The Game Plan
Page 26
She cups the back of my neck and gives me a quick, hard kiss. “Bring it, Dexter.”
Chapter Twelve
Fiona
Ho-boy, I’m in trouble with this man. He gives me a quick, impish grin as he rises from his seat, that big, bold body flexing and stretching beneath his worn jeans and tight gray t-shirt. He’s completely unaware of how sexy he is, which only makes him hotter.
But he isn’t stupid. He knows his boldness is irresistible to me. His fist raps once against the table top. “Game on, Cherry.”
Gray and Ivy are sauntering back, their faces aglow with sweat and happiness. “We were fucking awesome,” Gray announces just as Dex walks off.
My attention is on Dex’s taut ass. I kind of want to follow him and smack it. Seriously, his ass is a work of art. I’m pretty sure if I ever see it bare I’ll spontaneously combust.
Heat rises up my thighs. I want to see it bare. I want him. Badly enough to risk a reckless, long distance relationship?
Gray finally notices Dex by the stage. “No fucking way!” He glances at me, his eyes wide. “He’s not, is he?”
My cheeks hurt from the stretch of my smile. “He is.”
Ivy plops down next to me and takes a long drink of her beer. “Someone should check outside and see if pigs are flying.”
Gray is still wide-eyed and gaping as he sits next to her. “No shit. What gives, Fi-Fi?”
“Why are you looking at me?” I blink with all the innocence I can muster.
“It has to be about you when it comes to Dex.”
I’m not going to acknowledge how that sentiment warms me. Instead I watch Dex make his selection and say a few words to the karaoke operator. A flutter of nerves goes through my middle. He looks relaxed enough, but his shoulders are definitely tight.
Shit. I made him go up there.
Well, not made. It was his idea.
To impress you.
Color me impressed. He has more guts than I do. No way would I sing in public. Cats fighting under a full moon sound better than me.
I shift in my seat, leaning forward, then plopping back, as Gray pulls out his phone and gets ready to film, all the while going on about hell freezing over and Dex leaping into the deep end of the crazy pool.
Maybe I should put a stop to this?
Dex takes the mic and slowly walks up the stairs to the stage.
There’s a ripple running through the audience. They’ve recognized him too.
Shit on a popsicle stick. He’s going to hate this.
My fists clench as he takes center stage, his head bent, his hand clutching the mic tight.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I’m halfway out of my chair to stop him when the music starts. I recognize the opening notes. He’s picked “Gold on the Ceiling” by The Black Keys.
“Bold choice,” Gray mutters.
My heart is pounding so hard, I can barely breathe.
Then Dex starts to sing. And I swear my jaw hits the table.
Gray’s and Ivy’s do too.
“Holy shit,” Gray says before he leaps to his feet, his fists punching in the air with a loud whoop. “Dex!” He shouts, jumping up and down as the music thrums.
Because Ethan Dexter is bringing the house down, singing the song like he fucking owns it.
His deep, raw voice rolls over me, and my nipples go so tight they hurt. I get on top of my chair and holler my approval, dancing along to the music, singing the refrain with the rest of the crowd.
As for Dex? He holds the mic with two hands, his eyes closed, his thick thighs parted. One leg bounces in time to the beat. Tatted and bearded, muscles flexing, he’s so damn hot, the women in the crowd scream for him.
He doesn’t seem to notice.
Then his eyes snap open, and he zeroes in on me. That smug bastard grins as he belts out the lyrics, telling us all it’s all right if we want to steal from him, that there’s no guard in his house. But I know he’s talking to me. Waiting for my answer.
I grin back, my body swaying, my hips snapping. I’ve been to countless parties, clubs, and concerts. I’ve had boyfriends and one-night stands. I’ve grown up around fame. And it isn’t until now that I truly realize how bored I’ve been, going through the motions. Maybe that’s how life is; you kind of just plod along, fall into a nice little rut until something comes along to shake things up.
Dex doesn’t bore me. Not even close. Life is never a slogging road when he’s around.
He ends the song with a sweeping bow, tosses the mic to the operator, then hops down, headed straight for me.
Sweat gleams on his brow, plasters his shirt to his chest. People slap his shoulders and back, try to give him high-fives, including Gray, who is beside himself with glee. Dex doesn’t slow, doesn’t break his stare.
Every cell in my body seems to zing, making me twitchy with want and joy.
When he’s a couple of steps away, I launch myself at him, and he catches me. My legs wrap around his waist as I cling to him, find his mouth, and take it.
Cupping my ass, he holds me tight against him as his tongue slides deep.
We’re both breathless when we part.
“I knew you were playing me,” I say against his mouth.
He’s laughs, low and unrepentant. “I never said I sucked, just that I didn’t like the attention. Told you I wouldn’t fight fair, Cherry.”
I nip his lower lip. “Take me home, and let’s get to popping yours, Big Guy.” He stills, and I lean back to look up at him. “That was lame, wasn’t it?”
