Balance (Off Balance Book 1)

by Lucia Franco

  “You will only set yourself back if you do not use what is readily available to you. Me.”

  Him?

  “That is what I am here for.” He cleared his throat. “What Madeline is here for. Use us, ask questions.”

  I bit the inside of my lip. He was right. “I just try not to ask too many questions, you know? I like to show I can do things on my own.”

  He raised a brow and countered me. “You?” A sexy grin slowly appeared on his face and my cheeks grew hot. “You love to talk back. Is it not almost the same thing as asking questions?”

  I lowered my face, trying to hide my growing smile. I bobbed my head, agreeing with him. Kova slipped two fingers under my chin and raised my head so our eyes met again. His touch was thrilling and caused a rush of heat to stream through my body. My heartbeat picked up and the energy in the room grew thicker.

  My lips parted as we stared into each other’s eyes, unsure what to think. This man was beyond confusing, and his touch left me with questions. Questions I had about myself and my reaction to him. Thing was, I began to like the attention he showed me, liked the touch of his hands and the way they seemed to linger on me.

  “Remember to use your resources, Ria. I am sure your dad would agree with me on that.”

  Yeah, I was pretty sure he didn’t want me to use my resources in the way my body wanted to at the moment. Especially not with the way I stared at my coach’s mouth.

  “Why do you call me Ria and not Ana like my parents?”

  He paused. “It suits you better. Ana sounds like a child’s name, Ria.” His thumb caressed the side of my face. “And you are no child, not to me at least.”

  Kova dropped his hand and walked to the side of the table, murmuring under his breath in Russian. My heart was nearly in my throat and my eyes were huge. Never once had Kova touched me so...so...I wasn’t even sure what to call it. Adoringly. Affectionately.

  “Okay, we are going to do the same drills as last time, but add in a few more that will be helpful to you. Get on your back and bring one leg to your chest. Hold it for me.”

  “Yes, sir!” I replied sarcastically, which earned me a smile from him. “I’m sorry, sometimes I can’t help it.”

  Kova shook his head and laughed lightly. “Never had a gymnast quite like you before,” he said. “Never a dull moment.”

  My face lit up. “Why, thank you!” My reply came out in more of a grunt when he leaned in with his body. Kova used one hand to press my knee to my chest, the other on my thigh to hold me down. While I’d been joking only seconds before, the fun was over and I had to focus. Only, it was difficult to focus when all I could think about was how his fingers had been on me and the reason why he called me Ria. Not to mention, where his hands were at the present moment. Well, one hand.

  On the crease of my hip and covering most of the mini shorts I had on. His large hand dug into my skin, his fingers pressing down. I wasn’t sure why, but I liked his hold on me more than I knew I should. His touch was hot and my body responded to it.

  My hips began to slowly open up as Kova got close to my face. “You feel that? How your body is relaxing and releasing?”

  I think he meant opening up, but I didn’t correct his English. Instead, I nodded. “I actually feel it this time.”

  “Good.” He pushed a little more. “This is what we want.” Kova held the position a few more seconds and then moved over to my right side. I switched legs and got into position.

  “My left side is more flexible than my right.” Just about every gymnast had one side that was more flexible than the other.

  He dismissed it. “Not a problem for me.”

  When he pressed into my right leg, even after hours of training, my hip was still so tight I grunted.

  “Let me guess, you forgot to breathe how I taught you,” he stated more than asked, just inches from my face.

  I pursed my lips. “Maybe...”

  Kova shook his head, closing his eyes. “What am I going to do with you?” he said jokingly.

  I liked this side of him. He was playful and easy to be around. Not edgy and tense like he was in the mornings. Maybe our time should be restricted to the evening, but I doubted I could make that happen.

  Just when I thought we were going to move into another position, Kova applied a heavy amount of pressure that caused my back to bow and my knee to lift in response. My knee was nearly past my shoulder now.

  A grumble escaped me and I grabbed Kova for support. My small hand couldn’t wrap around his wrist and he twitched under my touch.

