Not for the first time, a pang of longing for my loft hits me. I breathe through it.
"I've been looking at a few places, but haven't found the right space yet." Most of them are out of my price range. Finn doesn't want me to pay rent, but I can't agree to that. The argument is ongoing and stubborn on both sides.
"You'll find something," James says.
"I miss my place." I hadn't meant to say so, but the words are out anyway. "At least the work space set up."
James is silent. "Have you told Finn? Maybe talk about finding some place new?"
Shrugging, I wiggle my toes. "We just officially got together. Asking him to move would be a total Psycho Sally play."
He laughs. "Yes, but he asked you to move in with him. If you're not happy there, it will show."
Happy. My mind drifts, pulling up the image of Finn in bed this morning, stretched out on his back, all long lines, tight planes, and amber skin. He'd been warm and loose-limbed with sleep, the scent of sex and pheromones a seductive fragrance I couldn't ignore.
Finn was made to be worshipped. And he is mine. I'd slowly woken him up with lingering kisses over that glorious body, nuzzling his warm neck as he gave a sleepy grunt, hooking his arm over my shoulders to draw me close. I hadn't been deterred. I'd made my way down, past tight little nipples that begged to be nibbled on, around the cute divot of his navel, to his cock that rested on the hard swell of his thigh.
And then I'd done exactly what I'd promised him; took him in my mouth, sucked him as he grew thick and hard, his body arching with a moan. "Oh, fuck, Chess. Don't stop."
As if I could. The feel of him in my mouth, heavy and fat on my tongue, stretching my lips wide. The way his brows furrowed, his mouth slack in a pant, eyes watching me with hot and helpless intensity. All of it worked like a drug to the system, filling me with wicked heat and covetous greed.
I'd worshiped at the altar of Finn Mannus's glorious cock, making it slick and swollen, caressing the tight ripple of his belly to keep him still. And I had moved my mouth-wet fingers down past his balls to stroke him where he'd once stroked me.
Tongue toying with the tip of his dick, I'd given his words back to him. "You gonna let me have you here?"
As if I'd touched him with a live wire, he'd lit up, his big body shuddering, his breath coming out in great heaves. He'd looked at me, his expression twisted with lust and pleasure, the small shock in his eyes mixing with dark interest. I'd pushed against his tight flesh, wanting to torment, and he'd pushed back, letting me.
///
"Yes," he'd rasped. "Fuck, yes."
I'd never experienced that level of trust before, that willingness to try anything, knowing that the giving and receiving of pleasure would be tenfold because you were with the person you wanted above all things.
"Chess? Hello … "
I come back to myself with a shiver, almost surprised to find myself sitting along in the closet with a phone in my hand. Taking a deep breath, I try to recall what I'd been talking about. Happy.
Will I be happy living here with Finn?
"Sorry. Dropped the phone." I lick my lips and find them tender. "I'm happy. It's just an adjustment period, fully moving in." I glance at the dress I'm wearing tonight. It's a black and white halter top sheath, not my favorite Grace Kelly knock off. That beauty went up in a blaze of glory. It hurts to think about it. Besides, Finn has already seen me in it. New is better. "Getting back to work with a big project would help."
"Speaking of that," James says. "I've been hesitant to ask, but … "
"But? When are you ever hesitant? Spit it out."
He huffs. "Remember Michael Harrison?"
"Of course." Michael is a photographer too. We went to school together. "How is he?"
"Busy. He's going to Milan next week, but he asked about you."
"Me? Why?"
"I had lunch with him. We caught up, I told him about you and the fire, and one thing led to another."
"You're rambling, James."
James makes a tisking sound. "He wanted to know if you'd take over a project for him."
"Go on." I get up to pace.
"It's huge, Chess. You know that old ‘Got Milk?' campaign?"
"Sure."
"Think something in that style, but to raise awareness for prostate cancer. They're pulling together Hollywood's hottest male stars for a photoshoot."
Abruptly, I sit down again. "Why the hell is Michael giving that up? And how does he know they'll even want me?"
"Because when a fashion photographer gets personally invited to Milan by Armani, he doesn't say no. And the ad company agreed with his suggestion because they've seen the shots of Dex and Rolondo. They want something similar." His voice becomes almost giddy. "It's good money, Chess."
James names a sum that makes me a little dizzy.
"Fuuuck."
"Exactly," he says.
"And we'd be able to work together on this?" My heart is beating harder now, an excited flutter going through me.
"Well, if you want me to."
"Shut up. You know I would. And do you really think I don't know it was you who put this idea in his head?"
I can almost hear him smile. "So you'll do it? The project starts in two weeks. They need to know as soon as possible. It should run for about a month, maybe two, depending on scheduling."
"Where would I live?" I pace again, touching the edge of my dress then walking to the other side of the closet to brush a hand over the sleeves of Finn's suits.
"With the money they're paying, you could rent a place. But Michael has offered the use of his loft."
"Michael is being generous as fuck."
"Oh, please, Chessie. You know he's always had a thing for you. I'm not at all surprised he asked about you."
Halting, I stare at the wall of sneakers that is Finn's secret pride and glory. "He's not expecting … You told him about Finn, right?"
Finn. What will he say? I press a hand to my hot cheek and find my fingers cold.
"Yes, I told him," James says, exasperated. "And don't insult yourself. This is about your talent and people recognizing it."
I've trained myself not to put too much hope into a good thing. Plans change, promises fall through the cracks. You stand on the curb enough times waiting for parents who forgot about yet another school function and it's inevitable.
But I don't want to be ruled by my childhood. So I let myself get excited. "I'm interested. Of course I am."
"I'm so fucking excited," James bursts out.
I grin wide, wanting to jump around. But then I catch sight of Finn's shoes again. My smile dies down. "Don't say anything yet," I tell James. "I have talk … "
"To Finn," James agrees, as expecting nothing less, as if we're already a package deal.
We are. I'm living with the man. I flex my cold fingers, shaking them to get warm. "But I'll let you know soon."
///
Hanging up, I walk over to my dress. Happiness is a strange thing. One second, it surrounds you and you're swimming it in, gladly willing to let it consume you. Next second, thoughts roll in and it takes effort to hold onto your happy.
Finn is my happy. But he can't be the only source. I'll drown that way.
* * *
Finn
* * *
Chess has cast me out of the bathroom-out of the bedroom, really. It has been declared "woman's domain" as she gets ready for tonight. I like that she's claimed her space and ordered me out of it, because it means she feels at home.
And even though I'm stuck in a tux, my neck held too close by a stiff, white collar, I'm happy to wait on the couch and flip through TV channels. Every so often, I hear sounds, the hum of the shower, the high-pitched whine of her hairdryer, and part of me really wants to peek.
I won't. Anticipation is better.
Tonight, we're attending a gala hosted by the Whett Foundation, the charity behind our calendar. Despite the fact that a bunch of football players are attending, the invite had been clear: it is a black tie event.
There had been much grumbling among my teammates. Personally, putting on a tux isn't any different then donning a suit for game day, so I'm not going to complain.
Down the hall, the bedroom door opens with a definitive snick, followed by the click of high heels. I get to my feet and make my way toward Chess.
I'm quicker than she is, and we find each other at the end of the hall.
The first sight of her makes me light-headed, the floor beneath me unsteady. "Wow," I say with a breath. "You look … You're fucking stunning, Chester."