Page 14 of The Game Plan (Game On #3)

Fiona

Babbling, blushing Dex is new. It’s almost cute, the way this big, burly guy who could easily lift me over his head and spin

me with one hand becomes all flustered.

Except I don’t like that he’s obviously upset. So, I don’t smile. I simply hold his hand and wait for him to talk.

Because I know he will. Though he’s a virgin—which, holy hell, I cannot believe this gorgeous giant is untouched—and he might

be quiet, Ethan Dexter is the most forthright man I’ve ever known. I’m used to guys who fake their way through life with false

bravado and grand boasts. Ones that, when cornered, lash out. Or guys who lie about uncomfortable truths.

But Dex? No, he just takes a breath and admits that he’s a twenty-four-year-old virgin. Again, the thought ripples over me,

and I find myself more than a little turned on over the prospect of being the only girl to have him, to see him come. Hot

damn, I want to witness strong, silent Ethan break apart and lose his mind.

Suppressing a shiver of lust, I lean in closer under the pretense of letting his big body block the wind, when really, I just want to surround myself in his warmth and delicious scent.

Dex tugs my hand, and we sit on a wide, flat boulder that’s tucked under a little crook on the hillside. Tall, fragrant grasses,

buffeted by wind, ripple, and the sunlight grows warm on my skin.

The corners of Dex’s eyes crease in a frown as he stares at his hands on his massive thighs. Then he reaches into his back

pocket and pulls out his wallet to remove an old laminated photo. He doesn’t look at the picture he hands to me.

“I met Drew and Gray at a football summer camp during my junior year in high school.” He clears his throat. “I’m the one on

the left.”

He doesn’t need to clarify. There are three guys in the picture. Wearing dirt-stained uniforms, they have their arms slung

over each other and are smiling for the camera.

I notice Gray straightaway. He’s the tallest, his hair bleached pale blond by the sun, and he’s grinning extrawide as if he’s

on top of the world. Drew, the one in the middle, is a quarterback and Ivy’s client now. I got to know him well when she and

Gray married. He was Gray’s best man, and I was maid of honor. He’s model cute—even then—with light brown hair and eyes and

a crooked, almost sly smile. Then there’s Dex.

If it wasn’t for those serious, beautiful hazel eyes of his, I might not have recognized him. He isn’t wearing a beard—not

surprising, given that this is high school—and his smooth cheeks are plump and round. Dex is plump and round. Oh, you can

see the beginnings of the massive muscles he has now, but high school Dex had yet to shed his baby fat.

His smile is more reserved than his two friends’, cautious almost, but I see the joy in his eyes. He loved being at this camp.

Clearly loved his two friends as well.

“I was always a chubby kid,” he says in a low voice. “You know, the big guy who looked like he’d been held back a couple of grades when he stood next to the rest of the class.”

Lump in my throat, I nod.

“Girls never noticed me.” Dex takes back the photo when I offer it to him and puts it away. “Not until junior high when I

started to play football, and then only in a ‘Hey, good game, Dexter,’ sort of way.”

He stares out at the ocean. “They noticed me in high school, though. Made the varsity team freshman year. Went All-American

senior year.” He shrugs. “I was still more fat than muscle, but the cheerleaders were all about giving players the love. And

that included me.”

Well, why wouldn’t they? Dex is awesome. And I seriously doubt he’s changed much since his childhood.

“I fooled around some. Thing is, I knew they were only into me because I was on the team.”

“Why would you think that?” I can’t help asking.

He gives me a look that says get real . “Outside of my high school circle, not one girl gave me the time of day. Ever. And...” He scratches his beard. “One of

them admitted it. She told me, ‘Don’t worry, Dexter, we’ll take care of you. You’re on the team, after all.’?”

“Bitch.”

His mouth quirks. “Just honest, I guess. Anyway, after that, I didn’t want to mess around. I kept to myself. Hell if I was

going to be with a girl who wanted me just because I played football.”

“Okay, but what about college? There are lots of girls in college who aren’t shitty little shits.”

Dex snorts at that, and his eyes crinkle. But it quickly fades, and he grows pale beneath his tan. “By the second year of

college, I’d lost the fat and felt a bit more... confident. But then...” He blows out a breath and braces his elbows

on his knees.

“Ethan.” I touch his back and find his long-sleeve shirt damp with sweat. “What happened?”

His large hands clench into fists. “I’m not proud of this part.”

My stomach tightens, but I keep my palm firm against his body. “It’s okay.” I really don’t know if it is, but don’t know what

else to say to reassure him.

“So... I... uh... Spring break sophomore year, a bunch of us from the team headed down to Mexico. It was wild. Girls

everywhere. Sex everywhere. I’d never seen anything like it. Our season was over, we’d won our first National Championship

and we were treated like gods.”

His shoulders go so tense, his body is like granite beneath my hand. A fine shiver works over him, and I rub his back, desperate

to calm him down. When he speaks, his voice is rough and rusty.

