The Hot Shot

by Kristen Callihan

  A surge of lust goes through me, hot and thick, but I can’t help smiling against her luscious lips. “You wouldn’t be trying to distract me now would you, Chester?”

  She gives me a little nip that goes straight to my cock, then pulls back enough to meet my eyes. “I don’t think you realize how irresistible you are, Finnegan.”

  Her fingers trace lazy circles on my neck, and my lids lower as I dip down for another taste. She hums in pleasure. And we get a lost in soft, unhurried kisses before she speaks again. “Let’s say distraction is an added side bonus.”

  I chuckled, then give her ass a light slap.

  Chess yelps and glares. “One day, I’m going to spank your ass, Mannus, and we’ll see who’s laughing then.”

  “Kinky, I like it.”

  Chess cups my cheek. “Want to help me move my stuff?”

  Smiling wide, I give her a swift kiss. “Okay, but let’s give this guest bed a nice send off first.”

  She yelps as I wrap my arms under her butt and lift her high. We make it to the bed but just barely.

  * * *

  “I think we should change the mattress before your parents visit again,” Chess says as she hangs up a black dress. “Doesn’t feel right, imagining them sleeping on it after what we just did in there.”

  I snicker and put down a hamper filled with her clothes. “I don’t know, I kind of want to put up a commemorative plaque. ‘On this site, Finnegan Mannus gave Chester Copper five orgasms and reduced her to tears of pleasure.’”

  “I believe you were the one tearing up.”

  “It was an emotional moment.”

  She takes the basket from me. “Which drawers can I take?”

  The closet is a large square with shelving on two walls, hanging racks on the other two, and a massive waist high dresser in the center.

  “I’ve filled up the left side of the closet. Why don’t you take the right? Let me just clear out some old stuff from this drawer.”

  “Sounds good.”

  From a top drawer, I start taking out a mess of old ticket stubs and college game day programs—nostalgic shit I can’t seem to get rid of—and set them on the top of the dresser. “I’m thinking we should probably put a mirror in here. You know the kind that women use to put on earrings and shit? My mom has one in her closet—”

  Chess make a soft sound, and I glance back. But she isn’t even looking at me. Her eyes are on the dresser top, her skin pale and her expression haunted.

  It takes me a second to figure out what she’s looking at but when I do, my heart gives a painful lurch. Scattered among the papers, is a sonogram with the word “Peanut” scrawled across the top in vivid red pen.

  The air in the room goes thin. I can hear my heart pounding, feel it trying to break free. But I can’t move.

  Chess’s hand slips into mine. “Finn.”

  My fingers convulse, gripping hers tight.

  With her free hand, Chess reaches out, her fingers just dancing at the edges of the picture. “Can I?” she whispers to me.

  Dully, I nod.

  She handles the flimsy piece of paper as if it was precious glass, bringing it closer to look at the image. A shiver goes through me. I don’t want to touch it. But I can’t look away.

  “I forgot I put it there,” I whisper—to Chess or to my baby’s image, I don’t know. I’d tossed it so carelessly into a draw to sit in the dark. With a shaking hand, I take the picture from Chess.

  It’s an old-fashioned sonogram that only shows an outline, not the more modern, high-tech version that renders a perfect image. “Britt was superstitious about seeing the baby’s face before she was born,” I tell Chess with a voice that sounds like chunky gravel. “Said some things should be a surprise.”

  “Honey…” Chess rests her cheek against my arm.

  “I don’t even know if I regret that decision or not.”

  Chess wraps an arm around my waist and hugs against my side. I turn into her warmth, and take a deep breath. “I’m okay,” I tell her. “I am. I just get sad sometimes.”

  “I know,” she says, stroking my stomach.

  My thumb touches the little image.

  Chess speaks again in a low, hesitant tone. “I could frame it for you, if you’d like.”

  For a long moment, I stare down at my baby girl. “No.” I clear my throat. “I don’t think I can manage that… But she needs a safer spot to rest.”

  “Of course.”

