Chapter 16
Sixteen
Chess
JamesTTwerk: Can we have dinner tonight?
I look up from my phone to Finn, who is at my side as we drive home from the airport. It feels strange now, coming home. I
don’t really know what to expect. It was one thing when we were friends dancing around our attraction to each other. There
is safety in pretending.
How do we go on now? We’re both amateurs, really. Finn with a long history of casual sex, and me with my inability to go beyond
one or two dates with a man.
“What’s up?” he asks me, his attention mainly on the road. He has a deep tan now, the ends of his hair almost blond from the
sun.
“James wants to have dinner with me tonight.” I tell Finn because I know that’s what couples do: inform each other of their
plans. But part of me feels stifled. Do I have to gain his permission?
Finn glances at me, and a wry smile tugs at his mouth. “Why are you glaring at me? You think I’ll object or something?”
Grimacing, I lean my head against the window. “I don’t know.” My hand reaches for him, resting on his strong thigh. If he’s near, I want to touch him, even when my mind is a mess. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here.”
He sets his warm hand over mine and gives me a squeeze. “You think I do? The likelihood of me fucking up here is fairly high.”
I smile. “Thanks for the warning.”
He gives my hand a pat. “Remember that when you get the urge to yell at me later.”
“Maybe I’ll be the one to fuck up.”
“Maybe,” he agrees, a cheeky grin lightening his expression. “Be forewarned, I like to dole out punishment in the form of
cunnilingus.”
A laugh bursts from me. “Consider me forewarned.”
“I’d like to say it will hurt me more than it hurts you, but that would be a lie.”
He makes it too easy to smile, to laugh. Because he’s there, and he’s warm and strong, I rub my thumb along his thigh. I love
the way it tenses and how he moves closer to me. I watch those big, long thighs part and my gaze goes to the swell between
his legs. He fills out his jeans so nicely.
My naughty half wants to move my hand there and rub that big bulge, make him hard. I picture it, leaning down, taking him
out of his jeans—
“Chess.” Another squeeze on my hand. “You’re going to get us run off the road.”
My gaze flicks up to his heated expression and then back down to where he’s growing thicker. I lick my lips, and he groans.
“Chess . . .”
“Sorry.” I take my hand away from temptation.
Finn gives me a sidelong glance, as he shifts a bit in his seat. “Don’t ever be sorry about that. If I had any confidence
that I could drive safely while you sucked my cock, I’d be all over that.”
I laugh and it feels good. But my mood quickly sobers. “My insurance money came in. All of it. I can buy a new place now.”
The car goes quiet. Finn clenches the steering wheel. “You waited until I was driving to tell me this, didn’t you?”
“Why would I do that?” But guilt rushes over my skin like a hot, itchy rash.
His long, speaking look makes it worse. “So I wouldn’t be able to persuade you with my best weapons.”
He’s right. Whenever he gets his hands on me, I can’t think straight. I glance at the road, watching traffic. “You’d try to
persuade me?”
He makes a noise in his throat. “You serious? I’ve been dreading you leaving. You think that would change now that we’re together?”
“No. But maybe I—”
“Don’t say it,” he warns.
“—should move,” I finish. “Things can get complicated.”
“Then let’s keep them simple.”
So stubborn.
“We just got together,” I say. “We should take time to get to know each other. What if we start living in each other’s pockets
and find out we get on each other’s nerves?”
He scoffs. “We’ve lived together for weeks, Chess. That discovery time has come and gone. We’re awesome as roommates and even
better as lovers.”
The traffic comes to a stop when we reach a red light, and he turns to face me. His big body overwhelms the space. I can scent
the soap he used in the shower this morning. The soap I lovingly ran over every tight muscle while I’d showered with him.
Finn’s eyes meet mine, and I see the knowledge of what we do to each other in there. I see other things as well, feelings
that make my chest tight and my cheeks heat.
“I’m crazy about you,” he says softly. “I don’t need time to figure that out.”
“I’m crazy about you, too,” I whisper. “I’m just scared.”
Before I can blink, he leans in and gives me a firm kiss. It’s more tender than sexual. I need that more right now. How does
he know to do that?
He pulls back and cups my cheek. “We’re going to be okay.”
A horn honking makes us both jump. Finn’s smile is brief. “See? Discussing this in the car sucks. I’d totally be taking your
clothes off if we were at home.”
“My regret is an ocean.”
“Smart-ass.”
“Besides,” I say, “I’m going out to dinner with James when we get home.”
“Right.” Finn can’t hide his disappointment. But it doesn’t last because the man is not a quitter. He nods as if deciding
something. “I’ll just have to fuck you later tonight.”
