by Cassie James
“The bees do it,” I blurt out.
Her brow furrows. “What?”
“You know… One queen and then like a bunch of worker bees all sharing a hive…” My voice trails off. What the fuck am I saying?
Bees—seriously?
She surprises me by nodding like she suddenly gets exactly what I’m saying. She takes a deep breath as if she’s steadying herself and then reaches out for me.
Even though I know I shouldn’t, I let her wrap her arms around my waist and settle her head against my chest. I’m a weak man, and lord knows I’m not going to turn down her touch.
“You all really want to date me? Even though you’d be sharing and even though it’s just me?”
She says just me as if she isn’t ever man’s wet dream.
“Haven’t you ever wondered why none of us are in relationships? Why we never even bring other women around? It’s always been you, Gemma. Since day fucking one.” I can still picture the navy skirt she was wearing the first time she showed up to officially meet the team. I’d wanted nothing more than to bend her over a desk and fuck her in it.
I wonder if she still has that skirt…
“What if someone gets hurt?” she asks. “And what if that someone is me?”
“We would never hurt you. Never. You just have to give us a chance to prove it.” I know my teammates, and I know they would rather cut off their own limbs than risk hurting this beautiful gem of a woman standing in front of me.
“Okay.”
My eyes shoot to hers. “Okay?”
“I’m going to tell Cyrus I want to try.”
I can’t help the grin that spreads wide over my face. “You’re sure?”
“I’m not really sure of anything, but I also don’t think I ever really stood a chance. It’s all I’ve been able to think about since Cyrus brought it up.” She bites her lip. “Do you think I should call and tell him what I’ve decided?”
I shake my head vehemently, selfishly wanting more time with her myself before everyone else catches wind of her agreement. “Breakfast first. There will be plenty of time to tell everyone later—at Cyrus’ place. He wants us all there for dinner anyway.”
And I want to be there to see everyone’s faces when they realize we’ve all leaped headfirst into a goddamn fantasy.
Ten
Gemma
Cyrus is avoiding me.
I’ve followed him into nearly every room in this house and still, I haven’t managed to get him alone. I damn near followed him into the bathroom, but he shut the door in my face with a smirk that tells me he knows exactly what he’s doing.
My only option is to change tactics.
When Cyrus gets roped into a conversation about a new play the team’s been running, I slip away to follow Anthony down the hall. The bathroom door is just starting to close when I bump it with my shoulder and slip inside.
“What the—” Anthony stops short when he realizes it’s me. “What are you doing? I need to piss. Pee. Use the bathroom.” He fumbles over his words before slamming his mouth shut.
He scratches the back of his head while he waits for me to say something.
“Why is Cyrus hosting a team dinner?”
There’s a long, awkward pause before he says, “What do you mean? Cyrus loves hosting team dinners.”
“Not less than a week apart from each other.”
He usually makes the guys rotate and only hosts the big, special dinners himself. A fact that’s been putting me on edge ever since I got here.
It feels like something big is about to happen—only apparently I’m not allowed to be privy to what that is.
“Anthony.” I take a step closer and put a hand on his forearm. I’m being a little shameless right now, but my patience is wearing thin.
He lets out a weird hissing noise when our skin makes contact. As the newest player on the team, Anthony’s had the least physical contact with me. He hasn’t been around long enough to adjust to the constant touching that comes from my working one-on-one with athletes.
“What’s Cyrus up to? Just tell me.”
Because right now I can’t stop thinking about the worst-case scenario. Like maybe he’s gathered us all here to say “Gotcha!”
“Gemma.” Anthony puts his hands on my shoulders.
He seemed like he had something else to say, but he goes silent and just stares at me for a long time. Long enough that our silent staring contest is finally broken by someone banging on the door.
Anthony shakes his head as if to clear it before letting go of me to yank the door open. A very irritated Dillon is standing on the other side.
“What are you doing?” he demands, his eyes barely flicking over me before glaring at Anthony.
He raises his hands as if to prove his innocence. “Nothing! She followed me in here—blame her!”
“Don’t throw me under the bus!” I protest. “I just want to know what’s going on.”
“What’s going on is we’re about to sit down to dinner. And Cyrus made it very clear that none of us were to be alone with you until after dinner is over. So come eat and stop harassing the freshman. He looks like he’s about to piss himself.”
“Cyrus did what?”
It hadn’t been that obvious before but now that Dillon’s said it, I realize yeah, they’ve all been maneuvering around so that none of them ever ended up alone with me. It’s just the most obvious with Cyrus because I’ve been trying to trap him alone all night to see what’s going on and why he hasn’t brought up the arrangement again.
Dillon crosses his arms over his chest, an intimidating tactic even if he isn’t the biggest guy on the team. His thick eyebrows downturn as he frowns at me.
“Gemma. Most of us guys have been waiting for two years.” A grin spreads over his face, making him look even more devastatingly handsome than usual. “Waiting another hour isn’t going to kill you.”
I open my mouth to protest again but then slam it closed.
He’s right. Another hour isn’t going to kill me. And if I don’t get out, Anthony really might pee himself. He’s already shifting uncomfortably like he’s going to start doing a potty dance any minute now.
