He frowned. “You were not unwanted?”
“Of course not. Just a surprise. Mum was nearly forty. She had her life all organized. She’s an international law specialist.”
“Your father is also a lawyer?”
“Yes. But he’s in business law. Corporate law. Quite different. They argue all the time about who’s doing the most good for humanity. Mum was an activist back in Beijing. She came to Australia as a political refugee with my father’s brother and his wife. They settled in Brisbane. She thought there would be more opportunity in Sydney, but Dad didn’t want to be so far away from his brother after so many years apart.”
“He came also from China?”
“No, he was here already. He came when he was only a teenager with his parents. My uncle was engaged to be married, so he stayed in China until they had to leave.”
“You have a lot of family.”
“Not really.” She looked up at his face, trying to read some meaning into the way his eyes flicked over her and then away, staring into space, his mouth tight. Why the sudden interest in her life? “How about you? Do you have family back in Russia?”
“Ukraine. My family was from Ukraine.”
Her heart sank at his flat tone. “Was?”
“They are dead. There is no one now for me back home.”
No one at all? She couldn’t imagine how gutted he must have been. “Svetlana? Max?”
“An ex-girlfriend and my coach. It is not much.”
She put her hand on his wrist, and for once, he didn’t pull away. “You have us, if you want. Simon and John, my parents. We could be your family.”
“I don’t think your parents liked me much.”
She grinned and saw his eyes drop to her mouth. “They would like you better if you didn’t frown all the time. They thought you didn’t like them.”
His lips curled up in a half smile. “Perhaps we were both operating on a misapprehension. I will try to do better next time.”
“Does that mean if I invite you, you’ll come?”
Something warm showed in his pale eyes. “If you invite me, I will come.” His hand twisted around to clasp hers. “I would like very much to come.”
Heat arced up her arm, connecting with the warmth in her chest and radiating down into her stomach and below. Could he really be making an effort? Making some kind of amends for the way he’d held her at arm’s length all these months?
She pulled off her fur-lined boots and track pants and jacket to reveal the full-length black leotard. She could see him watching her in the mirror as he did his own strip-down to trousers and a cropped Lycra singlet top that left a narrow, bared strip of flesh at his waist. Maybe she should have had a snack before she came, because all she could think about now was eating him up. His smooth, creamy skin, so pale compared to her own, looked divinely lickable. Even his feet were sexy, long and narrow, with the same kind of veins as on the backs of his hands. Feet were kind of intimate, really. They made you look vulnerable. Feel vulnerable. Belle curled her toes into the short carpet.
That thing was here in the room again. The awareness. It showed in Bohdan’s eyes, dark and heavy lidded, as they scanned her body in the mirror, lifting to meet her gaze and holding it. He broke the connection, directing her where to stand.
“We will need some speed, so run like so.” He demonstrated, holding his hand out as he covered half the room in a few strides and turning to strike the receiving pose. They hadn’t done this for ages, both of them being experienced enough on the ice to work things out. “This time, you can look in the mirror just a little so you can see.”
Her heart was already racing as she flung herself at him. He took her outstretched hand easily and swung her high, turning slowly on the spot. Their hands pressed into her gut at her pelvis, creating the pivot point. As they swiveled, she turned her head far enough to see what was happening. It was so obvious when she saw herself.
It must have been instinctual, pulling away from him, straining against the awareness of their closeness. Arching her back, of course, forced her legs to drop. This was the only lift that lasted for more than a few seconds, her rotating above him as he spun two and a half times. An eternity in the fast-paced short program.
He finished the turn, sliding her down his body until her feet hit the ground. It was so tactile, doing it in slow motion instead of the high-speed movements on the ice. The warmth of his hard body radiated his scent, sharp and spicy on her tongue.
“We do it again.”
