Page 50 of Game Day

“I know you hate finding out you can’t do everything yourself on your terms, but it’s kind of endearing,” I murmur.

“Oh yeah?” He cocks his head.

“Mhmm.”

My ribs ache as I cup his face. “We’ll find the perfect house together. And as for feeling like home…” My lips brush across his. “You’ve always been my home, Clay. Since before I knew I was missing one.”

He rests his forehead against mine, throat working. “You’re it for me, Pink. I would trade everything I’ve done in this life for a single day as your husband.”

He’s kissing me now, with the kind of lazy possession that makes my knees weak.

I love him, and I want him. There’s nothing like being alone with this man. No matter how complicated the world is outside, he’s everything I need.

He reaches under my top, his hand brushing the mesh of my bra. "What is this?"

"A gift from Brooke."

I lift my shirt and he takes me in, exhaling hard. His hands sit on my hips, refusing to budge as I work the leggings down.

A mirror in the corner shows me a glimpse of us. The fabric covers exactly nothing—my nipples and a tiny patch between my thighs.

A bolt of lightning illuminates the cabin, and Clay takes in the number. His name. His brows rise under the damp fall of his hair.

"You're so fucking sexy. If you knew how weak you make me."

I love the way he wants me. It’s like being caught in a raging fire, burning up until I’m part of the same flames consuming me.

His breath fans my face as he pulls back an inch. “The guys’ll find somewhere to crash until the rain is over." Clay’s fingers thread into my hair, angling my face. "You, on the other hand, won't be going anywhere.”

"That doesn't sound like something a good man would say to his fiancée,” I tease.

"No. It's something a desperate man would say to his wife."

He throws me over his shoulder, and I shriek as he tosses me on the top bunk and follows me up.He bends over me, pressing his lips lightly to my collarbone.His kisses fall across my skin, each one startlingly gentle.

His hair is damp from the lake, and mine is from the rain.

I shiver, and he wraps a blanket around us, then starts down my body.

"Mrs. Wade."

"Brooke's idea," I murmur.

"Remind me to thank her for that." His lips skip across my breast. Then close on the peak through the fabric.

The sensation is exquisite. Pleasure tightens through me, a velvet rope pulling tight. He's a puppet master with that mouth, those hands, and I'm dancing on his strings.

“I love seeing my name on you. Knowing it’s going to be your name too.” His touch skims down between my thighs where his number rests. It’s blatant possession, a marking of his territory.

He brushes along the edge of the scrap of fabric, rubbing the string along my wet slit.

Clay presses where I'm soaked. He sinks inside, filling me with first one thick digit then two. "Ride my fingers."

I couldn't say no if I tried. My body needs him, and the way he's looking at me, not with possession but total adoration, I can't deny him anything.

"That's it, Pink," he murmurs against my ear, brushing the hair from my damp face. "You're so beautiful. Best fucking part of my life."

My chest expands with longing, and love.

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