Page 37 of The Game Plan

He ignores Ivy’s request and keeps on. “You never told me you could sing like that! Jesus, I don’t know what to think aboutanymore. My honey knows she’s the worst dancer in the world, and Dex is like a fucking rock god.”

That earns him a slap on the head from Ivy and an eye roll from me. “I’m not that good.”

I’m all too aware of Fi at my side. She’s warm and soft and leaning against my shoulder in total trust.

I’m going to fuck her. The thought is a stark declaration splashed across my mind. It’s all I can do not to burst out of myskin. My heart is beating a frantic, anxious pace, and my dick is throbbing against my leg with impatient need. He wants out and in. I take a breath, ignore his demands.

“I’m just a mimic.”

“A mimic?” Fi asks. Her face flashes in and out of view as we speed past light posts.

“Yeah. I can sing all right, but I basically pretended to be Dan Auerbach up there, used his style and intonations.” I shrug.It was no big deal. So I sounded a bit like the lead singer of The Black Keys. It was fun. “It’s easy being someone else upthere.”

Fi looks me over, her gaze penetrating. “And yet you loved it, didn’t you?”

I find myself grinning, remembering the powerful surge of energy and joy that had gone through me, knowing I was entertainingher. “Yeah,” I say quietly, “I did.”

And because I suddenly feel exposed, the car too quiet, I call up to Ivy, “Hey, what happened to the Fiat?”

Ivy and Gray met when Gray borrowed her tinypinkFiat. The guys had gotten a lot of laughs and given him endless shit when he squeezed his ass into that car.

Ivy’s nose wrinkles with a grin. “Still have her. I don’t think I’ll ever let her go.”

“You’d better not,” Gray says. “That’s our car of love.”

Beside me, Fi makes a gagging face, sticking her finger in her mouth as if she wants to vomit. I chuckle and settle down closerto her, taking her slim hand in mine.

“Anyway,” Ivy drawls, her smile still in place. “When Leo was born, I thought it better to have a family car.”

“And I told her it would be over my left nut that we’d get a minivan.” Gray makes a face.

Ivy pats his knee. “And because I like his nuts—”

“Aaandwe’re done,” Fi cuts in.

Thank God. The wordnutscalls attention to my own. They’re aching now.

The car’s gone quiet again. Gray turns up the stereo and drives. Which leaves me cocooned in darkness next to Fi. The lazy tones of Flunk drift over us, and my awareness becomes the soft breaths she takes. Her scent grows stronger—girly shampoo and a faint musk I realize, with a kick to the gut, is arousal.

I’m going to fuck her. I probably should phrase it nicer—make love to her or worship her body with my dick. Something likethat. But I’m fairly certain my first time will be straight-up hard and frantic fucking. I just pray I can last more thana minute. That I can satisfy her.

Fear that I won’t makes my chest clench. I want to please Fi. More than please her. I want her to forget every guy who camebefore me. But aside from watching porn and reading up on certain techniques, I have all but zero applied experience, whichvastly lowers my chances of giving her maximum satisfaction.

Why did I wait all this time? I know full well how important it is to practice. I should have just stopped overthinking anddone it in college. Fucked my way past ignorance and accumulated some skills to do her right.

Fi’s thumb glides over my palm, barely a touch, but every nerve in my body seems to be tracking it. That tiny caress feelsbetter than anything I’ve known. I turn into that touch, burrow my nose in her hair. No one on Earth smells like Fi. No oneelse makes that particular sound when she breathes.

Suddenly, I’m glad I haven’t been with anyone else. I don’t want to touch anyone but her.

The tips of her fingers wander up my inner arm. Up and down. I feel the stroke like a phantom touch along the shaft of mycock. The weight of her stare has me realizing I’ve had my eyes squeezed shut, my teeth clenched so I don’t grab her hereand now, haul her onto my hard dick.

Releasing a breath, I meet her gaze. In the darkness of the car, her wide eyes gleam.

My breaths slow until I’m aware of every inhale, the way it stretches the muscles along my chest, how every measured exhale tightens my lower abs.

And still, she strokes me, her touch featherlight over my biceps, lingering at the knobby bone of my wrist.

Jesus.