by Nic Saint
“I’ll cook,” he continued with the same air of indifference.
“I thought we could share the tasks,” she countered. “I could cook one day, you the next. Or I could cook dinner and you could take care of breakfast and lunch.”
He merely shrugged, refusing to meet her eyes. “If that’s what you want.”
She felt her good humor dwindling fast under the onslaught of his tetchiness, which was even icier than the snow outside. If they were going to survive here together, they had to find some way to coexist. As he stood before her, his hands shoved deeply into his pockets, his face a thundercloud, she thought back to the kiss they’d shared in the car. It seemed like ages ago, and she swallowed as she watched his intense gaze, his rigid posture, and wondered what she’d done to suddenly turn him against her like this.
She thought she knew. He probably disliked her for putting his family in this position, for putting him in this position. Perhaps he felt some basic attraction to her, much like people will when forced to share close quarters, but that didn’t mean he liked her. Probably, he hated her guts.
And then there was Darlene, of course.
This whole thing had induced his girlfriend to break up with him, putting a serious dent in his plans. He must be pining for her, she thought. If it wasn’t for her, he would be in Brooklyn right now, trying to win back Darlene. But as long as he was forced to play babysitter to some silly math girl, he couldn’t.
Well, she decided, jutting out her chin, she was going to make the best of it. Whatever he did or did not like about her, or this situation, he was stuck with her and she was stuck with him.
She pointed to a bottle of wine on the bottom shelf. “Care for a drink? Something to warm the blood?”
He shrugged dismissively. “Help yourself. I’m off to bed.” Abruptly, he turned away. When she heard the door slam, she knew she was alone again.
Charming. Just charming. And to think she’d actually liked him. Had actually warmed to his kiss and practically thrown herself into his arms. And now this. She shook her head. This wasn’t going to be easy. She eyed the bottle. What the hell. She snatched it from the shelf and carried it into the kitchen.
Popping the cork and picking a glass from the cupboard, she took her glass over to the hearth and slid into a cross-legged position on the sheepskin. Yes, she was going to make the best of things, and not spend one second worrying about what Alex did or did not like.
Nursing her drink and gazing steadily into the flames as they licked the wood, she felt her body relax, and soon her eyes fluttered closed and she moved to stretch out in front of the fire. The crackle of flame offered the perfect soundtrack to a soothing slumber, and when her body finally succumbed to the fatigue that had crept into her bones, she was asleep before her face hit the rug.
Alex eased open the door as he stepped from his room. The sight that met his eyes induced him to pause on the doorstep. Curled up in front of the fire lay Laura: her hair caught the dancing flickers of ember, glowing as fiery and red as the fire itself. Careful not to wake her, he moved closer, bending down to brush a tendril of hair from her face. He enjoyed the smooth feel of her skin under his fingers. She’d fallen asleep, the empty glass still clasped in her hand, and he gently removed it from her grasp, then placed it on the gate leg table his mother cherished so much.
Stretching out beside her for a moment, he watched as the flames danced in the hearth, shadows and light dancing across Laura’s lovely features, the hollows of her cheeks attesting to the trying moments she’d endured.
As he watched the rise and fall of her chest, her white cashmere sweater accentuating the curves and valleys of her body, he had a hard time suppressing a natural desire to reach out and explore. Instead, he lay perfectly still, his head supported on his elbow, as his eyes took in the woman who had bewitched him from the first, and whose fate had now unexpectedly been thrown in with his.
How he was going to survive this, he did not know. He’d had a hard enough time letting go in the car. Had to fight an overpowering urge to ravish her, and take her right there, right then. It wouldn’t do, he knew, to enter into a relationship with Laura Armstrong. Not because he didn’t want to, but because she deserved better than this, better than him. She deserved a boyfriend much like herself. Intelligent, educated, going places. The only place he was going, apparently, was in exile, while his family sorted out the mess he’d created.
