Page 47 of The Game Plan
I nod. “She did.”
He snorts as we fall back into the moment. It’s the calm after the storm. The kind of silence that means something.
I want to spend the rest of my day right here with him.
But then reality comes slamming back to the present.
“Shit. I’m so late.” He sighs, reading the time on his watch.
With a groan, I press back against him. “Call in sick.”
“I wish.” Grant's lips brush against my neck again before he slides out of me. I can feel his release trail down my thigh. It’s erotic and nearly has my thighs clenching again.
Seriously, get it together, hormones.
I pull back and watch as Grant slowly sits up. Propping on an elbow, he brushes a loose piece of hair away from my face as he smiles down at me. I love seeing Grant like this. Happy and tender. No broodiness in sight.
He presses a soft kiss to my lips. “Stay in my bed. Sleep a little more, and I’ll see you tonight when you get home from work.”
“I’ll think about it.”
He groans dramatically, standing and searching for his clothes. “Always so stubborn.”
“And you love it.”
Grant pauses from where he bent down to grab his boxers. His eyes find mine as seriousness morphs his features. “Yeah, I do.”
I don’t say anything. I lie there, watching as he pulls on his khaki shorts and a CTU athletic shirt. He ruffles his messy hair in the mirror before placing his CTU cap on last. Before he leavesthe room, he leans down, kissing me again. Only this kiss is longer, softer. “Promise me something?”
“What?” I whisper.
“No spiraling and overthinking what happened. It was real. It was fucking fantastic. So let’s let nature run its course.”
I nod slowly as the weight of his words sinks into my chest like an anchor I didn’t know I needed. Because he’s right—he knows I’ll spiral the second I hear the door close.
“See you tonight, Peach.”
He grins, flashing me a wink, and then he’s gone.
And I let the weight of the morning slam down on me as I close my eyes.
Pulling open the door to the indoor facility, I’m met with a blast of cold air as the AC pumps overtime to keep it cool in this Texas heat. The temperature is probably colder than it needs to be, but the guys aren’t complaining. Not with the way they’re dripping sweat. Strength conditioning is over—which was my turn to run—and they’re in the middle of drills before we practice plays and game scenarios.
I can’t believe I’m walking in nearly two hours late. No coffee in hand, no excuses for my tardiness. Only a cheesy grin tugging at my mouth as if I won the damn lottery.
And in some ways…I did.
“Daaaaamn, Coach,” Williams, the freshman wide receiver, draws out as he jogs backward toward the line. “Who snuck marshmallows into your protein shake this morning? You’re smiling like it’s your damn birthday.”
I snort, shaking my head, my smile never faltering. “I’m just happy to see you busting your ass for once, Williams.”
A chorus of ‘ooohs’ sounds from the guys.
“Don’t get soft on us now,” someone else calls from the line.“We like Grumpy Coach.”
“Grumpy Coach? Is that what you fuckers call me?” I ask, taken aback and feigning hurt.
Tyler Harris, our starting quarterback and one of my closest friends, jogs next to me before bumping his shoulder into mine. “Seriously, Campbell. Were you abducted by aliens? Blink twice if you’ve been taken hostage.”
