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Before I can ask him to expand, the door to his room slams shut.
“You better be video chatting with someone that’s not my sister.”
Foster’s eyes widen, his gaze bouncing between me and Rhett and then down.
“Do you have a fucking boner?” Rhett curses, and there’s some stomping around. “I swear on my mother’s grave if you have a hard-on while you’re on a call with my baby sister, you will find yourself in the hallway with a black eye. Maybe two.”
This should be embarrassing and maybe it is for him, but I’m feeling all sorts of things.
Just seeing a mark that he left on my body had him hard and groaning. I’m not the only one affected by whatever this thing is between us.
And Rhett sounds so distraught that I can’t help the laughter that’s bubbling up from my chest.
I clamp my free hand over my mouth to stifle the sounds but I’m not sure it’s helping that much.
“Who would you rather I tell you I’m talking to?” Foster’s eyes flick to mine, and he gives me a look I can’t quite decipher.
“There is no good answer to that question, and you know it, you British asshole.”
This time he does chuckle and gives me the full weight of his stare. “Goodnight,Avery. I’ll text you tomorrow.”
I nod, realizing I’m still giving Foster a bird’s eye view to my neck and the big ass hickey right on the side of it, and let my hair fall back over it. “Night, boys.”
I can make out Rhett’s growl before Foster winks and hangs up the call.
With a laugh, I toss my phone to the side and pull my laptop to the arm of the couch.
Sadie is about to have the time of her life with her vibrator while AJ is listening on the other side of the wall. He won’t be able keep his hands off his hard length, and when he comes, it’ll be her name on his lips.
Foster doesn’t know it, but he’s one hell of an inspiration.
That’s what he needs to remain—except it’s getting harder and harder to keep him at any sort of distance.
I’m royally fucked.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
We’ve been gone three long-ass days, with back-to-back away games in Texas, Winnipeg, and Colorado. Despite Rhett’s looming presence, I’ve managed to talk to Avery after every game, and even though it’s friendly, it almost feels like she’s trying to pull back.
Which makes sense, I guess. I crossed the line when I kissed her, and then jumped clear across it when I told her to strip.
That’s not even counting when I put my hands down the front of her panties.
It was the best feeling mistake I’ve made in a long time. Probably ever.
In all reality, I should let her retreat. I should let her reset our relationship to what it’s supposed to be—fake.
Her and I were never supposed to feel real.
She’s my teammate’s little sister and a single mom. She has so much on her plate already, and adding myself into the mix seems selfish, especially when the whole bloody thing started as a ploy to make me look like a relationship guy for the new general manager.
If my contract wasn’t on the line, there’s no way I’d have agreed to this in the first place.
But fuck, it doesn’t feel like it’s pretend anymore.
Not when she’s the realest thing in my life.
Avery was right; we are a recipe for disaster.
