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)
Finn doesn’t move, but his grimace is swift and pained. Slowly, he straightens, holding my gaze the entire time. “I’m beginning to think that woman has some sort of sixth sense.” With a wry twist of his lips, he takes a step back. “Come on, then, you heard the woman. Glenn is here!”
I should be grateful for his mother’s impeccable sense of timing, but I’m not. I glance back at the bed as we leave the room. She won’t be around at night. And I really don’t have much faith in my willpower anymore.
Finn
Awkward is a grown man hobbling out of his childhood bedroom, trying to tuck away his hard-on so he can face his family without causing anyone mental trauma.
While part of me wants Chess to see the effect she has on me, I’ve pushed her enough already. I’m certain Chess would have no compunction about kneeing me in my tender balls and taking the next flight home.
I haven’t been doing a good job of keeping away from her. I know this. I’ve told myself this more times than I care to count. Problem is, I want her with a ferocity that aches low in my gut, and I find myself reaching for her without thought, only to restrain myself at the last second. Because she is not mine.
My body insists otherwise and is pissy with me at present. Aching dick, bruised heart, twitchy hands, I’m an undisciplined wreck.
Then I had to go haul Chess off to my room. A stupid play. I have no idea how I’m going to keep my hands off her when we’re stuck sleeping together in that small-ass bed. Jesus, I haven’t been this torqued for release since the seventh grade, when I caught sight of Angel Ramirez’s boobs in gym class.
Pathetic.
“What did you say?” Chess peers up at me with suspicious green eyes.
“Nothing.” I open a pair of French doors and lead her out to the patio.
Seated at a grouping of rattan chairs are my brother and his wife, Emily. They both stand, and I notice the small swell of Emily’s belly. I take a hard step, the ground meeting my foot too soon.
Because she’s right beside me, Chess bumps into my shoulder. But then her hand slips into mine, her grasp secure and firm, and I know she’s seen Emily too, that she understands exactly. A lump rises in my throat.
I squeeze her hand in return and then ease my hold as if I’m merely a guy leading his girl out to meet his family.
Glenn meets me halfway. My brother is five years older than me. Though he is two inches shorter, with blond hair instead of brown, and thicker about the waist—because he doesn’t have a job that requires him to work out until he drops—we still look a lot alike.
Glenn was a running back in college, but didn’t make it to pros. Doesn’t mean he isn’t still strong as an ox. He nearly knocks the air out of me as we hug, thumping my back hard enough that I cough.
“Good to see you, man,” he says, stepping back, his gaze darting to Chess.
I make the introductions, give Emily the standard hello kiss and ask how she’s doing with her pregnancy. Yes, I knew. I just hadn’t seen the visual proof until now. Soon enough, Chess and I are tucked together on a love seat as my family not so subtly grills us for information.
“So,” my mom says, margarita in hand, “how did you two meet?”
“I took nude photos of Finn,” Chess says before biting into a tortilla chip loaded with guacamole.
Mom chokes on her drink as Glenn laughs, and my dad holds back a smile. Chess pauses, mouth filled with chip, and her creamy skin goes brilliantly pink.
“Shit,” she mumbles around her food, as I start to laugh. “I didn’t mean . . .”
“I was posing for a charity calendar,” I tell them, taking pity on Chess. “Chess is a professional photographer.”
Weakly, she nods as she takes a bracing sip of her drink.
“Finn must have made a good impression,” Emily teases with a wink.
“Jesus, Em,” Glenn blurts out, still laughing.
“What? All I’m saying is that a girl can get a little sidetracked seeing a naked guy.”
“Oh, he wasn’t the only one nude,” Chess assures, then catches herself again and grimaces. “I mean, I saw a lot of other dicks— Shit.”
My father loses it and starts laughing in that low, wheezing way of his.
“Fucking hell,” Chess mutters, now tomato red. The cuss words seem to make her even more mortified, and she buries her face into the crook of my shoulder. “Let me die now.”
My heart gives a weird sort of lurch at her unexpected turn to me for comfort and protection, and I wrap my arm around her slim torso, snuggling her close. “Maybe have a few drinks before you speak again,” I tease, pressing my lips to her hair. “You know, to loosen up your tongue.”