Page 51 of The Game Plan

“I will.” She presses a feather-soft kiss to my lips. I want to deepen it, want to roll over and press her beneath me, want to feel the length of her body pressed against mine. I do none of that. Now isn’t the time. Instead I leave a kiss on her forehead and pull the blankets up around her.

“Go to sleep, baby.”

She falls asleep with a smile on her face.

Chapter eighteen

Sam

Iwakeuptoa thick steel pipe pressing against my ass. Rolling over, I’m confronted by Miles’s sleep-slack face. His palm is under his cheek as he breathes rhythmically in and out. He looks younger like this. Peaceful. He’s so fucking gorgeous, I want to wrap him up in my arms and never let him go. How has nobody else snatched this guy up?

Trying not to wake him up, I attempt to slip out of his arms. He makes a noise and pulls me deeper into him, molding my body to his.

“Miles.”

He makes a sleepy questioning noise.

“I need to get up.”

“No. ’S too early,” he says, not opening his eyes.

“I need to pee.”

He whines deep in his throat and releases me. I use the bathroom and crawl back into bed. He wastes no time in tugging me into him. My back aligns perfectly to his front. It’s like we were made to fit together.

“Good morning,” he sighs, his breath ruffling against my hair.

“Morning.”

“Go back to sleep.”

We doze for—a few hours? I’m not really quite sure. I’m wrapped up in the warm embrace of his arms. Just being with him is relaxing. Curled up in bed, snuggling together… it doesn’t get any better than this.

Noise in the house wakes me up a little after nine. His roommates thunder down the stairs as they go about their day. Miles whines and tucks my head under his chin. His massive hand travels from my hip to my stomach, his thumb brushing the underside of my breast.

Instantly I’m awake. Parts of me that have long gone dormant perk right back up.

Arching my back brings me into direct contact with his erection. Miles lets out a low groan. His hips flex up, pressing into my backside.

“We can’t,” he murmurs.

“Why?”

He grinds into me. “I haven’t taken you out on a date yet. I want to do this right.”

I move away, and he grunts his disapproval. Once I have enough space to maneuver, I try ineffectually to push him onto his back. He rolls over, and I crawl on top of him, straddling him. This brings us into intimate contact, and we both make a noise of approval.

My borrowed t-shirt has ridden up my thighs. He hesitates before setting his hands on my legs. I move his hands higher still, beneath the fabric barrier.

“We don’t need to wait for an arbitrary number of dates. I like you, you like me. This isn’t rocket science.” I run my fingers up his chest, covered by the thick fabric of his sweatshirt.

His fingers flex into my thighs. “You deserve a date. A nice date.”

“So we’ll go on a date,” I tell him. “But don’t make me wait.”

The first kiss is a little timid. His morning breath is sleep sour. I don’t care. I lick into his mouth, and he responds to me eagerly. His cock twitches beneath me, sending a rush of blood to my clit. I want to learn the ridges and veins of his cock with my tongue. I want to know what that thick length will feel like inside of me. I want it all.

He doesn’t make any move to touch me. He doesn’t try to get my panties off. It’s like he’s content to stay here and make out. It’s surprisingly refreshing. Most college guys are just trying to rush to the finish line. Instead he’s savoring this.

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