The Next Move (13 page)

After a moment, she gently pulled away and whispered, "I should really go."

His hand stayed on her waist, but he didn’t try to pull her back to him. "If you want to, we could go back to my place."

Oh, Paul, my darling. You lost your shot at a one night

stand after you spent fifteen minutes telling me about finding someone’s dropped contact lens in the gardens of Versailles
.

"I really shouldn’t," she said. "I’ve got an early morning tomorrow."

"Okay then," he said, kissing her lightly. "I’ll e-mail you."

"Good night," she said.

"Good night." He walked away as she got into her car. Alone, she pulled her phone out of her pocket, cursing under her breath when there were no missed calls. She hoped Chris was having an enjoyable evening, but at the same time, she hoped his date was a bust.

Whatever she’s doing for you tonight, I promise you I’ll do it better
.

~ * ~

"Careful, careful!" Chris steadied Emily as they made it up the last few steps to her apartment. He kept his hand on her arm even after they arrived at her door, making sure she stayed upright.

"Thanks for the ride home," she said, grinning as she fished her keys out of her purse. "If you want to stay, I don’t have my kids tonight, so—"

He put his hand up and shook his head. "Much as I’d love to…"
In the same way I’d love to beat my head repeatedly against the wall
. "I really shouldn’t."

Her shoulders sagged and lips twisted into a disappointed frown. "Are you sure?"

He nodded. "Maybe another time." He instantly regretted it when her eyes lit up.

"So you’ll call me?" she said.

Not in this lifetime
. "I’ve got your number."
Didn’t say I’d use it, but I have it
.

Evidently satisfied with his answer, she opened her front door. "Okay. Good night, Chris."

"Good night, Emily." He kissed her on the cheek, but before he could pull away, she put her arms around him and kissed him full-on. In spite of himself, his breath caught, and it wasn’t just surprise. Her lips were gentle but insistent, and against his will and better judgment, his arms went around her waist and he let her tongue separate his lips.
Oh hell, you had to be a good kisser, didn’t you
?

~ * ~

On her way home, Kat glanced at her phone a few dozen times.
Call him? Don’t call him
?

She chewed her lip. It wasn’t as if he’d ever told her not to call. Quite the contrary. He knew as well as she did that dates often meant booty calls. If he didn’t want to hear from her, his cell phone would likely be turned off.

But what if she called and he was with someone else? Even if he didn’t get her call until the next morning, how humiliating would that be? "
I was in bed with someone else. Sorry your night didn’t turn out so well
."

She groaned aloud. No, she’d wait to see if he called.

~ * ~

         
When Chris finally freed himself from Emily’s kiss, his good sense came back to him and he remembered why they were at her door in the first place. Holding her shoulders gently—partly to keep her from kissing him again, partly to keep
himself
from kissing
her
—he said, "I really have to go."

         
She smiled, licking her lips. "You’ll call me?"

         
"I have your number."

         
And Kat, you have mine. Use it. Please, for the love of God, use it
.

~ * ~

         
Keying into her apartment, the first thing Kat noticed was the clock over the television. It wasn’t even ten o’clock, but every passing minute made disappointment tug a little harder at her gut. He wouldn’t call after eleven. He’d either assume she was still out, or that she’d gone to bed.

         
Or, he’d gone to bed.

         
With someone else.

         
"Fuck," she muttered.

~ * ~

         
It was ten fifteen when Chris pulled into his driveway, and still she hadn’t called. Of course, the phone worked both ways, but he was not without his stubborn pride. It was one thing to call when he knew she was home for the evening and say his date didn’t work out. It was another thing entirely to call and say, "My date’s a bust, care for a shag? Oh, you’re with someone else. Sorry to interrupt. Have fun!"

         
He rolled his eyes and cursed under his breath as he walked into the house. Glancing at the clock, he dropped onto the couch. If he didn’t hear from her by eleven, he’d assume she wasn’t available.