“Okay, fine.” I brush past Dillion and take a few steps into the hall.
“That was easier than I thought,” I hear him mutter to Anthony.
“Don’t push your luck,” I growl over my shoulder.
The guys laugh, but when I turn to glare at them, they both try to turn their laughs into poor imitations of a coughing fit. All I can do is roll my eyes—though I’m tempted to laugh myself. I wouldn’t exactly consider myself a real threat to these guys. Most of them are a good foot taller than me, and considerably more muscular than I am, too.
If they really wanted to, they could just move me out of a room against my will.
I guess I should be counting my blessings that Dillon let me walk out all on my own. Though, I’ll admit the image of him throwing me over his shoulder and carrying me out caveman style isn’t exactly an altogether unappealing idea.
When I step back into the main living room, a dozen pairs of eyes turn to stare. Self-consciously, I tug at my t-shirt.
“What?” I mumble.
The sound of my voice seems to break the spell and everyone abruptly goes back to the conversations I imagine they were in the middle of before I walked back in.
From across the room, Cyrus catches my eye and nods his head toward the kitchen.
I don’t want to be at his beck and call. Really, I don’t. But my feet start moving all of their own accord, carrying me towards the empty kitchen where I not-so-patiently wait for Cyrus to join me.
I don’t have to wait long.
“I thought you could help me serve dinner.”
He’s barely stepped foot into the kitchen and already I could strangle him. “Are you asking or telling?”
“Whichever one works,” he answers with a mischievous grin.
I roll my eyes and ask, “Wh
at can I help with?”
“Here.” He puts a hand on my lower back and guides me toward the corner section of the kitchen counter.
I’m hyper aware of the way his body presses in against me, trapping me in the corner as he reaches around me to open the top cabinet right in front of us. I barely manage to muffle a groan as he slides his other hand up the side of my hip.
He tilts his head so that he’s speaking quietly into my ear.
“You can start by setting the tables.”
“And then what?”
“Then come back here so I can kiss the ever loving hell out of you.”
A sharp gasp leaves my lips as I jerk around to face him.
“You—”
His mouth descends on mine, hungry and greedy. His tongue makes one swipe against the seam of my lips before I open right up to him. There’s no use pretending I’m not a total goner for him.
I let my back settle against the edge of the countertop as he leans into me. I can feel him start to harden through his jeans as he presses his leg between mine, forcing me to shift to accommodate him. I make the gentlest rocking motion against him and then catch myself, hoping like hell he didn’t notice it.
Based on the way his dick twitches—he definitely did.
He pulls away much too soon. Though, based on the way I nearly reach out and haul him back to me, that’s probably for the best. For a minute there, I forgot all about the twenty-four other guys waiting to get dinner over with so we can move on to whatever the hell Cyrus has planned for afterward.
I press my fingertips to my lips.
For the first time ever, I’ve kissed two men in the same day. Wolfie this morning and now Cyrus. And I can’t help but feel a bit guilty about it.
“Stop,” Cyrus commands.
“Huh?”
He smooths a finger over the crease between my eyebrows.
“If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll make the whole damn team line up for their turn to kiss you for the first time—but it’s really not necessary. They’re gonna get theirs soon enough.”
His eyes are lit with a promise that both terrifies and intrigues me.
“Correction: It can’t come soon enough,” another voice jumps into the mix.
I move my head to peek over Cyrus’ shoulder, my cheeks heating when I realize he’s seriously not moving to put any space between us. It feels rude, so I push at his shoulder until he reluctantly takes a couple steps back.
Mateo takes up the vacant space left between us, effectively enclosing me again—only now there’s two bodies blocking me in against the counter instead of one.
I swallow a hard knot in my throat as I stare up at the two big, hard men both looking down at me with more affection in their eyes than I’ve ever seen from a man besides my dad. I suddenly can’t breathe at all.
“Give her some air,” Mateo says, taunting Cyrus as he nudges him back even further from me.
Our captain growls, but it seems good-natured enough since he’s smiling as he does it. Mateo takes another half step towards me before glancing over at him.
“Stop watching, you perv.”
Cyrus rolls his eyes as he starts for the doorway. “I’ll give you two minutes, but only because you caught me breaking my own damn rule.”
“What rule?” I ask, playing dumb for sure, but Cyrus is already gone.
Mateo fills in the blank, confirming what Dillon already said.
“It was supposed to be hands off until after dinner. He even made us promise not to be alone with you. Obviously, he’s no good at following rules.”
“Looks like you aren’t either,” I remind him, nodding at the fact that he’s standing about half a foot in front of me with no signs of anyone else.
He flashes me a quick glimpse of pearly white teeth as he smirks. “Men like me don’t believe in rules.”
Well… I’m pretty sure my panties just melted.
“Don’t you think that’s a little—”
He grabs me by the waist and pulls me flush against him, lips descending on mine in a flash of movement. My hands itch to go exploring, maybe even get a feel of the nipple piercing I know he’s got under his t-shirt.
