Page 70 of A Game Plan for Love

She throws a hand out and points to the left door, and I kick it open and drop her on the bed. She lands with a bounce, and then her hands reach out and she pulls me by my hoodie and drags me onto the bed with her.

Her lips are back on mine in an instant. This kiss is softer, questioning, slow. Addie’s hands explore my body, down the planes of my back and over the muscles flexing from the exertion of holding back my impending orgasm.

I rise on my knees and tug my sweatshirt over my head, offering her unfettered access to explore the way she wants. Her eyes dilate, and she drags her lower lip between her teeth.

“Oh. Wow.” A cocky smile tugs at my lips. “Hot.”

It’s not quite a full sentence, but I understand her meaning, and male pride floods my chest. I press a knee between her legs, and she opens them slightly.

I gesture to her top. “Can I?”

Her eyes fall to my waistband, eyes widening, but she nods, and I drag the polo over her head. My throat dries at the sight of her. Soft, pale skin covered in freckles and a lavender lacy bra that barely covers her breasts.

What’s your favorite color?

It feels like something I should know.

I step closer, and small white flowers decorate the purple lace. Tiny daisies.

“Tell me,” I trail my finger along the strap of her bra, “Did you pick this color out for me?”

She peers up beneath hooded lashes and nods.

Fuck. Me.

“Did you wear this pretty little thing all day knowing I would take it off of you tonight?”

“It did cross my mind,” she says shyly.

“And if I were to take these off,” I trail a finger along the waistband of her leggings, “would I find a matching set?”

“Why don’t you find out?” she counters, lifting her hips. I tear her pants off with little grace, and I groan at the small strip of lace covering her, and the tiny flowers that decorate the fabric. A small patch of the lace is a deep purple from her arousal.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” I say, coasting a hand up and down the outside of her thighs. She lifts up onto her elbows and assesses herself, frowning at her lower stomach.

“They never truly faded,” she says quietly. It takes me a beat to comprehend she’s referring to the stretch marks along her abdomen, a darker shade of pink against her pale skin.

I lean down and press a gentle kiss beneath her belly button, directly on a stretch mark.

“These don’t bother me,” I murmur against her skin, peppering kisses along her stomach. I know she said it out of self-consciousness and fear it would dampen my attraction to her, but she couldn’t be any more beautiful in my eyes. “You created a life, Addie. All on your own. These are nothing to be ashamed of.”

She bites the inside of her cheek, and I press on to my palms to take her lips between mine. When she finally sheds the weight on her shoulders, I play with her waistband again.

“Take them off,” she demands.

I do as I’m told, and I slide the strip of lace down her legs and drop them onto the floor. I slide my hands up her thighs and spread her knees open as I drop to mine. Pleasure compounds at the base of my spine, coiling tighter until it’s a grenade with the pin nearly pulled loose.

Her pupils are blown, hazel faded to black, and I keep my eyes locked with hers as I lower my mouth and drag my tongue along her slit. The muscles in her body give out, and she falls back onto the ivory sheets, and her fingers grip the duvet, wrinkles forming in the linen.

“Oh,fuck,” she moans as I slide a finger inside her, curving it towards me.

I suck at her clit, then add a second finger, and when she groans, and her legs shake slightly, the pin keeping my orgasm at bay loosens a bit more.

Her hand flies out and tangles into the strands of my hair, pressing me closer to her core.

I’m going to come in my pants.

I resign myself to the embarrassing reality, and work my fingers in and out, focusing on the sounds she offers, changing my pace when her breath hitches, and swirling my tongue around her clit when her fingers tighten around my hair.

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