He felt terrible he’d thrown this into their lap, and in the process had messed up Laura’s life as well. The best thing he could do now was to leave her in peace, and not make things even more difficult than they already were.
He was going to come out of this without laying so much as a finger on her.
He knew it would be tough, but it was the only way to preserve both his own sanity and her innocence. Until this was all over, and she returned to her own life—her own world—he would see to it she was safe. Safe from the combined clutches of the Gornakovs, Demiakovs, and Gorevs.
And from Alex Petrov.
After feasting his eyes on her for what felt like eternity, he carefully lifted her from the sheepskin, and carried her into her room. Tucking her into bed, drawing the comforter up to her chin, he smiled down at her, marveling at the hair that now spread across her pillow like a shower of embers. He bent over, pressed a tender kiss to her brow, slowly traced his finger along her cheek, and whispered, “Good night, Laura.”
Before edging out of the room, he checked the small window to make sure it was locked. The storm was now raging in full force, and he was gratified to find the window had been completely snowed in. Nobody would bother them tonight. Nobody would be crazy enough to venture out in this weather.
Not even Semyon Gorev, the man he’d recognized from Laura’s description. How the man had managed to find out where they were going, he did not know. But he was certain he would never follow them out here. The Gorevs might be crazy, but they weren’t that crazy.
He softly retreated, closing the door behind him, and plunged the room into darkness. Laura was safe, and that was all that mattered.
CHAPTER 23
As the light from the early morning sun slanted golden into the room, and teased away the misty wisps of sleep, Laura rubbed her eyes. There was something to be said for roughing it, she thought on a luxuriating yawn.
Wrapped in a thick blanket of soothing dreams, sleep had finally worked its refreshing magic. Far from the nightmare of the night before, only the sound cottoning of deep rest had now enveloped her, and given her a new lease on life.
The smell of freshly brewed coffee, eggs sizzling in the skillet, and the stirrings of a new dawn, spirited a pleased smile on her face as she languidly stretched out.
The storm had blown itself out overnight, and exquisite peace had descended upon the world. And upon her. The gloom and doom of the previous day blown away, she swung her feet from beneath the thick comforter, and placed them on the floor, curling her toes against the soft carpet. To her surprise, she found that someone had placed a pair of Hello Kitty slippers for her to find, and she slipped her feet in. They fit like a glove.
As she wandered from the room, wiping the last remnants of sleep from her eyes, she was surprised to find breakfast on the stove, coffee brewing in the pot, but the master of the revels nowhere to be found.
Then she heard the telltale sounds of a running shower, and smiled. For a brief, horrifying moment, she’d wondered if the Petrovs showered outside, taking care of their toilet in the icy stream behind the lodge. Rubbing chunks of ice along their bronzed physiques and gargling pebbles while they were at it.
Apparently, they, too, enjoyed the creature comforts of the twenty-first century.
She plunked down on the wooden bench and stared before her, still not completely ready to start her day. But then the shower was turned off, and she sat up a little straighter, not wanting Alex to find her looking like a damp rag. Fixing what she hoped was an expression of gratitude on her face, sh
e awaited his appearance with some trepidation. She didn’t remember much from last night, having been too tired to care, but she did remember Alex’s testy mood. For some reason, he’d grown to resent her over the course of the last two days, his mood about as volatile as the weather, and just as unpredictable.
Well, at least he’d made her breakfast, and since she was starving, that did much to raise him in her esteem.
The door to the bathroom opened, and Alex strode out, naked from the waist up, and she had to suppress a startled gasp. The man was built like a fortress. A towel was casually slung around his waist, and she watched the droplets of water cling to a chest chiseled in stone, his belly taut and hewn from the living rock by one of the old masters, his hair tousled and damp, his face relaxed.
When he saw her, he momentarily halted his stride, his eyes flickering dangerously. Then he looked away, as if her mere presence annoyed the hell out of him.
So, nothing had changed, she thought bitterly.