  I take another deep breath and gently place the sonogram on top of the dresser, away from all the mess, before turning back to Chess and wrapping her in my arms. She hugs me tight.

  “I feel bad for Britt,” I mumble into Chess’s hair. “But I’m sorry if it got too intense when she showed up.”

  Chess looks up at me. “Don’t ever be sorry about something like that.” Her green gaze searches my face. “It’s okay, you know, to be friends with her. Maybe you can give each other something no one else can.”

  “God, please don’t say that.”

  “Say what?”

  “That I have something no one else can give her. I hate the idea of Britt hurting, but I don’t think I’m the one to help her. She seems to think…”

  I hesitate, and Chess frowns. “What?”

  “Before you walked in, Britt started saying that she thought we were meant to be together.” I run a hand over my face. “She’s kind of messed up, Chess. She was talking about having another baby with me. I think she wants to…recreate…”

  I can’t finish.

  “Shit,” Chess whispers.

  “She needs help, Chess. But I can’t give it to her. I tried to tell her that there will be other chances. She’ll find someone and have kids one day. We both will.”

  If I wasn’t looking right at Chess, I would have missed her flinch. She’s good at hiding it, giving my hand a squeeze. “You will.”

  Chess lets my hand go and opens a drawer to fill it with socks.

  I stand there in heavy silence. “Something I said upset you.”

  She glances my way. “Of course I’m upset. Your pain is mine.”

  I believe that. I feel that. It’s a comfort I never expected but appreciate. Even so. “That’s not it, though. Something hurt you personally. What is it?”

  The line of her slim shoulders tense. She opens the next drawer. “I’m fine, Finn. Really.”

  I take her hand and halt her movements. “Chess, come on. Something has been bothering you since Britt showed up here. You think I can’t see it?”

  A glimmer of panic lights her eyes before she glances away. “Now isn’t the time to talk about this.”

  Breaking free of me, she heads out of the closet.

  I follow her. “There’s never a right time to talk about painful shit. But I’m here.” Catching up to her, I clasp her elbow and she halts. I move closer, until my chest is pressed against her back. “Talk to me. Please.”

  I’m tall enough to see her eyes flutter closed, and the pain that etches her face. “I can’t have them. Children. Babies.”

  It’s the last thing I expected her to say. “What?”

  Her breath shudders. “I’m basically infertile.”

  Shit. Every comment I’ve made about having kids swims through my head. It had to have been a slap in the face for Chess. But she let me ramble and cry on her shoulder. “Honey…” I reach out for her.

  She moves away from me and starts pacing. “I found out during the whole latex fiasco. I’ve always had bad periods, horrible cramps, whatnot. I thought the latex issue was related to wearing… Anyway, they did a whole checkup thing and discovered that I had cysts in my uterus.” She talks faster and faster. “I had them taken out. But it was so bad that there was significant scarring and the docs told me that I have little to no chance of becoming pregnant. Deformed uterus, and all that.”

  “Chess…”

  She talks over me, the pitch of her voice rising. “And it isn’t as if I’d been going around dreaming of babie
s or anything. But when the choice is taken away from you…” She shakes head, blinking rapidly.

  Before she can move again, I grab her hand and tug her onto my lap as I sit on the couch. Her posture is rigid but she turns to face me. “It isn’t the same as what you went through, but I know how it feels to lose something you didn’t even know you wanted.”

  “I’m so sorry, Chess.” I tell her, cupping her cheek.

  She leans into my touch, and her hand come up to rest on my chest. “It is what it is.”

  “Yeah, but you’ve had to listen to me go on and on—”

  “Hey,” she cuts in softly. “I want to listen. I want to be here for you.”

  I nod, but before I can reply, she talks again.

  “But you want something I can never give you.”

  The words swell between us. And I feel myself grow still. “What do you mean?”

  But I know.

  Chess gives me a sad smile. “You want kids. You know that now. And I can’t have them.” Her lids lower. “I think about that and what it means for the future of us. And it scares me.”

