24. The Game Plan
THE GAME PLAN
Tyler
After I return from the bathroom, I fiddle with the condom wrapper left on the nightstand. I didn’t notice it before, but the packaging says, Put some protection on that erection.
As I sit down on Sabrina’s bed, I arch a brow, waggling it her way. “This is…interesting.”
A splash of pink colors her cheeks. She’s still stretched out on the bed, all loose and languid, skin glowing, hair a perfect mess. “Trevyn gave it to me. Turn it to the other side.”
I flip it over and snort. The words Large are written on the back, then in small print: Just tell him it’s X-Large, sweetheart. He’ll love a good ego stroke, among other strokes.
I laugh. “Way to knock me down a peg,” I say.
She gives a faux pout. “Aww, did I hurt your feelings with the novelty condom?”
Novelty. That word sends a zip of worry down my spine. “They work like regular condoms though?”
She sits up. “Yes! They’re just in fun packaging. And I’m on protection too.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. “Good.”
“Trust me, I don’t want to get pregnant,” she says.
And damn, we are racing right into the serious conversations faster than I’d expected. I drag a hand through my hair, hoping to reset. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make a thing of it.”
She sits up and sets a hand on my arm. “I’ll be right back.”
She rushes out of the bedroom, and I can’t help it—I watch her go, admiring her heart-shaped ass for the first time ever. I let out a low moan of appreciation at her fading form, then take a deep breath, looking around her room.
There’s a notebook and a pen on the nightstand. A couple books. Some necklaces on her bureau. And a few framed photos of her and her friends.
That ought to make me smile—all this normalcy.
But my chest tightens, and I rub my sternum to try to loosen the tension.
What the hell happens next? Where do we go from here?
No idea. Since I’ve disposed of the used condom already, I grab my boxer briefs and pull them on, then my pants.
Seems presumptuous to just lounge around in the buff, and honestly, I haven’t thought beyond this point.
Well, I didn’t think beyond immediate gratification when I banged on her door. And now that the lights are on and the deed is done, I’d better think fast.
Sabrina turns the corner back into her room, eyes me up and down quickly, then hustles to grab a long T-shirt from the bureau and fish out a pair of panties. In no time, she’s covered up too.
I’m standing here stupidly, thanks to a novelty condom wrapper, unsure what to say. But I can read her body language loud and clear. She thinks I’m going, so I sit down and pat the bed. “Come here.”
She walks toward me, but apprehensively, like a small dog who doesn’t trust me yet.
When she sits, I reach for her hand. She takes mine, and we thread our fingers together. My heart settles a bit. Just a bit though. I study our clasped hands for a beat. “Hey,” I begin.
She closes her eyes, her shoulders sinking. “Just say it.”
“Say what?”
When she opens her eyes, she looks tough, resolute as she says, “Pretend it didn’t happen.”
But I can hear the pain in her voice. I squeeze her hand tighter. “I’m not going to say that,” I try to reassure her. “I’m just not…good at this. This is all…like learning to ride a bike again.”
A small smile shifts her lips. “News flash: you’re a quick re-learner.”
I don’t mean the sex though. I mean the post-sex.
Sorting my thoughts, I rub my thumb along her fingers.
It’s such a privilege to touch her like this.
“What I’m trying to say is—” I stop, make sure I’m meeting her eyes.
“I meant it when I said it earlier. I mean it now. I won’t pretend this didn't happen.”
And then, maybe because I’m better with physical things, I tug her onto my lap, then flop down on the bed with her, sliding under the covers together, pulling the quilt to my waist—and hers too.
“Tell me more about this condom gift,” I say, finding my way back to intimacy like that. “When did he give it to you?”
Her lips quirk up, then she admits, “A few weeks ago.”
I feel like I’m in on a secret, but then I wonder—was it because her friends were encouraging her to date again?
Does she even still want to date? I didn’t come in here asking her out to dinner.
I stormed in here wanting to take her to bed, so how the hell do I reconcile the two?
“Any reason in particular?” I ask, fishing for intel.
“If you must know, he said it was because he knew I would never be that presumptuous, but he wanted to be presumptuous for both of us,” she says, gesturing from her to me. “And then he said he wanted to be helpful for both of us. And then he basically said he was trying to manifest it for us.”
Her grin makes me grin. “So he was the wingman I didn’t even know I had?”
She laughs. “Evidently. He manifested tonight, it seems.”
“Fucking love that guy,” I say. “Can he manifest a Cup for me too?”
“I can ask,” she says, settling into the pillows now, perhaps believing that I’m not going to take off and shut this down. “He was wing-manning you from day one.”
