The Game Plan (Game On, #3)(52)

“You started it.” He chuckles, the sound deep and yet light with ease.

We drink coffee under the covers, then he puts the cups aside so I can snuggle in close once more.

Despite our goofiness, or maybe because of it, a heavy weight settles under my ribs and a lump lodges in my throat.

I run my hand over his chest, the dusting of hair between his pecs tickling my palm. “When is your flight?” We didn’t get to the particulars last night. But I know he isn’t here for long. And, as much as I hate it, I have to go to work soon.

His chest lifts on a sigh. “In a few hours.”

“Oh.” I’d hoped for more. At least one more night.

Dex swallows hard and glances toward the window. Sunlight lines the curve of his cheek and glints gold on the tips of his lashes. “I should have waited until I had more time freed up.” He turns back to me. “But you were upset. I could hear it in your voice when we talked. So I jumped on a plane.”

My fingers spread wide over the center of his chest. He came for me. I’m always being left behind, and Dex will do that 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 the hard 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 bent low. 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 like I 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-distance relationship. I asked you to trust me to make it work. But the thought of constantly leaving you eats at me. I don’t want to.”

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 crawl toward 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 actually 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 lifted up and hauled onto his lap. Thick arms band around me, crushing me against 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 say anything. 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. “From the first moment I picked up a football, I’ve been dreaming about playing in the NFL. God, I wanted it so badly. The promise that one day I’d go pro kept me going through every dark hour.” His hand slows, climbing back up to my nape to rest. “Now that 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 want only one woman, the rest is just 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.”