Page 58 of The Game Plan

Crossing the dining hall, I drop my tray on the table and wrap her up in my arms.

“Good morning,” she manages, before I kiss the ever-loving daylights out of her. She laughs and wraps her arms around my neck. “What’s that for?”

“Never take this off,” I tell her seriously. I kiss her again, and she opens for me readily.

“Get a room,” Greg says, rudely interrupting us.

“Go to hell.”

“Already there,” he says, and Sam frowns.

“Honey…”

But she’s not talking to me; she’s talking to him.

“I’m fine. It’s fine,” he says, even though it’s clearly not. “Can we not do this now?”

She untangles herself from me to pat his shoulder. “Whatever you need.”

“Thanks.”

He tucks into his breakfast, and Sam watches him for a few moments before she turns back to me.

“So you like me wearing your sweatshirt?”

“I’m having some thoughts that are very not appropriate for the dining hall,” I confess, dipping my head to kiss her again.

Sam laughs, and it’s like waking up early and seeing the sunrise, pale gold turning the world a brilliant bright white. Everything is a little bit magical.

My stomach growls, shattering the moment. She kisses me one last time and then gently shoves me away.

“Breakfast first,” she tells me. We take our usual seats opposite one another.

“What do you have on the agenda today?”

She sighs. “Class, more class, studying for my poli sci midterm, practice, and then our study session.” She meets my eyes. “We’re still on for seven?”

“Why don’t we have dinner first and then study at my place?”

Sam laughs. “Because we would never study. We would be too busy getting busy.”

My face heats up. Barrett coughs, reminding me our conversation is far more public than I’d like it to be. “We can study. We’ll sit at the kitchen table.”

“If you think we won’t get distracted,” she concedes.

I’m offended by the insinuation that I can’t manage to multitask around her. Although some days it certainly feels that way when she’s nearby, I don’t actually have a one-track mind. I’m perfectly capable of maintaining rational thought around her. I want her for more than sex.

Although the sex is pretty damn fantastic. It’s never been like this before. There’s an itch under my skin I can’t quite scratch. My cock kicks in my jeans just thinking about last night and my face goes red.

The few girls I’ve been with were never interested in me. They were hooking up with a football player; they didn’t care whose name was on the jersey, just that I wore one. Their enthusiasm was clearly forced. Some of them didn’t manage to get off, and the ones who did, did it all on their own.

Not only did Sam let me help, she enjoys it, if the sounds she makes are any indication. As much as I love being inside her, I enjoy getting her off more. I’ll do whatever it takes to help her get off as many times as she can physically manage.

Tonight I want to go down on her. We haven’t gotten to that step yet. It’s been on my bucket list—yes, I have a sex bucket list.

I never imagined it could be like this. Having someone who wants me, who wants to be with me… I know it’s only been a few days, we’re definitely still in the honeymoon period, but I don’t care. I want to be with her. I’ll do whatever it takes.

Even if that means giving up football. Giving up my scholarship. Nobody deserves to be talked about in the way she was. Nobody deserves to be treated that way. I’d do it again, and again, and again.

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