Chapter 14
Fourteen
Chess
It is fairly horrifying to realize how well Finn Mannus can play me. For the rest of the day, and into dinner, he keeps his
distance. He isn’t cold or anything. Hardly that.
He’s a great host. Solicitous, including me in conversations, making sure I have enough to eat.
That’s the problem. He’s treating me like a guest. Gone are the light touches, as if he can’t keep his hands off me. Gone
is the way he somehow always manages to be standing close enough that our arms brush. And gone are the teasing glances that
dare me to reach for more.
I hadn’t truly noticed he’d been doing these things until he stopped.
The result being, I seek him out. I’m the one finding ways to stand closer, to touch his wrist or the curve of his biceps.
And though he doesn’t say a word about it, I know he’d predicted with unnerving clarity how I would react.
I don’t know if I should admire his skills or be annoyed. Both, is the answer.
My annoyance grows when he gives me space and heads out to get wine for dinner without inviting me to come along. He’s gone
for over an hour.
I’m pissed at myself. For being a coward where he is concerned. For pretending that what we are to each other isn’t evolving. I know he cares about me. He makes certain I feel his care every day. He won’t hurt me. Not intentionally.
I need to apologize because how I reacted to kissing him was hurtful and unfair, but I don’t get the chance. Between Finn
distancing himself and his family intent on being good hosts as well, we are never alone.
Before dinner, Finn and his dad settle down in the den for a game of chess. “I didn’t know you played,” I say to Finn, as
I sit next to him on the couch to watch.
“We never really got to the ‘hey, by the way, I love playing chess’ stage of our relationship,” Finn says with a sly wink.
I nudge his shoulder. “Smart-ass.” God, I’m doing everything I can to be close to him. It’s ridiculous.
Even more so when my heart gives a little leap as he nudges me back, softly chuckling. “You play chess, Chess?”
I resist sticking my tongue out at him since Sean is watching with avid interest. “No. I admit it’s over my head.”
“Then watch and learn, my friend.”
“I’ll watch, but all I ever see are pieces being moved around, seemingly at random.”
With a snort, Finn hunkers down and studies the board. The stern, absorbed expression on his face is adorable, and frankly
hot. It’s even sexier when I realize he’s good, really good.
I lose track of time as he and his dad play with the intensity of men at war.
Eventually, I end up reclining on the couch to read. Without taking his attention away from the board, Finn puts my feet in
his lap and rests one warm hand over my ankle. I keep reading, but I love it. I love that, every so often, his thumb strokes
my skin in an absent-minded but tender caress. Whatever is going on between us, I know he isn’t angry with me. And some of
the tension flows out of my body.
After dinner, I go back to the room and change into comfortable lounge pants and an oversize light sweater. Then Glenn, Emily, Finn, and I head for the family room to watch a movie.
“I feel like I’m in high school,” I say to Finn. “Watching a movie with a boy while his parents are in the other room.”
He gives me a knowing look. “You gonna let me cop a feel under the blankets?”
I don’t answer, leaving him to catch up, his eyes narrowed on me.
The family room is a large but cozy space with a sectional couch near the back and two big recliners grouped together off
to one side. A tumbled stone fireplace fronts the space.
“Where’s the TV?” I ask.
Glenn picks up a remote. “Right here.”
A movie screen starts lowering from the ceiling. “Wow.”
“Finn’s last Thanksmas present to my dad,” Glenn says. “I’m still waiting for mine, the cheap ass.”
“Hey,” Finn protests with a laugh. “I keep you flush in athletic gear.”
“You get that stuff for free.”
“Don’t listen to Glenn,” Emily says to me. “He wouldn’t take a gift like that even if Finn snuck it into our house on the
sly.” She heads for a recliner. “My back is killing me.”
“Damn it, baby,” Glenn complains. “You know I like the couch.”
“Then snuggle up with Finn and Chess.” She reclines the chair with a happy sigh. “Or would you rather carry this baby?”
“Yeah, because arguments based on total fantasy always work,” he grumbles and plops down in the other chair.
“Sucker,” Finn says, sprawling on the big corner of the couch.
I walk by him, intent on curling up on the opposite corner, when Finn reaches out and takes hold of my good wrist. I pause,
staring down at him. His grip is warm and secure, as he meets my gaze with steady eyes.
It’s my decision, whether I cuddle up with him or move on. If I tug on my arm, or take a step, he’ll let me go. I sink down. He moves with me, turning his body and tucking me at his side. My legs drape over his, my head resting on the couch pillow beneath his chin.