  “Chess—”

  “Let me say this. I know my worth. I know that who I am is the sum of all of me not the parts that aren’t perfect. I know that if I want children, I can adopt or find a surrogate. There are options. I’ve had all these conversations with myself already.”

  Her hand glides over my chest in a slow, steady circle, as if I’m the one who needs soothing.

  “And I know that we’ve just gotten together and thinking about this stuff is kind of jumping the gun. But we’re living together now, saying… emotional things to each other.” She flushes pink. “And it feels weighty. Like it’s more than just casual dating.”

  “Because it is,” I say. How can she doubt that?

  Chess’s finger curl into the fabric of my shirt. “Which means we have to go into this relationship knowing the facts. I don’t want to be a regret. I don’t want you wondering somewhere along the way if you made the right choice.”

  “You think I’m not going to want you because you can’t have kids?” I don’t know if I’m hurt or insulted but it doesn’t feel good. It feels a lot like pain and panic.

  But Chess shakes her head. “This isn’t something you can just declare in the moment.”

  The hell I can’t. But I bite my lip. Instinct is telling me that the more I push, the more she’ll push back.

  “And maybe…” She hesitates, licking her kiss-swollen upper lip. “I don’t want to wonder if you’re regretting things. When I found all this out, I made a promise to myself that any relationship I went into would be the right fit for me as well.”

  For a second I just stare at her, trying to process what she’s saying. My words come out rough and halting. “Were you planning on finding a guy who didn’t want kids? Is that it?”

  Her green eyes go wide and then she glances away. Guilty.

  Something hot and itchy swells in my chest. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “You don’t have to say anything.”

  That hot thing grows, climbing up my throat. “I think I do. You’re basically dooming us before we’ve even started.”

  Chess’s eyes snap to mine. “I’m telling you how I feel. You wanted to know. Well, this is it. I get scared. I think about these things. I don’t fucking want to. Believe me, I’d rather laugh and make love, and have my biggest worry be whether we get meatballs or onions on our pizza—”

  I silence her with a kiss. Pressing my mouth to hers so she can feel me.

  Chess stays stiff for a second then relaxes, her hand spreading wide on my chest. I pull back and look her in the eye. “I’m sorry, okay? I did ask. And I’m glad you told me.”

  Her rests her forehead against mine. “You keep apologizing. Don’t. It isn’t your fault I can’t turn off my brain when I’m with you.”

  How fucking ironic; the only time I can turn off my brain is when I’m with Chess.

  Gently, I set her aside. I feel a headache coming on and my joints are stiff. “Let’s get this closet filled. Then I need to go for a run.”

  She looks at me for what feel like forever but is really only a blink of an eye. When she talks, her voice is subdued but understanding. “Putting away clothes is something I can do myself. Why don’t you go for a run now?”

  I don’t argue. I leave her to it and head out. I run for a long time, but I don’t find any answers while I’m gone.

  * * *

  Chess

  * * *

  What if I’ve made a mistake?

  The thought tumbles around in my head with relentless persistence. I told Finn something intensely personal. The only other person who knows is James, who only found out because he was at the studio when I came back from my appointment.

  Maybe it was too soon to tell Finn. What guy wants to talk about conception or the lack thereof less than a week out from having sex with a woman? I probably sounded like a crazed, jock chaser. I wouldn’t be surprised if he fears I’ll be asking for a ring next.

  God, he’d looked spooked. And then so freaking stubborn. Finn is a problem solver. He relies on instinct, whereas I like to think things out.

  “Argh.” I rest my head on the kitchen counter, letting the cool stone sooth my hot cheek.

  I should have just told him the bare bones and moved on, had some fun with Finn without worrying about some shadowy future. And yet, I can’t do that. I’m totally gone on this man. What did James call it?

  Besotted. I totally am. If I let myself fall any further, it will wreck me if we don’t last. I need for us to go in eyes wide open, or I will always worry.

