Footsteps of the Past (Second Chances #2) - Felice Stevens Page 0,8

going home. No matter what his mother wanted, André’s only plans were to spend time with Chess. The business could wait.

***

Traveling for over ten hours normally wore the hell out of André, but knowing he was coming home gave him a burst of energy. He opened the door to the apartment and pulled his suitcase behind him, enjoying the sight of his home. And as tired as he was, the prospect of weeks stretching out before him with nothing more than being with Chess lifted his spirits.

A year after Chess moved in, André had called in an architect to renovate the four-bedroom, three-bath apartment on Central Park West, insisting Chess have equal input in furniture, artwork, and paint color, along with everything else. Each of them had their own office, and because Chess had confided a desire to learn to cook, they’d installed a gourmet kitchen. In their travels over the years, Chess had picked up recipes, and André had become the lucky beneficiary of his culinary expertise.

This apartment was his sanctuary, and Chess was his peace.

“Anyone home?”

Hurried footsteps sounded from the bedroom, and Chess appeared from around the corner. “André? What? You’re home early. Oh my God, I missed you.”

André staggered several steps backward when Chess threw his arms around him and held him tight. He soaked in Chess’s warmth and scent and kissed his neck, tasting his skin.

“I missed you more.”

“You’re a day early. Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve prepared something.”

“I don’t need anything but you. You, right here with me.”

Chess tipped his head. “What’s wrong? Are you just tired from the flight, or did something happen?”

The last thing André wanted to do the minute he got home was talk about his mother, and he certainly had no intention of talking about Kyle. He tightened his hold on Chess and shook his head. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s all right now that I’m here with you.” God, did he sound pathetic and needy? But dammit, he didn’t care. Six months was too long, and those few weekends they’d managed to spend together early on in his traveling, as Chess couldn’t take off during finals, felt almost unreal by now, a distant memory.

Chess’s hair had grown a bit longer since the last time they’d been together, and André didn’t recognize the clothes he wore. Even his smell was different. Had he changed his cologne? Body wash? What else had changed and why? Not that beautiful, sweet smile shining from his face, thank God. He hugged Chess even tighter. “You’re everything I need. The only thing.”

“I’m so happy you came home early.”

Leaving the suitcase in the hall, Chess took his hand and led him to the wide suede couch. “Sit.” Chess crawled next to him, and they lay together, gently kissing and touching. Reclaiming each other after so many months apart. André groaned out a contented sigh. “How are you so perfect?”

Chess chuckled. “Some of my students would disagree with you.”

He nuzzled Chess’s neck, kissed his cheek. “They don’t know you like I do. At least, they better not.”

Chess shook with laughter in his arms. “You think I’d ever be interested in one of those kids when I have you? My man?”

“And now you have me for the foreseeable future. I have no set timetable for returning.”

Chess shifted away, an odd smile on his face. “You mean it?”

“Of course I do.” He smoothed Chess’s hair off his face, ran his hands down his shoulders, as if he couldn’t believe he was in his arms again. “I’ve made a decision. I’m done with staying away from you for these extended periods of time. If they need me, I’ll be available from here. With you.”

“I’m glad, but I don’t want you to jeopardize your relationship with your mother or the business. I know you’re the person everyone turns to.”

That was not the reaction he’d expected.

“Don’t you want me home?” His senses on alert, André gazed at Chess, trying to read his face.

“Of course I do. I just don’t want you to have to sacrifice your business and doing what you love.”

“I love you more than the business.” Unease washed over him, and his stomach cramped. “Every morning away from you is a sacrifice. Being together is the most important thing, not another contract signed. Deals don’t bring me happiness—you do. A few hurried nights aren’t enough, especially when we’re exhausted and running on fumes. I don’t want us to make love when I’m so tired, I’d barely remember. I need to be

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