The Game Plan (Game On, #3)(86)

“Thank you, Ethan.”

I frown down at the crown of her head, her wild hair shining silver in the darkened room. “For what?”

Fi leans back a little, lifting her face to mine. “For letting me go.”

It’s hard, looking her in the eye. I don’t want her to see my grimace. Having her stay because of guilt is absolutely out of the question. So I distract her, and myself, by caressing her arm. “You’ll go…” I clear my throat. “You’ll go and have some quality time with your mom. It will be good.”

That’s about as much as I can say without caving and begging her not to leave me.

Fi’s bright eyes shine in the lantern light streaming through the windows. Her expression is thoughtful. “I know you’re unhappy,” she murmurs, running her fingers through my beard.

“I’m happy when you’re happy.” It’s as simple as that.

She sighs and leans close, pressing her forehead to mine. I close my eyes and just breathe, soaking in as much of her as I can. And she does the same, breathing deep and slow, her touch roaming over me, petting and stroking.

Before Fi, I had no idea how much I needed to be touched. It isn’t something you can fully understand until you have it. Fi’s hands on my skin eases me in an elemental way, down to my very core. I crave it now, want it always.

And she’s leaving me. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon. I don’t know if she’ll come back, because I wonder. She’s told me she loves me. I’ve told her too. But is that enough? I want to tell her again, now, but the words get stuck in my throat. To say them at this moment feels like it would be another plea. I can’t do that. Not when agreeing she should go to London has her more relaxed and herself than she’s been since the pictures were released.

But it doesn’t stop the aching weight that’s settled in my chest.

Fi threads her hands through my hair, and little shivers run down my spine. It feels so good, I lean into the touch. She does it again and again. “The first time we met,” she says, “you were wearing faded jeans and a white button-down shirt.”

I exhale in a ragged rush. “You remember that?”

Soft lips brush over my cheekbone. Scooting closer, she kisses my temple, the spot right before my ear. “Your hair was shorter then, but you had that thick beard and kind, knowing eyes. You sat next to me at dinner, staring at me.”

A half-laugh lifts my chest, even as I stroke along the curve of her waist. “Jesus, you must have thought I was a total creeper.”

I can feel her smile against my skin. “No. It turned me on.”

“It did?” Shit, did that sound like a squeak? No. I don’t squeak.

Her smile grows as she nuzzles my neck. “Of course it did. You were this big, solemn guy looking at me like you’d rather have me for dinner. How could it not make me hot?”

I had wanted her for dinner. I’d wanted to place her on the table and sink my tongue into her * and discover her taste. Had I any idea at the time how sweet she’d truly be, I’d probably have had to excuse myself from the table.

Fi keeps talking, even as she pets and kisses me everywhere she can find. “But I had a boyfriend…” —Fucker. If he let Fi go he had to be one— “…And I was too young for you.”

I have to chuckle. “I’m only three years older, Cherry.”

She lifts her head. Hair mussed, cheeks flushed, she’s perfection. Her gaze is soft and tender, and it kicks me right in the heart. “I was a child then, spoiled and not ready to grow up. You were a man. You’ve always been a man, Ethan. Strong and steady, watching over everyone. I knew that just by looking at you.”

She’s killing me, bit by bit. I tuck a lock of her hair back, use the gesture as an excuse to stroke her cheek. But she isn’t finished talking.

Pressing her cheek into my palm, she smiles a little. “At graduation, you wore a robe, of course, and a dark red tie. Nothing special, but you stood next to me while I took pictures of Ivy and Gray. A guy running by almost knocked right into me, but you stepped between us at the last second and took the impact.”

I can’t speak. She doesn’t seem to need that. Fi leans down and kisses the hollow of my neck. I feel it in my heart, in my toes.

“Draft day, you wore a dark gray suit and a sky blue tie. It made your eyes look more blue than hazel. Everyone around you was nervous. Gray was practically jumping in place, sweating and pulling at his collar. But you simply sat at the table and drank your water.”

She chuckles, the sound a purr that makes my skin go tight. “I asked if you were nervous, and you winked at me, told me—”

“Nerves won’t get me drafted any sooner,” I finish for her, my voice husky and thick.

Her smile blooms wide. “Exactly.”

She presses her lips to my sternum before lifting her head again. “I remember everything about you, Ethan. It just took me a while to do it.”

I take a breath. Then another. Pressure builds at the bridge of my nose and behind my eyelids. “Cherry.”

I kiss her softly, gently, just because I can. And she threads her fingers through my hair, playing with it as if she loves the feel of me.

But she doesn’t linger. Instead she moves on, kissing my brows. My eyes close, and she kisses the lids. Her voice comes at me like a dream. “I’m no one special, just a girl who tries to do the right thing when she can.”