Page 52 of The Game Plan
I look freshly fucked.
I guess it is what I asked for, but there’s more.
What the hell is happening?
Because it wasn’t just sex. Not just the release, or the way he touched me like I was delicate and wreckable all at once. Every filthy word out of his mouth sent heat straight down my spine, but underneath it all…there was something else. It was in the way he held me, in the silent words he didn’t need to say.
And when he demanded I get on all fours, I complied. Completely exposed, vulnerable, and trusting. He stopped to check in. To make sure I was okay, asked about the baby and told me he’d take care of me.
Who does that?
Grant fucking Campbell, that’s who.
And now I have to go about my day like I didn’t just peel back another layer in our already complicated relationship.
Pushing away from the sink, I climb into the shower, letting the hot water ease the ache in my muscles. I lather slowly, savoring the clean scent of citrus body wash and letting my mind drift. My fingertips graze over the bite mark he left, and I shiver all over again.
After rinsing off, I step out and towel dry. Wrapping it around my pregnant belly is laughable, so I hang it on the hook and get to work—tinted moisturizer, a quick brush through damp hair, one coat of mascara. I slip into an olive-green maternity dress with soft ruching along the sides, flattering the bump without strangling me. And lastly, slippers that conform to my feet.
Sign me up.
By the time I shuffle into the kitchen, I’m starving. My stomach lets out a long growl, sounding like a beast.
Okay, okay,I tell my stomach as I grab one of Grant’s meal-prepped containers from the fridge. This week, it’s creamy high-protein chicken pasta, heavy on the veggies, and it smells like heaven. I slide it into the microwave and press start.
While the microwave hums, I open my phone. Before I can tap into the group chat with Brynn and Chloe, I spot a missed text from Grant.
Grant:I can still taste you on my lips. Hope you haven’t moved from my bed.
My core clenches as I quickly type out a reply.
I can still feel you between my thighs. *winky face*
Closing out his message, I don’t wait for a reply. Instead, I find the group chat with the girls. I need the chaotic comfort of my two besties right now. I hitvideo calland wait.
Ring.
Ring.
The screen splits, and all I get is a white ceiling, the sound of some movement in the background, and a noise machine playing the tune of a classical song.
“Just a second,” Brynn whisper-hisses off-camera. “Lying Cleo down, and if I move too fast, she’ll think it’s time to wake.”
I lean against the counter, keeping an eye on the timer so it doesn’t beep and wake Cleo. Brynn and Quinton have been fighting the bedtime battle with their little princess who’s stubborn as her mama.
The bottom half of my screen lights up: Chloe in her kitchen, apron dusted with flour, loose curls falling from a claw clip, and a streak of something across her cheek. Whisk in one hand, the other braced on her hip.
“Hi, my loves,” she says, her voice perky. “Someone’s got a new glow to them.”
I raise an eyebrow, ignoring her comment. “Are you covered in flour again?”
Nodding, she grins. “I baked something new this morning. Lemon cinnamon rolls.”
Shoulders sagging, I groan. “Why would you do that to me?”
“Still your top craving?”
“I swear, it’s getting worse. It’s like if I don’t have something lemony every hour, I feel empty.”
