Page 62 of The Game Plan

“Hey,” I say to his chest.

Dex presses his lips to my crown. “Cherry. You all right?”

No. Not at all. My eyes burn and prickle. I hug him tighter, breathe him in. “I’m just... really glad to see you, Ethan.”

His chest lifts and falls on a breath, and his husky voice rumbles over me. “I missed you too, Fiona.”

Dex

Despite the fact that I play professional football for a living, I’m not a violent man. I solve problems with my mind, notmy fists. I tell myself this as I tuck Fi against my side while we take a cab to her apartment. She’s trembling, her delicatehand roaming over my torso as if she needs to pet me to keep herself grounded.

It slays me. The need to pound into someone, something,anything, surges through me in waves that I tap down by burrowing my nose in Fi’s fragrant hair and breathing in deep.

Women have nice-smelling hair; that’s a given. But something about Fi’s scent just does it for me. Pheromones. A basic biologicallure that hooks one person to another. One whiff of Fi, and I’m both hard and utterly content.

“You’re here,” she whispers. “I can’t believe you’re really here.”

I take another deep breath before I speak in a low voice, trying to coax her out. “What happened, Cherry?”

She stiffens against me, and I grind my teeth. If someone hurt her... Yeah, I’ll be resorting to violence. But then shesighs and her fingers drift over my chest, finding my nipple and stroking it over the thin fabric of my shirt. I try to ignorethat touch as she tells me the whole tale.

The heartbreak in her voice tears at my own heart. She bleeds, I bleed. That’s just how it is now. Worse, I can’t fight thisfor her. I can’t go and pummel her shallow boss or her conniving coworker. I can only hold her tight, press my lips againsther head and let her talk.

“I just feel so...” She waves a hand as she struggles to find a word. “Angry. Hurt. Dejected. Yeah, that’s the prevalentemotion right now.”

With a sigh, she presses her nose against my chest. Her warm breath seeps through my shirt. Still, she plays with my nipple, twisting the little barbell I wear just enough to make me feel it in my balls.

My hips shift in reaction, but my mind is on trying to make this right. “Baby, I—”

She silences me with a look, her big green eyes luminous with unshed tears.

“Ethan, I know you want to fix this.” She gives me a watery smile. “Don’t look so shocked. I know you better than you think.”

“I’m not shocked.”I kind of love how easily she reads me.“I admit it. I want to take your pain and make it better.”

Stretching up, Fi kisses my jaw. My beard makes it impossible for me to feel more than the pressure of her lips. I want more.I want to imprint her on my skin. I turn toward her and lower my head.

I kiss her softly, tenderly, wanting her to know how precious she is.

Fi smiles against my lips. “You want to make it better, Big Guy? When we get upstairs, make me forget the world for a littlewhile.”

The cab pulls up in front of her apartment. I thread my fingers through her hair, holding it secure. “Cherry, that was alwayspart of the plan.”

Twenty-Two

Fiona

Born of the desperate need to keep our hands off each other, Dex and I stand on opposite sides of the elevator going up tomy apartment. The main deterrent to any shenanigans is the fact that Mrs. Flannery, my sixty-something widowed neighbor, standsbetween us.

She stares straight ahead, her crimson-painted lips twitching. It’s as if she knows exactly how much Dex and I are itchingto touch each other, which wouldn’t surprise me since her sex life is far more active than mine has been until now. I’ve caughther in many an elevator embrace. Honestly, the woman is my sexcapade hero.

Over her head, Dex’s eyes meet mine. The heated look he sends makes my breath quicken. But then he pushes it over the edge;he makes a total goofball—crossed eyes, pointed tongue—face at me.

It’s gone in a flash, but so very un-Dex-like that I snort down a laugh. My eyes water as I try to contain it.

Mrs. Flannery glances at me. “You coming down with a cold, dear?”

Coughing over a snicker, I clear my throat and stand straight. “I might be.”

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