The Game Plan (Game On, #3)(75)

“I know.” I should be more contrite, but I’m so f*cking happy she’s here. I can’t keep back my smile, can’t stop from touching her cheek.

She bats my hand away. “I’m serious. You…you hurt me. If you don’t want me, just say it now. Don’t hide behind some ridiculous claim of trying to protect me, because—”

I cup her smooth cheek and kiss her. Fi’s mouth moves against mine, shaping words—probably trying to tell me off. I keep kissing her soft and slow until she relaxes with a sigh. My fingers thread through her hair as I look down at her.

“You’re right. I was a dumbass. I’m sorry.” I nuzzle her cheek. “I was on my way to see you. To apologize.” To beg for another chance.

Her nose wrinkles in a dubious look. I kiss the tip of it, but she doesn’t relent. “I mean, how could you do that? And over Skype, Ethan!”

“I’m an *.” I keep my eyes steady on hers. “I was embarrassed, Fi. I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

Her voice is soft. “Like what?”

My skin goes uncomfortably tight, and my insides roll like there’s a lead weight falling through me. But I owe her the words. “All these women coming after me for the money. With pity in their eyes and dollar signs dancing in their heads.”

She’s quiet for a second. “I’m glad they don’t know what they’re missing,” she says low and fierce. “It means I have you all to myself.”

Closing my eyes, I press my forehead against the top of her head. “No one else ever stood a chance against you, Cherry.” Holding her close eases all the tight spaces inside me. “I panicked, and it hurt you. You have no idea how sorry I am for that.”

“Okay, then.” Her hand smoothes down my shirt. “I’m glad we had this talk.”

I can’t help giving her another quick kiss. It feels too good, even if I’m in the doghouse. “Can we get to the make-up sex now?” I ask, wanting to make her laugh. “I’ve heard good things.”

Thankfully, Fi laughs and gives my pec a little punch. “Yeah, I bet.” Her smile falls fast. “I need to tell you something first.”

Honestly, she could tell me she robbed a bank, and I’d say fine by me. But I keep my expression neutral, trying manfully not to grin like a fool. She’s here. She’s still mine. That’s all that matters.

“All right. Tell me what you did, Cherry.”

As soon as she gets whatever it is off her chest, I’m going to f*ck her until my dick gives out on me.





Chapter Thirty-Five





Fiona



Ethan is clearly fighting a smug grin, looking as though he’s plotting all sorts of nefarious ways to f*ck me. Which would be hot if I wasn’t so nervous that I might throw up at any second.

Even so, I take the moment to soak him in. God, he feels good. Solid and warm. I’m dying to stick my nose in the center of his chest and just breathe. The ever-thickening bulge growing in his sweats is distracting and delicious. I’ve missed his gorgeous cock. Without thinking, I press myself against it. He grunts, his hold on me tightening.

But I can’t do this when he’s touching me. Giving his meaty biceps a kiss, I step out of his embrace. Ethan frowns, but he lets me go.

“All right,” he says, running a hand through his hair, sending strands flowing around his face. “Now you’re starting to freak me out. What’s going on, Fi?”

I love that he doesn’t even ask why I’m here, just why I’m worried. I hold on to that fact as I trace a vein in the white marble countertop. “I quit my job.”

I love the way he can smile with just his eyes. And I love the tenderness I see in them now.

His big palm comes to rest near mine. “You did something you were afraid of but needed to do. I’m proud of you, Fiona.”

A shaky breath flows out of me. “Thanks. I’m proud of me too. It feels good. I’m going to start a furniture-making business, selling my work through my friends’ store in New York. And then maybe do a little design consulting on my own.”

Ethan blinks, his stoic features never moving, and I can tell he’s trying to figure out why I’m freaked if I’m happy. Because I am seriously about to freak out. A slow shake starts in my belly and radiates outward as I search for words.

He sees it and immediately steps closer, his warm, calloused hands rubbing over my upper arms. “Cherry…”

“I know everything is up in the air. I just quit. We haven’t been together long. But I just…I don’t know. Thing is,” I babble on, “I thought I’d visit you for a while. I brought some things and maybe—”

“Stay,” he cuts in, his fingers gripping my arm as if he’s going to physically hold me here. And then that isn’t enough for him because he sweeps me off my feet in that effortless way of his.

I give a little yelp of surprise and wrap my arms around his neck as he carries me into the living room in three long strides. I’m on the couch in his lap the next moment.

His eyes are wide and brilliant as he strokes my cheeks. “Stay with me.”

“Well,” I say, squeezing the back of his neck. “That was the plan. I want you for more than a sad little weekend. A month or so would be much better.”