  Predictably, after I dropped my no baby bomb, Finn had been withdrawn. Oh, he had still reached for me as we got into bed, slid his hand down my pants and insisted that I’d be more comfortable never wearing clothes to bed again. He’d fucked me into oblivion, with quiet intensity that felt almost like desperation, as if I’d soon disappear on him. I’d felt the same, turned to him with a neediness that bordered on painful.

  But it feels as though there’s a rift between us now. And I put it there.

  Finn had left early for his home game today. I’d expected him to ask me if I wanted a ticket to go watch. But he hadn’t said a word, just gave me a light kiss on the mouth and said he’d see me tonight.

  It hurt so much that I hadn’t watched him on TV. I caught up on work instead.

  Dinner at the kitchen table is lonely now that I know how it feels to share it with Finn. My dinner is finished and I’m still alone in a too quiet condo.

  “Shit.” I push myself upright and open my laptop. I don’t know how to turn off my mind or stop from worrying. So I put my focus on work instead. Work is safe. Work I understand. I can control it.

  I’m touching up a photo of Jake for the calendar when Finn comes home. I look up from my perch on the kitchen stool to find him limping along, his expression drawn and tight.

  I know pain is part of his life. It still guts me every time I see him hurting. “Hey,” I say, catching his attention.

  “Babe.” Finn moves toward me, going at a snail’s pace.

  Jesus, he’s in a bad way.

  I jump off my stool. “Bedroom.”

  His lips curls in a tired but pleased smile. “I like how you think, Chester, but you’re gonna have to do most of the work tonight.”

  “My man, the eternal optimist,” I say, fighting a smile. “But I was talking about getting you horizontal so you can rest.”

  He bends his head and gives me a soft kiss. “I like my plan better. But keep calling me your man. It soothes my weary soul.”

  I roll my eyes but put my arm around his waist. “Come on, hot shot, we can negotiate terms in bed.”

  Finn slings his arm over my shoulders and gives me a light squeeze as we slowly move to his bedroom—our bedroom now. “I love coming home to you,” he says with a content sigh. “I have from day one. But now…” He glances down at me. “It makes i
t all worth it.”

  A lump rises in my throat and I press my lips to the side of his chest, just breath him in for a moment. He smells of soap, the clean cotton of his shirt, and the warmth of his body. “I’m glad you’re home.”

  Once inside the bedroom, I grab the fireplace remote and turn on the gas fireplace. It flares to life, soon to send warmth radiating into the cool room. The bedside lamps give the bedroom a soft, golden glow. And I realize why his decorator did his room up in muted earth tones and luscious fabrics. This place is a haven for his tough days.

  “Want some dinner,” I ask him.

  “Downed a cheeseburger and some fries on the way home.” He heads straight towards the bed.

  “No soaking bath?” I ask him.

  “Had an ice bath after the game, then a hot shower.” Finn toes off his sneakers. “I have no interest sitting around in more water.”

  Gingerly, he moves to pull off his shirt, and I help him. My breath catches as we lift the shirt past his ribs. “Jesus, Finn.”

  His sides and back are red and covered with a patchwork of nasty bruises.

  “Ugly game,” he says flatly. “Got sacked a few times.”

  I rest my hand on his lower back, barely touching him, and he shivers. But when I try to snatch my hand away, he stops me by covering his hand over mine. “No,” he says. “It feels good when you touch me.”

  “Finn…” My heart aches as I brush my lips over his shoulder blade, my other hand slipping around to his front to stoke his stomach. We stand in silence, Finn breathing slow and deep, leaning into me as I pepper soft kisses across the back of his shoulders.

  I hold him as if he’s fragile.

  In this moment, he is. And I resent every hit that he’s taken.

  Another tremor goes through him and slowly, slowly, he disengages from me, turning to sit on the side of the bed. “Come here,” he whispers, taking my hand.

  “Don’t you want to lie down?” I ask as he settles me on his lap.

  “Gotta do this is stages,” he says with a grunt, then arranges me to his liking.

  “Baby…” I wrap my arms around his neck and rest my forehead against his. “You are killing me.”