“Thanks for fixing breakfast,” she called out by way of peace offering. She indicated the skillet where an omelet was still sizzling, and the pot of coffee filling the lodge with its delicious aroma.
He merely lifted his massive shoulders in a gesture of dismissal, then walked into his room and slammed the door behind him.
When he returned mere seconds later, he’d slung a T-shirt across his hulking frame, and a pair of low-slung jeans hugged his narrow hips. Padding over, he rummaged in the kitchen cupboard for a moment, then plunked down plates, cups and cutlery, shoveled eggs onto his place and hers, and poured coffee into mugs. He managed all of this while maintaining a studied silence.
With a sigh, she picked up her fork and stabbed at the omelet, her good mood quickly evaporating.
Missing something, she rose and shuffled over in search of a piece of bread and a chunk of butter to go with the eggs. She didn’t remember finding bread in Anna’s supplies last night, but wanted to make certain.
“You won’t find anything,” he grunted as she opened the pantry door.
“I guess we’ll have to go shopping soon,” she offered.
“I guess so,” he returned testily.
Her poise could only stand so much abuse, so she turned to him, inadvertently picking up the skillet from the stove to point it at him.
“Look, Alex, I didn’t ask for this, and neither did you, but we’re stuck here together, and we need to make the best of it. It won’t do for you to stomp around like an angry…” She flapped her arms, searching for the right word. “…bear all the time! If we’re going to live together, at least you can be nice to me.” She gestured feebly. “This…face you’re pulling each time you see me? It won’t do, you know. I won't stand for it. I really won’t!”
Throughout her harangue, he’d remained silent, merely eyeing her with what she could only surmise was a deep loathing. Well, she didn’t care. She wasn’t going to spend the next few weeks with him crawling around all huffy and nasty and making her life a living hell. The least he could do was to be civil.
“Are you finished?” he intoned icily.
“Not quite! Unless you’ll behave from now on, I’m not staying in this place one minute longer!” She waved the skillet around like a weapon of sorts. “Not one more minute!”
His eyes narrowed, anger simmering dangerously close to the surface. “You’re staying put, whether you like it or not.”
“Oh, no, I won’t! I can’t stand that horrible face of yours for a moment longer!”
His lips tightened. “Oh, so it’s my face you have a problem with, is it?”
“Not just your face,” she riposted. “It’s your whole…” She eyed his tightly wrapped frame. “…everything!”
His brows lifted dangerously, and when he spoke, it was with an undertone of danger brewing. “You’re not going anywhere, college girl. School is out, if you hadn’t noticed, and I’m the only thing standing between you and the bad men out there. Whether you like my face or not. Welcome to the real world.”
And with these words, he turned back to his breakfast as if she hadn’t spoken. Heaving a disgusted groan, she contemplated lowering the skillet onto his thick skull, but then thought better of it. Slamming it down with a resounding clang, she expelled some of her own anger with a single syllable. “Oh!”
Stomping back to her room, she slammed the door as hard as she could. Furiously pacing the floor, she thought horrible thoughts about Alex and the entire Petrov clan, until one thought stood out amongst the welter. She wasn’t staying in this place one minute longer. If he thought he could bully her into a decline, he had another thing coming!
She whirled around when the door was flung wide, jerking back when he barreled down on her. Then, before she could utter a protest, he took a firm grip on her neck and then his lips came crashing down on hers with a fury that took her breath away. Hard and insistent, there was not a hint of tenderness in his embrace, only hot demand. She blinked under the onslaught, her body swaying limply as he held on.
His tongue demanded entrance, and she gave it, and then he was thrusting into her mouth, taking possession of her tongue, a tempest unleashed. Her blood turned from ice to boil in seconds, and her fists slammed against his chest, then clawed, raking along his corded arms, then up to his shoulders and curling around his neck. She slanted her head, her own tongue tangling furiously with his, mouths open, each giving and taking in a bid to give expression to the fire that had been burning for days now.
