Page 68 of The Game Plan

My fingers spread wide over the center of his chest. He came for me. I’m always being left behind, and Dex will dothat too, but he also dropped everything and came here for me. No one has ever done that.

The lump within my throat grows. “Thank you,” I whisper. “I... you...” I take a ragged breath and press my lips to thehard plane of his chest. “It means a lot, Ethan.”

He doesn’t answer, but I can feel him nod. The room goes silent, awkward and heavy with the weight of his eventual departure.

Dex takes a deep breath and rolls away from me, sitting up at the edge of the bed, his shoulders hunched and his head bentlow. He doesn’t say anything, just stays quiet, his profile drawn tight with a frown.

“What is it?” I ask, sitting up as well.

He doesn’t stir, and for a second, I think he hasn’t heard me. Then his frown deepens. “I don’t want to tell you.”

“What?” I squeak, shocked and offended. “So the whole, ‘you can tell me anything’ speech only applies to me baring my soul?Great. Lovely.”

He winces. The thick muscles along his back bunch and flex as he runs his hands through his loose hair. “I don’t feel likeI have a right to, Fi.” His voice lowers to a rumble. “I hate this.”

The words send my heart thudding against my ribs. “Hate this?”

“Leaving you,” he says, waving an arm toward the door. A sigh gusts from his lips. “I know I’m the one who pushed for a long-distancerelationship. I asked you to trust me to make it work. But the thought of constantly leaving you eats at me. I don’t wantto.”

The bed creaks as he half turns and his eyes find mine. His expression is sad, troubled. “I hate how I found you in pain.The idea that you have to face this shit alone just...” He bites his lower lip and shakes his head. “Fucking sucks, Fi.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of my mouth as I crawltoward him. His skin is hot and smooth, and I press my breasts against his back, wrapping my arms around his waist to soak up all that wonderful heat.

Dex immediately puts his hand over mine, his touch almost needy.

“I know,” I say, my lips gliding over his skin. “I don’t want you to go either.”

He shivers, as if his entire body is protesting the thought, and his grip on my hand tightens. But he doesn’t say anything,simply holds on.

Sadness sinks into my bones, weighing me down. “This...” I clear my throat. “This is why I tried to stay away.”

Dex stills, his body going rigid. I hear him swallow, feel the ripple of his muscles. “You want to call it quits?”

I can’t breathe. My ribs hurt, as if they’ve clamped down over my heart. “Is that what you want?” I ask in a small voice.

I forget how quick Dex can be. I barely see him turn before I’m hauled onto his lap. Thick arms band around me, crushing meagainst a solid, wide chest. A soft whisper of chest hairs tickles my nose.

“No,” he nearly shouts, then calms. “No, Cherry.” Gently, he kisses the top of my head. “This is why I didn’t want to sayanything. I’m just feeling selfish and petulant.”

I smile against his chest and snuggle in closer. “I’m feeling a little that way myself. It’s okay, baby.”

Dex grunts, but his hold turns softer, petting me now instead of clutching. His big calloused hand runs down my back. “Fromthe first moment I picked up a football, I’ve been dreaming about playing in the NFL. God, I wanted it so badly. The promisethat one day I’d go pro kept me going through every dark hour.” His hand slows, climbing back up to my nape to rest. “Nowthat I’m here...” He shakes his head. “It’s a lonely life, Fi. They never tell you that.”

“What?” I quip, my voice thick. “It isn’t all fast cars and willing women?” Women I will punt if I catch them touching my man.

I can almost feel him smile and wonder if he knows the direction of my thoughts. “If you only want one woman, the rest isjust noise.”

He gets a kiss on his big pec for that, and his little nipple draws tight in response.

I’m tempted to play with it, torture him a bit. But his words give me pause.

“I just... I thought I’d be happier at this point,” he says. “Content, maybe.”

Lifting my head, I meet his troubled gaze. It would be so easy to encourage him to quit. I can feel it in my skin. Part ofhim wants that prompt, for me to give him a reason.

The power I have over him hurts my heart. It might unnerve me except that I suspect he has a similar power over me.

I could do it, tell him to quit, to try something that doesn’t put him at risk of concussions and spinal injuries, that doesn’tsend him away from me every week. I could have all of him without having to compete with football.