Page 112 of The Hot Shot

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 Elevenis 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. “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 in 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 onThe Magnificent Seven.”

“Mmm... 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 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 narrows. “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, yetendearingname.”

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.