Page 61 of Chess Not Checkers
“My parents,” I choke out, voice shaking along with my hands.
How had I gone so long not seeing it? This whole time I thought I didn’t care about them not showing up, not bothering to understand. In reality, it’s what I’ve been chasing after for years.
“Shepherd.” Jasmine’s soft whisper almost breaks me entirely. “You have to know that’s not going to work. They aren’t going to change just because you became famous.”
“You don’t know that,” I say with a shake of my head. “It would make them proud of me.”
She gives me a sad smile and takes a step toward me. “Did it work for Jason? He has everything you want, doesn’t he? And you told me they still only come if Willow coerces them.”
“No, I’m going to be better, and then they’ll see.” I can hear the panic in my voice. What do I have if I don’t have this goal? I can’t give up now. This is my life. I’ve been going after it for so long I haven’t built anything else.
Jasmine draws closer. I look down at her, my muscles aching, begging me to wrap my arms around her.
“I know it hurts that they aren’t good parents, but why do you feel you have to go after their attention so much? It’s killing you.”
“Because I need someone to care about me!” I shout. “If my own parents won’t, then who will?”
“Me!” she yells back, and shoves my chest. “Iwill. That’s why I’m here, Shepherd. I don’t want anything from you. I don’t care if you quit football tomorrow. I just want you to behappy. And not happy because you won, or because you’re a Heisman-winner, or because you’re a chess prodigy. I want you no-strings-attached happy because I care about you as a person.”
“Why?” I ask, unable to believe she’s telling the truth. How could she? She has a huge family who loves her and parents who loved her before they passed. Why would she make room for me in her life?
“Are you seriously questioning me right now?” She shoves my chest again. “You’re the most arrogant, pompous man I’ve ever met, and you’re questioning why I would care about you?”
“You do realize how that sounds, right?” I ask, a touch of humor coming back to me.
She glares and pushes me again. She hasn’t moved me once, but it seems to be making her feel better.
“Ugh,” she huffs. “I meant that you’re so pompous you shouldn’t need someone to tell you good things about yourself. But fine. You’re handsome, thoughtful, and a great teacher, even if I hate that you’re better at chess than me. You make me laugh all the time, and until you put your brain in a lost-and-found box yesterday, you were a great friend who I trusted would be there for me when I needed you.” She draws in a breath. I wish I was capable of that, but I think I lost the ability to breathe halfway through her speech. “You make me feel at home. There. Are you happy? Now do you believe me?”
A grin stretches my lips. “You think I’m handsome?”
“That’swhat you took from all I said?” she shrieks and makes to shove me again.
I grab her wrists. “Would you stop that?” I chuckle.
She jerks against my grip. “Why should I?”
Her gaze lifts from where I’ve trapped her against me. Her gorgeous green eyes are rimmed red, and I hate myself for being the cause of that. But there’s also a fire in them that heats my blood in a way only she ever has. Nothing, not even football, has made me feel like this woman has.
She’s challenged me, gotten me to open up, and made me laugh until my sides hurt. I was walking down what I thoughtwas the only path, and she yanked me off course and showed me there was a whole world to explore. A world of homemade pasta, giggles, and hugs that feel like home. All of it far better than what I had before.
“Because it’s making it really difficult for me to kiss you.”
Chapter thirty-one
First Taste
Jasmine Chamberlain
I suck in a surprised breath at Shepherd’s words. He lets go of my wrists. My palms find a home against his chest. The racing rhythm of his heartbeat matches mine. His hands slide beneath my jaw, eliciting a toe-curling shiver. Before I can think or take another breath, his lips are on mine.
This is no slow exploration or patient caress. No, his kiss is desperate, and I match it by dragging him closer. He moves his hands to the curve of my lower back and draws me in to erase any distance between us. I wrap my arms around his neck so our bodies are flush. His tongue traces my bottom lip. I hum before allowing him to deepen the kiss. The first taste of him is warm and addictive—better than anything I’ve ever made in a kitchen.
A low sound vibrates his chest and sets my body alight with a blaze of feverish desire. I rake my hands through his hair like I’ve seen him do hundreds of times. His arms tighten around me in response, fingertips digging into my back. My knees weaken beneath me with each warm caress of his mouth. He mustsense me holding onto him, because he lifts me off the ground, stopping the kiss just long enough to walk us to the couch.
I straddle his lap and stare down at his mussed hair and swollen lips. He stares up at me as if I rearranged his world. I know I’m looking at him the same way.
“You’re so beautiful, Jasmine,” he whispers. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for weeks now.”
