything up because my dick thinks he can call the shots.

“Hey, man.” Roman sticks his head in my doorway, his eyes briefly lingering on the chubby only half concealed by my sweatpants. Great. I’m going to have this fucking boner for hours. I may need medical attention. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

I link my fingers and put my hands behind my head, not giving a fuck if my sweats are riding low on my hips. If he thinks it’s awkward, he can leave. I’m not the one that needs to talk. Except he doesn’t look the least bit uncomfortable.

I could have misinterpreted Roman checking me out before, but not now. Not with his heated gaze running up and down my body. Damn, I want his hands on me in a way that’s not friend appropriate, but I know he doesn’t swing my way. Which is a damn shame.

After clearing my throat, I stare at the ceiling. It’s safer. My imagination is less likely to run wild. “I’m listening.”

“About what you saw…” He shuffles around my doorway, not making an attempt to continue.

With a groan, I push myself from the bed and stomp over to him. His eyes widen for a brief moment, but he quickly recovers, straightening his body and shoving his hands in his pockets.

I cock my head to the side, irritation buzzing under my skin. Irritation for what, I haven’t figured out yet. “What exactly is it you think I saw?”

He scratches the back of his neck, his eyes falling to the floor. “I… uh… I…”

“You kissed Charlotte.” I take a step toward him. “You had your lips on hers.” Another step. “Your tongue was in her mouth.” One more. “You wanted to taste her, claim her. I saw how your hands trembled. I saw how much you wanted to reach out and stroke her curves, how desperate you were to hike up her T-shirt. I bet you were a second away from impaling her on your rock-hard cock.”

Roman sucks in a breath, his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip. I track the movement, wondering how he would taste, what sounds he’d make as I claimed his mouth with mine.

I take another step toward him, crowding him against one side of the doorframe. He smells like coffee and vanilla. Fuck me. He smells good enough to eat. “What were you thinking about when you broke Jace’s precious rule?”

He doesn’t answer for several seconds. He’s in his own head, no doubt searching for the perfect answer. “I wanted to make sure she couldn’t forget me.”

“What else?”

“I… I…”

“What. Else?” My tone deepens, and I lean forward, forcing Roman to tilt his face slightly to meet my gaze.

“You.” The word is quick, sharp, and wraps around us like a live wire.

We stare at each other for several beats. Neither of us moves, talks… I’m not sure we’re even breathing. The air is charged, hanging heavy around us. It’s pressing on my back, pushing me closer to a man I consider my best friend. My heart is racing, threatening to break through my ribs, and my cock thickens, straining against my sweats.

I don’t kiss men. I’ve never had that urge before. They’re only there to fill a need, and then they’re gone from my life as quickly as they entered.

So why do I want to kiss Roman? Or better yet, why do I want him to kiss me?

“What about me?” I need to hear him say he wants me just as much as I want him. I’m not going to force myself on him, especially when there’s a chance this whole thing could be in my head.

---