Page 38 of Rule 1: Never Accidentally Marry Your Teammate

NOAH

I am not alone though when I wake up. Footsteps sound outside my room, and I open the door. “Finn?”

A petite woman holding a mop widens her eyes.

Shit.

This must be the housekeeper.

I glance behind me, wondering how obvious it is that I slept in my own room and not with Finn. What new husband doesn’t sleep in the same room as his spouse mere nights after the wedding?

“Just exploring the apartment,” I say brightly. “All nice.”

The housekeeper’s eyes widen.

“I wanted to test the bed. Make sure I don’t need to order new mattresses or anything.” I laugh. Too loudly. “But I ended up falling asleep. So yeah, no new mattress for that room!”

The housekeeper’s eyes widen further, and her eyebrows definitely get involved in her expression of surprise.

Shit.

I inch toward the next room. “I’m, um, returning to Finn’s room. My husband. Because we sleep together. Every night. Very passionately. Newlyweds, you know.”

And with that, I open Finn’s bedroom door behind me and slip inside.

FINN

Light emanates through my soft woven blinds. I like mornings. I like waking up and knowing I still have time to lie in bed before I start myday.

I shift, stretching my legs against the soft sheets. The movement intensifies the ache between my legs, and my cock hardens further, needy and confused as to why I haven’t paid it any attention these past few days. I so wasn’t going to stroke my cock with Noah in the next bed, and I so wasn’t going to touch it in the shower when he was outside the bathroom.

Even though I wanted to.

Even though it’s been fighting for attention.

Even though, lately, it’s been contemplating the appeal of broad shoulders and a deep voice and a muscular chest.

My cock thickens, and I reach toward it. I run my fingers along it, and if Noah’s image pops into my mind, it’s because it’s only natural to think about him.

It’s not because I’m thinking about a symmetrical face and big blue eyes.

It’s not because I’m imagining running my hand through his hair, and it’s certainly not because I’m remembering what he looks like without his shirt. Not that he looks bad with his shirt on either.

I frown at the direction my mind has taken. My cock is hard and has begun to leak.

I consider ignoring it, but I don’t want to be horny when I go to the locker room later today. I don’t want an erection when I change clothes beside Noah, and I don’t want to think about why the image of Noah changing beside me makes my cock twitch.

I shouldn’t be wondering what the slope between his neck and shoulder would taste like. It would taste like skin. With maybe some sweat.

But desire still pulses through me.

Footsteps sound outside my room and the swishing of a mop.The housekeeper.

I hesitate, then decide to move quickly. I need to get off, then I can go be a good host for Noah and a good employer for my housekeeper and greet them both without fear of an accidental lower body salute.

So, it’s not terrible if I think about Noah, right? It will let me be a better host later. Because face it, if I’m thinking about Noah, this is going to be over soon.

I fumble in my bedside drawer, then squirt some lube onto my palm. I throw off the blankets and lather my cock.