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 either.”

“I hate James.”

“Do you want me to go 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.”

Chapter 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 her?

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 flips 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. Her lips quirk on a repressed smile. “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 with 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.”

I glance at the screen where Brad Pitt is now talking to a dapper George Clooney. I’m comfortable enough in my manhood to admit that Clooney can work the hell out of a suit. I frown. “I think we should pick another movie. Let’s put on The Magnificent Seven.”

“More man candy.”

“You are killing movies for me, Chester.”

She grins wide and then reaches to kiss me. “You’re cute when grumpy.”

I grunt, but it’s all show. I am fucking putty in her hands.

Chess runs a hand over my chest. We keep touching each other. I do it because I can’t seem to stop. Idly, I wonder if it’s the same for her.

“Why do you keep calling me Chester,” she asks, watching her hand glide over my skin.

“Why do you keep letting me?” I counter.

“I honestly don’t know. I hate my name.”

She has good reason; I can’t think any woman would want to be named Chester. But it bothers me that she hates a part of herself.

Chess’s gaze narrow. “Answer the question.”

“All right, bossy boots.” I turn toward her, resting my head in my hand. “I call you Chester because the second I learned that was actually your name I started falling for you.”

A soft light fills her green eyes. But her expression remains dubious. My girl needs brutal honesty to believe anything is true. So I give it to her.

“There you were, this gorgeous, fierce Amazonian warrior, glaring hate-fire at me. And you had the most ridiculous, unappealing name—”

Her mouth falls open. “Asshat!”

Laughing, I evade her pinching fingers. “Unappealing, yet endearing name.”

Chess launches herself at me, poking my ribs because she knows I’m ticklish. Curses and dire threats leave her mouth. I catch her hands in mine and easily tumble her back onto the bed.