by Ada Stone
He laughed a little at me; I could feel it rumbling through his chest and vibrating back through me. It was delicious.
“Mm. Me, too. But I think we need some more practice.” He pressed himself against me and rubbed so that he was sliding between my cheeks, though he hadn’t pushed into me again. “Don’t you?”
Which was incredibly erotic, but I was a little saddened by his words. “Oh. I’m sorry about that. I…I mean, I was hoping you wouldn’t know that it was my first time, but I can learn whatever you prefer and—”
I didn’t get any farther than that. Suddenly, Alexei stopped rubbing and his hand released my breast. It took just a second more, and then he was throwing back the covers, pulling away from me.
Confused, I rolled over and sat up so that I could see him better. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, suddenly looking tense, maybe even angry.
“Alexei?” I asked, concerned. I reached for him, but when my hand brushed his bare, muscular shoulder, he flinched and shot up to a standing position. My eyes trailed down his body of their own accord, admiring his tapered waist and his firm, muscled backside. I’d never thought I would like the way a man’s butt looked, but I did. I wanted to curl my hands around it and urge him into me.
“Sorry,” he said curtly, suddenly. He began to pull on a pair of pants and I wondered what he was doing. Was he going somewhere?
“What’s wrong?” I asked, pulling the covers up to my chest to cover myself, feeling the shift in the morning and knowing that, somehow, I’d done something wrong.
He shook his head once, but didn’t look at me. “Nothing. I just can’t lie around in bed all day. I can’t afford to be lazy. I have work, a job, you know?”
I frowned. A moment ago he’d been thrilled with the idea of staying in bed with me, hadn’t he? Sure, he’d said I needed practice, but…well, I thought he was willing to be part of that practice. His erection had certainly hinted at that.
“But—”
He dragged a shirt on, covering his bare, godlike chest as he interrupted me. He still wouldn’t look at me. “I have somewhere to be. There’s coffee if you want, but I have to go.”
Then he turned away and walked out. A few moments later, I heard the door slam behind me and I understood what it meant: time to go. A wash of sadness and embarrassment—worse, shame—rolled through me like a tidal wave, admonishing me silently for what I’d done.
This was why you didn’t go home with strangers. This was why it should always be marriage before sex. This was why the rest of the world was so horrid.
I shook a little as I clutched the sheet to my chest, staring at the spot where I’d last seen Alexei, as though maybe he might be just kidding or confused and turn around and come back. Maybe this was a test to see if I would leave, or a joke.
But all of my ridiculous ideas were just that: ridiculous.
I had been dismissed. More than that, I’d been given the cold shoulder, making it perfectly clear that I was no longer welcome here in his apartment or in his bed. A sorrowful cry rang through me, but I quickly put a stopper on it. There was no point in crying, especially since I still had to catch a cab home.
So I slid out of bed and searched for my clothing, dragging the sheet around with me so I wouldn’t have to do it naked. Though I was alone, I was no longer comfortable being undressed here in this apartment. I found my dress quickly, but it took longer to find the bra. I spent probably ten minutes looking for my panties before finding them and promptly realizing that they were no longer wearable. They were mere tatters of fabric now and I knew that I would have to go home without wearing any at all.
Hot embarrassment raced through me again as I got my bra and dress on. It seemed like a flimsy, racy outfit now in the light of day with the bed in disarray behind me, making my shame so much worse.
How could I have been so stupid?
After squashing a last, fleeting hope in which I leave my number and he gets back to me, I left the apartment, called a cab, and waited just outside the lobby doors until he arrived. I tried not to look guilty when I slid in, giving him my address, but I felt as though he knew. He had to.
Sliding down low in the seat, I closed my eyes and held back the tears.
Chapter Six
Alexei
Present Day
I was getting closer to the wholesome kid carpenter whose head Vinny wanted served on a silver platter. My time was running out if I wanted that bonus, but, more importantly, it was becoming a matter of pride to find him.
Every time it seemed like I was getting closer to Christopher, it was a dead end. But not in the truest sense of the word. He’d have been there just moments before, and then he was gone. Seen at a bar? I’d hear squealing tires and the sound of a bottle being thrown out a window. Eating at a restaurant? They’d be clearing the table as I walked in. Had reservations at a hotel? Already checked out.
So close, yet somehow slipping through my fingers. A large part of that was due to the obvious need for subtlety. I wasn’t about to kill anyone out in the open, not if I didn’t think I could get a clear shot and walk away. And I wasn’t going to have a high speed chase with a drunk kid who didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. Too many bystanders, and bystanders meant police, and police meant attention—for me and for Vinny. I was hired to be discreet, and that was exactly what I would be.
