The Game Plan (Game On 3)

“Took the baby and drove to Muir Woods to walk around the redwoods.”

“Those shits. I wanted to go there.”

“I’ll take you.” His expression is calm, but his gaze is sharp on my face.

I snuggle into my pillow. “Gray was right. It was just a peck, a stupid joke, really.”

“I didn’t like it.” A wrinkle forms between his brows. “Seeing that, I mean.”

“I know.” My fingers curl into the covers to keep from reaching for him. I don’t feel like I have the right to now. “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t want to see you kissing another woman.”

“I don’t want to kiss another woman.”

We stare at each other, nearly nose to nose now. And it feels…comfortable, tentative, new, strange. “I don’t know what to make of this,” I whisper. “I didn’t expect you, Ethan.”

His eyes search my face. “I’ve been waiting two years for you to see me.”

He says the words clearly, without hesitation, and still I can’t believe them.

A lump rises in my throat. “We’ve only interacted twice before in all that time.”

“Four times, not counting the wedding. You were there when Gray and I graduated. And at Draft Day.”

“You went high in the first round,” I say, remembering now. “That’s rare for a center.”

“You wore a white sundress with cherries on it for graduation, and a gray knit dress with black knee-high boots for Draft Day.”

My chest feels too tight, and I have to clear my throat to speak. “Why didn’t I notice you before?” Because he was right in front of me the whole time. This big, beautiful man who doesn’t shy away from honesty.

With a caress of his thumb, he eases a lock of hair behind my ear. “I didn’t exactly make myself known.”

“Why not? And why now?”

He frowns, watching his thumb glide over the edge of my jaw toward my lips. “Couldn’t stay away from you this time.”

Before I can ask what he means, Dex slides his large hand to my nape and hauls me close. His mouth claims mine—needy, demanding, a complete counterpoint to the careful way he holds me. Hot mouth, gentle hands.

It drives me crazy, and I press up against his solid frame, thread my fingers through his hair as I meet him kiss for kiss.

A grunt of contentment rumbles in his chest as he rolls me back and rises over me. He’s huge, his shoulders so wide they blot out the light. Flowing hair and full beard, he also looks a bit wild—pure man when I’ve only ever been with boys.

On the outside, Dex comes off as reserved, maybe even shy, but he doesn’t act that way when he’s with me. Right now, he’s in total control. He angles his head and kisses me deeper, exploring with a steady thoroughness that leaves me restless and desperate for more.

Dex is too perceptive not to notice. With slow, sure strokes, he runs his hands down my sides, back up to my cheeks, soothing me, slowing me down. And still he kisses me as if it’s the most absorbing thing in the world.

His touch, the way he tastes me like fine wine or sweet cream, settles into my bones, makes my flesh hot and heavy. I grow languid under his care.

The tip of his tongue traces the corner of my mouth, the edge of my lips. I’m so sensitive there now, the touch shimmers over my skin, down to my sex. Breathing hard, I turn my face toward his, open my lips wider, silently begging for more of his torture. Large hands frame my face, hold me still while he sips at my mouth.

The rough of his beard tickles my throat as he moves downward, stopping to suck the spot where my neck meets my shoulders.

“You taste so good, Cherry.” He licks me again. “Like wet dreams.”

His muscles shift and bunch under my grip. I clutch him close, open my thighs to him so he can lie between them. Dex grunts, grinding his massive cock against me as if he can’t help it.

More. I need more.

He does too. His hands gather up my shirt, pulling it over my head with an impatient tug. “Let me see you.” His finger flicks open the front clasp of my bra before he smoothes his rough palm under the cup and along my breast. “Let me touch you.”

I groan, arching up, desperate to wiggle out of the bra. He helps pull it free.

Dex kisses me once, almost distracted, then his gaze moves to my chest, a lock of hair falling over his brow as he looks down. “Mmm,” he hums, rubbing the flat of his palm in a circle over my chest. “There they are.”

He captures the stiff tip of my nipple between his fingers and gives it a tweak, tugging a little. And I moan, the action sending heat punching straight to my clit.

“You like that?” He does it again, lingering longer before swooping down to suck my abused nipple deep into his warm mouth.

God. My hands grip his hair, holding him there as he sucks and tugs, his wet tongue flickering over me. He plumps my breast with his fingers, sucks me again. The way he goes at me is almost single-minded, as if the world could fall apart around us and he wouldn’t stop. It is so fucking hot I can barely breathe.

Big hands cup my breasts, kneading and playing with them. And all the while he licks my nipples. Sucks and nips at them until I’m writhing beneath him, desperate for some relief, for him to sink his cock into me. I make a sound of impatience but he simply lifts his head and stares, rapt, at my chest.

“God, you’re so fucking gorgeous,” he rasps. “Look at you, all pretty and flushed and panting.” He presses the tip of his thumb against my nipple, making me whimper. “Will you come like this? From me playing with your tits?”