Page 103 of Rule 1: Never Accidentally Marry Your Teammate
“I’ll buy you a beret and a Breton shirt,” I promise.
“Then I’ll never have to leave the apartment.”
“Sounds good to me.”
We stare at each other.
“Do you still want me to...” His voice wobbles.
“Abso-fucking-lutely.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Noah
This is totally happening.
My heartrate surges, unused to all this happiness being pumped into my body. Then I remove Finn’s tie.
My hands shake, but Finn is calm and steady. He is my rock, my mountain, my life.
And tonight, I’m going to worship him.
His tie swooshes as I slide it from his collar, then I unbutton his shirt. His hands reach to mine, and we work together. It’s not the most practical approach, but we both smile, then we move to my tie, my shirt. I remove his suit jacket, then he removes mine.
Clothes pile on the floor. Our cocks harden, and when I remove Finn’s belt and pull down his pants, his cock is already jutting out in an absolutely interesting way.
But I’m not here for his cock.
I’m going to be inside Finn.
I’m going to be as close to him as it’s possible for a man to be.
His eyes dilate.
Suddenly, we’re kissing. Our clothes are mostly off, and I push him toward the bed, managing not to trip either of us on our trousers.
Then we’re both lying on the bed struggling to remove each other’s boxer briefs. Finn’s body is clean from the shower after the game, and I suck on the soft skin where his necktapers to his shoulders. He moans against me, flaying on the bed.
“This is going to be so good,” he says.
“Totally.”
I move my hands down his back. I have the sense I’m moving too quickly, that I should be memorizing the exact curve of each muscle, but I live here. We’re going to have lots of sex. Finn likes this, likes me.
But an odd uncertainty billows through me regardless, and when I realize I’ve forgotten the lube, I hesitate wondering what else I’ve forgotten.
“Babe?” Finn turns around, and I realize I’ve stopped kissing him, stopped touching him, stopped giving him everything he needs and deserves.
“I, um, forgot the lube.”
His eyebrows rise, and he gives one of those throaty laughs that I love so much. Then he scrambles up, crawls over the bed’s entire California King width, opens up his bedside drawer and tosses me the lube. “There.”
I stare at him, and his grin fades.
“We don’t have to do anything,” he says.
“No. I want to.” I shake my head.