“God.” I laugh, shaking my head, even as heat licks up my thighs. “I’ve created a monster.”
“Babe, you have no idea.”
I should have known something was up as soon as James told me he was treating me to dinner at Lüke. He knows full well I love
the desserts there, and that I become a contented, purring pussycat after eating one.
But no, I’d been so distracted by my anticipation over said desserts that I let myself be lulled into a false sense of security.
“Look at you,” James says as we sit down at a tiny table by the window. “You’re freaking glowing.”
“It’s a suntan.” I scan the menu, bypassing the dinner section. “Oh, they have steamed chocolate tonight.” Orgasm in the Form of Chocolate should be the dessert’s formal title.
“No . . . it’s not the suntan.”
James peers at me for too long, and I fight the urge to lift my menu in front of my face. Instead, I return his stare with
a bland expression. But it doesn’t work. He suddenly beams.
“You fucked him!”
A table of older businessmen turns our way.
I glance at the men now snickering at us, give them a death glare that has them looking away, before leaning in to hiss at
James. “Would you keep it down? I like this restaurant. And you cannot tell I had sex with Finn just by looking at me.”
“You’re blushing bright red,” James points out.
Fuck.
“All right, Miss Marple, I had sex with Finn. Can we eat now?”
“We don’t have any food to eat yet. And if you’re going to make me a Christie detective, make me Poirot.”
“I knew you had a Poirot thing! With all those hats and bow ties.”
James gives me a level look. “Are you sure you aren’t Miss Marple?”
“Truthfully, I’d love to live a Miss Marple life when I’m older. Settle down in a quaint English village, rife with murder
and deceit and afternoon teas.”
James rests his chin in his hand. “I’ve missed you, Chessie Bear.”
“I’ve missed you, too.”
James has been in New York more than he’s been in New Orleans. At this point, I see Finn more than I see James.
“That’s it?” James says now, his feathery red brows lifting in outrage.
“What are you talking about?”
He huffs. “You’re not going to tell me anything about Finn?”
“God. When do I ever give you details?”
I swear the man’s bow tie trembles with ire. He practically leans across the table. “Since you nailed Finn Mannus.”
“At least you whispered this time,” I mutter. “Please tell me this isn’t about Finn being famous.”
“You wound me, Chess.” James sniffs. “This is about you finally getting what I know you’ve wanted since you met him. The fact that I’ve had a tiny crush on him for years is just frosting on the cake. But can you blame me for wanting to know? I mean, come on, have you seen him?”
“Oh, I’ve seen him,” I can’t help but say, fighting to maintain a straight face.
“Bitch,” he says with a smile.
“Do I have to remind you that you’re in a relationship, James?”
His teasing expression fades. “No.”
I glance at him sharply, and James fidgets with his bow tie.
“What?” I ask, because that fidget never bodes well. “God, did you break up?”
“What? No.” James sounds horrified. He exhales as if pulling himself together. “No, nothing like that . . . Chess.” He reaches
for my hand.
I pull away, my heart suddenly thumping. “Why are you saying my name as if someone died?”
“Chess,” he says again, pained. “I’m moving to New York.”
The words hang over us like a fug as I stare at my best friend in frozen silence. My face feels too hot, my eyes scratchy.
“You’re moving?”
“Yes. I love Jamie. I don’t like being away from her.”
“You’re moving.”
I’m stuck on repeat, but can’t seem to snap out of it.
He takes my hand then, and I feel how clammy his skin is. “I found my person, Chess. After all the searching. After empty
nights of wondering if I should swear off women or swear off men, I found someone. I don’t want to wait or take things slow.
I want it all now.”
“All?” My mouth is dry. I hear him. Of course, I hear him. But my mind won’t move past the fact that he’s leaving.
James gives me a small but hopeful smile. “Marriage, a dog named Sue, maybe even kids.”
James is telling me this. James, who has scoffed at convention his whole life.
James, who once said having kids wasn’t for everyone—wasn’t for people like us, he’d implied. I run a hand through my hair and find my forehead damp.
In silence, James looks back at me, his eyes wide, his skin pale against the red of his hair. He’s leaving me. He won’t be
here if things don’t work out with Finn. He won’t be here if things do. I won’t have him to talk to when I work or when I’m
worried.
“Chess . . .”
I blink out of my fog, and realize James is biting his lip. My sweet, funny friend is in love. He deserves this and more.
My chair scrapes over the floor as I jerk to my feet. James watches me with clear trepidation that turns to surprise as I
lean across the table and cup his cheek in my hands before giving him a big, smacking kiss.
“I’m so happy for you,” I tell him.