“Like fuck we aren’t.” I cry out as he reaches around to pinch my clit, tugging it between his fingers without losing pace. “Pretend as much as you want, Alyss, but you’remine.”
My orgasm is a fucking freight train that rips through my body, leaving me limp. Chess’s arm bands around me, holding me in place as he fucks me through it, my hands trembling badly against the glass.
“Chess,” I half whisper, half moan. “I’m going to—,”
He stops me from falling forward, lifting me and pressing my body further against the reinforced glass, my breasts, mystomach, his cock still pushing into me as he groans my name as if it’s a curse. Wet heat fills me, dripping down my legs.
He slows, stopping, but he doesn’t move away. He holds me there, his chest broad and warm against my back, and his head drops to my shoulder. “Stop pushing me away. I’m begging you, Lyss.”
I close my eyes.
I can’t.
I don’t knowhow.
He doesn’t say anything when I push back against him. I can feel him between my legs like a brand, my aching muscles a blend of Chess and Hatter that makes my heart twist as I duck out from under his arm and reach for my robe.
My eyes latch on the card, crumpled and discarded on the floor.
I’m turning it over in my hands, studying the address when he tugs it from my fingers. “You’re not going in there without us. And since you won’t come home, you’re not going in there at all.”
Chess sounds tired. Exhausted, by me, by us, by this charade that I insist on keeping in place between us. “Come home, Lyss.Please.”
Both of us are exhausted by our grief.
“I’m not coming ho—,”
I stop, clear my throat. “I’m not coming back.”
Home. The word locks in my throat, the back of my eyes burning.
The club isn’t my home anymore.
It stopped being home six months ago.
“You have people that love you,” he says quietly, watching me closely. “They miss you, Lyss. You don’t have to do all of it, not if you don’t want to. We can work something out. Just comehome.”
I move away from him, hugging my elbows as I walk over and pick up my cold coffee. “Not until I know.”
“Know what?” Chess tugs his jeans up before he runs his hands through his cropped sandy hair. His eyes are hard. “That he isn’t coming back?”
I flinch, drops of cold coffee spilling over my hands. Chess’s jaw tightens as he watches me. “It doesn’t matter how long you wait. Adam’s not coming back, Lyss. And it would kill him to see you like this, pushing all of us away.”
“I’m fine.” I don’t meet his eyes. “And once I know who did it, I’ll be even fucking better.”
His hands cover mine then, his voice gentle. I can hear the pain in it. “Lyss… he did it to himself, baby. Nothing any of us could have done.”
My face goes hot. “He never touched any of that shit, Chess. Never. There was no reason for him to be on that side of town – it wasn’t even ourterritory. Without me, without you – alone? It makes no fucking sense.”
His fingers skate along my cheek. “No, it doesn’t. And it’s not fair—,”
“Fuckfair.” I back away from him, shaking my head. “Don’t you dare stand there and baby me, you asshole. And don’t try to tell me that I didn’t know him, Chess. He was my fucking brother. You’resupposedto be his best friend.”
“Iwashis best friend.” His voice hardens. “But Adam is gone, and he’s not coming back. And it’s not fair that everything sits on your shoulders without him and your dad, Lyss, but lifeisn’tfucking fair. We know that better than most. And I’m not going to lose you too.”
I’m done talking. Done listening.
I lunge for the card in his hands, trying to take him by surprise as my coffee cup shatters on the floor into a dozen pieces, but Chess catches me easily. I’m worn down, worn down by grief andpain, but he’s clearly been working out his own anger in the gym we used to share. All of us.
