Page 42 of Biggest Player (Not Yours #2)

I can hardly think or catch my breath, and I remind myself to feel and stop thinking.

My hips move of their own accord, as if his dick were inside and not his tongue, seeking more ... more of the exquisite pleasure. The pain of waiting.

I let out another soft moan to urge him on, my body beginning to tremble with the intensity. Things quake. I try to make them stop, but they’re not cooperating.

Oh my God . . .

“Dex,” I whisper, my voice shaking too. “Please ...”

“Please what?” He looks up at me, eyes dark with desire.

I can’t say anything.

The sight of him with his face buried between my legs is enough in itself to send me over the edge. He holds my gaze as his tongue licks me, as his mouth sucks.

He’s just so fucking good at this ...

Too good.

I clench my inner muscles, knowing that the tension will make the orgasm stronger.

I am a tight coil ready to snap.

“J-Jeezus ...,” I mutter, grasping for his shoulders, fingers brushing his flesh.

Reach for his hair—it’s the only thing I can cling to other than the sheets.

My breath comes in short gasps as I strain toward my release.

Just when I think I can’t take it anymore, that coil inside me snaps like a rubber band.

I cry out, convulsing with the force of my orgasm.

Tremors.

Shivers.

Racks of delicious, pleasurable pain.

But Dex doesn’t stop. He keeps at it. Sucking. Licking. All the things to prolong my pleasure until I’m a limp, breathless mess. When he finally pulls away, I can barely move, lifeless and sated.

I find my voice. “Oh.”

Oh = oh my God.

Oh = orgasm.

He crawls up the bed and gathers me in his arms. When I’m finally able to move my arms, I wrap them around him and rest my head on his chest, listening to the beat of his heart. It’s steady but fast, thumping as wildly as mine.

His hand strokes my hair, his touch soothing and comforting.

He kisses me.

“You’re amazing,” I whisper, my voice still shaky.

“No, you are.”

I won’t argue with that.

I can feel him smiling as his warm breath caresses the crown of my head.

“Wanna know something?”

“Hmmm? You want to watch a sports movie because you’re not in the mood for a rom-com?” I joke, brain barely functioning at the moment.

Dex laughs. It rumbles in his chest.

His big, broad, beautiful chest.

“Literally not at all what I was gonna say.”

What was he going to say, then? “Hmm?”

“I, uh . . .”

I wait, shifting so I can glance up at him. But I don’t press—he seems to be struggling for the words, not that that’s unusual for him.

“I love you, Margot.”

What?

I move so I can sit up, so I can look him in the face. In the eyes.

Shock. Disbelief.

“What did you say?” I ask, voice barely a whisper.

Dex’s eyes meet mine, unwavering and sincere. “I love you, Margot,” he repeats, steady and resolute. Mostly. “I know we’ve only known each other a hot minute, but when I picture what a relationship and love should be like, I picture you. Is that weird?”

My head gives a shake. “No, it’s not weird. It’s ...”

Beautiful.

Nice.

Sweet.

And. True.

“I might not have pictured myself in a relationship with a professional football player. And we haven’t seen much of each other, but I think I can imagine myself as part of your life.” Whatever that looks like.

I mean, how hard can it be to attend football games and cheer him on? How hard can it be to splash around in his pool during the summer and hold his hand and go for ice cream, something he loves very much.

We’ve already had a few conflicts, and we worked them out.

“If you can tolerate Colton, I can tolerate Trent,” I tease, running a hand down his bare chest.

“I can tolerate that prick too.”

I laugh despite myself. “He’s not bad—he’s just butt hurt.”

“You mean jealous?”

I hate assigning feels to someone else but, “Yeah. I guess.”

“Don’t blame the poor bastard. He lost out on you, and now I’m going to be the best fucking boyfriend ever.” He kisses me on the forehead. “Wyatt is my new best friend.”

I shiver. “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“My ovaries bursting.”

Dex chuckles, his chest vibrating under my touch. “I have no idea what that even means.”

“It’s something a woman says when a cute guy gets her all hot and bothered, and she wants to, you know, make more babies.”

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Whoa whoa whoa. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“I’m kidding.” I kiss him below the chin. “I love you too.”

He snorts. “I was wondering when the hell you were going to say it back. I was getting worried—my testicles are about to shrivel up inside my body.”

We laugh as he adjusts us both so he can murmur against my lips. “I think we’re going to be just fine.”

I grin happily, resting my forehead against his. “I know. I’m excited,” I whisper.

As we settle back into each other’s arms, I feel the warmth of contentment spreading through me.

I begin rebuttoning my sleep shirt while he reaches for the remote on the bedside table.

“This dating stuff is so easy,” he boasts, clicking the television on. It’s massive, anchored to the wall opposite the bed, and comes to life almost instantaneously.

“You think so?” I roll my eyes.

Of course he thinks it’s easy. He has it made.

I’m amazing.

My kid is awesome.

I’m fun. Smart. Cute.

I don’t exactly think it’s going to be a cakewalk 100 percent of the time, but I think I’ll be able to hold my own with him, and he with me—as long as we treat each other with respect.

“I do.” Dex hesitates. “I mean, how could it not be? I get to date the most incredible woman ever.”

“True.” I laugh playfully, swatting at his chest and leaning into him. “You’re just saying that because my daughter thinks you’re Thor.”

He catches my hand, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. “Well, yeah, the hero worship is a definite bonus,” he admits. “But I’m serious, Margot. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. God, listen to me. Gross. I make me want to vomit in my helmet.”

Oh Lord. He’s so dramatic.

Still. His praise melts my little heart, and I lean in to kiss him softly. “You make everything feel right too,” I whisper against his lips. “I love you.”

He kisses me deeply. Open-mouth kisses that are wet. Hot.

I can feel the intensity of his emotions in the way he kisses me, in the way his body responds to mine.

When we finally break apart, we’re both breathless. His hand caresses my spine, up and down ... up and down, lazily.

“I love you too.”