

First we were friends. Then we were roommates. Now I want more…
What can I say about Chess Copper? The woman is capable of bringing me to my knees. I know this about five minutes after getting naked for her.
No one is more surprised than me. The prickly photographer my team hired to shoot our annual charity calendar isn’t my usual type. She’s defense to my offense, a challenge at every turn. But when I’m with her, all the regrets and darkness goes away. She makes life fun.
I want to know Chess, be close to her. Which is a bad idea.
Chess is looking for a relationship. I’ve never given a woman more than one night. But when fate leaves Chess without a home, I step up and offer her mine. We’re roommates now. Friends without benefits. But it’s getting harder to keep our hands off each other. And the longer we live together the more I realize she’s becoming my everything.
Trick is… Now that I’ve made her believe I’m a bad bet, how do I convince her to give this player a true shot at forever?
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CHESS
Grumbling, I
toss on some black lounge pants and my oversized Tulane t-shirt and head to the
drugstore.
My head
throbs by the time I get there, and my insides are writhing. I rest my hand
against my lower stomach and grab a basket before calling James to complain.
“I swear,” I
tell him as I grab a bottle of painkillers. “It’s like this entire day has been
cursed.”
He snickers.
“Curse. Get it? Curse?”
I roll my
eyes, even though he can’t see me. “Laugh it up. Meanwhile, it feels as if
someone is playing Battleship in my uterus.”
“Poor Chessie
bear. At least we know why you were in such a foul mood.”
A flush washes
over my cheeks. “Yeah.” Lie. Lie. Lie. A tub of salted caramel gelato
makes its way into the basket.
“Tell me
you’re getting some gelato,” James says.
I smile.
“Just grabbed it.”
“Salted
caramel?”
“You know
it.”
I find the
feminine products aisle and search for my brand. “I’m going to go home, take a
long bath with my gelato, and forget this fucking day.” Forget Finn. “And then
I’m going to go on Amazon and buying a freaking year’s supply of tampons so I
don’t have to make these kinds of emergency runs anymore.”
A low, deep
chuckle rumbles from behind me, and all the tiny hairs lift on my arms.
“But you’ll
still need your gelato,” a familiar—fuck me, seriously?—voice points
out.
My insides
swoop even as my cheeks burn.
“Who is
that?” James asks in my ear.
I slowly turn
on one heel. “The plague,” I say, glaring up at Finn Mannus’s smiling face.
“From asshat
to plague.” Finn scrunches up his brow. “I’m not sure if that’s a step down or
a tie.”
“Who is
that?” James nearly yells now.
I don’t take
my eyes off Finn. “I’ll call you back.”
James’s
squawks of protest cut off as I hit the end button.
“Are you
stalking me, Mannus?”
Finn a rests
his hands low on his lean hips. “Having a healthy amount of conceit myself, I
have to admire yours, but no, buttercup. My buddy Woodson lives a few blocks
away. It’s poker night. I’m stocking up on beer.”
It’s only
then I notice a twelve pack tucked under his other arm.
“And
tampons?” I ask, with a pointed look around the aisle we’re standing in.
“Not tonight,” he says easily. “Though we used
to keep a pack of them back in college. Light flows were perfect for stopping
up bloody noses.”
A snort
escapes me. “Now there’s a visual.” Somehow, I’ve taken a step closer to him.
He’s freshly showered, the golden brown strands of his hair still damp at his
temples. And I wonder if he’s just come from the gym or practice. “So back in
college you went and bought these tampons?”
“Nah,” he
says with a cheeky smile. “I’d ask one of the girls hanging around to get me
some.”
“Of course
you did.” My nose wrinkles with annoyance.
“Give me a
little credit, Chess. I’d buy them now if I had to.”
“Hmm…” I eye
him, trying not to return his smile. If only because it’s more fun when he
teases. “So why are you in this aisle now, if not for potential nosebleed
needs?”
“That’s
easy.” He steps closer, a warm wall of muscle and clean scent. “I heard your
voice.”
For a second
I just blink. “You recognized my voice?”
His gaze
darts over my face as if he’s trying to get a read on why I’m gaping at him.
“Not to be…ah…rude, but you’re loud when you talk on the phone.”
“Yeah, but…
You recognized it.” We’d only just met. It occurs to me that I’d recognized his
both times he’d snuck up on me. Then again, his voice is distinctive, flowing
like hot honey when he’s relaxed or hammering down like iron to rock when he’s
taking command of a situation.
A soft flush
of pink tints the tips of his ears. If I wasn’t staring at him, I might have
missed it. He shifts his weight. “Was I not supposed to?”
“No. Yes.” I
shake my head and laugh. “I don’t know.”
He grins
then. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”
“I’m not
flustered.” I am.
Kristen Callihan is an author because there is nothing else she’d rather be. She is a three-time RITA nominee and winner of two RT Reviewer’s Choice awards. Her novels have garnered starred reviews from Publisher’s Weekly and the Library Journal, as well as being awarded top picks by many reviewers. Her debut book FIRELIGHT received RT Magazine’s Seal of Excellence, was named a best book of the year by Library Journal , best book of Spring 2012 by Publisher’s Weekly, and was named the best romance book of 2012 by ALA RUSA. When she is not writing, she is reading.
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