He wanted her, she briefly thought, and she wanted him. It was as simple and as primal as that, and then he was ripping at her clothes, yanking the shirt over her head, then flicking open the front clasp of her bra and her breasts swayed out, instantly devoured by his hot mouth, her nipples wet and bruised under his feverish demand.
He slammed her onto the bed, and then he was tearing off her jeans, his eyes dark and lustful, his mouth a slash of fury. He was huge and naked, and his cock was hard and erect, angled straight at her center.
He was going to fuck her, she knew with rising excitement roiling in her gut. He was finally going to put his mark on her, and then she would be his. No tenderness was displayed as they both clasped at each other, fingers clawing and mouths devouring, the pants and grunts of wild animal lust echoing through the room. And when she angled her left leg across his hip, the other falling back against the bed, he entered her, plunging his hard length inside her screaming flesh all the way to the hilt in a shock of pleasure. She cried out, slamming her head back agains the coverlets, her body ravished by a force as big as life itself.
“Alex,” she breathed. “Oh, Alex!”
As he hammered into her, his face was a mask of pure lust, his eyes narrowed into harsh slits, his hands and his lips on her. She slashed her tongue against his, and mewled as she felt his thick girth slam all the way inside her quivering belly, her chest rapidly rising and falling, and then he was kissing her neck, her throat, her breasts, sucking and suckling, nipping and nibbling, all the while arching inside her with his towering girth of throbbing heat.
Their joined moans and cries of passion filled the room, and then she was quaking wildly beneath him, in the throes of a climax that threatened to devour her whole. Then he, too, was on the verge, and as he reared up, grinding out a guttural moan, he dissolved inside her, pouring himself into her, and pooling deeply inside her undulating belly.
As they both lay tangled, sweaty, panting and trying to fathom what the hell had just happened, she reached out a hand and placed it on his chest, then pressed kisses along his jaw, reveling in the feel of his stubbled face under her soft lips. When finally she reached his mouth, she murmured, “I love you, Alex. I love you so much.”
If she’d expected him to reciprocate the muttered confession, she was wrong. Instead, he merely stared at her, panic written all over his face. Then, when she saw the sorrow in his eyes, she felt the fear clutch in her belly. His next words confirmed what she’d desperately hoped would never happen.
>
“I’m sorry, Laura,” he grunted, then placed a hand on her cheek, and repeated, “I’m so, so sorry.”
“But, Alex…” she managed, but then he shook his head, and started to crawl away from her.
“Please, forgive me,” he added hoarsely, and staggered from the room.
The tears sprang to her eyes before the first sob escaped her throat. Then her chest seized up, and she felt as if she couldn’t breathe. He didn’t want her. He really didn’t want her. Had merely had his way with her, then rejected her out of hand. When the terrible realization penetrated her numbed mind like a dagger of ice, she felt sadness crush down on her, so overwhelming and overpowering she couldn’t move, couldn’t think. Then she pushed herself up from the bed, and slowly, automatically, started getting dressed.
Moving to the window, her mind a jumble of thoughts, her emotions a vortex of turmoil, she stared out. Through a slit near the top, where the snow had melted, she saw that the sun was shining, and the sky a piercingly clear blue. Moving to the dresser, she pulled on the thick woolen sweater Anna had gifted her, adding the down coat, scarf, mittens and woolen cap.
Stumbling to the door, she saw that Alex had left. Shivering, though not from the cold, she managed to make her way to the door, and then she was out, cast out into all that whiteness, and then she was walking along the drifts of snow, past the car, and picking her way down the path.
He would notice her gone, and he would be relieved. He’d be over the moon that the pesky woman who’d made his life a living hell had finally had the good sense to remove herself from his presence.
He’d be so relieved he’d probably throw a party. Call all his brothers and announce the good news. Laura Armstrong was no longer his burden to carry. No longer his charge to take care of.
She’d never bother him again.
As she trudged through the snow, down the road that had led them here the night before, she felt the weight that crushed her chest growing heavier with each step that took her away from the lodge—took her away from him.