  “Adrianna, focus on breathing.” When I didn’t answer, he said, “Look into my eyes and focus. It does not hurt, I am not hurting you. Your muscles are just tight.” His Russian accent was strong.

  I nodded fast, locking eyes with him. “Breathe in through your nose and release it slowly,” he guided me.

  Kova’s thumb drew small, little circles on my inner thigh, making my stomach flutter. The touch was light, but enough for me to notice. I didn’t speak up in spite of knowing he probably shouldn’t be doing this, especially considering how close he was to my sex. He was inches, literally just inches away, and I was okay with it. I liked it. He created a perfect storm of tension and heat around us. I held my breath as his hand skimmed higher up my thigh, slowly, almost seductively, and held it there. My stomach fluttered and I didn’t know what to do other than to allow it. I couldn’t imagine my former coach being this close and touching me. The thought of it repulsed me, but with Kova, it was the complete opposite. The small therapy room began to feel like a furnace, and I knew I needed to switch the focus to something else.

  “Kova?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “How come there’s an A in your name now? Why not Kov?” I wasn’t sure where that came from.

  Kova stiffened, taking a moment to answer. “My mother always called me Kova since I was a young boy, even though it was not my given name. I never questioned why she did, but now I wish I had. She used to say it like it was an endearment and I loved it. In Russia, female last names end in—”

  “Ova.”

  He tilted his head to the side, interested. “You know Russian?”

  “No, but I know about the language through my family’s friends.”

  He nodded. “So then you know males end with Ov.”

  “I do.”

  Kova leaned back, his hand dancing down to my knee and gave me a very tender squeeze. “Turn onto your stomach and scoot over.”

  Without questioning him, I did as he asked. He brought my hands to the side of my head and flattened them, then he climbed onto the table.

  Grabbing my ankle, he made a fist and pushed it into my glute. When he lifted my ankle and pressed down, I grunted. My fingers pressed into the table and my nails turned white from the tightness in my hip. I peeked over my shoulder, trying to see his face.

  “So my mother had me out of wedlock. I took her last name, but was given the male version. It is why you see my awards and titles with Kournakov instead of Kournakova. I added an A in honor of her the first chance I got.”

  “Out of wedlock? Kova, no one says that.” I laughed lightly, trying to lighten the mood. “Where is your father?”

  Embarrassment clouded his eyes. “I do not know. I have never met him.” Shame laced his quiet tone and I felt bad for asking.

  “Oh,” was all I could say. I wasn’t sure how to respond to his admission, but I was curious to know more about the story now. I wanted to know if he was the result of a one-night stand or a boyfriend who took off after he was born, not wanting to be a dad. Or maybe he passed away when Kova was younger. My brows furrowed, my mind playing out so many alternatives as I wondered about all the different ways this story could go, but I never expected his next words.

  “She was raped,” he confessed quietly, completely avoiding eye contact now.

  “What?” I gasped, trying to sit up, only he pressed down harder and lifted my leg higher.

  “She was ra
ped,” he repeated, and my heart broke at his forlorn voice. I wish I could see his face. I couldn’t imagine any child would want to know they were born from such a vicious crime, but he knew.

  “Your mom told you she was raped?” I asked, astonished.

  “Not at first. Only when I pressed her enough about my father did she open up. When I got older, she finally told me the truth.”

  I’d never known anyone who was raped, or had been the product of one. “What did you think when she told you?”

  He snarled, jumping down and moving to the other side of the table. “That I wanted to kill him. You see, my mother was my hero. Unlike for you, my mom was my role model. She did anything and everything she could for me, to give me what I needed to succeed because she did not have the support she needed when she was growing up. She was alone. It was not her fault she got pregnant with me, and she did not have to keep me. It was a brave choice she made. So when I found out about the rape, pure hatred ran through me.”

  He applied the same method to my other leg. “So you have no idea who he is then.” I couldn’t imagine what that would feel like. While my dad wasn’t around a lot due to his business, he was still there.

