Chapter 16 #3
I lift my hand, about to twist my fingers around my first pawn when Rhys presses his knee to mine.
The contact is soft, barely there, but I suck in a breath anyway.
I raise my gaze from the board to question him, but he’s still cupping his cheek in his hands, bored.
Acting like nothing’s out of the ordinary.
I narrow my eyes. It could be the rocking of the coach as we crawl along the M6.
Perfectly innocent and accidental. I’ll keep a close eye on him, just in case.
I make my move, choosing a knight and lifting it over the pawn to sit in front of it. His arms slip to lie flat on the table, his fingers stretching out to make his play. He’s more alert, his shoulders straighter. Whatever I did was either right or I did it with enough conviction to trick him.
It takes him less than a second before he mirrors me.
Our pieces dance across the board, each move cautious and well thought-out.
So far, he hasn’t taken anything – my pawns and knight are safe.
Though my players bundle together in a protective block, his are more spread out.
I search the board during my next move, but none of his pieces are takeable.
With another jerk of the bus, our knees slide together and I spot at least two of mine he could have stolen. His cheeks grow pink.
Neither of us speak, but the growing pressure against my knee keeps me distracted.
Occasionally, it stops, leaving a ghost of touch as if I imagined it the entire time, but then it returns, firmer than before.
It has to be intentional, a ploy to distract me from the game.
The coach has been sitting still for at least a minute.
My pulse throbs in my throat. He could cheat in any possible way, yet he’s chosen to distract me with touch.
Well, joke’s on him, because it’s exactly what my lust-filled body craves right now.
Though I have no idea how he can remain stoic and unaffected when my skin burns at every point we touch, even through the layers of clothes.
There are many other spots for him to press into. He could scoot lower in his seat, slide his knee further along my thigh until…
Lucy, stop it! We’re being professional.
I puff my fringe out of my face and fan myself with my hand.
It’s way too hot on this bus, especially with the engine turning on and off.
Although I want to shout down the aisle for Deryn to turn the ineffective AC to freezing, I only take a sip of my water.
The last thing I need is the rest of the coach knowing how much Rhys has me wound up.
I’m tied in so many knots, I almost miss him taking his first victim. He removes my pawn and rests it next to the board. ‘Not looking confident now, are you?’
I don’t justify that with an answer and instead shift one of my pieces in retaliation, adding a black pawn to the take.
The move is enough to click my brain into gear and for my focus to return.
He replies by making several rapid-fire moves that look to put him on the defensive.
I try to counter them with aggressive moves of my own.
I attempt to check him. All I need to do is get to his king – that's the piece to protect and they make a massive deal about it in the book. But I can’t do that without moving my pieces further out.
All of the crew stand around us now, leaning on the back of our seats and craning to watch our game.
Bethan and Cai practically hang in the aisle for a better view.
Even Gethin has his attention on us, a small smile on his face.
All that’s left is for Deryn to pull onto the hard shoulder so they can watch too.
Our pieces continue to travel over their squares. Someone behind me, maybe Imran, tuts when Rhys moves his knight into a new position. A sign that he’s made a fatal mistake, perhaps? I lift my hand to take it, but Bryn interrupts my plotting.
‘Be careful, Lucy,’ he warns. ‘Reckon that’s a trap.’
‘Don’t help her. It’s not a team sport,’ Rhys replies.
It is a trap. If I take his knight, it’ll mean sacrificing my queen. It’s a risk I’m not ready to make. Instead, I press forward with my own knight, which he steals with a pawn. That’s what they’re there for. My queen’s safe, for now.
My pieces dwindle steadily from then on. He’s good at putting pressure on me, not only with his knee against mine, but with pointed looks and muttered remarks. My moves are slow, so I can contemplate each one, making sure they’re right, but it’s not enough.
Eventually, he corners my queen with his bishop – a manoeuvre that leaves me little room for recovery.
His black piece takes its square at the same time his leg shifts away from mine.
I get no respite from his full range of attack, though.
His foot slides up my calf, and I shiver.
The toe of his trainer drags the cuff of my trousers up, exposing the skin underneath.
Goosebumps prickle. God, imagine if that were his fingers, or maybe his tongue – he’s a colleague, you horn dog.
I squeeze my thighs together, eliciting a wider smirk from him, and I move my lone bishop into a more central position.
‘Oh, shit,’ Bethan murmurs.
With his foot stroking a line of pleasure along my lower leg, I’m all discombobulated.
I forgot to move the queen. I try to hide my emotions when he takes her with a smirk.
From there, the game is lost. All I have left is the bishop, a rook, two pawns and my king.
There might be a way to recover, but I can’t see through the lusty fog that’s taken over.
Three moves later and it’s checkmate. He’s won. This time, though, he doesn’t gloat. Instead, he extends a hand across the board. ‘You almost had me, Luce. A worthy opponent. Perhaps if you’d paid more attention, you could have won.’
That utter wanker. It’s not like I can call him out on his cheating with everyone else listening in because then I’d have to admit that I sat here letting him touch me under the table.
I do have to show good showmanship, though.
I take his hand and give it a firm shake.
I also press my foot against his, the first time I’ve responded to his indecent contact.
He matches the pressure, squeezing my hand a little tighter than needed, and if he’s blustered by my acknowledgment, his face doesn’t show it.
‘Tell anyone I cheated,’ he says, leaning over to me. He keeps his voice deep and low so only I can hear. Every hair on my arm stands to attention. ‘And I’ll tell them how much you enjoyed it. Bet you’re soaking under those trousers for yours.’
I’m too embarrassed to admit he’s right, so I nudge my toe against his.
‘Thought so. Don’t worry, Luce, it’ll be a while before I can get up from my spot.’
My entire body is on fire but at least I swallow the squeak that almost escapes from my mouth so I don’t have any more attention on me. His comment only winds me tighter and we’re still hours from Manchester.
He packs the game away with a neutrality I’m now jealous of. How hard can one guy get from a game of chess? I mean, yeah, the flirting had me worked up a lot more than it should have, but I’m in the depths of my spice era. I have an excuse.
I need a distraction before I spontaneously combust so I reach across the aisle for my laptop. If he’s not going anywhere, then neither am I.
Bring it on, Pritchett.