Chapter Twelve
Fiona
Ho-boy, I’m in trouble with this man. He gives me a quick, impish grin as he rises from his seat, that big, bold body flexing and stretching beneath his worn jeans and tight gray t-shirt. He’s completely unaware of how sexy he is, which only makes him hotter.
But he isn’t stupid. He knows his boldness is irresistible to me. His fist raps once against the table top. “Game on, Cherry.”
Gray and Ivy are sauntering back, their faces aglow with sweat and happiness. “We were fucking awesome,” Gray announces just as Dex walks off.
My attention is on Dex’s taut ass. I kind of want to follow him and smack it. Seriously, his ass is a work of art. I’m pretty sure if I ever see it bare I’ll spontaneously combust.
Heat rises up my thighs. I want to see it bare. I want him. Badly enough to risk a reckless, long distance relationship?
Gray finally notices Dex by the stage. “No fucking way!” He glances at me, his eyes wide. “He’s not, is he?”
My cheeks hurt from the stretch of my smile. “He is.”
Ivy plops down next to me and takes a long drink of her beer. “Someone should check outside and see if pigs are flying.”
Gray is still wide-eyed and gaping as he sits next to her. “No shit. What gives, Fi-Fi?”
“Why are you looking at me?” I blink with all the innocence I can muster.
“It has to be about you when it comes to Dex.”
I’m not going to acknowledge how that sentiment warms me. Instead I watch Dex make his selection and say a few words to the karaoke operator. A flutter of nerves goes through my middle. He looks relaxed enough, but his shoulders are definitely tight.
Shit. I made him go up there.
Well, not made. It was his idea.
To impress you.
Color me impressed. He has more guts than I do. No way would I sing in public. Cats fighting under a full moon sound better than me.
I shift in my seat, leaning forward, then plopping back, as Gray pulls out his phone and gets ready to film, all the while going on about hell freezing over and Dex leaping into the deep end of the crazy pool.
Maybe I should put a stop to this?
Dex takes the mic and slowly walks up the stairs to the stage.
There’s a ripple running through the audience. They’ve recognized him too.
Shit on a popsicle stick. He’s going to hate this.
My fists clench as he takes center stage, his head bent, his hand clutching the mic tight.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I’m halfway out of my chair to stop him when the music starts. I recognize the opening notes. He’s picked “Gold on the Ceiling” by The Black Keys.
“Bold choice,” Gray mutters.
My heart is pounding so hard, I can barely breathe.
Then Dex starts to sing. And I swear my jaw hits the table.
Gray’s and Ivy’s do too.
“Holy shit,” Gray says before he leaps to his feet, his fists punching in the air with a loud whoop. “Dex!” He shouts, jumping up and down as the music thrums.
Because Ethan Dexter is bringing the house down, singing the song like he fucking owns it.
His deep, raw voice rolls over me, and my nipples go so tight they hurt. I get on top of my chair and holler my approval, dancing along to the music, singing the refrain with the rest of the crowd.
As for Dex? He holds the mic with two hands, his eyes closed, his thick thighs parted. One leg bounces in time to the beat. Tatted and bearded, muscles flexing, he’s so damn hot, the women in the crowd scream for him.
He doesn’t seem to notice.
Then his eyes snap open, and he zeroes in on me. That smug bastard grins as he belts out the lyrics, telling us all it’s all right if we want to steal from him, that there’s no guard in his house. But I know he’s talking to me. Waiting for my answer.
I grin back, my body swaying, my hips snapping. I’ve been to countless parties, clubs, and concerts. I’ve had boyfriends and one-night stands. I’ve grown up around fame. And it isn’t until now that I truly realize how bored I’ve been, going through the motions. Maybe that’s how life is; you kind of just plod along, fall into a nice little rut until something comes along to shake things up.
Dex doesn’t bore me. Not even close. Life is never a slogging road when he’s around.
He ends the song with a sweeping bow, tosses the mic to the operator, then hops down, headed straight for me.
Sweat gleams on his brow, plasters his shirt to his chest. People slap his shoulders and back, try to give him high-fives, including Gray, who is beside himself with glee. Dex doesn’t slow, doesn’t break his stare.
Every cell in my body seems to zing, making me twitchy with want and joy.
When he’s a couple of steps away, I launch myself at him, and he catches me. My legs wrap around his waist as I cling to him, find his mouth, and take it.
Cupping my ass, he holds me tight against him as his tongue slides deep.
We’re both breathless when we part.
“I knew you were playing me,” I say against his mouth.
He’s laughs, low and unrepentant. “I never said I sucked, just that I didn’t like the attention. Told you I wouldn’t fight fair, Cherry.”
I nip his lower lip. “Take me home, and let’s get to popping yours, Big Guy.” He stills, and I lean back to look up at him. “That was lame, wasn’t it?”
