Exclusive New Bonus Scene
Finn
“Tell me!”
“No.”
“Tell. Me.” This is followed by a grab at my shirt and a somewhat-violent attempt to shake the answer out of me. Cute.
I laugh and tuck Chess more firmly against my side as we walk along. “No. Now behave and have a little patience.”
Chess leans her head against my shoulder for a moment. “But I don’t want to have patience. I’m dying here.”
A family of four sweeps by us, their rolling suitcases trailing behind them. The dad’s case nearly knocks into my foot. It’s
nice being utterly ignored. One of the reasons I like the airport.
“For someone who’s dying,” I say as we turn toward the airline check-in desk, “you’re acting pretty lively, Chester.”
“These are death throes.” She gives my side a pinch with her clever fingers. “Curiosity killed the cat, you know.”
“So you’ve told me.” I lift a brow, giving her a look. “Multiple times.”
“I have to tell you multiple times. You don’t seem to believe me.”
When she wants to, Chess does a very pretty pout.
I don’t fall for it. We had a deal: she took care of the wedding plans, and the honeymoon was all mine.
And a surprise. That was key. I love surprising Chess, and she loves surprises—despite her dramatic claims to the contrary.
In truth, her begging to know is all part of the game. I love playing games with my wife.
My wife. I can’t get over it. She’s now my wife. This beautiful, perfect woman is mine to love, protect, and honor until death. The
very thought makes me giddy. And it gives me peace. Saying my vows to Chess, watching her eyes shine as she said them back
to me, had settled something deep inside. Key into lock, a quick turn, everything opened.
My step is light as we check in. Of course, I can only hide so much.
“Paris?” she whispers at my side as I hand over our passports.
I scoff, enjoying the hell out of myself. “As if I’d be so cliché.”
The ticket agent eyes us, a smile playing on her lips. She recognizes me. I know the signs instinctively at this point, but
she doesn’t make a big deal out of it, which I appreciate.
“I’m surprising my wife—” love the hell out of saying the word “—with where we’re going on our honeymoon.”
“Isn’t that sweet,” the agent says with a grin at Chess.
“I used to think that, too,” Chess grumps, even though we both know she’s loving this.
“Well, then.” She hands me the boarding passes. “Have a wonderful time. And congratulations.”
Given that this is our honeymoon, and that I am in the privileged position of being able to pamper the hell out of Chess,
we’re flying first-class. Which means that, after we’d curled up in the lounge, an attendant takes us down a private exit
and guides us to a black sedan.
“What is all this?” Chess whispers, eyes wide.
“We’re boarding.”
Her straight Valkyrie brows lift high. Sure enough, the car drives us out to the plane, where we board the first-class cabin
and head straight to our own little suite.
Chess settles into the love seat–sized chair and, after accepting a glass of champagne, turns toward me. We’re alone now, the hum of the plane and the quiet thuds of loading below the only sounds around us.
“I’m not going to do that bullshit ingenue heroine act and proclaim that you shouldn’t have put us in first class,” she begins.
“There’s an act like that?” I ask, tucking a lock of her hair back just so I can touch her.
“Oh, yeah.” She makes her eyes wide and her expression serious. “I’m just a simple girl, you know.”
“Sure, you are.”
Chess swats my arm. “Okay, it wouldn’t work, regardless. But what I mean is, while this is absolutely spectacular, I can’t
help but think how fucked-up the disparity between the classes is right now.”
I lean forward and kiss her softly. “You’re right, it’s fucked. But I’m still glad we can have this.”
She salutes me before taking a sip of her champagne. “Maybe instead of winning a lunch with Finn Mannus as the prize for your
charity drives, you should give away first-class tickets.”
“Maybe both?” I grin. “I wouldn’t want to deny them a chance to be with me.”
She snorts but cuddles close. “That would be cruel.”
“You know it, Mrs. Mannus.”
“You love saying that, don’t you?”
“More than you know.”
“It’s not fair. I have a significant name change you can relish in, but you’ve always been Mr. Mannus.”
“Yes, but now I’m your Mr. Mannus.”
A hum of contentment sounds in her throat. Her hand finds mine, and the tip of her finger runs along my wide platinum wedding
ring. We both watch her toy with the ring. Little shivers of sensation run along my skin. I love the way she touches me. Like
I’m something cherished. It makes my hardened body all mushy and gooey inside. My eyes are closing in relaxation when she
speaks again.
