“Do you remember everything?”
I remember that I’m naked. And my dick stirs. His memory is crystal. “Yes,” I say, randy dick getting harder. “I’m generally a bit of a doofus when drunk, but I don’t forget things. Unfortunately.”
She smiles then. “You were kind of a doofus.”
“I’m sorry.” I so am. Chess dealing with me as a drunken moron was not how I’d wanted our first night home to go.
“It was cute.” Her head moves to my shoulder.
I finish my much needed coffee in two quick gulps and put the mug on the side table. Settling more comfortably on the bed, I tuck Chess into the crook at my side. “I sang, didn’t I?”
Chess laughs and strokes my lower abs. “Elvis and Willie Nelson.”
“Jesus.”
“You know, if you colored your hair black, you’d make a pretty good young Elvis.” She blinks up at me. “Do you know ‘Hound Dog’?”
“Cute.”
“‘Jailhouse Rock’?”
“Now, Chester, ‘Don’t be Cruel’.”
She pauses and then snickers. “I see what you did there.”
I roll over until I’m on top of her. “Oh, noes, I’m ‘Stuck On You.’”
“Oh, god, stop,” she laughs, her sweet tits brushing against my chest.
I work my way between her legs and settle in. “Do you ‘Surrender’?” I give my hips a small thrust, loving the way she squirms beneath me. “‘It’s Now Or Never.’”
“No,” she declares hotly between her laughter, but her hips rock against my dick, urging me on.
I nuzzle her neck, and she shrieks. So I nuzzle some more. “Man, you’re a ‘Hard Headed Woman.’ ’That’s All Right’, mama, no need to get ‘All Shook Up’…”
“Argh! The cheesiness, it burns. It burns.” Green eyes glare up at me.
I grin wide, our noses nearly touching. “What? You want ‘A Little Less Conversation’? Totally understand. I’ll just hang out here and be your ‘Teddy Bear.’”
“I give, I give,” she wails.
Grinning in triumph, I rest my head beside hers, my body bracketing her smaller one. “Don’t mess with the master.”
Her hands find their way to my back to stoke my bare skin. I shudder with pleasure. Chess runs a finger down my spine. “Who knew you were such an Elvis fan.”
“It’s my mom and dad. They used to play Elvis songs on Sunday nights when they cooked together. Pet me some more.”
Chess hums, a happy noise. “Your parents are too cute.”
“Did I mention they sang along?” I grimance. “I swear, that alone was responsible for half my teen angst.”
“My parents sang show tunes. They loved duets.”
“Fuck. You win.” I settle onto my side and bring her with me. If I linger any longer on top of her, my dick will get ideas that, frankly, my weak stomach and pounding head can’t handle at the moment.
Chess resting on me feels so good, I’m happy to stroke her hair and doze. But my brain won’t turn off. “Hey,” I murmur. “How did your dinner with James go?”
Instantly, she tenses, which makes me tense too. I lift my head to peer down at her. She’s frowning.
“Okay,” she says.
“That is the worst ‘okay’ I’ve ever heard, Chess.”
With a sigh, she flops onto her back and blinks up at the ceiling.
“Chess?”
“James is moving,” she blurts out. “To New York to live with Jamie.”
Hell.
“Because he’s in love.” She makes the word sound like a curse.
“And that’s bad?”
Chess glares at me. “No. Yes.” A choked sound escapes her. “I hate change. I fucking hate it.”
“Babe.” I rest my hand on her belly, giving her that small comfort. She’s tense as a coil, her body trembling. “I’m sorry he’s moving.”
Tears form at the corners of her eyes, but she glares up at the ceiling unblinking as if she’s willing them not to fall. “He’s leaving me.”
“He’s not leaving you. He’s just staying with Jamie.”
“Not helping.”
Yeah, I got that.
“You can still visit him. Hell, I’ll buy you tickets to go every weekend, if you want.”
Chess gives me a wobbly smile but then her expression crumples and she starts to sob. Panic runs through me. “Come here.” I gather her up. “Chester. Baby, don’t cry.”
“I’m not,” she wails, clutching my shoulders and burrowing her face in the hollow between my pecs.
“My mistake,” I murmur, wanting to smile despite the fact that her pain hurts me too. I’ve never met a woman less willing to admit weakness. She’s as bad as a football player that way.
Gently I rock her as she sobs, her body wracking with it. I stroke her back, the long strands of her hair. She clings tighter. “Everything is changing,” she cries. “My house is gone. My stuff. My best friend is gone. Everything is gone.”
I’m here. I’m not leaving.
But I don’t say a word. This isn’t about me. I just hold her.
“Fucking Jamie,” she grumbles through her sobs. “Fucking seducer of best friends.”
I can’t help it, a snicker breaks free. Because I’ve met Jamie via one of Chess and James’s FaceTime chats. Seductress she is not; more like a cross between Tinker Bell and Urkel.
Chess stills, clearly having heard me laugh. Instantly, I feel like a shithead. She’s hurting and…
A snort leaves her. And then she’s laughing too, the sound raspy and thick with tears. “Oh, my god, I’m such an asshole.”
Smiling, I cuddle her closer until there isn’t an inch of space between us. “You’re upset. If Jake left town to shack up with a cute geek, I’d be irate too.”
With a sigh, she sags against me. “I like Jamie.”
“I know you do.”
She doesn’t say anything, and I don’t either. The rapid beat of her heart thumps against my ribs. I smooth my hand down her back. After a while, she stirs.
“I’m not a crier,” she mutters against my damp chest.
“Okay.” I kiss her temple.
“I’m not. I don’t even like sappy movies.”
I run my fingers through her hair. “Me either.”
“I hate James.”