Page 77 of The Hot Shot

Finn laughs, looking genuinely amused. “Dad is a sailor at heart, Chester. He’s the last person who would try to put you in the guest room.” Finn peers at me as if noticing something, and I have the annoying urge to check my face for dirt.

“You didn’t think we’d be sharing a room, did you?” he asks, smugly smiling.

“I knew.” I glance at the bed. It’s a queen. Not nearly big enough for us to share.

Not when Finn is the size of a tree.

“Uh-huh.” He takes a step closer. I don’t like that twinklein his eye. It spells trouble. “You know we’re going to have to be a little affectionate toward each other, right?” Another step. “Remember? Cuddle, gaze at me with utter adoration.”

“I don’t think I’m that good of an actress,” I mutter, refusing to back up, though I want to. I’m beginning to feel like a juicy piece of steak, the way he’s eyeing me.

His warm, slightly calloused palms skim up my arms. Little shivers of pleasure follow the motion. His lazy gaze lowers to my mouth, and I swear my lips plump in happy appreciation.

Finn makes a sound at the back of his throat. “I’ll probably have to kiss you a few times.”

My lids flutter, my lips going soft and full, as I try not to sway. He’s close enough that I feel his warmth. My body wants him to breach the tiny distance and take. But my brain is filled with blaring Klaxons. I suck in a breath, and hear him do the same.

“If you were my girl, I’d definitely kiss you any chance I got,” he whispers, dipping closer.

“Try to kiss me now,” I murmur, my lips nearly brushing his. “And I will bite you.”

A huff of laughter brushes over my skin. “Oh, Chester, you really shouldn’t dare me.”

I lift my lids and our gazes clash. He hasn’t moved away. The heat in his eyes makes my thighs tight. For a mindless second, I want to taunt him, really dare him to do it. Kiss me. Make me forget my name.

But then his mom’s voice slices through the thick air between us. “Finn,” she calls from the hall. “Hurry up! Glenn is here!”

Finn doesn’t move, but his grimace is swift and pained. Slowly, he straightens, holding my gaze the entire time. “I’m beginning to think that woman has some sort of sixth sense.” With a wry twist of his lips, he takes a step back. “Come on, then, you heard the woman. Glenn is here!”

I should be grateful for his mother’s impeccable sense of timing, but I’m not. I glance back at the bed as we leave the room. She won’t be around at night. And I really don’t have much faith in my willpower anymore.

Finn

Awkward is a grown man hobbling out of his childhood bedroom, trying to tuck away his hard-on so he can face his family without causing anyone mental trauma.

While part of me wants Chess to see the effect she has on me, I’ve pushed her enough already. I’m certain Chess would have no compunction about kneeing me in my tender balls and taking the next flight home.

I haven’t been doing a good job of keeping away from her. I know this. I’ve told myself this more times than I care to count. Problem is, I want her with a ferocity that aches low in my gut, and I find myself reaching for her without thought, only to restrain myself at the last second. Because she is not mine.

My body insists otherwise and is pissy with me at present. Aching dick, bruised heart, twitchy hands, I’m an undisciplined wreck.

Then I had to go haul Chess off to my room. A stupid play. I have no idea how I’m going to keep my hands off her when we’re stuck sleeping together in that small-ass bed. Jesus, I haven’t been this torqued for release since the seventh grade, when I caught sight of Angel Ramirez’s boobs in gym class.

Pathetic.

“What did you say?” Chess peers up at me with suspicious green eyes.

“Nothing.” I open a pair of French doors and lead her out to the patio.

Seated at a grouping of rattan chairs are my brother and his wife, Emily. They both stand, and I notice the small swell ofEmily’s belly. I take a hard step, the ground meeting my foot too soon.

Because she’s right beside me, Chess bumps into my shoulder. But then her hand slips into mine, her grasp secure and firm, and I know she’s seen Emily too, that she understands exactly. A lump rises in my throat.

I squeeze her hand in return and then ease my hold as if I’m merely a guy leading his girl out to meet his family.

Glenn meets me halfway. My brother is five years older than me. Though he is two inches shorter, with blond hair instead of brown, and thicker about the waist—because he doesn’t have a job that requires him to work out until he drops—we still look a lot alike.

Glenn was a running back in college, but didn’t make it to pros. Doesn’t mean he isn’t still strong as an ox. He nearly knocks the air out of me as we hug, thumping my back hard enough that I cough.