Page 72 of My Brother's Teammates

Pausing my hands I close my eyes, sucking in a huge breath as I ready myself for her rea?—

Her scream damn near bursts my eardrum as she erupts on the other end of the line. “You’re kidding. The three of them? All at once? Like… all holes filled kinda gangbang? Charlie, you dirty fox! Tell me everything!” She pauses. “Everything.”

My cheeks are on fire as I restart the machine. It’s hard to focus on not sewing my fingers to the fabric when flashes of rippling muscle, tongues, and cocks assault my mind as I try to concentrate.

“It was…” I shift my butt on the seat, wincing at the movement. “I need to work out.”

She starts howling with laughter in my ear. “Didn’t they make you stretch first? When I get back, we’re going to need to go to yoga again. Those vinyasas will have you limber and bendy enough for them in no time.” She crunches on something before washing it down with a glug of liquid. “It’s happening again, right? It wasn’t a one-and-done thing, right, Charlotte?” She tuts. “I’m basically talking to myself here.”

I can’t help giggling at her impatience. “Well, if you’d let me get a word in.” The thread slips out from the needle, and I take a beat to rethread it before continuing. After heaving a huge sigh, I let her in a little. “I feel guilty, Meg. Like, bone-deep guilt. Not that I slept with three guys at the same time, no. But…”

“Harrison.” She growls his name down the phone at me like she’s a wild animal.

I’ve been keeping her as up-to-date as I could over the past couple of weeks with sporadic texts and voice notes, but this is the first time we’ve really had the chance to talk. In her messages, she definitely hasn’t come across as being thrilled with my big brother.

“You know it’s your vag, right? You can let whoever the fuck you want in there. It’s none of Harry’s business.”

“I’ve always been off-limits to his teammates, Meghan. Always. Since we were in high school.” I turn the fabric and snip the dangling thread so it doesn’t all turn into a mess of loose ends.

“I know. And what the fuck kind of Patriarchal bullshit even is that? Who the hell does he think he is to assume he has that kind of power?”

The unspoken accusation in her words is that I let him take the power. And I did. It’s never been an issue before. I’ve never wanted any of his friends. Until…

“Hey, pretty girl.” Roman’s voice washes over my skin like warm milk before bed. He’s wearing low-hanging sweats, and he’s resting his fingertips on the top of the doorframe. Fuck. Of course he leans toward me, his muscles all rippling. It should be illegal to be that hot. “Coffee?”

I point to the phone on my shoulder and nod yes please, giving him a smile. He watches me for a moment before he moves, and I watch him watching me. The outline of his cock is pretty clear. That has to be the only reason gray sweatpants were ever invented, right?

My eyes lazily meander up his washboard abs, his lean pecs, the facial hair covering his strong jaw, and when our eyes meet, the flash of lust that ignites between us takes my breath away.

Maybe I don’t need that coffee after all.

“Charlotte?” Meghan’s voice pulls me back as Roman stalks toward me.

“Yeah?” Is that my voice? Breathy, airy, and soft.

“Someone there?”

“Uh-huh.”

Roman spins my chair so I’m facing him and drops to his knees. Oh God. He can’t… He won’t… Not when I’m on the phone, right?

“Woman. Give me a play-by-play. What’s he doing?”

I’m not going to commentate my way through whatever Roman’s about to do to me. If Meghan wants to get her kicks with a hockey player, she can do so herself.

My breathing quickens as Roman spreads my knees apart for him, pushing Mateo’s oversized T-shirt higher up my thighs.

When he dots kisses on the inside of both my knees, I sigh. “I’ll call you back, Meg.”

Her laugh is the last thing I hear before she screams, “Get it girl!” and hangs up. Just as well, because my body’s frozen, my gaze locked with Roman’s chocolate brown eyes as he looks up at me from under his lashes.

A low chuckle from the doorway breaks the spell and makes me jump. Thankfully, Roman pulls back right before my knee cracks him in the jaw.

Mateo’s standing in the doorway, naked as the day he was born, with the most impish, playful smile I’ve ever seen. “Guess I’m making my own coffee then?”

TWENTY-SEVEN

Roman

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