The second reason I was being maybe a little more cautious with taking a shot with him was wholly different: I needed to know where the money was.
There was a good chance he had it on him, or at the very least in the car or hotel with him, because that would be the stupid thing to do.
Hiding the money did two things: it meant that if he were caught by anyone—the mob or the police—he could have plausible deniability, no money, clearly they couldn’t be the culprits. It also meant that if there was a price out on his head, which clearly there was, whoever was out to kill him, namely me, would have to interrogate him instead of just killing him outright. It bought him time, even if it might involve a lot of bad pain.
Since those two things qualified as smart things to do, I was inclined to think that Christopher hadn’t considered either of them. Maybe it was the fact that he’d stolen from the mob, or maybe it was that he’d killed a man in the process, but Christopher didn’t really strike me as the intelligent type.
“Of course, for a stupid man, he’s awfully good at running,” I muttered to myself as I checked the clip in my gun before getting out of the car. Probably, I was once again too late. I sincerely doubted he was still here, but I wasn’t going in there unprotected.
I got out of the car, tucking my gun into the waistband of my jeans. The place looked like a real piece of shit from the outside and I had the sneaking suspicion that inside wouldn’t be much better. The sign out front was blinking; in bright red neon it alternated between Vacancy and No Vacancy and I was pretty sure that wasn’t intentional. I headed inside, pushing through the glass door with the little bell overhead that chimed obnoxiously.
Inside, I was correct. Not particularly classy, but definitely cheap. The lobby was small with a little fat TV, which didn’t appear to be working, set up in the upper right corner attached to the wall, and a front desk that was just big enough for a guestbook, a light, and an old computer that looked like it probably still had a black screen with green lettering. Sitting behind this desk was a woman who was probably in her late twenties or early thirties. She had so much makeup on that it was impossible to tell. It looked like she bought out a cosmetics store, then tried to use all of it at once. Her eyes, which were meant to be smoky, looked like a bandit mask and her lips were bright red, but smeared across her jaw on one side, and when she looked up at me and smiled, I saw it was smeared on her teeth, too.
There was every possibility that she was beautiful beneath the makeup, but I would probably never know.
She batted her eyelashes—fake, too, I was pretty sure—at me, telling me instantly what I needed to kno
w: she was a flirt, she already liked me, and she would probably tell me whatever I wanted without much of a fuss.
I smiled at her with my best, sexiest smile. The one I used at the bars to seduce attractive young women. Instantly, I could almost see her melt beneath my gaze.
“Hello,” I greeted, letting my accent slip through a little thicker, because she looked like the kind of woman who would get turned on by it.
She sucked in a sharp breath, her breasts, which were all but pouring from her low-cut tank top, heaving. She stuck a pen in her mouth as she said, “Hi-ya. Did you…need a room? ’Cause I’m sure I can find you one if you’re looking.” She winked at me like maybe she was talking about something else.
“I was actually just looking for my friend,” I said, setting an elbow on the counter and leaning forward. I flashed a bright smile. “But now I think I’ve found something better.” I dragged my eyes over her features, as though to tell her that I was not only pleased by them, but desirous of her. Which I wasn’t. I examined her cleavage, her breasts round and heavy, but sagged slightly as a result. Her waist, from what I could tell, wasn’t huge, but it lacked the gentle curvature of a truly beautiful woman. She seemed to be an odd mix of plushness and hard lines, making all of her features just shy of really attractive. Still, she was probably a decent lay and maybe I would be interested in some extracurricular activities with her later. I hadn’t been with anyone for a while now—not since Susanna, that beautiful, feisty virgin who, try as I might, I couldn’t seem to completely forget about—and it was starting to show. I found myself getting more frustrated, more annoyed.
Yes, a quick roll in the hay would probably do me some good. Still, the woman before me was hardly what I was looking for. Unfortunately, I was now looking for the perfect body attached to bright eyes and a shy smile. Things I’d never been looking for before.
The woman giggled, leaning over farther until I saw the edge of her areola, her nipple trying to escape the confines of the fabric. It was deliberate, of course, but instead of turning me on, I found myself a little put off that she would be so…easy.
But, for my purposes, this was good.
“And what might that be?” she asked as she narrowed her eyes at me.
I stared at her cleavage to the point where it would be rude anywhere else as I answered. “An incredibly sexy woman.”
She giggled again, tossing her hair and pulling her arms together so that they squeezed her breasts tightly together, emphasizing her cleavage even more. “You’re just saying that.”
I shook my head, though I was. “No, I’m not. How can someone as devastating as you even think that?”
She licked her lips, which probably tasted like waxy lipstick. I couldn’t imagine kissing her. “Well, then maybe you are looking for a room for…you know, a little entertainment?” She winked again, her long lashes making it look exaggerated.
