The Game Plan (Game On 3)

“So you’re saying you’re on board with your face resembling your dick?” Drew asks with a laugh.

“I’m saying that if my face has to resemble a dick, it might as well be the stunning sight that is my own,” Gray retorts with a waggle of his brows.

I lean in. “If you want to talk about stunning dicks—”

“No!” everyone shouts again.

I shrug and hide my smile as I take a sip of wine.

“I’m so glad sausage is on the menu,” Ethan deadpans before slicing into his banger. Drew and Gray wince, but Anna, Ivy, and I laugh.

Happiness is infectious and fills me with warmth. I’m no longer that restless girl I’d been for so long. I’d finally found my place. I give Ethan’s shoulder a kiss, and he winks at me as if he knows exactly how I feel.

Much later, it’s just me and Ethan, kneeling on our big bed, the golden glow of lamplight casting shadows over his bold features. With infinite tenderness, he cradles the sides of my neck as he slowly peppers my face with kisses. His soft lips and prickly beard send little tickles along my skin, and I sigh, leaning into his touch.

His voice is a low rumble. “So your stance on beards is?”

I smile, remembering how he first got me to kiss him. “Total fangirl. You might even call me a groupie.”

He grins against the corner of my mouth before giving my upper lip a little suck. “And football players?”

“I’m completely gone on one in particular.”

He hums in approval. “Good thing. He loves you, heart and soul.”

This time, I capture his lips and kiss him with enough heat that his chest hitches. I smile at that. “I love you too.”

Warm breath gusts along my mouth as he speaks again. “So tell me,” he murmurs, still mapping my face with kisses, “what’s your stance on marriage?”

My heart stops, and I utter a small gasp. Ethan pulls away just enough to meet my eyes. He looks at me with that solemn, steady gaze I’ve come to love so much—the one that sees my soul and wants to keep it in his care.

Tears clog my throat, make my voice thick, but my lips quiver with a smile. “Is this your way of getting me to marry you?” I tease, even as my heart pounds against my ribs.

His thumbs stroke my cheeks as his quiet eyes stare into mine. “Will you?”

I laugh, the sound getting caught on a gurgle of happy tears. “Yes, Ethan Dexter. Hell fucking yes.” I launch myself into his arms.

Laughing, he falls back on the bed, taking me with him. “Hold up,” he says, as I cover his face with kisses. “You didn’t let me give you the ring.”

“The ring! I forgot about that. Gimme, gimme.”

He laughs again. “Then give me some room to get it.”

As soon as I lean back, he grins and reaches into his pocket to pull out the ring.

It’s a large, round, pink diamond in a rose gold bezel setting. Simple, elegant, yet wonderfully girly. He slips it on my finger, and I’m in instant love.

“You made this, didn’t you?” I ask, my gaze going to his and then back to my ring.

“Not made,” he says a little gruffly. “But designed it, yeah. How did you know?”

“Because I know you.” Ethan would plan everything out, down to the exact way the ring should look.

“Do you like it?” He’s frowning at the ring as though checking for flaws in the design.

I cup his cheek and lean against his solid warmth. “It is utterly perfect. Just like you.”

He blushes at that. So I kiss him some more until he forgets to be embarrassed and gets caught up in kissing me back. He’s completely mine now. He put a ring on it, and I’m going to do the same.

“Let’s do it in San Francisco,” I say, resting my chin on his chest and admiring the way the pink diamond glitters in the low light.

He nods as if this makes perfect sense. “At the scene of the crime.”

I tickle his ribs, and he grabs my hand to nip my fingers.

“Be warned,” I tell him. “I might get the urge to take off my dress and jump in the pool. But if I do, I’m taking you with me this time.”

His smile holds the promise of forever. “Sounds like a plan, Cherry.”