The Game Plan (Game On, #3)(97)







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Thank you for reading THE GAME PLAN! I hope you enjoyed it!

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Have you read books 1 and 2 of the Game On series? If not, turn the page and read samples of The Hook Up (book 1) and The Friend Zone (book 2).





The Hook Up, Book 1 of the Game On series excerpt





The rules: no kissing on the mouth, no staying the night, no telling anyone, and above all... No falling in love

Anna Jones just wants to finish college and figure out her life. Falling for star quarterback Drew Baylor is certainly not on her to do list. Confident and charming, he lives in the limelight and is way too gorgeous for his own good. If only she could ignore his heated stares and stop thinking about doing hot and dirty things with him. Easy right?

Too bad he’s committed to making her break every rule…

Football has been good to Drew. It’s given him recognition, two National Championships, and the Heisman. But what he really craves is sexy yet prickly Anna Jones. Her cutting humor and blatant disregard for his fame turns him on like nothing else. But there’s one problem: she's shut him down. Completely.

That is until a chance encounter leads to the hottest sex of their lives, along with the possibility of something great. Unfortunately, Anna wants it to remain a hook up. Now it’s up to Drew to tempt her with more: more sex, more satisfaction, more time with him. Until she’s truly hooked. It's a good thing Drew knows all about winning.

All’s fair in love and football…Game on.





Excerpt


Thankfully a small bath near the end of the hall is unoccupied. Once inside, I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. It’s blessedly quiet here, the blaring bass of the music a muted thud. My skin is flush, and my heart is still beating too hard. It’s like I’ve run a mile in a minute. Worse, part of me wants to go back downstairs where he is.

Cursing, I run cold water over my hands and splash some on the back of my neck. In the reflection of the mirror, my cheeks are pink and my eyes are shining. I look excited.

“Hell.”

I pat myself dry and, taking another calming breath, leave the bathroom. And practically run into someone. My shoulder hits the cool wall behind me as I step back to get away. Baylor stands there, his expression bemused as if he hadn’t expected me to pop out at him. Then he moves closer, taking my air, and my thoughts scatter. His eyes, intense and determined, are all I see.

And all I can think of is that we are alone together. Utterly. Finally. I can’t look at him then. Not directly. He is the sun, burning bright.

“Why are you here?” My voice is a wisp of sound in the small space.

So is his. “I want you.”

The floor dips beneath me, his confession taking up too much air. Baylor seems just as shocked by his words, his eyes going wide and his lips parting. But he commits to them with a squaring of his broad shoulders. “Tell me you don’t want me too, and I’ll go.”

My mouth opens, a denial on my lips, then he reaches for me. It’s barely a touch, just the tips of his fingers on my elbow, as if he’s planning to guide me back downstairs. It’s the smallest of contact. Nothing really. And yet it’s everything. The small contact burns, ripples outward along my skin with lightning fast intensity, and my breath hitches.

His does too. A quick glance up, and he searches my face as though seeking an affirmation. Whatever he sees must tell him that he’s not alone in this because he doesn’t let go.

Neither of us says another word. Blood rushes hot and thick through my veins, as the backs of his fingers skim slowly, oh so slowly, up my arm. His pulse thrums, quick and visible just beneath the golden skin of his throat. I want to lick that spot, put my mouth there and suck. I want him. I want him so badly that I’m going up in flames.

A quiet, pained sound escapes me as his knuckles drift toward my inner arm, just to the side of my breast. I’m shaking deep within myself, an increasing tremor that spreads outward, until my breath comes in choppy pants that I fight to control.

What am I doing? This is Drew Baylor. Nothing good can come of this. I need to be strong. I need to stop this. To walk away.

I twitch, leaning into his touch, wanting, needing him more.

His lips part with a sigh, as if touching me is both a relief and a source of pain. Somehow my hand settles on his hip, the bone solid beneath his skin. He tenses, a visible clench that has his biceps bunching. The next instant, my fingers steal under his shirt.

His skin is hot, as if he’s burning up from within. My palm glides along rippling muscle, smooth and toned, the cotton of his shirt tickling the back of my hand as I go. He holds so still, when he shivers it’s an earthquake. My questing thumb finds his nipple, and he stops breathing altogether. The little nub of his nipple beneath my thumb turns me on so much, I bite my lip to keep from moaning. Oh, but it’s getting to him too. He swallows audibly, those little tremors within him growing stronger.

I press down hard.

With a choked cry, he stumbles forward, his forearm hitting the wall beside my head as he braces himself. Warm breath caresses my cheek, the sound of his panting filling my ears.

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