Page 45 of My Brother's Teammates

She unfurls her fingers, a smile lighting up her face, and I’m so fucking glad I talked her into grabbing that sewing machine.

“Great, actually. I think I’m about halfway through setting up the website, and I’ve made a few new pieces I’ll need to photograph. I just need to see if one of my friends is willing to model them for me.”

“You could do it.”

She takes a step back, a hand flying up to her chest. “Me? Model?”

“Yeah, Red, you.” I chuckle, walking toward her, stopping to pick up my phone. “I can photograph you if you’d like. I’m pretty sure I can work the camera on my phone.”

That blush spreads across her cheeks, and she dips her head. “It’s not the camera that’s the problem.”

“Is it me? Because I know it’s not you. You’re fucking gorgeous. I’d skip a hockey game just to see you in something lacy.”

She raises a brow. “And what’s the penalty for that?”

“I’m sure it’s a hefty fine, but it’d be worth every fucking penny to see you in lingerie you designed.”

“Oh, please.”

I’m in front of her in seconds, tilting her face up to meet mine. She doesn’t have a single flaw, and the fact that she thinks I’m joking tells me that ex-boyfriend was hell on her self-esteem.

Fuck that, and fuck him.

As long as she’s living here, she will know how beautiful she is. “There’s not a thing wrong with your body. You are fucking perfection. Anyone who can’t see that doesn’t have a brain in their head. But if you don’t feel comfortable, ask a friend. Either way, I know your stuff is going to be a hit.”

She tosses me a droll look and nibbles on her bottom lip. “You can’t know that.”

“But I do.”

“You are…” She blows out a breath, glancing around my room.

“Amazing? Sexy? Dashing? Charming? Simply the best?”

She tosses her head back and laughs. It’s sexy as fuck. “Teo?”

“Yeah, Red?”

“What if I told you I wanted to kiss you?”

My heart stutters in my chest, and my throat tightens. I’m not sure if I should, but damn if I don’t want to. Keeping my distance from her is a battle I’m losing a little more each day, and there’s a part of me that knows I’m only delaying the inevitable.

I wasn’t lying when I told her she was perfect. She’s smart as hell, the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen, and she’s a fighter. She’s had so many opportunities to give up since her ex kicked her out of her apartment, but she hasn’t. Our girl can take over the world if she wants to. That’s sexier than all her delectable curves.

Dammit.

Instead of answering her, I close the distance between us, cradling her face in my hands. “I’d say I want to kiss you, too,” I whisper, brushing my lips across hers. They’re soft, pliable, smaller than Roman’s and more submissive, yet they open up beneath me just the same.

Our kiss is soft and gentle but fuels me with lust all the same. I explore her mouth with lazy strokes, licking up every moan, every whimper.

Her hands rest against my chest while mine stroke through her soft curls. My brain is a mess. Part of me wants to lift her up, wrap her legs around my waist, and fuck her until the entire block hears her screaming my name, and the other half wants me to slow down, take my time. That second half is probably right.

With one last chaste kiss, I pull back, pressing my forehead against hers. “Never be ashamed of what or who you want.”

“Even if it’s you and Roman?” Her voice is tentative, and her brows scrunch. If she’s wanting me to berate her for wanting us both, she’s talking to the wrong man.

“If you want both of us, all you have to do is ask.”

Her inhale is sharp, and she stares at me for a long time, studying my face. If she thinks I’m joking, she has another thing coming. I’ve never been more serious in my life.

---