Page 47 of My Brother's Teammates

In. Out.

In. Out.

Jesus Christ. Her free hand is pinching her nipple over the lacy material, and her eyes are squeezed shut as she lets out a low moan, one I can hear clearly over the muted music playing from her phone.

I should leave. I know I should leave.

But I can’t tear my gaze away from Charlotte, or that ridiculously colored dildo.

My cock strains against my joggers, and I run a hand across my stubbled jaw. I’ve never wanted to be an inanimate object so bad in my life.

I suck in a breath, my veins burning as lust tunnels through my body. I’m practically on fire, and I haven’t even laid a finger on her, but fuck if I don’t want to.

Charlotte lets out another moan, increasing her speed, pumping the dildo into her pussy at a frenzied pace.

Please forgive me. God. Harrison.

Everyone.

I take a cautious step forward.

I should close the door and pretend this didn’t happen, but I can’t. Not without watching her come. But as my foot comes down, the floor creaks, and Charlotte bolts to a sitting position, her eyes wide.

“Jace!” she screeches, releasing the dildo, and I can’t help but watch as the multicolored penis slides onto the bed. She shifts, bringing her legs together. “What are you doing?”

My gaze slides up her body before meeting hers. Her pupils are dilated, her skin is flushed, and her bottom lip is puffy—no doubt from being trapped between her teeth.

She looks gorgeous.

“I heard a scream.”

“And you… you just thought you’d barge in here?”

I run a hand through my hair. “I thought you were in trouble.”

A pink hue spreads across her chest and up her neck. “I’m fine.” She glances around the room before meeting my eyes. “I thought I was alone.”

This is where I should apologize, lie, tell her I didn’t really see anything, and never mention this again. A gentleman would. Well, a gentleman might’ve knocked before busting the door open. But I think we’ve already established I’m not a fucking gentleman.

Then there’s hockey, and my friendship with her brother. Two things that mean everything to me, and the two reasons why I should be turning around. I don’t have time for anything and anyone outside of hockey. I can’t pull my focus, not right now. And losing Harrison as a friend isn’t an option. Plus, driving a wedge between us with playoffs on the line isn’t smart. The whole team could be at risk.

And then there’s the entirety of the past weighing down on my shoulders, of the family I found with hers.

She bites down on her bottom lip, that pretty blush spreading to her cheeks. She looks so innocent, and every cell in my body wants to defile her.

Maybe touching her will help work her out of my system, give me some closure. It’s not like I have any intention of fucking her. As long as my cock stays in the confines of my pants, it’s not that bad. Right?

It’s just a taste, and that’s all I need to get her out of my head for good. She’ll no longer be a distraction. She’ll no longer be under my skin—or at least let’s fucking hope so. I’m running out of options and control. I need to be able to move past her and focus on what’s important.

I take a step toward her, my jaw set.

My future is clear from this very moment. There is no way I can leave her room without knowing how she tastes, or the sounds she makes as she comes. I’ve waited over a decade for this.

“Jace.” Her brows shoot to her hairline, and she squeezes her legs together, her gaze roaming over my bare chest. Her breath catches as I take another step. “What are you doing?”

Damning us both. “Do you need to come, Charlotte?”

“I… I… Jace?”

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