~ * ~

         
Around ten thirty, Kat couldn’t take it anymore. She was horny, wound up, and needed Chris. Picking her phone up off the table, she found the speed dial for his number, but hesitated.

~ * ~

         
"Fuck it," Chris said as the clock hit ten thirty. He flipped his phone open, pulled up her number, and, with his thumb over the "send" key, paused.

         
What if she’s still out
?

~ * ~

What if he’s with another woman
?

~ * ~

What if she left her phone on and I interrupt
?

~ * ~

What if the woman gets upset
?

~ * ~

He put his phone down.
If she’s free, she’ll call
.

~ * ~

Sighing, she put her phone on the table.
If he’s free, he’ll call
.

~ * ~

         
At ten forty-five, he headed up to get ready for bed. "Whoever you are," he said into the silence. "You are one lucky bastard tonight."

~ * ~

         
She stood and went into her bedroom. "Whoever you are," she whispered. "I hope you know how lucky you are."

Twenty

         
"We really are pathetic."

         
Kat moved her bishop into place and looked at Chris. "Why are we pathetic?" She paused, hiding a satisfied smirk at the frown he suddenly directed at the board. "Well, I know why
you’re
pathetic, but—"

         
"Quiet, you." He glanced up and laughed. "I should know better than to try to carry on a conversation with you while we’re playing."

         
"You could take a vow of silence and I’d still beat you."

         
He smirked. "Promise?"

         
"At chess, you dirty bastard."

         
He snapped his fingers and shook his head. "Damn." For a moment, he was quiet, contemplating his next move while she watched him in silence.

They’d both had dates that evening. Or so he thought, anyway. Chris had a date, but she’d cancelled at the last minute. Kat hadn’t made any plans at all, but made him think she had a date. She didn’t want him to know she was deliberately leaving a prime date night vacant in hopes of a booty call.

Still looking at the board, he said, "So you don’t think it’s pathetic anymore? Staying in on a Friday night to move little black and white pieces around on a board?"

         
"No, staying in on a Friday night and playing chess was pathetic back when neither of us was getting any action." She shrugged. "Now it just means we’re spending a nice, quiet evening in, sharing some good conversation, good wine, halfway decent chess and—" She shrugged again. "We both have a sure thing."

         
He laughed, sliding his knight across a few spaces and picking up her pawn. "So you’re just playing because you know that I’ll fuck you at the drop of a hat?"

         
"No, I’m playing because I know I can trample your ass without even paying attention." With that, she moved her queen and took Chris’s knight. "I’m
here
because I know you’ll fuck me at the drop of a hat."

         
"Pity I don’t have a hat handy." He winked, then moved his rook.

~ * ~

Sitting back on the couch, he watched her over his wine glass as she decided on her next move. Maybe it wasn’t so pathetic to stay in for the evening playing chess rather than going out on the prowl. It was less of a headache than a date. He shuddered at the memory of his evening with Emily. And as Kat said, they both had a sure thing this way. Why not cut out all the bullshit, relax for an evening, and then spend the rest of the night covered in sweat and each other?

         
She’d probably think he was pathetic, though, if she knew that the date he’d had tonight never existed. He knew she had plans, so he had told her he had a date so she wouldn’t think he was just sitting at home in case she called for a booty call. Which, of course, was exactly what he’d planned to do.

         
But then he’d worried that she wouldn’t call if she thought he was out on a date too. So, he’d sent a text message shortly before he left work, letting her know that his 'date' had cancelled. Never in his life had a text message aroused him more than when three simple words lit up his LCD screen:

So did mine
.

         
And here she was.

~ * ~

He looked at the board, then at her. "I can’t think of many other women that would be in the mood for sex after playing chess."

"Why not?"

         
He shrugged. "Guess some people don’t do the switch from cerebral to primal quite as smoothly as we do."

She reached for her wine, her eyes still fixed on the board. "I think chess makes for great foreplay."

