Page 33 of Game Plan

“What are you doing here?” I ask, grinning at him.

His lips twist. “Chauncey and I ran some routes this morning at Merricomb Park. Neither of us was ready to go home, so we came by here to throw some darts and shoot the shit.”

“Oh. Fun.” I bite my lip, and his gaze drops to my mouth. “I thought maybe you got word that I was meeting Joshua here and decided to stalk me.”

A long pause settles between us—long enough to give me an opening to mess with him. I rest my hand on his leg, pressing my palm into his thigh as I run it closer to his cock.

He snatches my wrist just before I come into contact with his dick and fights a smile. “If I thought there was any chance that you were meeting another man like that, I wouldn’t do anything about it.”

“Why?”

He laces our fingers together before bringing them to his lips. His focus never leaves me as he presses a soft kiss to the back of my hand.

“Because,” he says, letting my hand go. “If you were on the hunt for another guy, then I totally misread us. And if I’m wrong about us, then I have bigger problems than you falling for …”—he glances over my shoulder at where Joshua and I were sitting—”an accountant.”

I laugh. “An accountant? Not close.” I pick a piece of lint off his shirt. “Are you curious about who he is?”

Finn shrugs. “Not really.”

“Come on,” I say, poking him in the side. “You were jealous. Admit it.”

“Well, I mean, I think it’s a natural instinct to loathe seeing your woman out with another guy you don’t know.”

My heart skips a beat, and then another when his smile softens.

“I said I wouldn’t interfere,” he says. “I never said I wouldn’t care.”

My fingers itch to touch him, to lift the hem of his shirt and skim my palms over his chest. It’s a craving like I’ve never had before. But his words hit me a little differently than normal, and instead of wanting to straddle him, I just want to cuddle him.

“I said I wouldn’t interfere. I never said I wouldn’t care.”

I don’t even know who I am anymore.

“That’s not what you said about Cade,” I say, searching for levity.

He sighs, sliding his arm down the booth and around my waist. Slowly, he scoots me toward him until I’m tucked into his side.

Bliss. Every damn time.

The ever-present hum beneath my skin settles, and the tension in my stomach unclenches. It’s as if my body knows something my brain won’t accept because my body simply exhales.

“That’s true about Cade,” he says, stroking his fingers down my arm. “But that was different because it wasn’t you having lunch or whatever with a guy. You came home trying to break up with me. Then you tell me there’s this guy who was interested in you, and that it triggered you to feel that you needed space from me.”

My spirits sink. I sag against him, wishing that’s not how he took this—because it’s not true. I thought I made that clear.

“Cade doesn’t matter to me, Finn. I don’t want you to think that.”

He shrugs, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. I shouldn’t like it as much as I do, and I shouldn’t feel such tranquility meander its way to the tips of my toes, either.

“Joshua is an underwriter. We work together,” I say, surprised that I want to give him this information.

I generally balk when I think someone assumes they have a say in what I do or the decisions that I make. It makes me cagey. But Finn never does that—he never questions me or pressures me.

“I said I wouldn’t interfere. I never said I wouldn’t care.”

“He’s trying to find a space to throw his husband a party, and I suggested here,” I say, feeling his muscles twitch with every move he makes.

“His husband, huh?”