I turn toward her, still holding her hand. “Good. This thing with us feels a little inevitable, doesn’t it?”
“Well, considering I threw myself at you on my wedding night, I’d say you read the room pretty well.”
A laugh bursts from me. “I suppose I did. And I was a perfect gentleman back then.”
“Don’t remind me,” she grumbles.
“But I don’t have to be one now,” I say, dropping my voice as I slide a hand down her stomach.
“Thank god,” she says.
Which brings us to the point of this moment. “I want this,” I say, even though we haven’t defined what this is. “But it also could get messy.”
She sighs. “It could.”
I flash back to last summer when I swallowed down my wishes. Not the night of her wedding, but at the ice-skating lesson, when she brought me the sweatshirt and the mug as a thank you.
I held back then. I didn’t ask her out on the date I wanted to. And I’m not sure I really can ask her out on a date now. I can at least tell her the truth of that day though.
I push up a little higher in bed. She follows suit. I clear my throat. “You remember that day, a week after your wedding? When you came to the ice-skating rink and asked to talk to me after a lesson?”
She nods immediately. “Yes, of course.”
“I was going to ask you out on a date.” I lay it all out there.
“You were?” she asks, fighting off a smile.
“I was so damn ready,” I admit. “I was going to ask you to go to a baseball game and debate the umpires. I was going to see if you wanted to play mini golf—and then ask if I could make you scream in pleasure. I had a whole plan. Anything to spend a little more time with you.”
“Why didn’t you?” she asks.
“The sweatshirt,” I say like that makes everything crystal clear.
“The sweatshirt I returned?”
“Yup. It felt like a sign. You were returning it. You were apologizing. You were blaming the spicy margaritas. Didn’t take a genius to know it wasn’t the right time.”
And wow—my shoulders feel lighter. Was this a burden I was carrying? Not exactly. But it was definitely a secret. It’s one I’ve held onto for a while.
“News flash, Tyler.” She gives me a teasing look. “I would have said yes.”
I mutter a thousand curses under my breath. Fuck. I should have asked her then. “Let me put that on a list of things I regret.”
“But,” she adds wistfully, “I also wasn’t in a good place.”
And that raises the question: What exactly kind of place are we in tonight? “What about now?” I ask.
Slowly, she pulls her gaze back, giving me a very quizzical look. “Are you asking me if we can date?” It’s like she wants to be absolutely certain of the score.
I’m going to sound like a giant ass if I say we can’t. But I don’t have to because she beats me to it.
“I think that would be…really complicated, wouldn’t it? The kids and all.”
Relief floods me. I’m so glad she’s the one who said those words. “Yeah. I think it would be…but,” I say, my mind leaping ahead, trying to find a loophole, an answer, when I flash back on tonight’s hockey game.
It was messy because I didn’t follow the game plan Coach laid out. I took stupid chances. I acted on my emotions, letting them get the better of me. If I’d stuck to the plan, maybe we’d have won.
“When things get messy in a game, I always find it’s best to go back to the plan,” I say, tentatively, but strategically too.
Her eyes sparkle with curiosity. “Same for me. When I’ve made mistakes on the ice, I need to return to the program. The choreography. Go on.”
“What if we had a game plan,” I say, gesturing from her to me.
“A way to keep things from spiraling into something we’re not prepared for?”
“Yes, like a quid pro quo.”
She laughs. “I mean, I like your quid. I think you like my quo.”
I grin, running my fingers along the soft skin of her stomach under her shirt. “I definitely like your quid and your quo.” Then I frown. “Actually, I have no idea what either one of those means.”
But I know this much—I fucking loved fucking her. And I think she’s fantastic. If she still wants all those things she asked for this summer, I really, really want to be the man to give them to her.
My gut churns. I’m going to sound like an ass, but this whole dating thing has to be addressed. “But I also know you were looking into dating. And I just don’t want to be the guy to stand in your way…even though I came in here tonight and said I don’t want you to date.”
She tilts her head. “You’re kind of sending mixed messages. Do you want me to date or not?”
“No,” I say instantly, emphatically. “I really don’t.”
And then—fuck it. I wrap my arm around her waist and jerk her against me, facing her as I hold her. I run my hand from her shoulder down to her wrist, watching as goosebumps rise on her skin. “I want you all to myself.”
Her smile is soft, a little teasing. “I wasn’t actually going to date. Everyone was pressuring me because it’s fun for people who are coupled up to try to connect their single friends. But honestly…” She exhales wistfully.
“Honestly what?” I press.
