33. Chess
Chapter thirty-three
Chess
T he bass from the party throbs against my chest like an accusation, a rhythmic reminder of how I screwed up. I glance at Addy, her green eyes wide and reflecting the lights that spill from the doorway. She's safe, but that's luck, not because of anything I did. The anger coils in me, tight and hot, and before she can protest, I scoop Addy into my arms. Her blonde hair brushes against my forearm as I carry her out into the cooler night air.
"Chess, put me down," she insists, her voice muffled against my chest.
"Can't," I grunt, surging forward with her held close. "Just...can't."
We reach the car, and I gently set her on her feet, cursing myself for every second she was out of my line of sight. Anything could have happened. My heart hammers with a mix of fear and fury, the dark edge of my nature pulling at me.
Dre, with those ice blue eyes that miss nothing, flashes a knowing look before he turns his attention to Gen. "You're in front, Gen. I'm sitting with them." His voice brooks no argument, and somehow, it feels like he's got my back.
"Whatever," Gen says with a roll of her eyes, but she listens, taking the front seat without further complaint.
Dre slides in behind me, his presence dominating as I help Addy into the car, tucking her into the seat as if she's made of glass. I don't look at him, but I can feel the heat from his body, the way his gaze seems to burn holes into the side of my head.
"Are you okay?" I ask Addy, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice. I need her to be okay.
"Yeah, Chess, I'm fine," she replies.
"Good," I breathe out, relief flooding through me, though the anger remains, a beast prowling just beneath the surface of my skin.
I click the seatbelt into place, securing Addy beside me. My hand lingers on her thigh, fingers pressing into the soft skin below the edge of her dress. I can’t seem to let go; it’s as if by holding onto her, I can keep her safe, keep her mine.
"Snowflake," Dre's voice is a low growl from the other side of her. "What the hell were you thinking? Taking off like that?"
She shifts uncomfortably, looking down at her hands folded in her lap. "I was just going to the bathroom. I didn't think—"
"Exactly," I cut in, my voice harsher than I intend. "You didn't think about what could've happened." The words are like acid in my throat, because they're true and because they’re unfair. She shouldn’t have to always be thinking of the dangers lurking around every corner. But she should know she’s not alone anymore.
"I'm sorry," she murmurs, and there’s a tremble in her voice that rips right through me.
"Sorry isn't enough, Addy," I say, trying to soften my tone. "We can't... You can't just wander off. What if we lost you?"
"Preston isn't just going to let this shit go," Dre adds, his eyes dark pools of concern and something more primal. He's as wired as I am, ready to pounce, protect, possess.
"Nothing happened. I'm fine." Her defense is weak, and she knows it.
"Nothing?" I echo, incredulous. "Addy, if that asshole had gotten a hold of you—."
"This time. Nothing happened this time," Dre says, leaning forward until he's almost hovering over us both. "You don't wander off alone. We look out for each other. That's how this works."
She nods, biting her lip, and I feel the tension coiled within me ease just a fraction. Not because of her apology, but because despite everything, she's here with us, unharmed. And I swear to myself that I won't let my guard down again. Not when it comes to her.
“Who was that asshole?” Saint demands from the front seat.
“I don’t know,” Addy shrugs. “He said he’d been watching me.”
“Ew,” Gen chimes in. “What a fucking creep.”
I turn her face toward me, the streetlight streaming through the car window casting shadows across her delicate features. "Look at me, Addy," I urge, my thumbs gently caressing her cheeks. Her green eyes meet mine, a storm of emotions swirling within them—fear, relief, defiance, a hint of confusion.
I wish I had answers for you, beautiful. But, I'm just as confused as you are.
"Are you sure you're okay?" The question is a whisper, a plea for honesty in the silence that blankets us.
She nods, but there's a tremor in her smile. "I am, Chess. Really." Her voice is steadier than her hands, which rest fidgety in her lap.
"Promise?" The word hangs between us, heavy with the weight of everything unsaid, every shared moment of vulnerability and strength.
"Promise," she affirms, and something akin to relief washes over me, my heartbeat returning to a normal rhythm. But it's short-lived.
Dre's hand is on her. She flinches, but makes no move to stop him. I watch his hand on Addy's thigh, his pinky finger teasing under the hem of her skirt. The action is bold, possessive, and it sends a jolt straight through me. My heart kicks against my ribs, a frenzied drumbeat echoing in my chest.
"Addy?" I question, searching her expression for any sign of discomfort or fear, but all I find is anticipation threading through her hitched breath.
"Chess," she breathes out my name, and it's laced with a million unspoken words. There's a heat in her gaze that mirrors my own, a fire that Dre's touch has stoked within us both.
Dre's hand ventures higher, emboldened by her silence. His finger traces the elastic edge of Addy's panties, and I catch the subtle shift in her posture. She tenses, a deer caught in headlights, yet her eyes are locked onto mine, pleading for something I can't quite decipher.
"Chess," she whispers, an uncertain tremor in her voice.
"Shh, I've got you," I assure her, my grip on her face firm but gentle, a lifeline in the storm I'm sure Dre's touch is conjuring. I've been there. He's...all consuming.
"Snowflake," Dre murmurs, his voice barely above a breath as his fingers dance precariously close to forbidden territory. His free hand comes up to frame her throat.
Addy's breath hitches again, and I fight the urge to knock Dre's hand away, to claim her reactions as mine alone. But there's a part of me that wants to see how far this goes, how much she can take before she breaks.
"Addy," I breathe out her name like a prayer as Dre shifts closer, his lips brushing against the soft skin of her shoulder. I watch, entranced, as he peppers kisses upward, each one light as a feather yet searing enough to leave a trail of fire.
"Chess..." Her voice cracks, and it's my undoing.
I lean in, capturing her lips with mine, pouring every ounce of pent-up frustration and desire into the kiss. It's not just about claiming her; it's an admission of need, of the raw emotion that she stirs within me. I can feel Dre’s fingers caressing my throat as he squeezes just a little tighter.
"Please," she gasps against my mouth, her hands clutching at my shirt, pulling me impossibly closer.
"Nothing else matters right now, Addy," I whisper between kisses, "Just this, just us."
Dre's presence fades into the background, his touch and his kisses a distant sensation as I lose myself in the taste of her, in the feeling of her body pressed against mine. We're a tangle of limbs and longing, and for a moment, nothing else in the world exists.
The car's engine hums, a low growl that matches the tension thrumming through my veins. Addy's breath comes in short gasps, and I can feel her pulse racing beneath my touch.
"She's staying with us tonight," Dre's voice is a raspy command, his fingers still daringly close to forbidden territory.
"Like hell she is," Gen's sharp retort slices through the thick air from the front seat. "She's staying with me, end of discussion."
I want to argue, to stake my claim, but before I can form the words, Saint's booming voice cuts through the chaos.
"Knock it the fuck off, all of you." His tone brooks no argument, and even Dre pauses at the command.
Addy's breath hitches, a soft whimper escaping her lips just as Dre's hand retracts from her thigh. My gaze locks onto his fingers, slick with her arousal, as he brings them to his mouth with an audible growl. The sound reverberates against the leather of the backseat, and for a split second, I'm consumed by the raw intensity between us.
"Saint's right," I finally say, my voice hoarse with restraint. "We can't do this here, not like this."
"Chess..." Addy's whisper is a fragile thread tying me to sanity.
"Soon." Dre hums. "So fucking soon."