Neither of us says a word as he reaches back and grabs a thick throw to cover us. Nestled against the firm expanse of his
chest, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to go back to sitting alone. Not when he is near.
Finn grunts as if to say, About time, and then wraps his arm around my waist.
“What are we watching?” My voice is breathy.
“Die Hard.” Finn’s words rumble against my shoulder blades. “Christmas classic.”
“Come out to the coast, we’ll get together, have a few laughs . . .”
His lips graze the shell of my ear. “I promise not to blow anything up.”
Glenn messes with the remote again, and the lights go low. I’ve seen Die Hard a dozen times. I know the lines by heart. I hear none of them now.
The room is dark. Glenn and Emily are silhouettes against the screen. Tucked on the couch, Finn and I are in another world.
I can’t even pretend I’m watching the movie. Images flash, words are spoken, but my attention is on the man behind me.
He shifts a little, moving so that we’re fully spooning. The wall of his body is rock hard yet it melds against mine, warm
and comforting. Or it would be. Only my awareness is too keen now, sending little flips through my belly. Something stiff
nudges my ass.
“Is that . . . ?” My voice is a ghost in the dark.
But he hears it.
“Yes,” he says at my temple. “You get near him and he wants to say hello.”
Ducking my head, I smile into the pillow. The devil in me has me arching my back just a bit, pushing my ass into his hardness.
Finn grunts low in his throat. His hand spreads wide over my belly, holding me. So slow, it’s barely a movement, he rocks
against me. The rest of our bodies lay still. Oh, but my heart beats like a mad thing, violently pumping within my breast.
Finn’s breath chuffs out as if he can’t quite control it. His lips rest on my hair. “God, you smell good. You always smell
so fucking good.”
It’s such a low murmur, I barely hear it over the sounds of the movie.
“It’s the coconut oil I use on my skin,” I whisper back, pretending everything is casual, that my sex isn’t starting to throb
and my breath isn’t growing light.
Finn breathes in deep and lets it out slowly. “It’s you. All you.”
A shudder wracks him, and he seems to go tight all over, as if he’s trying to hold on to his control. The hand at my belly
is stroking now, small, leisurely explorations.
My breasts grow heavy, my nipples drawing tight. The screen grows blurry. I can’t think.
Finn’s hand slips beneath my shirt. His fingers are rough with calluses but featherlight against my skin. A ripple of pleasure
dances over me, and I suck in a breath, silently urging him on. Up and down he traces, the edge of his thumb touching my belly
button, the tip of a finger glancing along my waistband.
His hand moves higher, and the blunt end of his thumb grazes the bottom curve of my breast. We both freeze. The shudder that
moves through Finn is almost violent. His thumb presses into my bare breast, and he shakes again, a near-silent groan leaving
him.
My lids flutter, desire making everything heavy and hot. I press my cheek against the couch pillow, waiting, willing him to
explore me. A gust of breath stirs my hair, and then his touch slides up. The warm weight of his hand over my breast feels
so good, I gasp.
Finn’s body jerks, shoving against mine.
As if in a dream, he palms my breast, rubbing in gentle circles.
So good. Such a perfect tease. My breath grows shorter, my thighs trembling.
In the dark, hidden beneath a blanket, he fondles me, lightly playing.
The blunt end of his finger worries my nipple, toying with the stiff tip.
When he talks, his voice is hot smoke along my neck. “I want to see you.” His finger skims back and forth. “Suck you here.”
A light pinch. Luscious tension sparks down my belly, pooling in my sex like wet heat.
I can’t take it. Moving in a fog of need, I roll onto my back, my body resting in the circle of his arms. The action sends
Finn’s hand skimming over to my other breast. He kneads it with possession, as our eyes meet. Neither of us speaks.
I want to kiss him. I want it so badly my lips are swollen with the need to feel his.
But we can’t kiss. Not here. It would be too loud, and they’d notice. And when I kiss Finn, I know I won’t stop there. When
I kiss him, I want to consume him. I see that understanding reflected in his eyes. This is killing him, but he loves it. He’s
reveling in it.
Gaze hooded, he fondles me, tugs my poor, achy nipple—teasing.
It feels good to be teased, to let the anticipation build and simmer. But he’s getting away with it far too easily. Carefully,
I ease onto my side and face him. He watches me move, a light of expectation in his eyes. Holding his gaze, I slide my hand
under his shirt.
Finn’s tight belly flexes beneath my palm as if he’s ticklish. God, he’s warm, his body hard but his skin soft. I rub him
there, enjoying his textures and the way he twitches as if he can’t decide whether to pull away or press in closer.