Page 108 of A Game Plan for Love

The silver wrapper glistens in his grip, and I bat it away with brutal force. “I don’t want to use one,” I say, cheeks flushing, “if you don’t. I’m on birth control.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

His hand trails along my arm as he passes me, then, when he reaches the edge of the bed, he beckons me with a single finger. I push up to my knees and tip my head back to meet his gaze. We’ve dragged this moment out, and now I’m itching for contact, to feel him inside me, to watch the pleasure written all over his face as he slides in and out of me.

“I’ve changed my mind,” he murmurs, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear, “I want to look into your eyes.”

The confession is raw and full of love, and all I can do is nod as the energy shifts to something romantic—sensual. It’s exactly how the movies portray the main character losing her virginity—Declan gently helping me lie back, his knees nudging my thighs open, and his hands pressed into the mattress on either side of my head—and I laugh softly, but it converts into a low moan when Declan drags himself up and down the arousal pooling at my entrance.

He grazes my clit and I arch off the bed.

“I love you,” he murmurs as he slides inside of me in one smooth movement.

Pleasure pools in my lower stomach as he moves in show, shallow thrusts, eyes never leaving mine, even when he moves more quickly and I wrap my legs around his hips to deepen the angle.

He groans when I take his lips in a punishing kiss. There are no spoken words between us, but the air is thick with everything unspoken—emotions that need to be felt, rather than expressed.

With every thrust, the worries and fears I’ve held for my life melt away, like ice cream on hot pavement. They hold no purpose to me anymore, so I let them fall away and allow the growing pleasure to take hold. Electricity courses through my veins, lighting my skin on fire.

My orgasm builds, and Declan’s name falls from my tongue as he picks up speed and his thumb draws circles around my clit.

“That’s it,” he says when I lift my hips and match him thrust for thrust. “Come for me.”

He increases his pressure on my clit, and I explode, eyes squeezed shut as my vision blackens and the orgasm takes over. My muscles twitch as he continues, then reaches his own completion, spilling inside me with one final thrust.

The action is so erotic—so primal—it sends me right into another orgasm, pleasure twirling and swirling around me like a heavy fog on a rainy morning.

“Holy shit,” I say, flopping back onto the pillows and star-fishing my arms and legs out. They’re Jell-O. Not a chance I can move for the next few minutes while my brain regains control of my muscles and limbs.

Declan presses a kiss to my forehead. “Love you,” he says, again.

I’ll never tire of hearing the three little words, but he’s beginning to outshine me, which justcannothappen.

“Love youmore,” I throw back, slightly childish, but his lips tug up into a tiny smile.

“How much?”

I reach my arms as far as I can on either side of the bed. “This much.”

Declan lies flat on my chest, stealing the air from my lungs and lining our arms up. His hands land a few inches farther than mine, and his smile turns into a wide, smug grin. “I win.”

“Is our love a competition?”

“No.” His eyebrows perk up, “But if it was, I would totally crush you.”

“Just like you are right now,” I groan, having lost the remaining air in my lungs.

“Oh, shit, right.”

He lifts off of me, and I slip into the bathroom to clean up and put on a pair of pajamas. While Declan isn’t looking, I pull out the matching pair I bought for him and return to the room.

“Here.” I shove the clothing at him unceremoniously. TheCarsthemed pajamas were the only ones I could find in sizes for all three of us, but they’re fun and I wanted us to match like a family. “Welcome to our little family,” I say quietly.

He slides the pajamas over his head, and I wince. Not quite the right size. They don’t hit his ankles, and the button-down top is a bit tight, but he undoes the buttons and lets it flow freely. Actually, I think I prefer this view—an expanse of chiseled skin and tight muscles.

“How do I look?” he asks, voice thick.

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