I grip her ass and pump harder. “Chess.”

She seems to understand better than I do because she strokes my hair, trying to calm even as her hips rise to meet mine with increasing need. Her eyes flutter closed, her lips parting on a gasp. And she is so fucking beautiful, it tears me wide open.

We come together. And I fill her up, until she’s overflowing, warm wetness running back down over my cock. I’m supposed to be the strong one, her protector, but she is the one who holds me close, murmurs soothing sounds as I shake and struggle to pull myself together.

Something has changed, leaving me exposed and feeling out of control. And it scares the fuck out of me.

Chapter Twenty-One

Chess

 

* * *

 

The Whett gala is being held at a mansion in the Garden District. Set back from the street and surrounded by iron gates, the neoclassical mansion is surrounded by a sprawling lawns and gardens. Inside, the scale of the place is immense, soaring ceilings, grand hallways, an enormous curved stairway built in the days when women wore hooped skirts that gently swayed when they descended those stairs like queens.

I don’t want to glorify the past, but I can appreciate the hell out of the architecture.

With a warm hand on the small of my back, Finn leads me past throngs of guests and down the main hall.

“One day, I want a place like this,” I tell him as we pass under a chandelier glittering twenty feet above.

Finn’s brow quirks as he glances at me. “Really? I thought you’d want something a little less massive.”

I tuck myself closer to him as the crowd gets thicker. “Well, not this big. I’d get lost in here. But something with history like this. A house that’s graceful and grand in its proportions. I’ve always wanted to live in the Garden District.”

We enter a reception room, done in shades of cream and gold, where they’ve set up a bar. Finn takes in the space, as if really looking at it for the first time. His hair is adorably mussed, the satin lapels on his suit jacket snagged and rumpled, having been crushed under my grip.

I probably look equally disheveled. Though we’d tried to tidy up, short of a shower and starting from scratch, there was no hiding the fact that we’d been messing around.

A warm hum of satisfaction moves through me. “Messing around” is a weak term for what we’d done. It had been the best sex of my life. Transcendent. Altering.

Finn’s gaze clashes with mine now, and there’s a subtle gleam in his eyes. He knows me too well. Thankfully, he has better restraint than I do at the moment. He keeps his voice light, his touch on my back gentle. “We could get one, you know? A nice sized place with a pool and a guest house. Fill it up with…”

He trails off, going pale under his tan.

I don’t know if I hurt for him or me. Either way, the sensation isn’t pleasant. I step away from his touch, my gaze drifting over the room filled with smiling faces.

“Chess,” he says low and rough. “I meant friends and family.”

No, he didn’t. He shouldn’t have to lie.

I give him a tight smile. “It’s not quite the same, is it?”

The clean sweep of his jaw bunches. “It doesn’t mean anything. We were just talking.”

“About the future?” I shake my head. “We shouldn’t be doing that, anyway.”

Finn touches my elbow, leaning in to meet my eyes. “They were just words off the cuff.”

“I know that.” I tuck a lock of his hair back from his brow. “Let’s just do as we promised. Let’s just be. I’m okay with that.”

“You taking me literally wasn’t what I had in mind,” he mutters with a frown.

Annoyance skitters up my back. “If you want to pick and choose what we focus on, then expect the same from me.”

The space between us tightens as we lock gazes. But then he relents with a grunt and walks off to the bar. As soon as he’s gone, my shoulders sag with remorse. I can’t snipe at him whenever he accidentally touches a nerve. It isn’t fair to either of us.

He returns with two glasses and a wary expression. “Here.”

“Thank you.” I take the glass. It’s filled with something pale green bubbly. “What is it?”

“Tears of Regret.” His mouth quirks. “I hear it tastes a lot like Champagne cocktail.”

My hand trembles as I take a quick sip. “I’m sorry too.”

He doesn’t say anything but kisses the top of my head.

“I got offered a job in New York.”

Finn pauses, his glass halfway to his mouth, then takes a long, audible swallow of his drink. “It must be good,” he says, after catching his breath. “To put that look in your eyes.”

I study the rim of my glass before taking another sip of my cocktail.

“Tell me about the job, Chess.”

He listens as I fill him in on the details, both of us strolling toward the French doors that lead to a terrace. Outside, we find a dark corner, and Finn leans against the wall of the house.

“Sounds like a great opportunity,” he says, giving nothing away. “How long would you be away?”

I grip the narrow bowl of my glass. “One to two months if all goes well.”

He nods, glancing down at his shoes. When he looks up, his eyes glint in the moonlight. “Is this something you really want?”

Such careful control in his voice. It closes in on me like a vise.

“When James first told me, the answer was yes. But…” I lift my hands in a helpless gesture. “I don’t want to leave you.”

Finn gives me a small smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

But I would. And it feels wrong leaving him right now. As if it will kill the momentum of us, when we’ve only just started.

“When would you leave?” he asks.

“In the next two weeks.”

A grimace mars his features, though he clearly tries to hide it. “I won’t be able to visit you,” he says. “These last two games of the season are going to be intense. And if we win, I’ll have to concentrate on the playoffs.”

He sounds so apologetic, as if it’s his fault I’m leaving. Sadness and a strange sense of panic roll around in my chest, rising up to clog my throat. From the second I’d thought of taking the job, I knew he wouldn’t be able to follow. Something in his eyes tells me that he understands this as well.