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.
For the love of…
Finn makes a helpless gesture to me, his gaze pinning me to the spot. His desperation is palpable. But it’s Britt who has my sympathy. I should be annoyed that she’s thrown herself on my man. But she’s so distraught, I just can’t be.
Giving Finn a look that says, comfort her and I’ll be right back, I hustle into my bedroom to grab some leggings. It doesn’t take but a few seconds, yet I still find them standing in the hall, Finn awkwardly petting Britt’s head while she sobs.
“Here.” Gently, I take hold of Britt’s trembling arm. “Let’s sit down.”
I lead her to the couch and, when she plops onto it in a miserable sprawl, I sit next to her and stoke her back. “Could you get us some water and tissues?” I ask Finn.
“Sure.” Finn all but leaps into action, clearly happy to be doing something other than dealing with a crying woman. Can’t blame him; he’s had to deal with me crying earlier. Two women in a row is probably a nightmare for a guy.
“I’m so sorry,” Britt says through her tears. “I did’nt mean to cry like this. I don’t usually… God, this is embarrassing.”
“It’s all right,” I say. “Everyone loses it at some point, and it’s usually in the worst place possible. Murphy’s Law and all that.”
She pushes her hair back from her face and gives me a considering look. “You’re being very kind. I don’t know if I would as understanding in the same position.”
“And what position is that?”
Britt grimaces. “Another woman throwing herself on your boyfriend.”