“First night out, we all got completely drunk, smoked some pot. I’d never tried it before, and it hit me hard. We’re at this

party, and two girls come up to me. They’re wearing nothing but these tiny little bikinis and are so fucking eager to please

me. That’s not even it. These girls, it’s like they want to outdo each other by being as wild and willing as they can.”

Yeah, I know the type well. Growing up around athletes, I knew those women even when I was too young to understand what sex

was. My dad, who was an NBA star before he was an agent, fucked those types of women and ruined his marriage.

The feminist in me wants to say it’s the men taking advantage and using women like disposable sex toys. But the truth is far

more muddy, because some women are more than willing to play that role. In fact, they compete for the chance to be used.

“I was drunk and high enough not to care,” Dex says slowly, as if every word is being dragged out of him.

“Next thing I know, all three of us are in a back room, one of them is sucking on my cock—though I’m so far gone I can barely feel it—and the other has her tits in my face.

And I’m thinking finally, finally . But it also feels kind of off.

“Then one of them starts begging me to get down and dirty with her, says she loves it ‘dirty.’ Fuck if I know what that means,

but then she’s on all fours, telling me to fuck her in the ass.”

Dex pauses, runs a hand over his face. He looks so ravaged, I don’t want him to go on. And yet I do, because if he trusts

me enough to tell me his secrets, I’m going to listen to them.

“I was a virgin. What the fuck did I know about doing that? But the other one is coaxing me, ‘Do it to her. Let me see you

fuck her. Oh, that would be so hot, baby.’?” He shudders. “We were all wasted, stupid. I don’t... I remember trying to

get inside her, and it chafed, wasn’t comfortable. But the one chick watching was kind of chanting, ‘Give it to her good.’

And the other, the one I’m, you know, trying to... She’s shouting, ‘Come on, get it in already.’ But my mind’s wondering,

isn’t she supposed to be wet and slick?”

I feel sick, hearing his tale, twisted and sad. When he lowers his head and clears his throat, I want to cry and hold him

tight. But I don’t move, don’t want to break whatever spell he’s under that’s allowing him to talk—because he clearly needs

to get this out.

“Then it was kind of slick. I looked down and... there was blood... on my...” A ragged breath tears out of him. “I

saw that, and everything just kind of began to spin. I threw up. They left, shouting names at me, saying I was a bad fuck

even for a football player... shit like that. But the girl I’d...”

Wide eyes the colors of earth and sea look up at me. “She acted as though she liked it. Wanted me to do that to her. Why?

I made her bleed. Why would she want that? Because she wanted to claim a football player did that with her?”

“Ethan.” I don’t hesitate now to pull him close. He’s stiff with resistance, but his head rests on my shoulder, his breath coming out in agitated puffs.

“I couldn’t do it after that. It felt so ugly. Tainted. What I did, it wasn’t right.”

“No.” My palms cup his cheeks, and I lift his head to look into his eyes. “You got pulled into a bad scene. People do stupid

things when they’re wasted.”

He tries to shake his head. “If I’d been more experienced, I’d have known enough to say no. Or get some...” His cheeks

pink. “Lube or something.”

“Yeah? And what about that girl? If I asked a guy to do that, you better believe I’d demand some lube.”

Not that I’ve done anal before. But facts are facts.

“Look,” I say when it’s clear he’s going to argue, “you were stupid. She was stupid.”

His hands wrap around my wrists as he looks me in the eye. “I didn’t mean it to come out as a sob story. Logically, I know

all this. But I remember, and I feel ashamed. After that, I just couldn’t tune out those thoughts. I couldn’t do casual sex.

A relationship would be all right. But I don’t want someone who wants me because of what I do instead of who I am.”

My heart sinks a little. “Dex, we can’t have a relationship. You live in New Orleans, and I live in New York.”

His eyes drill into me. “I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you, Cherry. You say what you mean and don’t filter it...”

I wince. “I’ve been working on my filters.”

He flashes a quick, tender smile. “It’s a good quality. I trust you. I’m insanely attracted to you. I want to fuck you. I

want to know you. I want to be with you. If you want all that from me too, I won’t let something as small as inconvenient

living locations get in the way.”

Holy hell. I can’t even speak.

Letting my wrists go, he searches my face, his expression almost stern. “I want you badly enough to put all my cards on the table, show who I really am. I guess it’s your play now. I’ll understand if what I said turns you off and you’d rather end this.”

His lips press tight, as if he’s forcing himself to say no more, but his eyes never leave mine.

My fingers reach out, trace the corner of his mouth where his beard frames it, just like the first time I touched him. “I

think, Ethan, I want you more now than before. But a relationship? I have to think about it. Okay?”

He blinks. Then the corner of his luscious mouth curls upward, his gaze going hot as melted chocolate. “Just say the word

and you can have me, Fiona.”