The Game Plan

Grumbling about buying darker drapes, I crawl over him, earning a light slap on my butt as I go to get us some coffee.

When I return, Dex is on his back, his head propped up by pillows. The sight makes me pause at the threshold of my room. Sun-kissed, golden brown hair spilled over white linen; lush, dark beard and pouty mouth; colorful tattoos on swelling, rolling muscles. Good God, it’s like a burly pirate landed in my bed and is waiting for another round of debauchery.

Ridiculous fantasies of me pillaging his willing flesh dance in my head, and I fight a snicker. The sound catches his attention, and his mouth slowly curls.

“Look your fill yet, darlin’?”

The silver barbell in his nipple winks in the light as he moves to take his cup.

“I don’t think it’s possible to get my fill.” I slide in beside him, where it’s warm and wonderful. “I’m thinking we get you a couple of chunky rings, maybe a do-rag and a cutlass, and we can play capture-the-pirate later.”

Dex grunts, his hazel eyes gleaming in obvious pleasure. “Tell you what, you put on one of your sweet little lacy getups, I’ll let you tie me to the bed, and you can work over my mast all you want.”

He gives me an exaggerated leer, and we both burst out laughing.

I press my nose against his shoulder. “God, that was terrible.”

“You started it.” He chuckles, the sound deep and yet light with ease.

We drink coffee under the covers, then he puts the cups aside so I can snuggle in close once more.

Despite our goofiness, or maybe because of it, a heavy weight settles under my ribs and a lump lodges in my throat.

I run my hand over his chest, the dusting of hair between his pecs tickling my palm. “When is your flight?” We didn’t get to the particulars last night. But I know he isn’t here for long. And, as much as I hate it, I have to go to work soon.

His chest lifts on a sigh. “In a few hours.”

“Oh.” I’d hoped for more. At least one more night.

Dex swallows hard and glances toward the window. Sunlight lines the curve of his cheek and glints gold on the tips of his lashes. “I should have waited until I had more time freed up.” He turns back to me. “But you were upset. I could hear it in your voice when we talked. So I jumped on a plane.”

My fingers spread wide over the center of his chest. He came for me. I’m always being left behind, and Dex will do that too, but he also dropped everything and came here for me. No one has ever done that.

The lump within my throat grows. “Thank you,” I whisper. “I…you…” I take a ragged breath and press my lips to the hard plane of his chest. “It means a lot, Ethan.”

He doesn’t answer, but I can feel him nod. The room goes silent, awkward and heavy with the weight of his eventual departure.

Dex takes a deep breath and rolls away from me, sitting up at the edge of the bed, his shoulders hunched and his head bent low. He doesn’t say anything, just stays quiet, his profile drawn tight with a frown.

“What is it?” I ask, sitting up as well.

He doesn’t stir, and for a second, I think he hasn’t heard me. Then his frown deepens. “I don’t want to tell you.”

“What?” I squeak, shocked and offended. “So the whole, ‘you can tell me anything’ speech only applies to me baring my soul? Great. Lovely.”

He winces. The thick muscles along his back bunch and flex as he runs his hands through his loose hair. “I don’t feel like I have a right to, Fi.” His voice lowers to a rumble. “I hate this.”

The words send my heart thudding against my ribs. “Hate this?”

“Leaving you,” he says, waving an arm toward the door. A sigh gusts from his lips. “I know I’m the one who pushed for a long-distance relationship. I asked you to trust me to make it work. But the thought of constantly leaving you eats at me. I don’t want to.”

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