Page 88 of Game Plan

I grab the hem of his shirt and lift it over his head. “Why would that be?”

He smiles as my hands roam freely over every ridge and valley of his body.

“Because I come upstairs and instead of this room being empty, you’re here. You’re in my shirt, fresh out of the shower, ready to crawl into bed with me and turn on one of your stupid documentaries.”

“I didn’t know you hate my documentaries,” I say, running my fingers over his shoulders.

“It’s the last thing in the world I want to watch.”

“Why haven’t you objected?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer until I look up at him. “Because I watch you instead. And that’s my favorite show.”

I can’t hide the smile flirting on my lips. I would’ve called bullshit on that line before. But now? I like it. And I kind of think he might mean it.

“Wanna know something?” I ask, staring up at him.

“Sure.”

“This is becoming my favorite part of the day, too.”

“Why is that?” he asks, grinning.

I open my mouth to make a joke about him taking his clothes off but stop myself. Because while I do love a naked Finn, that’s not why I’ve been looking forward to this time of day.

And that realization knocks me sideways.

I could make a joke. I could turn this sexual and keep things light and easy between us. That’s familiar, and I could do that blindfolded.

But … I don’t want to.

Maybe for once I want to tell him how I feel.

“Because you come in the room and close the door. And it’s just you and me,” I say.

There’s more to it, but I think this is enough to make my point.

Finn’s grin softens, and his tender expression makes the bridge of my nose burn. It’s as if he’s waited a long time to hear me say this—and maybe he has.

He slides a hand into his pocket and pulls out a blue box with Siggy’s written in delicate white script. My eyes widen as they settle on the iconic jewelry box that looks so small in Finn’s hand.

“This came today,” he says softly. “I haven’t opened it.”

I take a step toward the bed until the backs of my knees hit the edge. My heart thumps a mile a minute, my pulse racing just as fast. I sit, drawing in a breath, and look up at him.

He sits beside me. “You’re still here. That’s good.”

I grab his bicep and squeeze it, my attention still on the box.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Yes.”

He opens it slowly, and the ring I chose is right there. The diamonds catch the light and twinkle as Finn lifts it from its place on a pillow of blue. I can barely feel my body as he takes my finger and slides the beautiful piece onto my left hand’s ring finger.

My heart is in my throat as I look at it, taking it in—absorbing the fact that Finn just put an engagement ring on my finger.

Holy shit.