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)
Hey, Chess, I don’t just want you. I need you. I need you so much it hurts. I’m pretty sure if you leave it will end me.
I clear my throat. “I love it.”
“Good.” She waves her spatula in the direction of the coffee machine. “Coffee just finished, if you want some.”
I’m staring at her even as I’m pulling down two mugs and pouring the coffee. It feels like I’m walking through deep water. Meanwhile, Chess bustles around, flipping the French toast and dipping new slices into the egg batter she has set up in a shallow bowl.
I add cream for Chess’s coffee and two sugars for mine then pass her the mug. “This is new,” I say with a nod toward her breakfast.
Chess glances at me from beneath her long lashes. Those clear green eyes hold a hint of regret, and my heart starts thudding. Is she moving out? Is that what this is? My fingers wrap around my mug, pressing into the heated ceramic.
“You’ve done so much for me,” she says, sliding the spatula under a golden-brown toast and putting it onto the finished stack. “I just wanted to do something for you, too.”
“You don’t have to.”
She looks up at me, so fucking beautiful, I almost lean in and take a taste of her.
That husky, sexy voice of hers sounds small and sorry. “I want to.”
Her lips are delicately drawn, a soft pink shade that reminds me of candy. I want to press my mouth to hers. Again and again. And again.
Jesus, I’m waxing poetic like some lovelorn sap while she’s looking at me as if I’m touched in the head. I realize I’ve been silent for too long. “Are you staying?” I croak out.
Chess drops her gaze to the stove, and her fingers tighten around the handle of the spatula. “I like it here.”
I lean against the counter, so I don’t make a fool of myself and fall to my knees. I love you here. I clear my throat. “You keep making me breakfast, and you can stay here forever.”
She snickers. “I’d hold back on that declaration until you’ve tasted your breakfast. I’m not known for my cooking.”
Then I’ll make you breakfast forever.
I dip my head over her shoulder and peer into the egg mix. “Is that a shell?” I tease, pretending I’m immune to the clean scent of her hair and the warmth of her slim body.
“Shut up.” Chess elbows me in the gut, and it’s all I can do not to pull her against me.
My control is so shot, I can’t stop myself from grasping her upper arm and holding on. She stills, not moving, not saying a word. My grasp is gentle, my palm pressed against the smooth warmth of her skin. I’m close enough that, whenever she breathes in, her shoulder blades almost brush my chest. A phantom touch, yet I feel that contact as if it were real. It shivers over my skin, and I want more.
And, Jesus, who is this guy I’ve become? I don’t recognize him; he is feral, hyperaware, and yet so tenderhearted it disorients me.
Chess’s head is bent, her eyes on the pan. Butter sizzles, a soggy piece of yellow, battered bread slowly browning. Neither of us moves, my hand cradling her arm, our breaths in sync. In. Out. In. Out.
It feels as though I’m fucking her.
The strange thought tilts through me, makes me dizzy. I sway into her, and my cock, heavy and hot with need, kisses the curve of her ass.
Everything goes a little hazy.
I need. I need.
My fingers twitch on her arm, sinking into soft flesh. She makes a sound, not pained but undone.
I draw in a hard breath, my lungs burning. “Chess—”
The blaring tones of “Bohemian Rhapsody” cut through the room.
Mom.
It’s more effective than a blast of cold water. Instantly, I step away, my head clearing and my dick wilting. With a curse, I grab the phone and shut it off. Chess’s stare is a brand on my back, and my neck tightens.
“Who are you ignoring?” she asks in the thick silence.
With a sigh, I scrub my hand over my face. “My mother.”
With that one confession, I know I’ll have to tell Chess everything. I could keep hiding it, but I want Chess in my life, which means I have to let her all the way in, as painful as that might be.
Chess
Saved by Finn’s mother. I never thought I’d be grateful for that. And yet it feels true. Because a second ago? Jesus, I’d been blindsided by unexpected and unwelcome sheer lust.
Aside from his grip on my arm, Finn hadn’t even touched me. Didn’t matter. I’d felt every inch of him behind me, a wall of vibrating heat and intent.
I’d never experienced awareness like that, as if every nerve ending of mine were attached to his. He breathed, and I breathed with him. It had been all I could do not to beg him to touch me, slide his hand down into my pants so he could seek out the sensitive, swelling flesh that was slick and throbbing.