The Game Plan (Game On, #3)(22)

Taking my time, I follow a path of small, new scars and rough patches. Her hands are torn up. “What have you been doing to yourself?”

She moves to pull away but I hold fast, catch her gaze with mine.

“Nothing bad,” she says, giving up on the little tug of war we’ve got going. “I’ve been…” Her plump cheeks flush. “I’ve been making furniture. I wear gloves for some things, but you have to have a feel for the wood.”

“Furniture?” I find myself smiling. “That’s… Well, it’s f*cking cool.”

Her color rises. “I haven’t really talked about it with anyone. It’s just something I do to relax. But I like it.”

“So those are hard-earned scars.” I hold up my own hand, knuckles swollen, nails cut to the quick so they won’t tear out during a scuffle.

She leans in closer to me. “Yeah. I guess they are.” Fi pauses. “I made Ivy and Gray’s kitchen table.”

I hadn’t been paying attention to the table then because Fi had been in the room, but I can recall it well enough. “That’s a substantial piece. Beautiful.” I look down at her, my chin resting near her cheek. “You should be proud.”

“Thanks.” Her voice is quiet, almost shy as she stares out at the sea.

She’s shared a confidence with me. One she obviously has trouble embracing. I don’t know if she did it to let me know I could trust her, or she simply found herself exposing a truth. Either way, it humbles me.

Fi’s soft, feminine warmth at my side is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. And I know I need to tell her everything if I have any chance of making her mine. I take a breath, smell the sweet mix of sage, eucalyptus, salt, and sun. “Fi…”

But she cuts me off. “I’ve heard there’s a creamery around here that sells cheese.”

I frown, my eyes staying on the scene before us. People are easy for me to read. Fi is no exception. I get her on a bone-deep level. The problem is, she reads me easily as well. I’m not used to that. No one ever really bothered before.

All day I’ve been expecting her to demand an explanation. But never once has she made mention of my cut-and-run. At first, I didn’t know what to make of it. Now I’m thinking she’s purposely avoiding it because she knows I’m struggling.

She moves to go, but I tug her back. “I know I f*cked up, leaving you this morning.” A cold sweat breaks out over my skin, and I swallow hard, run a hand through my hair, only to have my fingers snag because I have it all bound tight.

Cursing, I look out over the ocean. “I…”

“Hey.” She touches my arm, and I feel it at the base of my spine. “You don’t have to say anything.”

“Yeah, I do.” I force myself to face her.

“Is it the virgin thing?”

My breath halts.

But she doesn’t notice and keeps talking. “Because I don’t mind that. At all.”

Fuck if my cheeks aren’t burning. “You’re right, Gray does gossip more than a flock of old ladies.” I squeeze the back of my neck. “Yeah, technically, I guess I am. It’s not like I’m going around hiding it. I just don’t really mention it either.”

“Well, why should you? Your sex life isn’t anyone’s business.”

I look down at her. “I’d like it to be your business.”

She blushes at that. Sweet Fi who, by all accounts, doesn’t fluster easily. I love that I can make her blush, can leave her tongue-tied.

“Look,” I say, “I didn’t want to make this a big deal, but I thought I should tell you because I know there are guys who freak out when a girl doesn’t have experience and they weren’t informed, and—”

Fi’s mouth shuts me up. Her kiss is firm, as if she’s trying to tell me it’s okay, yet it’s also tender, which makes my entire body clench with some weird, uncomfortable emotion.

She lowers from her tiptoes and looks up at me with solemn eyes. Her slim, warm hand takes mine again. “I meant what I said; you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. But I can see that it bothers you. So if you want to tell me, Ethan, I’ll listen.”

The last thing I want to do is talk. But I take a deep breath and try. For her.





Chapter Ten





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.