"Why? Because by the time we’re done, we’re both frustrated and aggravated?"
  

"No," she said. "Chess has its primal points too."

         
"Chess? Primal? How so?" He raised his eyebrows as he sipped his wine.

         
"What’s more primal than a game of offense and defense?" she said. "Sure, the strategizing and all of that is intellectual, but the thrill of the hunt? The panic of being backed into a corner? Trapped? Having someone find and exploit your weaknesses to their own advantage?" She grinned at the stunned expression on his face. "One of the most civilized games on the planet, and it all boils down to flirting with fight and flight."

         
He shook his head and sipped his wine again. "I think some of the world’s chess masters might disagree with you."

         
"Their brows sweat just as much as yours does, Christian. Dress it up as a civilized game of strategy all you want," She slid her queen across the board, positioning the piece perfectly to take his rook if he left it there. "But it’s nothing more than toying with base instincts."

         
"Toying with
me
is more like it," he said, scowling at the board.

         
"That’s kind of the idea," she said with a grin. "I like the hunt, and I like to play with my food."

         
He laughed, but she didn’t miss the shiver that went up his spine. "Only you could make chess sound dirty."

"Anything can be dirty, and chess is no exception. And as far as I’m concerned," she paused, lifting her wine glass to her lips. "Chess is just foreplay." She rolled a sip of wine around on her tongue for a moment, then smiled. "Besides, it reminds
you
who’s in control."

         
"Oh really?" Then he grinned. "Very true, I suppose, since the king is the most important piece on the board."

         
"Most important, maybe, but by no means is he the most powerful player." She picked up her queen. "The queen, my friend, is the most powerful." To emphasize her point, she moved her queen to claim Chris’s rook. "Check."

         
His lips tightened into a frustrated scowl. Then he moved his king out of harm’s way.

         
"No matter where he goes," she said, inching her queen across the board. "She’s there to remind him that
she
, not he, is the one in control." She tapped the queen on the board, and then released it. "Check."

         
He chewed his lip and glared at the board, eyes flicking at each piece in turn as he sized up the situation. Then he moved his king another space. "So you’re saying your queen is a dominatrix?"

         
"Maybe," she said with a shrug. "That’s not to say the king is unimportant." She gave him a playful smirk. "After all, when the king goes down, game over."

"Au contraire." He grinned. "When the king goes down, the game is just getting started."

"Touché," she said. "But until such time as he does go down…" She moved her queen again. "He just has to take whatever the queen dishes out. Check."

~ * ~

He moved his king again, this time taking a diagonal step behind his bishop. If the queen moved to put him back into check, she’d be open to attack from the bishop. Resting his elbows on his knees, he folded his hands and looked up, giving her a smug grin. "I can take whatever you, or your queen, can dish out."

"So you say," she said. "But no matter where you go, or how fast you try to run away…" She reached for a rook that had blended benignly into the background in all of Chris’s efforts to keep his king away from her queen. Watching him, not the piece she moved across the board, she said, "The end result is always the same." The rook stopped.

"And what result is that?"

"Queen takes king." She took her finger off the rook. "Checkmate."

"Except your
rook
won," he said with a smirk. "So while it’s checkmate, the queen hardly did the taking."

"The rook is just a castle," she said. "A wall. My queen backed you up until you hit that wall. And now, with your back against the wall and nowhere else to go…" She reached across the board and flicked his king over. "Queen. Takes. King."

He swallowed. "Now I can’t be sure if I’ve won or lost."

"Depends on which game we’re talking about." She grinned and stood, stepping around the coffee table and putting her knee next to him on the couch. "If it’s chess…" The other knee came down beside him as she sat over him. "You’re fucked."

Running his hands over her hips, he gently pulled her all the way down onto his lap. "And the other game?"

"If it’s
that
game…" She ran her fingers through his hair. "Then you’re also fucked."

Wetting his lips, he whispered, "So which game are we playing?"

"The one that
starts
with you getting fucked."