  “Oh, I have an idea who he is.”

  “What? How? I don’t understand.”

  “He is my cousin.”

  What. In. The. Ever. Loving. Fuck.

  “How can that be? That’s...but that’s incest...” I tried to turn around again, but he put a stop to it. Now I wish I had waited to change the subject so I could read his facial expressions.

  “She said growing up he had always touched her in places no one ever had. But she was scared to go to her parents because she was not sure if it was really wrong. It was her family.”

  “How come your mom didn’t go to the police after it happened? Tell her parents? What do they think now?”

  Kova tapped the back of my thigh and I turned back over. He guided me to the yoga mat on the floor near the wall.

  “Kneel with your back to the wall, about two feet away. Arms up.” I did as he asked, and looked up at him expectantly for him to answer my questions.

  He got on his knees to the left of me and looked at me sadly, shaking his head. “She did, but no one believed her. Shortly after she found out about the pregnancy, she was thrown out with nowhere to go. She went to some church that housed pregnant teenagers but then moved out after I was born. Soon after she left, she realized she could not afford to live on her own and ran into an old friend from the church she had met. She was working in a gentleman’s club and offered my mom quick cash and a babysitter on hand. So she took it. It was the only way she could support us.”

  I looked into Kova’s tortured eyes and my heart bled for him, but my ears were eager for more. He placed a flat hand to my shoulder blade and angled me back so my arms were straight and my hands were flat on the wall. I grunted at this odd position of a half back bend.

  “Why didn’t she leave once she had enough money saved up?”

  “Because she could never make the money she did while working behind the counter as a cashier. When I asked her, she said she did not want to struggle and wanted me to have everything she did not have.”

  He moved to the front of my body and placed both hands low on my hips. Gently and carefully, he pulled them forward with a squeeze. His thumbs pressed daringly into my hip bones and a shot of heat jolted through me. My chest burned and my heart raced. Even after all the hours of practice today, I felt the burn from the stretch, but more outrageously, I could feel heat radiating off him. The cloth of his shorts danced against my bare legs. I took a deep breath and exhaled. He relaxed his hold, allowing me to breathe. My hips shifted back for a moment, but he never removed his hands.

  “Once I got into gymnastics at a competitive level, I am sure you can understand how expensive it was for her, there was no way she was stopping. She said she saw potential in me,” he huffed sadly as he drew my hips toward him again. Breathe, I told myself. Breathe. But it was more difficult than I deemed possible with my hips pinned to his. I wondered if he realized our position. My body tightened and I nearly fell over, but I kept my composure as he continued.

  “She made sure she was at every practice, at every meet, and paid for it all on her own.”

  His mother sacrificed anything and everything to give the son, who was a product of rape, a life she never had, and Joy, my mom, the socialite who threw money at her problems, was the ice queen extraordinaire and more concerned about what I ate than what actually went on with me.

  Kova’s eyes grew distant, filling with longing and grief, his mouth a firm, grim line. “I did not need anything, though. I would give up everything, give it all back, to have her here.” The warmth of his hands heated my hips. He breathed his pain into me through his touch. Sorrow coursed through his tone and I believed every word that left his mouth.

  My heart ached, feeling so incredibly empty for Kova and the life his mother was dealt. Life wasn’t fair sometimes.

  “So after she died, I added an A to my last name for her. I did not want to ever forget her or what she gave up for me.”

  I couldn’t take anymore, from both his words and this new skill. Tears brimmed the back of my eyes while I listened to him talk about his mother and her struggles. I placed my hands at the crook of his arms to comfort him, his hands still clutching my hips, tenderly now. Warmth spread throughout my body being face-to-face and just inches apart. Kova peered down at me through hooded eyes as I said in a cracked whisper, “That is the most incredible thing I have ever heard.”

