Perfection.
After the shower, it's right back to bed. We settle in, and I let Chess pick out a movie for us to watch. "I'm going to order a pizza," I tell her as she scrolls through the movie menu.
///
"I want meatballs on it."
"Meatballs?" I shake my head. "That's just overkill. Order sausage like a normal person."
"Meatballs. And onions."
"No onions."
Chess gives me a long look.
"I'm giving you meatballs," I say.
She snickers, and I roll my eyes.
"No onion breath, chuckles," I tell her over her laughter.
"Fine." She flips down a row of movie titles. "And extra cheese."
"A given."
I call in our order and then toss the phone aside. "You're picking Ocean's Eleven? Excellent."
Chess rests her head in the crook of my shoulder as the movie begins to play. "Why do you sound so surprised by my pick?"
"I thought you'd choose a chick flick."
"Because that's so me," she drawls.
"You don't like sappy movies. Chick movies aren't always sappy. They can be mushy too."
Chess tweaks my nipple and grins when I yelp. She rubs my abused flesh. "Ocean's Eleven is a chick flick, you know."
"It is not. It's a total guy movie."
"Is not."
"Is too. They are a band of brothers who devise a clever plan to steal the impossible, while forming an emotional, but manly bond in the process."
Chess lifts her head to meet my gaze. Her lips quirk on a repressed smile. "Manly bond, eh?" Her smile unfurls. "You do realize that the whole plan was for Danny Ocean to win back the love of his wife, don't you?"
"Pfft. Subplot. It was all about the guys."
"Denial is strong with this one." Her expression borders on pitying. "And have you actually looked at the cast? It's like a man candy buffet of sexy goodness."
I glance at the screen where Brad Pitt is now talking to a dapper George Clooney. I'm comfortable enough in my manhood to admit that Clooney can work the hell out of a suit. I frown. "I think we should pick another movie. Let's put on The Magnificent Seven."
"More man candy."
"You are killing movies for me, Chester."
She grins wide and then reaches to kiss me. "You're cute when grumpy."
I grunt, but it's all show. I am fucking putty in her hands.
Chess runs a hand over my chest. We keep touching each other. I do it because I can't seem to stop. Idly, I wonder if it's the same for her.
"Why do you keep calling me Chester," she asks, watching her hand glide over my skin.
"Why do you keep letting me?" I counter.
"I honestly don't know. I hate my name."
She has good reason; I can't think any woman would want to be named Chester. But it bothers me that she hates a part of herself.
Chess's gaze narrow. "Answer the question."
"All right, bossy boots." I turn toward her, resting my head in my hand. "I call you Chester because the second I learned that was actually your name I started falling for you."
A soft light fills her green eyes. But her expression remains dubious. My girl needs brutal honesty to believe anything is true. So I give it to her.
"There you were, this gorgeous, fierce Amazonian warrior, glaring hate-fire at me. And you had the most ridiculous, unappealing name-"
Her mouth falls open. "Asshat!"
Laughing, I evade her pinching fingers. "Unappealing, yet endearing name."
Chess launches herself at me, poking my ribs because she knows I'm ticklish. Curses and dire threats leave her mouth. I catch her hands in mine and easily tumble her back onto the bed.
She huffs and glares, as I straddle her hips and cage her in.
"Dickhead," she mutters, but there's no anger to it. Her lips quirk and then she lets out a laugh, as if she can't help it. And I love that about her, this gruff girl with the fierce armor, who can't help but laugh at my teasing.
She smiles up at me, and my chest suddenly hurts. Ink black hair spread out like a fan on the sheets, bottle green eyes glinting with happiness, pretty pink mouth smiling wide, she's the most beautiful women I've ever seen.
"Oh, fuck, Chester Copper, I'm so gone on you. There's no coming back from it."
I kiss those candy lips. "Haven't you figured it out?" I say against them. "Every time I call you Chester, I'm saying I adore you. I fucking adore every part of you."
She makes a soft noise in her throat, her gaze running over me like warm honey. "Finn … You don't fight fair."
"I never will when it comes to you, Chess. You're my girl and I'm your guy. Fate knows it. I know it. Now get with the program."
///
I move to kiss her again when the doorbell rings. I'm tempted to ignore it. But Chess knows me too well.
"Go get our pizza," she says. "I'm starving."
My stomach growls, agreeing with her. I give her a quick kiss, and the jump off the bed to find something to put on. I grab a pair of pajama pants and hop into them. The doorbell rings again.
"Fuck, I'm coming already," I say, not bothering with a shirt since the pizza guy is clearly impatient as all hell.
It rings a third time as I'm opening the door. "Man, it's a good thing I'm hungry or-"
I freeze, my mouth hanging open. Britt stands in the hall, swathed in some fuzzy cape thing and a cloud of expensive perfume. "Britt?"
She moves right past me, her long legs striding with purpose. "Did you forget about our meeting up?"
In a fog, I close the door and follow her into the hall. "Meeting?"
Britt turns and steps into my personal space. "Finn, I've made a terrible mistake."
I hold my hands up. "What are you talking about?"
Britt halts but then stands tall. "About us. I think we should try to be together."
"Britt, we were never-"
"But we could be," she says, her gaze searching my face. "Fate brought us together."
"And it broke us apart," I snap without thinking, then grimace when I see her flinch. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way."
"You did. And I understand." Her hand lifts as if beseeching me. "That's why I think we could be good for each other."
"I'm not getting what you mean." Sweat breaks out on my skin. I glance toward the bedroom where Chess is waiting for me. I should call her out, warn her that Britt is here. But I don't want to make this any worse.
Britt stands in front of me. Too close. "Maybe we could heal, if we … " She lifts her hand again in a helpless gesture. "Had another one … "
Like that, my heart breaks for her. "Oh, honey, no." I clasp her shoulders and find them trembling. "No, Britt."
But she doesn't seem to hear me. Before I can say a word, she presses against me, her mouth seeking mine.
* * *
Chess
* * *
Finn is taking too long with the pizza, and frankly I'm too starving to wait for him to bring it in here. Sex with Finn makes me hungry. Grinning at the idea of placing a bed next to the kitchen, I pull on one of his oversized jerseys to hunt him down. The silky material skims over the sensitive tips of my nipples as it settles over me and falls to my upper thighs. The fact that I even notice my nipples makes me laugh a little.
God, he's turned me into a hedonist.
That stupid smile is still on my face when I waltz out of his bedroom and run straight into a model-sized nightmare.
I halt, my heart clenching, my muscles seizing.
Britt Larson is in my man's arms, her face tucked into the crook of his neck. That. Is. My. Crook.
I don't know if I make a sound or Finn is just that attuned to me, because he instantly turns his head and catches my eye. A look of horror pulls at his face. And for an agonizing second, I'm paralyzed with fear.
Then I start thinking again and realize he's also looking at me as if I'm his lifeline. "Chess." He holds up his hands behind Britt's back in a plea.
Britt stiffens. Ice blue eyes glare at me though a veil of pale hair. Immediately, she lurches up. "You said you weren't with her," she accuses Finn.
Excuse me? I feel my brows lift.
Finn on the other hand detaches himself from Britt's grip. "I wasn't at the time. But I wanted to be." His tone is firm. "And now I am."
While I'd like to feel all warm and mushy about that, I'm standing in nothing but a thin jersey, my hair tangled. All fine and good when rolling around in Finn's bed, but not when facing a model swathed in couture and wearing knee-high Jimmy Choo boots. I turn to go change when Britt burst out crying. A full out ugly cry of someone who has completely lost it.