Page 94 of Crazy In Love
“It made you happy to do those things?”
“The idea that they’d make you happy made me happy. Being around you makes me happy, even when you take my fork or screw up a game of chess on purpose. Your soul is happy, I think. And because your soul is happy, being near you means I get to feel that happy, too.”
Her brows crinkle, furrowing over emotional eyes. “Damn, Christian.” She sniffles. “That might’ve been the kindest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
“Well, you know me. I have a reputation for poetry.”
“Sure.” She laughs. “I’ve heard that about you. And because you were so generous with your poetic words, I figure I’d like to show you my appreciation.” She peeks down at my shirt, undoing the top button with an easy flick of her fingers. “I enjoy talking about New York. And I love the idea of my professional dreams coming true. But we’re on a deadline, don’t you think?”
Another button.
“From six weeks down to two. A beautiful evening in your home, though we can’t ignore the very real risk that Alana could see us out here on the porch.”
Another button.
“Maybe we should go inside,” she murmurs seductively. “Play a game of chess.”
Stunned, I place my hand over hers and stop her progress. “I’m not saying no, but I have to admit, not once in my entire life have I considered chess a prelude to mind-bending sex.”
Grinning, she pushes off my lap and drags me up by my shirt. “I guess you haven’t been playing chess with the right people, then.” She moves onto her toes, buying herself just another inch, before tugging me down and rewarding me with her tongue sliding against mine. “Strip chess, perhaps? I take one of your pieces, you lose an item of clothing.”
“Sounds like I’m gonna be sitting in there, fully dressed, while you’re naked and panting.”
“Arrogant.” She lowers to flat feet and turns on her heels. And like the obedient mutt I am, I follow. “Though we can’t dismiss how hot that would be. You, fully dressed and winning. Me, naked and vulnerable.” She leans over the table and gently kills the candle flames with an exhaled breath, then straightening again, she releases my shirt, but takes my hand and places it on her hip. “Maybe I’ll lose on purposebecauseI want that outcome.”
“I hear you trying to be sexy right now.” I follow her all the way to the door, but before she can swing it open and pass through, I spin her around and pin her to the frame. “But I need you to know that playing it wrong isnotsexy at all. It’ll annoy the shit out of me.”
She barks out a loud laugh, her cheeks turning a beautiful pink. Pushing me back, she turns and pulls the door open. And because I can’t bear the thought of letting her go, I rush through after her, draping my arm over her shoulders and steering her left when her body angles right.
“This way, silly.”
“Well, of course you have an actual chess board room and not, say, a little travel set you could bring to the bedroom.”
“I have one of those, too. But since we’re inmyhome and this wasmydate night idea, I say we go this way.” I lead her through my living room, as bland as it is, with a long black leather couch and a TV hung on the wall, then I walk her into the hall and past the spare bedroom. Then another. I have a half dozen of them, useless to me, so I keep the doors closed.
Stopping at the room right beside mine, I nudge the door open, flip the lights on, and lead her into my office. And because I know it’s kinda special in here, I stand back and enjoy her intake of air. Her gasp of surprise and the hand she places over her heart.
“Holy hell, Chris.” She casts her eyes to the bookshelves on the right. Then to the left, where massive bay windows overlook the lake and boast one-way glass.We can see out. No one gets to peek in.“Who needs a red room of pain when I could be Belle and have a whole ass library?” She wanders past my desk, a rich mahogany that matches the color of her hair exactly, then around a chess set, large enough to require its own table. Its ownchairs and section of the room. She doesn’t stop until she reaches my floor to ceiling shelves, and parked at the far left, a rolling ladder she runs her fingertips along. “You have Captain Underpants books in here.” Beaming, she glances over her shoulder. “And Diary of a Wimpy Kid.”
“I rarely throw things away just because I’m finished with them. I like to read, and those were some of my earliest, happiest literary memories.”
“Which is a perfectly good reason to hold on to them.” She goes back to perusing my collection, dragging the ladder along with her, like she’s afraid it’ll go away if she releases it. “The Fantastic Five. Percy Jackson. The Chronicles of Narnia. You were a well-read young man.”
“One would assume.” I chuckle. “The fact is, I couldn’t afford any of those in my youth, which means I bought them once I became an adult.”Make your trauma the butt of a joke. It’s how we deal with these things.“I sometimes borrowed from the library when I was a kid, but if my parents found them, they usually destroyed them. Eventually, the library stopped lending them to me.”
No longer smiling, she turns with a frown. “That was cruel of them.”
They were cruel people.
Alana knows that more than any of us.
“Tommy used to borrow them for me too,” I murmur. “Until the same thing kept happening. And then Alana.” I scratch my neck. “Small towns. They knew who I was related to, and who my friends were. So they made sure to ban anyone who supplied me.”
“And so the literary escape dried up.” She releases the ladder and wanders closer. Her perfume precedes her, and when she stops with her hands on my chest, the scent of her shampoo fills my nostrils. “It makes me happy that, as an adult, you’ve surrounded yourself with the things that bring you joy. You lacked control over your own life back when you were younger. Now, you have it back.”
“You think my desire for control is annoying.”
She tilts her head to the side, searching my eyes. “I think your desire for control is not something I get to comment on, because I wasn’t that little boy living in hell. I wasn’t even Alana, watching from the edges. I think I don’t always relate to the same things you do, and I don’t always understand you. But it’s not for me to judge, and it’s sure as hell not for me to tease you for it.”
