Page 51 of Crazy In Love (Love & War #2)

“Holy hell, Chris.” She casts her eyes to the bookshelves on the right.

Then to the left, where massive bay windows overlook the lake and boast one-way glass.

We can see out. No one gets to peek in. “Who needs a red room of pain when I could be Belle and have a whole ass library?” She wanders past my desk, a rich mahogany that matches the color of her hair exactly, then around a chess set, large enough to require its own table.

Its own chairs and section of the room. She doesn’t stop until she reaches my floor to ceiling shelves, and parked at the far left, a rolling ladder she runs her fingertips along.

“You have Captain Underpants books in here.” Beaming, she glances over her shoulder. “And Diary of a Wimpy Kid.”

“I rarely throw things away just because I’m finished with them. I like to read, and those were some of my earliest, happiest literary memories.”

“Which is a perfectly good reason to hold on to them.” She goes back to perusing my collection, dragging the ladder along with her, like she’s afraid it’ll go away if she releases it. “The Fantastic Five. Percy Jackson. The Chronicles of Narnia. You were a well-read young man.”

“One would assume.” I chuckle. “The fact is, I couldn’t afford any of those in my youth, which means I bought them once I became an adult.

” Make your trauma the butt of a joke. It’s how we deal with these things.

“I sometimes borrowed from the library when I was a kid, but if my parents found them, they usually destroyed them. Eventually, the library stopped lending them to me.”

No longer smiling, she turns with a frown. “That was cruel of them.”

They were cruel people.

Alana knows that more than any of us.

“Tommy used to borrow them for me too,” I murmur. “Until the same thing kept happening. And then Alana.” I scratch my neck. “Small towns. They knew who I was related to, and who my friends were. So they made sure to ban anyone who supplied me.”

“And so the literary escape dried up.” She releases the ladder and wanders closer.

Her perfume precedes her, and when she stops with her hands on my chest, the scent of her shampoo fills my nostrils.

“It makes me happy that, as an adult, you’ve surrounded yourself with the things that bring you joy.

You lacked control over your own life back when you were younger. Now, you have it back.”

“You think my desire for control is annoying.”

She tilts her head to the side, searching my eyes.

“I think your desire for control is not something I get to comment on, because I wasn’t that little boy living in hell.

I wasn’t even Alana, watching from the edges.

I think I don’t always relate to the same things you do, and I don’t always understand you.

But it’s not for me to judge, and it’s sure as hell not for me to tease you for it. ”

I broke her.

Her taunting smart-assery is half the fucking reason I fell in love with her. But my obsession with holding on to the past, to maintaining control, has stolen that from her just as callously as the books stolen from me .

“I don’t want you to stop being who you are.” I cup her face and draw her to the tips of her toes. “Being annoyed by you is half the fun, Fox. Fighting with you makes my heart skip a beat. Just…”

“Just, what?”

“Just leave my forks alone. They really matter to me.”

She laughs, throwing her arms over my shoulders and trembling when I take most of her weight.

“You want to be white or black on the chessboard?”

“Hmm…” She peers across and considers the pieces that are always set up. The board that is never dusty. “Which one do you want to be?”

“White. White goes first.”

“Well, alright then.” Leaning back until she’s on her feet, she unravels her arms and turns, seductively peeking over her shoulder and tugging the hair away from her neck. “Could you help me with my zipper before we start? I figure, even if I actually try , I’m bound to lose a few pieces.”

“Confidence is important in battle.” I pinch the tiny zipper between my fingers and peel the metal down, careful not to catch her skin. “You’re very good at seduction, by the way. Letting a man unzip you is a boss move.”

She snorts, sliding out of my grasp and meandering toward the chessboard. And because she’s a pain in my ass, she grabs a white pawn and moves it forward.

Because I said I wanted it.

“Boss move number two. Get a pen, Watkins. You’re about to be schooled.”

“Jesus.” I reach into my pants and rearrange my cock, and following her to the board, I counter her move with a similar one of my own.

Pawn, one square forward. “I’m not sure how I feel about associating sex and chess.

I’d hate to rock a boner every time I play in the future.

” Releasing my piece, I bring my eyes up and lock on to hers.

