The Game Plan
Page 18

“Hey.” He leans against the doorway, his arms crossed over his broad chest. He offers me nothing more.
I slap my phone down on the bed. “Where the hell have you been? Where the hell is everyone else? And what the general hell?”
His wide mouth quirks, making his beard twitch. Yet those golden-green-blue eyes of his remain steady as ever, as if he can look straight into me. “I see someone is in a good mood.”
“Just peachy. I’d like to see how happy you’d be to wake up alone and wondering—” I snap my mouth shut. Stinking Dex, always making me say more than I want to say.
His smile grows, a slow curl of smoky heat. He pushes off from the door. His stride is measured, stalking, and it sets off a reaction in me, clenching my lower belly, igniting heat and an insistent throb between my legs.
The mattress creaks as he places a knee on it, crawling toward me. And, though I’ve been annoyed, I start to smile, even as my breathing goes light and fast. He smiles too, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
He doesn’t pause, just kisses me—soft, melting, and thorough. My hands touch his cheeks, the springy hairs of his beard brushing my palms. God, he tastes good, feels good. I slide my tongue over his and shiver.
Dex grunts deep in his throat and nips my lower lip, suckling it a little as if he’s hungry. Then he pulls back to look me in the eyes. “I left you alone this morning so I wouldn’t do that.”
My thumb glides over his lower lip, now slightly swollen from my kiss. “Do you honestly think I’d have minded?”
His lids lower a fraction as he studies my mouth, and the soft brush of his fingertips along my jaw follows. “I brought you bagels. Probably not as good as New York bagels, but they’re fresh.”
“Ethan,” I say softly. “You’re avoiding the question.”
He eases down next to me, resting his head on his hand. “Gray told me you kissed Jaden to help Ivy out.”
My shoulders tense. “I swear Gray gossips more than a flock of old ladies at a cotillion. Where are he and Ivy anyway?”
“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.