Page 82 of The Game Plan

I want to soak it all in, but Dex is on a mission, leading me along with purposeful steps.

“Not hungry?” I tease as we pass through.

He glances back at me, heat and need in his eyes. “Not for food.” He wrinkles his nose. “Christ, that was cheesy, wasn’t it?”

I laugh. “It was cute.”

“Cute,” he repeats. “Just what every guy wants to be called.” He hesitates at the doorway leading out of the kitchen. “Areyou hungry? I should have asked. I’ve—”

“Not for food,” I tell him. Because I can be cheesy too.

That has him picking up his pace. We take a set of stairs to the top floor. His bedroom overlooks the courtyard. And the dimlight from the outside lanterns slants through the massive paned windows, half covered by louvered shutters. There isn’t muchin here, just a big club chair, a dresser and a king bed with a padded leather headboard.

I smell the pine of the floorboards, the spicy scent of Ethan’s skin. It’s warm and quiet in his room. Quiet enough to hearhis soft breaths and the steady pounding of my heart. He stands before me, so big and present; I feel his warmth even thoughwe’re not yet touching.

Slowly, he reaches up and slides off my damp cardigan. Gentle fingers ease the strap of my sundress down. When my breast popsfree, he moves to the other side, pulling the strap until the other is exposed. Ethan has seen me naked, licked and suckedevery inch of me, but standing here now, on display for him, makes me so hot. I struggle to catch my breath.

It grows erratic when he gives a little hum of satisfaction and runs the tips of his fingers across my nipples. Back and forth, barely touching them. God. I fight the urge to arch intohis touch, because it’s hotter to hold back, to let him fondle me while my nipples grow stiff and achy.

He circles them, worrying the tips with the rough pads of his fingers, and then, without warning, pinches—pulling until mybreasts stretch—before letting go.

My breasts bob back into place, and I whimper, my knees going weak.

“I had this whole seduction thing planned,” he whispers as he plays with me, stroking, tweaking. It’s almost lewd the wayhe handles me as if I’m his plaything, except it’s reverent too. “But I don’t think I can wait.”

I lick my dry lips. I’m close to coming now, and he’s only touching my tits. “Don’t wait,” I say.

His gaze catches mine. In the shadows, he looks so serious, almost fierce. But I know that expression. It’s need. Strong andpure. Just like him. I lift his damp sweater over his head and wrap my arms around his neck. The press of his warm skin againstmine makes us both groan. With a sigh, I kiss the hollow of his throat. That’s all it takes.

Soft bedding surrounds me, and Ethan’s hard body covers mine. There’s no more talking.

Twenty-Eight

Fiona

Sweat-slick and limp with exhaustion, I lie draped over Ethan’s naked body. I love that he’s so big not an inch of me hangsover the edges of him. Even so, his arm wraps loosely around my waist, holding me secure as if he’s afraid I’ll fall. Hisfingers trace random patterns on my back.

“How do you want to handle this?” I ask him.

His body tenses, so I know he understands my question. “Nothing to handle. I’ll just make no comment, and it will go away.”

I lift my head so I can rest my chin on his chest. “I hate to say this, but I’m not sure it will go away all that quickly.Maybe... Well, why don’t you just tell them you’re with me?”

“No.” He practically shouts the word, his lips flattening.

My heart caves in as if it’s been stomped. “You don’t want to tell people about us?”

Instantly, he cups my cheek, his eyes going wide. “Shit, Fi, I didnotmean I was ashamed or wanted to hide it. I mean there is no way in hell I’m bringing you into a media shitshow.”

“That really should be my decision. Especially if it helps you. And I want to help you, Ethan.”

With a sigh, he flops his head back on the pillows and stares up at the ceiling, his hand still stroking my cheek.

“Thank you for that, Cherry. But I can’t...” He takes a ragged breath. “Don’t ask me to agree to that. I couldn’t takeseeing them tear you apart.” He glances down at me, his eyes now golden-green in the lamplight. “Please.”

“All right,” I say with reluctance. “For now. But I swear, if a bunch of crazy women start stalking you, I’m stepping in.”

A slow smile curls over his firm lips. “Kind of love you being all possessive, Fi.”