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)
Like that, my heart breaks for her. “Oh, honey, no.” I clasp her shoulders and find them trembling. “No, Britt.”
But she doesn’t seem to hear me. Before I can say a word, she presses against me, her mouth seeking mine.
Chess
Finn is taking too long with the pizza, and frankly I’m too starving to wait for him to bring it in here. Sex with Finn makes me hungry. Grinning at the idea of placing a bed next to the kitchen, I pull on one of his oversize jerseys. The silky material skims the sensitive tips of my nipples as it settles over me and falls to my upper thighs. The fact that I even notice my nipples makes me laugh a little.
God, he’s turned me into a hedonist.
That stupid smile is still on my face when I waltz out of his bedroom and run straight into a model-sized nightmare.
I halt, my heart clenching, my muscles seizing.
Britt Larson is in my man’s arms, her face tucked into the crook of his neck. That. Is. My. Crook.
I don’t know if I make a sound or Finn is just that attuned to me, because he instantly turns his head and catches my eye. A look of horror pulls at his face. And for an agonizing second, I’m paralyzed with fear.
Then I start thinking again and realize he’s also looking at me as if I’m his lifeline.
“Chess.” He holds up his hands behind Britt’s back in a plea.
Britt stiffens. Ice-blue eyes glare at me through a veil of pale hair. Immediately, she lurches up. “You said you weren’t with her,” she accuses Finn.
Excuse me? I feel my brows lift.
Finn on the other hand detaches himself from Britt’s grip. “I wasn’t at the time, but I wanted to be.” His tone is firm. “And now I am.”
While I’d like to feel all warm and mushy about that, I’m standing in nothing but a thin jersey, my hair a tangled mess. All fine and good when rolling around in Finn’s bed, but not when facing a model swathed in couture and wearing knee-high Jimmy Choo boots. I turn to go change when Britt bursts out crying. A full-out ugly cry of someone who has completely lost it.
Finn makes a helpless gesture, his gaze pinning me to the spot. His desperation is palpable. But it’s Britt who has my sympathy. I should be annoyed that she’s thrown herself on my man. But she’s so distraught, I just can’t be.
Giving Finn a look that says, Comfort her and I’ll be right back, I hustle into my bedroom to grab some leggings. It takes a few seconds, yet I still find them standing in the hall, Finn awkwardly petting Britt’s head while she sobs.
“Here.” Gently, I take hold of Britt’s trembling arm. “Let’s sit down.”
I lead her to the couch and, when she plops onto it in a miserable sprawl, I sit next to her and stroke her back.
“Could you get us some water and tissues?” I ask Finn.
“Sure.” He all but leaps into action, clearly happy to be doing something other than dealing with a crying woman. Can’t blame him; he’s had to deal with me crying earlier. Two women in a row is probably a nightmare for the guy.
“I’m so sorry,” Britt says through her tears. “I didn’t mean to cry like this. I don’t usually . . . God, this is embarrassing.”
“It’s all right,” I say. “Everyone loses it at some point, and it’s usually in the worst place possible. Murphy’s Law and all that.”
She pushes her hair back from her face and gives me a considering look. “You’re being very kind. I don’t know if I would be as understanding in the same position.”
“And what position is that?”
Britt grimaces. “Another woman throwing herself at your boyfriend.”
Finn takes that moment to come back into the room. His steps stutter as if he’s aware he’s walked into a potential bomb, but can’t quite make himself turn tail and run. Silently, he hands Britt a box of tissues and a glass of ice water.
Finn and I exchange a glance. He comes to stand by me, putting his hand on my shoulder as if I’m the one who needs soothing. Or maybe he’s worried I’ll be pissed. I give his hand a reassuring squeeze and then focus on Britt.
Delicately, she blows her nose and then takes a drink. “I really am sorry, Finn. I didn’t think. I . . .” She starts weeping again.
“Talk to me,” he says in a quiet voice.
“I don’t know what to say,” she wails, wringing her tissue in her hands. “I can’t think straight. I can’t sleep. I cry all the time. I thought coming to see you would bring me comfort.” She snorts out a sad laugh. “Obviously a grave mistake.”
“It’s not a mistake,” he says. “I want to help you.”