Page 69 of Her Game Plan

My words become nothing more than animalistic grunts as Callan continues to work out his extra energy, but despite his relentless pace, he’s constantly petting me, making sure I feel good. His eyes are locked on mine in the mirror, and even as we both lose ourselves to the pleasure, he’s there with me. Making sure I come first.

And after the roughest, most physically exhausting sex session of my life, I come on a gasp, the inferno building inside me flaring with one final smack of my ass cheek. Callan follows me, digging his thumbs into my hips as he pulls me back and forth over the swollen ridge of his cock.

It’s a miracle I wasn’t split in two. But it’d be so worth it even if I were.

Using the hand currently around my waist to hold me up, Callan slowly turns me toward him, pulling my boneless body into his. He presses his forehead against mine as we both pant heavily. “Holy shit, Princess. Why was that so fucking good?”

I release a string of sounds along the lines of, “FuckmeIdunno.”

Moments later, I realize Callan is carrying me somewhere, my arms and legs wrapped around him as if I’m a koala. “Where are we going?” I don’t even open my eyes.

“Bed.” His voice rumbles through my body from where my head rests on his chest.

Bed sounds perfect. Except—lonely. Especially after spending last night with Callan. “Can I sleep with you?”

My cheek knocks against his chest when he misses a step. “Of course, Princess.”

“I like sleeping with you,” I mumble.

He presses a light kiss to the top of my head. “You can sleep with me anytime you want, Charlotte.”

Chapter 26

Callan

Today fucking sucked. How have we dropped four straight games? And my body hurts. I’m getting too slow to scramble the way I need to, and my sacks-per-game number is one I’m feeling in every inch of my body. All I wanted to do was hold Charlotte’s hand while we drove home from the training center before eating dinner together at the kitchen island. And then curling up together in my bed and listening to her running monologue as she responds to emails, and I read business books.

Maybe eating a few Nerds Clusters. Or a bag. I’m in pain, after all.

Unfortunately, Charlotte is having a planning session with her brother tonight. I offered them our place to do it at, but she turned me down. Quickly. Which is fine. I pace back and forth as I brush my teeth, reminding myself that this is my life. I’ve gotten ready for bed hundreds of times by myself in this house. Years worth. Things with Charlotte are… fake. Even if it doesn’t feel fake. Even if I don’t want it to be fake.

It is. For now, at least.

The door to our room opens, and Charlotte walks in. My body calms, a centered feeling coming over me. Like she’s the missing block in my foundation, keeping me stable.

Toothbrush still in my mouth, I step into the room and watch through the doorway as she puts her shoes away before pulling out a pair of silky pajamas. Her clothes have slowly started to take over half the closet space, my suits moving closer together as she puts things away in here instead of in the guest room.

“Hey, Ball Boy.” She kisses my cheek lightly when she joins me at the bathroom sink a minute later. “How’s the arm feeling?”

“It’s sore,” I confess. “The trainers worked over my shoulder, but that helmet I took to my upper arm left a massive bruise.”

She skims her fingers over my skin, barely making contact. “Let me see.”

I lift the arm of my T-shirt, exposing the slight lump and drastic discoloration.

“Shit.” Her gaze meets mine. “That looks terrible.”

I shrug. “I’ll survive. At least it’s not my throwing arm.” I pull her into me and press a gentle kiss to her lips. “I missed you.”

She wraps her arms around me, inhaling deeply. “I missed you, too. Marlee invited me for a sleepover, but I wanted to be back here.”

We’ve slept together every night since I carried her to my bed instead of the guest room. The next night, she’d knocked on my door and said, “Is it okay if I sleep in here? I like cuddling.” I patted the bed next to me, and the rest is history. And by that, I mean we haven’t talked about it in the three weeks since.

Probably because she likes to cuddle.

And I like her.

So we keep sleeping together. Sometimes, just sleeping. Sometimes, more than sleeping. But I love both ways. Everything about her is so small and warm—everything.