Page 71 of My Brother's Teammates

There’s a pleasant ache radiating through my limbs as my body comes online. But as much as I enjoyed every second with the guys, there’s still an undercurrent of guilt thrumming through my veins.

Waking up in a bed with three amazing, gorgeous, and very-talented-with-their-dick guys shouldn’t feel like a weight pressing down on my shoulders. But it does.

I roll to my back, glancing around me. My stomach might be in knots, but my view is great. Roman’s facing me, his arm and leg draped over Mateo, who’s lying on his back to my right. Jace is on my other side, sleeping with his back to me, the blanket draped over his hips, showing me the wide expanse of his muscular back.

I’ll say one thing about their lavish lifestyle, these giant beds are definitely useful for multiple partners sleeping over.

My skin heats as visions of the night before come back to me. Hands exploring sweat-slicked skin, my body being deliciously stretched out by their cocks, the cool metal of Mateo’s piercings, both on my tongue and inside me.

Dammit.

I don’t need to get all hot and bothered again. Except there doesn’t seem to be an off switch. The only setting I have when I’m around these guys is all the way on.

When I clench my thighs, I’m forced to suppress a groan. A blissful ache radiates through my abdomen. Yeah, I’m gonna need to put ice between my legs if I want to do that again anytime soon.

And I do.

I close my eyes, hoping to fall back to sleep. I need to pee, but I don’t want to wake anyone. They’re all so peaceful-looking when they’re unconscious. I want this moment to stretch out forever.

Except, son of a bitch, my phone is ringing.

I don’t remember where I left the damn thing, but my ringtone is blasting… eh… in my room, maybe? The guys are seemingly oblivious, but between knowing someone’s trying to get ahold of me and the building urgency of my bladder, I decide to somehow try to escape the labyrinth of limbs sprawled out across the bed.

I could climb up and over. It would probably be the smartest option. But in my growing desperation to get out of this room before waking the guys, I squeeze my arms to my sides and slither down the bed and onto the floor like a snake. At least everyone is still asleep. I’ll take that as a win.

Mateo’s bedroom door clicks as I close it behind me, making a beeline for my bedroom. Phone’s on the nightstand, thankfully, and stops ringing as soon as I get to it—because of course it does.

Speak of the Euro-traveling devil herself. Meghan always manages to call me either when I need her the most, or when it’s terribly inconvenient. I’m not sure which time this is, but the longer I stare at the missed call, the more I feel the tiny hole in my heart growing.

Her time abroad should surely be coming to an end soon, right?

Who the fuck knows? Meghan’s not one to stick to any kind of plan, even if she makes the plan herself. Maybe especially if she makes the plan herself. She’s always been the dreamer, her head firmly in the clouds, while I ground us down on earth. We give each other balance, and I miss her.

I swipe the phone off my nightstand and take it into the bathroom with me. I won’t video call her from the throne. We’re only at voice call while on the pot level of friendship. Plus, my hair is a literal disaster, and I try and fail to smooth down some of the wayward curls.

“Good morning, Sunshine!” Her voice is so loud, I almost drop the phone. If the ringing of my cell didn’t wake the guys, her obnoxiousness might.

“Hey.” My voice is hushed as I pee.

“Okay, talk.”

“What?”

“Don’t what me. Wash your hands, and then tell me why you’re whispering.”

I wash and dry my hands, and when I step into my room, the urge to lie in my bed is dulled by the fact there aren't three warm, burly hockey players to snuggle, so I pull out the chair at my sewing machine instead.

If I’m going to make a real go of this lingerie business thing, I’m going to need stock, and that means I need my ass firmly planted in this chair every day.

“Well?”

My butt has barely touched the cushion before the inquisition begins. I should have known.

“Well… what?”

“Charlotte Emily Fournier. You’re being cagey. I’ve known you for long enough to know that you need to talk, so… talk.”

I jam the phone between my shoulder and ear as I begin to work, guiding the dark blue fabric over the plate. “I slept with them.”

---