  He continued softly. “She came to my first two Olympics with me. She was so happy, happier than I was I think. It meant so much to me she was there, too. However, when my third Games came around for me, she was too ill to travel. In fact, her doctors were highly against it, so I gave it up to be with her. She was upset I did, but I had no choice. She was always there for me. How could I not be there for her? The alternate gymnast on the team stepped in and ended up taking home some medals of his own, then went on to compete in the Games four years later.” He grew quiet, seemingly lost in his thoughts. “I do not regret it at all. I got to be with my mom and take care of her as she did for me, and someone else got their chance at the Olympics. Is it not crazy how things happen?”

  I knew what he meant. Being an alternate on the Olympic team pretty much meant you were a bench warmer—that was it.

  I wanted to turn away from his anguished filled gaze, but I couldn’t. He’d expose himself in ways I never anticipated. Raw emotion came from him in waves, and it was felt deep inside my gut. I didn’t know what to do or what to say next. I was fifteen and had hardly experienced life the way Kova had, let alone death. I grew up with a silver spoon in my mouth and had everything I could ever want. Kova had not.

  So all I stupidly said was, “Yeah, it is.”

  Kova leaned in and tightened his hold. One hand slid around to the small of my back as my hands moved to flatten on his firm chest. His fingers splayed out dangerously down my ass, one digit pressed between the center. I held my breath. The heat of his hands seared through my leo and I fought back a tremor. He was just an inch away from my lips when his eyes traveled down to my mouth.

  “Thanks for listening to me, Ria.”

  Ria. I smiled, liking the nickname an awful lot.

  Slowly, he inched closer, and my heart beat rapidly against my chest at his nearness. I had no idea what he was about to do, and I briefly wondered if he’d kiss me. He was my coach. No way would he do that.

  Unease swept through me without an inkling of how to proceed. Never mind I knew what I was supposed to do, should’ve moved away, not silently wished he’d press his lips to mine.

  The stillness between us was thicker than humidity, and it took all of me not to lean in to kiss him. I knew I should’ve been repulsed by him, but oddly enough, I wasn’t. I was intrigued if anything. Every fiber in my body told me to lean in, not run in the other direction.
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br />   “A couple of weeks ago you said something in Russian...it started with an M...May-lash-a? What did it mean?”

  A smiled curled his full lips. “Maa-lish. Malysh.” My sight trained on his mouth, his tongue tapped his top teeth as he said again, “Malysh.” The word washed over me in a wave of rapture.

  “How do you spell it?”

  “M-A-L-Y-S-H.” His accent was stronger than ever.

  Our breaths mingled, and one of Kova’s hands carefully slid up my waist and rested on my ribs. His thumb ran in circles, his body creating heat between us as he caressed me. He slid his hand onto my back and up to my nape where he cupped my neck. My breathing deepened and I thought I was going to hyperventilate if I didn’t calm my racing heart. His dark brows formed a deep V and his shrewd eyes didn’t waver.

  “What does it mean?” I asked softly, my back arching and my chest nearly pressed to his.

  He shook his head as if he didn’t want to say. “It was an accident. I did not mean to say it.”

  I frowned at him. “Please? I want to know.”

  His deep stare caused my stomach to flutter. One hand brazenly moved up to rest on his firm pectoral. My fingers spread out and he flexed under my touch, his fingers pressing deeper into me in response.

  “Baby,” he said gutturally. “It means baby.”

  Baby. He had accidently called me baby just weeks ago. I had to wonder why the word would have been on his mind to begin with if it was an accident like he declared.

  My gaze traveled down his straight nose to his mouth, where it stayed. My head tilted to the side as my eyes traced his full, kissable lips, wondering what they’d feel like pressed to mine. His Adam’s apple bobbed slowly, like he took a long, hard swallow.

  This wasn’t me. I didn’t kiss my coach, teacher, or really anyone older than the legal age, or someone who was off-limits. Not that I’d ever had the desire as I did now. I’d heard countless stories over the years of gymnast and coach relationships, some consensual, some not. Though, not nearly as many as the married moms having affairs with coaches.