Page 10 of Game Plan

I drag my fingertip down his jawline. “I think I warmed you up when we got back to Branch’s, if I recall correctly.”

He snaps at my finger with his teeth as I withdraw my hand.

Memories of that night flood my mind, sending a pool of heat through my body. Branch wasn’t home, having gone somewhere and gotten stranded, and the power went out. I’d had no clue until then that I was capable of more than one orgasm a night.

I shift, trying to quell the ache between my thighs.

We have had so many fun, hot experiences together, and they all go back to one thing. Sex. It’s the foundation of what we are. It’s what makes us work.

It’s what keeps me safe.

And we have to get back to that before it’s too late.

“If we’re not fucking anyone else,” he says, “and we have fun together, what does it matter if we’ve drifted away from our original agreement? Can’t we just admit that we’re in a relationship? What’s the harm in that?”

I groan, facing forward again.

I was hoping our conversation would go smoother than this. And I certainly didn’t expect such pushback from Finn. In the past, he’s been perfectly fine to follow my lead, whether that meant going a few days without interacting or clarifying to a server or fellow patron of a restaurant that we’re not an item.

But, then again, perhaps fuck buddies shouldn’t be going out to dinner together.

Abandoning the argument that we were never supposed to be a couple in the first place, I go another route.

“You and I work because we’re not in a relationship,” I say, ignoring the way his lips press together. “Think about it. If we were together, I wouldn’t be okay with only seeing you a day or two a week during football season, and you don’t have the capacity to give me any more time than that. But it’s fine because I don’t expect it. You’re not hurting my feelings, just like I don’t hurt yours when I need space and don’t call you back for two days and you text me to see if I’m alive.”

He sighs, gripping the steering wheel harder.

“And can you imagine if we were really sharing a life?” I lift a brow and giggle. “We’d kill each other. The first time you said something cocky about me not putting my clothes away, I’d strangle you with a sock.”

His attention slides to mine. “Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve used an article of clothing to restrain me.”

His tone sends a shock wave through my system. My breathing grows shallow. Holy hell.

I can’t think again until his eyes release me.

“So, you think we’d be terrible together,” he says as if he’s working his way through the idea.

I quickly gather my wits. “No. I know we would. Right now, if you want to buy a new pair of sneakers, you just do it. You don’t ask me if I think you need them. And I’m not hiding credit card bills from you, so you don’t see how many books or tchotchkes I buy in the middle of the night. That kind of stuff comes with the relationship territory, and it’s … not for me.”

My heart starts to pound as memories that I’ll never discuss play through my head. I squeeze my eyes shut to blur the sight of the empty brown gaze I never want to think about again.

No. Don’t go there.

I turn to Finn and catch him watching me with a concerned look in his eyes. It makes me smile … and breathe.

“If you don’t remember—and considering that you tune me out when discussing my contracts, I don’t expect that you do—I have a lot of money, Pop. A lot of it. Enough where you can buy all the books and tchotchkes that you want, and I probably wouldn’t notice. And I promise you I wouldn’t care.”

“That’s what they all say.” I roll my eyes. “Once you had to put up with me for real, you’d hate me.”

Finn scoffs, blowing out a breath. “This is the most Poppy Quinn shit I’ve ever heard—and that’s saying something.” He parks the SUV next to the curb in front of my house and turns off the engine. Then he turns to me, his eyes searching mine. “What were you trying to get out of this chat?”

“I just want to remind both of us that we aren’t serious. That we’re here for a good time, not a long time.”

His eyes darken again, but not in a good way.

“A relationship between us would never survive because our foundation was built on sex,” I say. “Sure, we have fun together and whatever. But that’s an accessory to the fucking. The fucking isn’t an accessory to us.”

“What if I disagree?”