Theo smashes his lips to mine. When we break apart, his smile is breathtaking. “Can you make it home okay, or do you want to spend the night?”
Yes, spend the night. Of course. All night. “No, I’m good.”
“Yeah, you are.” He kisses me again.
After I leave, I have no idea what we’re doing. I call Tyrone on the way home and ask him to distract me. He doesn’t disappoint and gives the latest apartment complex gossip.
We have a light skate the next day, and my stomach is in knots over seeing Theo. If I didn’t have his clothes, which I washed, dried, and placed in a small plastic bag, I could have convinced myself last night never happened.
I’ll sneak his clothes into his locker when no one is looking. Especially Benz, because he’ll give me shit for using a plastic bag.
There’s a gift bag in my locker, and at first I think it’s a mistake, but it’s labeled “Your Majesty.” There’s a white Jordan hoodie, which makes no sense. Why would Theo give me… My old hoodie was hanging on a hook by the door of my apartment. The pocket is ripped off, and I was going to see if my moms or a cousin could fix it for me. He must’ve seen it.
Theo’s loud when he enters the locker room, and I feel his gaze but don’t turn around. My body doesn’t fit me, and I can’t act normal.
“What the hell is up with you?” Mav asks.
“He’s smiling, he got laid,” Brant answers.
“Wait,” Benz yells, and I freeze. “O’Keefe has on the rookie sweats from last year. How did you get those?”
Fear cripples me as I turn to him. Theo’s shock lasts half a second before he covers it with a wink. “I stole them. Check your closet.”
I snort, unable to keep the sound in.
“What’s that, King?” The way Theo says king sets me on fire. I can’t get hard in the locker room. It’s rule number one.
Looking at him, gorgeous and cocky, is a mistake, so I stare into my locker. “Not likely,” I say.
“What’s unlikely?” Theo prods.
“You get what you want. If you want those sweats, all you’d have to do is ask. Stealing is beneath you,” I say, covertly telling him he can keep my clothes.
Brant groans, and I assume it’s because he thinks I’m starting a fight with Theo by saying something is beneath him.
“Whatever you say, Maj.” But he draws the word out so it has more syllables, and it goes straight to my dick, thinking about him calling me Your Majesty.
“That must’ve been some sex.” Brant shakes his head. “Gave O’Keefe a personality transplant.”
Thankfully, it’s hard to tell I’m blushing. This team doesn’t need any more ammo for the situation.
Practice flies by, and Theo makes it fun. He challenges me with passing games, and we connect for a bunch of goals.
“Have you replaced me as your work husband?” Griff tosses a dirty sock at me.
“Nah, I don’t wanna make Benzy cry.” I kick his dirty sock away.
“Funny,” he yells after me as I disappear into a private shower stall.
The hot water beats on my shoulders, and there’s a rustling sound behind me that I ignore. If someone on my team besides Theo sees my scars, they won’t judge me. They’re my friends.
I’m lost in my head and jump when a hand cups my ass.
“Shhh, no one saw me.” Theo nudges me forward under the spray.
As I spin around, my thoughts are screaming for him to get out, but my dick becomes the weapon he teases me about.
“Someone’s happy to see me.” Theo’s soft lips drag along my clavicle, and he reaches to stroke my length. “Come back to my place tonight.” He fondles my balls and sucks on my neck as if our team isn’t separated by an extremely thin plastic barrier.