“Finn?”
“Hmm?”
“Was that a Jane Austen reference?”
My eyes fly open. “What?”
From where her head rests on my shoulder, she peers up at me. “My Mr. Mannus, huh?”
A slight flush washes over me. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Sure, you don’t, Finnegan.”
“The champagne has obviously gone to your head. I think you need a breather.”
She chuckles softly.
I pat her hand and set it on my abdomen. “Now, be a good girl and keep petting me.”
“‘As you wish.’”
Closing my eyes, I smile. “No more movie quotes. I mean it.”
“‘Anyone want a peanut?’”
This girl. I give in and turn to smother her with kisses while she squeals in delight. Yep, I’m definitely the luckiest guy
in the world.
Twelve hours later . . .
I’m carrying Chess into our suite. The romance of it is slightly skewed by the fact that she opted to climb on my back like
a monkey instead of letting me sweep her into my arms all proper-like. The hotel attendant seems amused. I give him a tip,
still balancing my wife on my back. He leaves without another word and we’re finally alone.
“Florence!” Chess squees—there’s no other word for the sound—once more.
“Florence,” I repeat with a chuckle.
I set her down and then pull her close. She’s beaming. Her hair is rumpled, there are faint purple smudges under her eyes,
and she’s so pretty she makes my heart ache.
“You like?” I ask her softly.
“I love.” She rises on her toes and finds my mouth with hers.
I open up to her, consuming her sweetness with urgent nips and licks. Her mouth is a dream, luscious and giving. My hand finds
the curve of her neck, holding her still as I deepen the kiss. God, but she consumes me. The greedy need of her responses,
the way she teases just enough to have me searching for more.
Slim arms wrap around my shoulders, and she presses closer. I slide a hand down her back to cup her ass, haul her up. She
kisses along my jaw, down my neck.
“Finn.” It sounds desperate.
“I know.” I kiss her mouth. Her cheeks, her nose. Her mouth again. “I know.”
She nips my lower lip, sucks my tongue. I’m so lost in her. My heart thuds in my chest. My knees buckle. I swear, I hear music.
Swelling, passionate music. Stumbling, I carry her to the bed. We fall into it in a tangle of limbs. I roll and carefully
cage her beneath me in my arms.
Silken inky hair spreads out over the white pillow. Chess’s green eyes glimmer up at me as she grins. My hand trembles as
I touch the warm curve of her cheek. The heartfelt strains of a woman’s voice swells over me.
“Is that Puccini?” I rasp, momentarily distracted.
Flushed and panting, Chess laughs. “You hear it, too? Oh, thank God.”
Sure enough, opera singing floats in from the open terrace and echoes about the room. Someone in the public square below is
giving a great performance. If I didn’t have Chess in my arms, I’d have thought about going down and giving the singer a huge
tip.
“I confess.” I kiss the corner of her mouth. “I thought I was all swept up by the romance of the moment.”
She hums and cups my cheeks. “Finn Mannus, you are such a romantic.”
“Never was before you.”
She tugs me down. Her lips are soft, her kiss tender. “And that’s why I put a ring on it.”
Laughing, I kiss her deeper. “I’m all yours, Chester. Do your worst.”
She sets about to do just that, torturing me with sweet torment for the next few hours until we’re sweaty and spent and lazing
in each other’s arms. The opera singer has finished her concert, and the room has gone quiet. The sounds of laughter, conversation,
and the occasional warning beep of a taxi drift up from below. Golden sunlight slants in wide stripes across the bed.
Though weakened by sex and lust, I mange to turn my head and arch a brow at her. “Is that all you got, Mrs. Mannus?”
Chess narrows her eyes, even as her clever fingers find my cock. “I’m just getting warmed up, my Mr. Mannus.”
Game on.
Chess
Finn brought me to Florence. It’s like a dream. Hunger had us getting out of bed and showering. We could have ordered room
service, but I admit, I’m eager to go out and look around. The small slices of the city I saw when we’d been driving in from
the airport weren’t enough.
Holding my hand, Finn looks gorgeous and relaxed in cream linen pants and a sixties-style cabana shirt. He walks along the
cobblestone street with ease. There’s a slight chance he might be recognized, but Europeans aren’t really into American football,
and so he’s freer to be himself here.