“I usually play against other guys. You’re making me uncomfortable, Tatum. ”

“Pretty sure we’ve discussed discomfort ad nauseam.

I push you into situations you don’t like, you whine about it and, eventually, fuck me.

I tell you I won’t do things to annoy you anymore, you whine and, eventually…

” She grabs another of her pawns and charges forward, two squares. “You fuck me. Will I ever satisfy you?”

Without giving it much thought, I grab a different pawn and move it forward two squares. “You satisfy me often. More often when my cock is in your mouth.”

Playful, she tours the room, swaying hips and seductive side-eyes. She strokes the spines of my books, the way she strokes my spine when we sleep in the same bed, and when she deigns to rejoin the game, she takes her already forward pawn and places it beside mine.

Tap goes the timer.

“I could’ve taken your pawn just now. I’m going easy on you.”

“Mmhm.” I grab my bishop and cut it halfway across the board, stopping beside her pawn so she’s sandwiched between my pieces. “Do you have a grand game strategy, Fox? Or are you moving pieces and biding your time?”

“Biding my time for what?” She selects a pawn and drives it forward, quick as a flash and with seemingly no brain power expanded. But then she comes around the board, circling my body and stopping behind me.

I remain stock still, shuddering breath, as she presses her chest to my back and her hands on my stomach.

“I feel no need to bide my time when I could simply take my panties off and sit, open-legged, on your desk.” She trails her palms down my stomach, dipping her fingers into the waistband of my pants.

“I can think of far easier ways to secure your undivided attention and use as much, or as little, time as I desire.”

I select an unmoved black pawn and slide it forward, blocking her advance and stopping myself—barely—from hitting a non-existent timer. Jesus, I’m such a fucking weirdo . “Your turn.”

“Hmm.” She pulls her hands from my pants and meanders around the table, slowing to study a globe displayed against the wall, its wooden framing and intricately carved lines put there by a skilled artist. It holds her captive for a moment, distracting her from her seductive dance, and when she can’t help herself, she places a gentle finger on the sphere and turns it until a long, delicious smile stretches her lips.

“I haven’t been to the Galápagos Islands.

Did you know they have a beautiful white-petaled flower there, with vibrant purple centers?

” Dropping her hand, she turns and approaches the chessboard, and selecting her knight, she brings it into battle, placing it behind one of her already engaged pawns.

“They’re called the purple passionflower.

” She peeks up at me from under long lashes. “Very pretty.”

I select my knight and bring it forward, busying the middle of the board now that we’ve taken a half dozen turns each. “The Galápagos are the only islands in the northern hemisphere with penguins. Did you know that?”

She beams, an expression that may become my most haunting memory once she’s gone.

“I did know that. And that giant tortoises are native to the area. And that iguanas swim in the water, too.” Glancing down, she pauses for the first time since we started, considering her next move, before she selects an untouched pawn and brings it forward.

“Any time is a good time to visit the Galápagos. The weather is always perfect.”

“Maybe you should go there.” I select my unmoved knight and bring it into play.

“Maybe I should go, too. Totally nonchalant and coincidentally.” Don’t laugh at me.

Don’t laugh at me. Please, Fox, don’t laugh at me .

“If we just so happen to be there at the same time, we could hang out. Read a book in the sun.”

“Fuck in the shade?” She mirrors my move, pushing her knight forward and hitting me with a look that warms me all the way to my toes.

“How do you handle vacation, Christian? There are no routines. No places of familiarity. We can drink before lunch, and have dinner at four in the afternoon. Or ten at night.” She slides her tongue along her front teeth.

“Are you relaxed on vacation, because vacations are inherently stress free? Or are you on edge, because all routine is lost?”

“I don’t know if you’re poking at me or asking a genuine question.

” I pick up my bishop and retreat diagonally, just one square.

“But the honest answer is, on day one of vacation, I get kinda tired. Like my brain is working a million miles faster than normal to keep up with all the changes. It makes me sleepy, which makes me irritable, since vacation is supposed to be about having fun. By days two and three, the brain fog usually clears and shit starts to feel good. That’s when the world becomes chill as hell. ”

“That was…” She licks her lips and ponders her next move, selecting a pawn and shoving it into battle. “Refreshingly honest and surprisingly sensical.”