Page 52 of Sacrifice the Knight (Checkmate 6)

Katrina’s brows furrow with thought. “Really?”

“Uh-huh. They look like they’re all so random sitting up there by themselves, but many come in pairs. Binary stars,” I murmur. “That’s what it’s called when two stars orbit the same center of gravity. So many of them are paired.”

“I wonder if every pair of stars has been allocated to a couple of humans?” She turns to catch my eyes. “Do you know what I mean? Like, there’s a pair assigned to each of us. Then they join and bind when their human counterparts meet.”

“That sounds awfully romantic,” I chuckle. “So you’re saying Kane and Jess’ stars found each other?”

“Right. Ray and Gloria. Jay and Soph. Bobby and Kit. You know all the couples we see, so blissfully happy together.” She shrugs. “It makes you wonder if their star equivalents are up there together.”

“But I thought you didn’t know the Bishops?”

Laughing, she squeezes my hand and rests her cheek on my shoulder. “Why are you always trying to call me out on shit? Why can’t you let me be stubborn in peace?”

“I dunno,” I chuckle. “I guess I like picking apart the tight control you insist on having.” I arch my head back, close my eyes, and press a kiss to her forehead. “And yeah, I like your theory. Binary stars are bound couples. Finally together. Finally happy.”

“So maybe shooting stars are people dying? Like they had their other half, but then their gravity let them go. They shoot away and light up the skies that one last time. Maybe it’s their last act of kindness, an act of selflessness, or that last declaration of love, ya know? And then they’re gone.”

“Jesus.” I shake my head and turn back to stare at the sky. “That’s morbid as hell. What the hell is the matter with you?”

She shrugs, but her lips quirk up into a grin. “Maybe the single stars are wandering around all alone, waiting for their patch of gravity and their other half. Maybe they’re watching the binary stars, mad as hell and green with envy because they found happiness.”

“Maybe.” I reach across with my other hand and draw her face up with a finger under her jaw. Leaning in a little closer, I press my lips to hers, hold the kiss, and I don’t stop until she exhales on a sigh and relaxes. Each time we’ve been together has been about hot and fast, a business transaction just like all the others, and definitely no kissing under the stars underscored by the soft sounds of frogs and birds on the breeze. Katrina’s eyes flutter closed when my tongue slides over her bottom lip, but my hand refuses to free her. I turn on the stairs so my weight rests on my hip, and though I’m tempted to slide my hand into her top, I cup her face instead, allowing myself to fall into the kiss with a thumping heart and a million reasons flashing inside my head on why I shouldn’t.

Gemma blinks in my brain. On again. Off again. Blinking just to remind me she’s there and that it’s selfish of me to romance another woman. It’s not fair to Gem. Not to Callie. Not to Katrina or Mac. But still, our tongues slide together, and within minutes, Katrina’s leg hitches over mine so she can get just that little bit closer.

I pull back with panting breath, a racing heart, a wish that things could be easier. “Will you come inside with me?”

Dazed, she blinks the fog away and works to focus on my eyes, but I’m acutely aware of the security cameras that cover this property, and I’m not about to give my friends more material to work with.

Gently pushing her leg off mine and climbing to my feet with a raging hard on and a heart that can’t make up its mind, I pull her up slowly, catch her when she sways, then I lead her up my stairs and into my dark apartment.

I need to take care of my world. Get my home in order and remove old memories. How could I possibly have any kind of future, any semblance of a chance of moving on, if I continue to live in the past? Gemma stares at me from every wall. Her bright eyes and beautiful smile slather on a new layer of guilt. But I move through my apartment at lightning speed because I don’t want Katrina’s eyes to stray from me. I don’t want her to know my secrets or how truly fucked up I am, so I leave the lights off and lead her through my living room.

“We have an hour?”

“Yeah.” Her hand remains in mine. She walks out of her shoes as we move, loses half an inch of height as she goes, and pulls her top off one-handed so we enter my bedroom with most of the formalities out of the way. “One hour. And I finish early tomorrow, since Mac has something I have to be at.”

I stop just a few feet from my bed. “You won’t visit tomorrow night?”

She shakes her head. “I can’t. Mac would blast me for sneaking out, then he’d ask questions I don’t have answers to.” Stepping closer in jeans and a bra, she tries to cover her stomach with a folded arm, as though the tiniest bit of loose skin or a stretch mark bothers me. “You better get your fill tonight, DeWhit. Because tomorrow, you gotta use your hand.”

I pull her close in the dark and fuse our lips together. She wears her hair in a high ponytail, so the ends tickle my hand as I blindly work on the latch of her bra. Sliding the straps over her arms without releasing her mouth, I drop it to the floor beside our feet, and when she pulls away to breathe, I drop to my knees and take her nipple between my lips.

“Jesus! Eric.” Her body tenses, and her breath races out on a gasp.

“I gotta get everything tonight.” One-handed, I work on the button of her jeans, and with the other, I squeeze her tit and tease the nipple with my tongue. “I won’t get another taste for days, so I need to make sure I taste everything I can now. To make you come so hard, you’ll remember I’m not a wasted fuck.”

“God,” she groans. I push her back a step and tug her jeans down with one-handed jerky movements. Exposing her panties, I stop for a moment and study the black lace. The narrow straps. And when I peek around her hips and find bare skin at the back, my eyes shoot up and zoom in on her blush. “No teasing!”

“You wear these for me?” I take the lace between my teeth and nibble. “You wore cotton the other times. Now you’re wearing lace, and I feel like maybe you thought of me when you put them on.”

“I did.” Panting, she takes another step back until her calves touch the end of my bed. I follow her movements, and when she can’t stop wringing her fingers with nerves, I push her back so she flops with anumph, then I tug her jeans down to her ankles and bury my face against her fiery hot core. Lace keeps us apart, but the heat and wet are just as evident as if it weren’t there.

“What if I buy you sexy underwear?”

When she doesn’t answer, I look up to find her smothering herself with my pillow over her face. Reaching up, I tug it away and wait for her eyes. “How would you feel if I went shopping for underwear? I’d think of you. I’d think of how the colors would complement your skin, how the thong would sit between your ass cheeks and promise something naughty. I’d think about you working at the diner, bringing me dinner and wearing the underwear I chose for you.”

“Eric…”

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