I forced a sigh, as though I was regretting my next words. “I would, but I’m already late to meet my friend—he’s supposed to be here, but maybe after…?” I let my words trail off, insinuating that our time together would come when I found what I was looking for.
She pouted a little and said, “Well, how long do you think it’ll take?”
I lifted my shoulder. “Not long. I just need to drop something off for him, but I think he may have given me the wrong hotel, now that I think about it.” I pretended to think about it, then snapped my fingers. “I know! Would you be able to look him up and see if he’s a guest here?”
She hesitated. Technically, asking if someone was staying at the motel was okay. It was when I started asking other questions that she would probably have to halt me to save her own job, but I’d wait on those. Maybe I would have to sleep with her to get her to do some things for me, but it was too early to tell.
“Well, okay. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with that, right?”
“Of course not. After all, he’s my friend and he told me to meet him. I just need to make sure he’s here and that I haven’t missed him.” I smiled at her reassuringly, and it worked.
She nodded her head and said, “Hang on jut a sec. Let me check the computer. What was his name?”
“Christopher Ferrars.”
The sound of typing filled up the room for a long moment, then silence. The computer was slower than a snail, but after a while it beeped at her. “Okay, looks like he was here.” She frowned. “But he checked out today. Sorry, I think you just missed him. He only stayed a night. Oh, that’s right! I remember him now. Blond guy, kind of cute—I mean, if you go for that whole wholesome thing, which I mean, I don’t.” She was rambling and looking me up and down as she spoke, making it clear that she was still very interested in me.
“Do you remember anything else about him?”
She blinked at me, surprised by my sudden interrogative question, and I silently cursed myself. I was pretending to be a friend, not a cop, and if she started to think I was lying to her, I would lose this.
I forced a smile. “I just mean, do you remember him mentioning me? Or maybe leaving a note for where he’s staying next? I should have known I’d be too late.”
She relaxed a little and said, “Oh, nothing like that. I remember he paid in cash and drove off this morning in that red pickup of his, you know, the one with the dented door?”
I smiled at her. “You know, I’ll bet you his sister has his number. I’ll give her a call and figure out where he’s going. You’ve been so much help.”
She looked a little put out. “You’re leaving?”
I paused. She was looking at me hungrily. I considered going up to a room with her and just having my way with her. If she went down on me for a little bit, I would probably get hard enough to go for a while at least, though she wasn’t really what I found myself wanting.
But it had been a while. And I wasn’t going to see that other woman, Susanna, ever again. I didn’t do relationships and I didn’t do second rounds with women, not even when they were that good in bed. If I wanted to take care of myself, I had better do it now.
Yet when my gaze flickered to her fake eyelashes and her dull eyes, I just smiled and winked at her. “I have to take care of this first, but I’ll come back for you. After all, you did promise me a room and entertainment.”
I left her giggling and all but panting after me, but I knew that I’d never be back.
Chapter Seven
Susanna
I was sitting on the floor next to the door, because there wasn’t really any room for a couch. I was going to get a beanbag at some point, but just never got around to it. And I never had guests, so I figured it didn’t matter. Studying was done on my bed or at the library or some shop with Tyler, so what did it matter if I had a table or a couch or even a chair? I had a bed and a kitchen with a built in counter. What else did I need?
A crib.
The thought came unbidden and I felt panic rise up in my chest as a result. A crib. And diapers. Baby clothes. Vitamins and doctor appointments and a million other things I couldn’t afford. Not to mention I would be doing it alone. I didn’t just mean the sexy Alexei, but also my family. It was just my dad and my brother left, but neither of them would understand. Their value system was strict and unforgiving, making it perfectly clear that a pregnancy before marriage would be completely unacceptable.
And I wasn’t stupid enough to think Alexei was going to burst through that door at any moment to profess his undying love to me.
Just the idea of it made my heart hurt with want, but I pushed it aside. I had other things to focus on, much more important than some stupid guy who I should have known better than to sleep with in the first place.
There were three tests in the pregnancy kit I found at the store. They were all identical little sticks, each individually wrapped, and I ended up using them all. I read on the package that there was a chance for a false positive, though it was so low as to be nearly negligible, so I was really hoping that was the case. Except that when I
went through all of those tests, they all said the same thing in a little pink line.
Positive.
Which meant it couldn’t be a false alarm. The statistics of getting that many false positives were just stacked against me. It was impossible, meaning I was most definitely pregnant.
It explained the missed periods and the nausea—which I was now pretty sure was morning sickness. I was an unwed pregnant woman with the father nowhere in sight. Everything that would disappoint my father so much. The thought that my family would be so ashamed, so disappointed, filled me with sorrow. How could I tell them? What could I do?