Instead, I force myself to put a hand on his chest only to push him away.
“It’d be really cool if you boys would stop kissing me mid-sentence.” My complaint only comes out half-hearted. I’m sure he can tell I’m not really invested in my own complaint.
“I couldn’t help myself.” That smirk of his is back.
Oh, what the hell.
I grab a fistful of the front of his shirt and yank him back to me. Three guys in one day—I’m not sure what the hell I’m thinking. The only thing I do know is that my brain is flashing warning lights but my lady bits are yelling full steam ahead.
In the distance, Cyrus yells for the team, “Dinner!”
Mateo starts to pull away but I hold tight to him for a couple more quick closed-mouth kisses. If everything goes to shit after dinner, I want to have this to hold on to.
“C’mon.” Mateo holds a hand out to me as he pulls away from our last kiss.
I start to reach for him but hesitate. “Cyrus wanted me to get the plates.” I gesture to the open cabinet behind me.
“The plates? Are you sure?”
“Uhm.” Not now that he sounds so confused about it. But yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s what Cyrus brought me in here for. “Yeah?”
Mateo gives me an odd look but shrugs and leaves me to it.
I take a second to compose myself before gathering a stack of plates. They’re nice, but plastic nice—not formal plates nice. That’s the only reason I manage to make only two reasonably sized stacks. I leave one on the counter and balance the other in my arms.
Taking care to watch my step—and not end up embarrassing the hell out of myself on what’s become easily the strangest day of my life—I walk the plates out to the heated garage where Cyrus always sets up team dinner. Cyrus is already out there, grinning up at me as I frown back. He’s got disposable plates already on the table.
“I thought you needed me to bring plates.”
He shakes his head with a not-sorry-at-all grin. “That was just an excuse to grope you.”
“What a gentleman.” I roll my eyes.
The rest of the team slowly starts to filter in as I return the real plates to their cabinet and then rejoin them. I usually just sit to the back corner and let the guys do their thing, but this time they apparently have other plans.
I can’t help my blush as I’m ushered into a seat smack dab in the middle of the room.
It’s usually Cyrus’ seat. When my eyes scan the room for him, he’s at the next table, surrounded by some of the more lively personalities on the team.
I start to take inventory of the guys I’ve ended up at a table with. Luis, Milo, Declan, Raf, Kyle, and Isaac fill the seats around me. Something tells me it’s not a coincidence that I’ve been put with the calmest possible group you could make out of the Storms’ players.
These guys are all level-headed and gentle—or at least as gentle as any professional rugby player knows how to be.
Dinner is surprisingly quiet. The guys at the table engage me in some small talk, but other than that I mostly sit quietly picking at my food while they talk about the upcoming season.
My head spins as I try to make sense of everything that’s happened—and everything that could still happen. I’m not this woman. I don’t go around casually kissing my friends one after another. This has all the makings of a very messy situation, but it’s starting to feel too damn late to turn back.
“Are you okay?” Isaac repeats the question a couple times before I realize he’s talking to me.
I’ve been staring at the table for what I’m sure must seem like a weirdly long time. I stab the chicken on my plate just to move it to the other side of my potatoes.
“I’m fine,” I finally tell Isaac in a pinched voice. It’s all I can muster up at the moment.
“You look a little queasy,” Luis chimes in.
“I, uh… need the restroom.”
I stumble blindly over my own feet as I push out of the chair and rush into the house, a pinching headache making me hold my eyes only half open. There’s nothing I want more than the safety of falling apart behind a closed bathroom door, but a hand reaches out to slam the door closed again when I start to open it.
I hadn’t realized anyone was following me.
As if in slow motion, I pivot on my foot for what feels like forever so I can face the intruder interrupting my potential alone time. Victor—looking even more intimidating than usual with his shaved head and bulging biceps—glares down at me.
“You change your mind?”
“No,” I say quietly after only the slightest bit of hesitation.
“Then c’mon.” He curls his fingers and then points to the other side of the hallway. The door is closed but I’m pretty sure it’s the room Cyrus uses as an office.
“I’m not supposed to be alone with anyone right now,” I remind him, trying to ignore the way his lip tugs up into an amused smirk.
I’ve already broken that rule enough times for one day. When the guys are ready for whatever’s coming, I’ll deal with it. In the meantime, I really just want to be alone for a minute to sulk. I’m trying to figure out the best way to tell Victor exactly that but he steps aside and points his thumb behind him.
“Alone is the last thing we are right now.”
Sure enough, the whole team is scattered behind him, everyone trying to shove into the hallway at once even though there’s just not nearly enough space.
“You all can go finish eating.” I nervously bite down on my bottom lip. There’s a hunger in all of their eyes as if they’re thinking of having a meal that has nothing to do with their plates in the garage.
And I’m about to be one hell of a second course.
“Open the door, Gemma,” Cyrus says in his best captain’s voice, the one that makes everyone listen—even me.
“But...” I don’t think I’m ready.
“We’re all so fucking nervous we can barely choke down our food. Let’s get the weird stuff out of the way, then we can actually relax and enjoy the rest of the night. Everything could change tomorrow.”