She gives me a sly look. “Honestly, for a long time I was hoping that you’d bang on the door, bend me over the bed, and fuck me to pieces.”
That image is scorching hot. And it’s seared into my brain. “You want me to bend you over the bed? Because that can definitely be arranged.”
“I want it all, Tyler. That was the first time I’ve ever had an orgasm with another person. And…I’ve got some other things on my list.”
I clear my throat dramatically. “Two, baby. I gave you two,” I point out. “Do not shortchange me.”
“I would never. In fact, they’re both going on my list of good things that happened to me today.” She pushes up in bed, like an idea’s struck her. “That’s it. We need a list.”
“A sex list? Count me in.”
“Yes, a game plan for sex. A list so we can work through all the un-St. Bernard-like things I want you to do to me.”
I am so there. “Let’s do it. Maybe you put a list of three things you want?”
“Only three?” she teases.
“I didn’t want to be presumptuous. You tell me how many you want.”
She’s a match ready to strike. “All I can eat,” she says. “But we could start with five.”
That’s two better than I’d hoped, so already this feels like winning. “I like five. And what if we check one off…once a week?”
Her eyes pop. “Well, you have better restraint than I do.”
“Maybe I’m just trying to stretch this out.”
She hums, as if she’s considering, then a glint shines in her eyes. “If that’s the case, how about every other week? Just to make sure we don’t get in over our heads.”
How did we go from once a week to once every other week? But what I really hear is that she wants to stretch it out too. “That sounds fair for the first rule,” I say, keeping my cool so I don’t let on how much I like this plan.
It feels like a wide-open window. A long, winding road with beautiful views and barely an end in sight. It feels like the promise of pleasure, stretched out before us, with no complications.
“It’s like a workout plan,” she says.
“A sex workout?” I smirk.
“Yes. But we’re going to need more rules,” she adds, staying on task.
“You’re right. We really can’t do anything in front of the kids.”
“Yes. Definitely no kissing, no hand-holding,” she adds.
“No little sneaky displays of affection.”
“And no sleepovers.”
That last one doesn’t sit well with me though. Hanging out here in her bed late at night? This is the best I’ve felt in a long time. “You mean when the kids are home?” I ask, hoping she likes that technicality too.
“Sure, but also because we don’t want to get used to this.”
“It’s every other week. You can’t get that used to it,” I say, trying to convince her.
“True,” she says, and I want to pump a fist, because do I ever want to wrap her in my arms tonight.
“And no one says ‘pretend it didn’t happen,’” I add because I know how important that is to her.
“Yes. Good,” she says, then hesitates like something is weighing on her.
My gut twists with worry, but it’s best to be upfront. “What is it, baby?”
“When it’s over, it’s over. We move on. I enjoy my job, and I want to keep doing it,” she says, sounding so damn vulnerable, and it hits me exactly how much she has to lose. “Is that okay?”
I don’t want to hurt her like others did. Like Chad did. Like her dad did.
I don’t want to take all the things away from her that she needs and depends on.
I want to be a man she can rely on.
“You’re not going to lose your job,” I try to reassure her. “You’re a fantastic nanny. You’re great with the kids. I need you desperately.”
She smiles, warm and pleased. “Good. Because I’m kind of falling in love with the gig.”
That is music to my ears. But it also means we need to be smart and logical. “We’ll be adults. It’s a promise. It’s a game plan, and we’ll follow it. When the game is over, it’s over,” I say even though the words taste sour on my tongue.
She sticks out a hand. “Deal.”
I take it and shake. This is exactly what we need. And exactly what I hate. But it’s necessary.
After jerking her closer, I drop a kiss to those sweet lips. “Sealed with a kiss,” I say, focusing on touch again.
She rolls her eyes. “You’re such a cheeseball.”
I scoff. “Am not.”
“A little.”
“Would a cheeseball want to fuck you to pieces?”
She seems to mull that over. “Maybe.”
“We should find out then for sure. What’s on your list?” I ask. “I’m dying to know.”
“That’s a surprise.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Wouldn’t that make it more fun, if everything was a surprise?”
Actually, she’s right. “You keep me on my toes, Sabrina Snow. You know that, right?”
“I think I do.”
I tug her closer, sweep her hair off her cheek. “I’m going to be counting down the days to your next surprise.”
“Or the minutes,” she says, letting the words roll off her lips seductively.
My eyes pop with curiosity and dirty hope. “First one?”
She taps her chin, like she’s deep in thought. “Never have I ever been fucked hard twice in one night.”
And I’ll be thanking Trevyn for giving her more than one condom, because I rip that wrapper open so fast and put her on her hands and knees.