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)
“Probably,” he agrees then sighs. “I’m glad you’re okay, honey.”
A fine tremor goes through his body. And I realize, he isn’t nervous, he’s upset. I snuggle closer. “Thank you for coming to get me.”
“Always, Chess.”
He says it with such fierce sincerity that my knees go weak. I think about the loss of my house, my work. Jesus, my Nikon D5 DSLR. I took out a loan to get that baby. Not to mention my lenses. My beautiful lenses. Gone. Melted.
Panic claws up my throat. If I let it in, I’ll ask him to take me to bed, make me forget for a few hours why I’m so scared. I can almost hear myself begging, almost feel my hands moving down to cup the fat bulge in his pants.
He’d be willing. I know this well. Finn has never hidden his attraction to me. It would be so good, I know this without a doubt. But morning would come, and I’d still be a woman without a home, facing the only friend I have close right now with all the awkwardness and regret that comes with a one-night stand.
I force myself to loosen my hold on him, to step back and find some distance.
Finn’s arms fall to his sides as he watches me back up. The loss of him makes me cold and off-balance. I clutch my arm to my chest.
“I should take my bath now.”
“Sure.” He leaves me to bathe, closing the bathroom door behind him.
At some point while I soak, I hear him return and leave my pain meds in the bedroom. By the time I crawl into his soft guest bed, the sheets smelling faintly of laundry detergent but stiff with disuse, I’m shaking.
I cry with my face buried deep into a pillow so he won’t hear.
Nine
Finn
I’m one twisted bastard. My girl has had one of the worst nights of her life, and here I am, fucking content because she’s in my home.
It rattled me to the core when I thought of her hurt or worse. The time it took me to get to her had felt endless. When I’d finally found her, all bruised and dazed, her green eyes so wounded and scared, it leveled me. I’m still shaking deep inside.
With a grunt, I push my body up, my weight resting on my fingertips. Sweat trickles down my temples and into my eyes. Slowly, I lower myself until my nose almost touches the floor. Up, down, the burn in my arms and chest is a welcome distraction. But not enough.
Chess had been crying last night. It fucking killed me. I wanted to go to her so badly, I’d leaned against her door, my heart in my throat, my hand pressed to the wood. The only thing that stopped me was that she had obviously waited until I left to cry. She hadn’t wanted me to witness her pain.
That hurt, too. I want her trust. I want to take care of her. Badly.
An oddity I don’t fully understand, because I have never taken care of anyone but myself. Never wanted to until now.
Yet it felt good last night, knowing that I was providing her with safe harbor, seeing to her comfort. Which brings me back to feeling like a bit of a bastard. She’s hurting and I don’t know how to make it better.
I’d have made her breakfast, but it’s going on eleven and she’s still not up. I grunt again, picking up the pace. A strangled squeak has me pausing.
Chess stands in the living room, gaping at me. “Holy hell.” Her gaze slides over my bare torso like greedy hands. “Is this one of the perks offered at the House of Mannus?”
With a little more flare than necessary, I leap up from my plank position and land lightly on my feet. “Daily viewing times are at ten to eleven, barring travel blackout dates.”
“Excellent. I’ll set an alarm from now on.” She grins, and I feel a little dizzy. When Chess smiles, she lights up—even as she is now, hair tangled around her shoulders, eyes bruised by lack of sleep and crying. To make her smile feels like a reward.
I set my hands on my hips, not bothering to towel off. “You’ve seen me naked and didn’t bat an eye, but watching me do push-ups is a treat?”
“I was working. It would have been unprofessional to ogle the client.” Her gaze touches on my chest, and I swear I feel it. “Now? I might just make some popcorn and settle in. You have popcorn, right?”
“Sorry, I hate popcorn, but feel free to watch me anytime.”
“How can you not like popcorn?” Chess shakes her head as she folds her long limbs onto the couch. She’s in black leggings and a T-shirt with my name and jersey number on it. Not her usual attire, and I know Charlie bought the shirt, but damn if it doesn’t give me a possessive thrill to see her wearing my name.