Page 127 of The Game Plan
“No,” I breathe out, my voice soft with disbelief. “Weren’t we bringing her home from the hospital yesterday?”
Grant chuckles, the vibration rumbling my back before he kisses the side of my neck, causing a shiver to run through me. “Yesterday, I was rocking her in her nursery while spilling secrets of her mother’s wild days.”
“Oh my gosh.” I huff a laugh. “I completely forgot you did that.”
He kisses my neck again; the man still can’t keep his hands off of me. And now that we aren’t living in off-campus housing, he’s even bolder with his public displays of affection. “Now look at our Lemon. She’s bossing kids around.”
I lean deeper into his touch and soak in the sounds of our daughter’s laughter mixed with the laughter of our friends’ children. There’s a slew of them. It appears none of the men in our little found family could keep their hands off of their wives either. Quinton chases his daughter, Cleo, with a bubble gun while his son hangs off his hip. My heart squeezes at the sight.
Three years of sleepless nights and first steps. Packing up our first apartment together and moving into a four-bedroom craftsman with a large, fenced backyard. Watching Grant excel at coaching and be promoted to head wide receiver coach. Three years since I walked across the graduation stage and began building my career as a social worker, I’ve finally stepped into a role where I help families navigate challenges that I once thought would break me.
I turn in my husband’s arms, wrapping my arms around his neck and staring into mesmerizing eyes. “We did well, Sunshine.”
“Yeah, we did, Peach.” He pulls me tighter, dropping a kiss on my lips before stepping away.
Our backyard hums with life. Our people are all here—our family by blood and the family we chose in our years at Central Texas University. Somehow, with their busy lives and schedules, they were all able to make a quick trip to celebrate our daughter. Our time together has stretched to visits few and far between. But I’m forever grateful for modern technology and social media. Whenever we are together, it’s like old times. We pick up right where we left off.
Quinton and Brynn sit at a table near the bounce house. Cleo, their oldest, jumps with Lennon. Those two have been inseparable since birth, and it warms my heart to see my best friend’s daughter and mine form such a tight bond. Bryce, their one-year-old son, sits on Q’s lap, eating a fruit pouch. Miles, the baby of their bunch, sleeps in his mother’s arms. Quinton still plays football in Denver and is one of the best running backs in the league. Brynn looks radiant, as always, and has fully stepped into her football wife's role. She throws her head back in laughter at something Cody says while Q glares daggers at him.
See, nothing has changed.
Well, except Cody and Chloe. The two finally tied the knot, and life surprised them with twin boys. Both boys are in matching outfits and resting in each of their parents' arms. Cody is stoked to have future baseball players. I smile at the sight. Cody, who was terrified of parenthood, is now the dad who carries spare pacifiers in his pocket.
Crew and Bret hover nearby, both with beers in their hands as they watch the circus of kids. They don’t have little ones yet, but I know they’re trying. I catch the way Bret leans into Crew, his arm curved protectively around her shoulders as he whispers in her ear. The tenderness makes my chest ache in the best way. I’m so ready to have nieces and nephews to spoil rotten. And I know Grant’s ready to be the “best uncle ever.”
“Hey, Peach,” Grant interrupts my observations. A sly smirk spreads across her lips. “Ready for cake? Looks like Mom has Lennon covered.”
I glance over his shoulder and watch Emily climb inside the bounce house. She wobbles and nearly falls, but being a grandma has only slowed down her aging.
“You mean actually grab the cake, or…?”
His grin is pure mischief. “Both?”
I snap my eyes around our backyard and realize no one’s paying attention to us. We slip inside unnoticed, and Grant pulls me toward our bedroom. The second the bedroom door clicks shut, his mouth is on mine, urgent and laced with heat and hunger. As his tongue slides against mine, I swear every nerve in my body lights up twice as strong as it should.
I’m so sensitive. Everything feels amplified—the scrape of his stubble, the pressure of his hand on my waist, the way my nipples tighten just from the brush of his chest against mine.
“Grant,” I gasp, but the rest of my words dissolve into a moan when his fingers slip under the hem of my dress.
He growls against my lips as he walks me backwards. My knees hit the back of the bed as his hand grips my hips. “Hands on the bed, wife.”
The command shoots straight through me. I do as I’m told and plant my palms on the mattress. My heart races as his hand trails down my spine before grabbing the fabric of my sundress. Cool air hits my damp center, and I flinch at the contact.
“You’re going to come for me twice before we leave this room,” he says, voice rough and wrecking me already.
I whimper my agreement as I hear the zipper of his shorts. Grant tugs my thong to the side as his fingers tease me, stroking with maddening precision until my knees nearly buckle. Hot breath caresses my neck as he peppers kisses that have me shivering, dragging his lips over my shoulder before he sinks his teeth into my skin. I’m already moaning as his fingers tease my entrance.
“So wet and ready for me, Peach.” Grant’s words are husky as he glides his fingers over my slit, swirling my arousal around the spot begging for his touch.
“Fuck,” I whimper.
“This is going to be quick, baby.”
I glance over my shoulder and stare at his beautiful face. Eyes darkened with desire gaze down at me as he drives long strokes over my clit. His pace quickens and turns into tight circles as the orgasm coils deep in my stomach.
“Oh god, Grant,” I say louder. “Oh…fuck. I’m going to come.”
I grind against his fingers until I’m practically riding him. “Right there.” His fingers work me over harder, faster. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”
