The Game Plan (Game On, #3)(18)

Curled up under the covers, an e-reader still in hand, is Fi. She’s fast asleep, her golden hair spread out over my pillow.

For a second I look back at the door. Did I go into Fi’s room by accident? No. I’ve seen her room. It’s light and colorful and feminine.

Besides, my boots are in one corner, a pair of my jeans hanging off the back of the leather armchair next to the window.

My gaze wanders back to Fi, who looks tiny in the big bed. And I’m having a Goldilocks moment here, because I definitely feel like the bear who’s found his bed invaded.

Hell.

I tried to avoid thinking of her all night. She kissed Jaden. I don’t know why. It hadn’t looked involved. They’d been laughing, clearly goofing around. Still didn’t stop me from feeling as though a pole had been punched through my chest.

But her big, green eyes had held guilt and regret when she looked at me. So what could I say?

I don’t own Fi. I want her. I fear wanting her. But I don’t have a claim.

A soft snore leaves Fi’s lips, and she snuggles down farther in the bed.

Fi. In my bed.

Maybe I do have a claim.

I unbuckle my belt and slide my jeans off as quietly as possible. I’d wanted to take a shower. Now, I’m not risking leaving, only to find her gone when I return. I keep my shirt and underwear on, not trusting myself to be naked in a bed with Fi.

Turning off the light, I approach the empty side of the bed and slip beneath the covers.

Fi doesn’t wake up, but she turns my way, as if seeking me. Fuck it. I pull her against me, tucking her back to my front. And she settles in with a sleepy sigh. I let myself soak in her warm body, breathe the scent of her skin. She feels so damn good, my heart hurts.

I hold her closer, my arm around her narrow waist, my hand cupping her soft breast. It feels so right, everything in me relaxes. Yeah, I’m now horny, but exhaustion and the relief that Fi sought me out have the greater claim. I fall asleep before I even know it.





Chapter Eight





Fiona



It’s an awkward thing, waking up in a man’s bed when you don’t remember falling asleep, much less sleeping with the man. It’s even more awkward when you wake up alone.

Sunlight streams across my face, and I stretch my arms over my head. There’s a crick in my neck from reading too long in bed. I don’t know what crazy impulse pushed me to sneak into Dex’s room to wait for him. Clearly that didn’t go well.

Glancing at the rumpled spot beside me, I can tell he slept next to me. Damn if I can remember it though. It stings that he isn’t here now.

But that’s probably a good thing. I have morning breath, and my hair feels matted on one side. Skulking back to my room is like the walk of shame without the benefits of having enjoyed the night before. Yay hay.

A hot shower and cup of coffee don’t relieve my pissy mood. The house is utterly silent and empty, which kind of freaks me out. You’d think somebody would leave a note.

I’m back in my room, scrolling through social media on my phone and having visions of being stuck in some bad Twilight Zone episode where I find out every person I know has disappeared from the face of the Earth, when Dex appears at my door.

Just the sight of him has my skin tightening and my heart beating faster. And it doesn’t matter that I’m wearing an old t-shirt and yoga pants, or that I haven’t yet put makeup on. He looks at me, and I feel beautiful.

“Hey.” He leans against the doorway, his arms crossed over his broad chest. He offers me nothing more.

I slap my phone down on the bed. “Where the hell have you been? Where the hell is everyone else? And what the general hell?”

His wide mouth quirks, making his beard twitch. Yet those golden-green-blue eyes of his remain steady as ever, as if he can look straight into me. “I see someone is in a good mood.”

“Just peachy. I’d like to see how happy you’d be to wake up alone and wondering—” I snap my mouth shut. Stinking Dex, always making me say more than I want to say.

His smile grows, a slow curl of smoky heat. He pushes off from the door. His stride is measured, stalking, and it sets off a reaction in me, clenching my lower belly, igniting heat and an insistent throb between my legs.

The mattress creaks as he places a knee on it, crawling toward me. And, though I’ve been annoyed, I start to smile, even as my breathing goes light and fast. He smiles too, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

He doesn’t pause, just kisses me—soft, melting, and thorough. My hands touch his cheeks, the springy hairs of his beard brushing my palms. God, he tastes good, feels good. I slide my tongue over his and shiver.

Dex grunts deep in his throat and nips my lower lip, suckling it a little as if he’s hungry. Then he pulls back to look me in the eyes. “I left you alone this morning so I wouldn’t do that.”

My thumb glides over his lower lip, now slightly swollen from my kiss. “Do you honestly think I’d have minded?”

His lids lower a fraction as he studies my mouth, and the soft brush of his fingertips along my jaw follows. “I brought you bagels. Probably not as good as New York bagels, but they’re fresh.”

“Ethan,” I say softly. “You’re avoiding the question.”

He eases down next to me, resting his head on his hand. “Gray told me you kissed Jaden to help Ivy out.”