He’s smiling, head tilted back to take in the awe-inspiring Florentine architecture that surrounds us. When he glances back
at me, his eyes shine like summer skies. My breath goes short. There are times when I can’t believe that this man loves me
so. It feels like a dream. It’s definitely a reward.
Finn leans down and kisses me lightly. “Keep looking at me like that and we’re going back to the room.”
“You say that like it’s a threat.”
“Chester . . .”
My stomach growls. Finn waggles his brow and then pats my butt. “Let’s get you fed. You’ll need your strength.”
“I’m not the one who was crying for mercy.”
He stumbles over a cobblestone, then gives me a reproachful look. “No more sexy banter in public or I will grope you.”
“Again with the meaningless threats.”
Grumbling about unfairly sexy women, Finn wraps an arm around my waist and leads me to a restaurant he has picked out. The
light is fading in the sky, turning it from intoxicating blue to a soft blend of pinks, purples, and orange. Puffy clouds,
limned in silver, drift by. The air is cool but not cold or humid. It reminds me of California, the perfect weather, the golden,
butter-soft light. But nothing in California looks like this.
Gingerbread-colored cobbles underfoot, weighty old buildings of thick and patinaed brown stone or muted pastel stucco.
We make our way down a curving lane, little wider than an alleyway. Light spilling from the big open doorways of restaurants
guides our way. The sound of chatter and laughter, and the scents of good food fill the night. There’s an air of happiness
here that’s contagious. All of it so beautiful it feels like a fairy tale.
Finn takes me to a little osteria where we’re tucked into a cozy alcove and plied with Chianti and focaccia. It’s my first
night in Italy so I order pappardelle al cinghiale, while Finn helps himself to bistecca alla Fiorentina. I can only watch as he devours the massive cut of steak. A footballer’s appetite is truly impressive.
And all the while we talk, drink wine, soak it all in. People here are enjoying life. If only for today. That I’m here with
Finn is everything. Happiness swells within me.
“You’re beaming,” Finn tells me with clear approval.
“So are you.”
“It’s the company.”
“You took my line,” I complain with a laugh.
“You snooze, you lose, honey.”
I shake my head, then salute him with one of the little icy glasses of limoncello the waiter left on the table at the end
of our meal. “Game on, Mannus.”
He lifts his own glass. “Game on, Mrs. Mannus.”
After dinner, we walk hand in hand down the Via dei Calzaiuoli, one of the wider shopping avenues in the city. Large round
stone planter benches run along the center of the mostly pedestrian walk, and people sit to rest or eat street food.
“You haven’t asked me why Florence,” Finn says.
“I thought it was obvious.” I wave a hand around. “All this?”
He flashes a smile. “Well, yes. All . . . this is pretty fucking perfect. However . . .” He turns a corner and stops us in
front of a busy store where a line forms out of the wide-open shop front. Neon light spills onto the cobbles from a sign hanging
from the old stone wall.
“Gelato?” It comes out in a happy squeak.
His grin widens. “Gelato. Straight from the source.”
He’d wooed me with gelato from the start, knowing my weakness for the confection. It’s better than diamonds.
I fling myself into his arms, and he gathers me up, chuckling.
“I figure,” he says as I pepper him with kisses, “we make our way around the gelato shops and find our favorites.”
“You’re my favorite flavor, Finn Mannus.”
He smiles against my lips. “I’ve been told I’m pretty tasty.”
“Hmm.” Secure in his arms, I lean back and look up at him. “The first time you sent me gelato, I fell in love with you.”
His mouth opens in surprise, but no witty quip comes out. I’ve managed to shock him.
Smiling, I tuck a lock of his hair back from his brow like I did that first day we met.
“I sat there, eating that ridiculously delicious gelato, and all I could think was, I want Finn. Even though I didn’t want to admit it, I knew then that I never wanted to be apart from you again.
” A small laugh escapes. “And then my apartment went up in flames.”
Finn groans. “Oh, God, don’t remind me. Scared the hell out of me, Chester.”
“Yeah, it sucked, but . . .” I snuggle impossibly closer. “It was like the universe answered my unspoken demand. It brought
me a way to be with you.”
He kisses me then, under the bright lights of the gelateria. “I’m never letting you go, Chess.”
“I know. That’s why my happiness is complete.”