Page 53 of The Long Game

"I want you to now," I plead.

"You want me to come in you?" he asks, our eyes locking again.

"Now, Tucker," I demand.

"Hold on," he instructs as he bucks wildly inside of me, groaning as he releases into the condom.

He collapses on top of me as he attempts to catch his breath.

"Holy shit."

It’s the last thing I remember before being pulled against Tucker’s chest as I fall asleep, dreaming of what tomorrow will bring for us.

Chapter Fifteen

Lexi

Questions. Oh my God, I have so many questions!

How?

When?

Why?

I’m not even sure where to start, but suddenly I’m too jumpy to eat. I order something small when everyone else does. I barely eat the food when it’s brought to me, and I don’t absorb anything anyone is saying after the subject has changed from Tucker buying a house here. And not just in Chicago but on the same street as my parents. The house across the street from my parents!

The brownstone I’ve always secretly wanted to raise a family in one day but never figured I would, since Mr. McKinny had been born in that house and had inherited it from his parents when they passed, many years before my parents had purchased their brownstone across the way.

I had been inside the home many times before, but only up to the second floor to use the bathroom once. Mrs. McKinny was such a lovely lady and she had us over for dinner often throughout the years before she passed.

The McKinny’s loved to host but with their only children living in Florida, we became an extension of that.

The home features four stories plus a basement, an open terrace on the roof with an incredible view of the city, seven bedrooms, four bathrooms, and 7,400 square feet. Mr. McKinny renovated the downstairs in the nineties but the rest of the space was mostly original.

This particular brownstone is currently the largest single dwelling house on the block. Certainly, more house than I would ever need, but its close proximity to my parents and its sheer beauty and architecture has always drawn me to it. And now, it’s Tucker’s.

I’d never had a chance to bid on it. Not that I could have afforded the place.

The house wasn’t even for sale! This is exactly the type of charm Tucker Evans has at his disposal. Who in their right mind could resist him? Not even a ninety-year-old man for God’s sake!

The conversation Tucker and I had had almost ten years ago, when he came over unannounced to my house, now hurdles through my memory. He had found my binder of sketches and redesign drawings on the bookshelf. I had more drawings of the McKinny house than any other building. He knew I loved it and dreamed of owning it one day.

"Is this the house across the street? Carl McKinny’s house, right?"

"I love that house."

"I can see that."

"It’s stupid. Mr. McKinny will never sell that place. It’s been in his family for over a hundred years. I’ve always dreamed of owning it one day."

"That’s not stupid."

"Okay, but not likely."

"You’re smart and driven. You can have anything you want."

"Well in that case. I want that house with a husband, two-and-a-half kids, and a labradoodle named Duane."

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