Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 119964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
“I’m not,” she wails, clutching my shoulders and burrowing her face in my chest.
“My mistake,” I murmur, wanting to smile despite the fact that her pain hurts me, too. I’ve never met a woman less willing to admit weakness. She’s as bad as a football player that way.
Gently, I rock her as she sobs, her body wracking with it. I stroke her back, the long strands of her hair.
She clings tighter. “Everything is changing,” she cries. “My house is gone. My stuff. My best friend is leaving. Everything is gone.”
I’m here. I’m not leaving.
But I don’t say a word. This isn’t about me. I just hold her.
“Fucking Jamie,” she grumbles through her sobs. “Fucking seducer of best friends.”
I can’t help it; a snicker breaks free. Because I’ve met Jamie via one of Chess and James’s FaceTime chats. Seductress she is not; more like a cross between Tinker Bell and Urkel.
Chess stills, clearly having heard me laugh. Instantly, I feel like a shithead. She’s hurting and . . .
A snort leaves her. And then she’s laughing too, the sound raspy and thick with tears. “Oh, my God, I’m such an asshole.”
Smiling, I cuddle her closer until there isn’t an inch of space between us. “You’re upset. If Jake left town to shack up with a cute geek, I’d be irate, too.”
With a sigh, she sags against me. “I like Jamie.”
“I know you do.”
She doesn’t say anything, and I don’t, either. The rapid beat of her heart thumps against my ribs. I smooth my hand down her back. After a while, she stirs.
“I’m not a crier,” she mutters against my damp chest.
“Okay.” I kiss her temple.
“I’m not. I don’t even like sappy movies.”
I run my fingers through her hair. “Me, neither.”
“I hate James.”
“Do you want me to kick his ass?”
I can feel her smile. “No. I love him.”
For a sharp second, I actually want to kick James’s ass, resenting him for getting those words from Chess. I pull back and look down at her tear-swollen face.
With a grimace, she wipes her cheeks. “I need a tissue.”
“I’ll get you one.” My voice is oddly thick.
I move to get up, but she stops me with a touch to my arm. “Thank you. For being here.”
My hand feels heavy as I cup her cheek. “You’re going to be okay, Chester.”
She leans into my touch, but her expression is mulish. Stubborn as ever. “How can you know that?”
I give her a small smile, my thumb brushing her damp cheek. “Because I’m making it my job to see that you are.”
Eighteen
Finn
For the first time in my life, I spend the entire day in bed with a woman. I don’t know what that says about me. Have I led a shallow life? Or have I simply been waiting for Chess?
I don’t dwell on it; I’m having too much fun.
After Chess settles down, we take a shower. Showering together should be a house rule. At least when I have nowhere to go, because it’s not an experience I want to rush. I thank my foresight for asking my contractor to put a built-in bench in my massive shower. I can comfortably sit there, thighs spread wide, and let Chess ride me while hot water rains down on us.
Perfection.
After the shower, it’s right back to bed. We settle in, and I let Chess pick out a movie for us to watch.
“I’m going to order a pizza,” I tell her as she scrolls through the movie menu.
“I want meatballs on it.”
“Meatballs?” I shake my head. “That’s just overkill. Order sausage like a normal person.”
“Meatballs. And onions.”
“No onions.”
Chess gives me a long look.
“I’m giving you meatballs,” I say.
She snickers, and I roll my eyes.
“No onion breath, Chuckles,” I tell her over her laughter.
“Fine.” She scrolls down a row of movie titles. “And extra cheese.”
“A given.”
I call in our order and then toss the phone aside. “You’re picking Ocean’s Eleven? Excellent.”
Chess rests her head in the crook of my shoulder as the movie begins to play. “Why do you sound so surprised by my pick?”
“I thought you’d choose a chick flick.”
“Because that’s so me,” she drawls.
“You don’t like sappy movies. Chick movies aren’t always sappy. They can be mushy, too.”
Chess tweaks my nipple and grins when I yelp. She rubs my abused flesh. “Ocean’s Eleven is a chick flick, you know.”
“It is not. It’s a total guy movie.”
“Is not.”
“Is too. They are a band of brothers who devise a clever plan to steal the impossible, while forming an emotional, but manly, bond in the process.”
Chess lifts her head to meet my gaze. “Manly bond, eh?” Her smile unfurls. “You do realize that the whole plan was for Danny Ocean to win back the love of his wife, don’t you?”
“Pfft. Subplot. It was all about the guys.”
“Denial is strong in this one.” Her expression borders on pitying. “And have you actually looked at the cast? It’s like a man candy buffet of sexy goodness.”