So they did. Again and again and again. And every time she slid down his body, her own reacted more, heat from more than the exercise settling low in her stomach. It had to be affecting him too. Usually, his breath stayed even, his level of fitness enough to cope with more than a few lifts of a girl half his weight. Now she could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest as she slid down, something hard impeding her smooth descent.
Oh God, he really did like it. A lot.
She glanced up at him, betraying her awareness, and his gaze scorched a path to her inner being. Expecting him to release her, she sucked in a startled breath as he pushed her against the mirror, holding her there by pressing his body, his hands roaming down her shoulders, her arms, and up between them to grasp her ribs. His thumbs curved into the soft flesh under her breasts.
So close.
Her nipples ached, chafing against the damp layers between them. The air around them sizzled with heat and the mingled scents of sweat and arousal.
“I want very much to be your friend.” It came out in a breathless rush, his forehead resting on hers, their noses bumping.
With benefits? The words hovered, but she couldn’t speak them. His mouth was only a breath away. She was afraid to break the spell holding them in this moment.
His mouth came down hard on hers, softening as he sucked her bottom lip, tasting and sampling. Her hands crept to his back to seek out the hot flesh, ducking under the Lycra to smooth over the muscles of his back. He hissed against her mouth, grinding his hips into her stomach, lifting her so his erection pushed against the slick fabric at her apex. His hands settled on her breasts, thumbs rubbing over the hard peaks.
So good. He was so tall. So big.
She fought the instinct to press her thighs together, letting him nestle between them. Already, a pulse throbbed, intensifying as he rubbed against her, mouths mimicking what they were so close to doing, his tongue deep inside, tangling with hers.
Waves of pleasure left her boneless in his hold. She whimpered into his mouth, and he muttered something in Russian—Ukrainian. It didn’t matter. She was in flight, sensation sweeping up her body, her skin burning, burning.
• • •
Kurva blyat!
What the hell did he just do? Belle leaned against him, limp and spent. She’d orgasmed from his touch, and he’d been so damned close to going off it wasn’t funny. How were they going to get through the next couple of weeks with this kind of sexual tension between them? There were plenty of girls hanging around any athletic event who would be all too pleased to offer him some relief, but he didn’t want them. Hadn’t been interested since long before his abortive relationship with Lana. That was a fool’s game, even with a good supply of condoms.
Goal-oriented Belle, on the other hand, wouldn’t be up for a quick fling to get it out of her system. No way was Bohdan risking hurting her feelings right now. Or ever. She wasn’t as self-sufficient as she made out. She was all about relationships. With her family, with Simon. Look at how long she clung to Brady despite his shaking her off and heading for a new life that didn’t include her. Such a fucking Mary Sue.
Funny how niceness was such a devalued commodity. Bohdan had seen too little of it to dismiss it. Growing up as a kid alone in the competitive ice skating community, he’d never known when to trust. So often people who hung around pretending friendship were after something. Like his choreography—learning his tricks on the ice to use in their own programs. He’d learned t
hat the hard way. Now he kept his ideas close to his chest. Especially since reaching the grand prix circuit, where a unique innovation could be the difference between medalling and being part of the crowd.
Belle pulled away, and ice-cold fingers pinched at his heart.
She wiped at her mouth, red and soft and appealing still. “Sorry. That was stupid.”
He rested his palm against her cheek, a soft pale gold now after the flush of her arousal had faded. “That’s usually my line.”
Her smile was a bit wobbly but a good effort. “You would be right.”
Instead of agreeing, he wanted to reassure her. “Was it so terrible?”
“It was amazing. But we can’t . . . You said . . . ”
“It was bound to happen. We are too much together.” He eyed her expression, trying to read her, but she kept her lashes lowered. He was too invested. It was dangerous. Risky. He stifled a sigh. “Perhaps we should spend more time apart. We have the routines down, so we could meet each day for a refresher and then spend time with others. You have many friends, as you say. It is an opportunity to see them.”
She nodded slowly, picking up her warm outer clothes and putting them on. “I should do that.”
Her easy agreement clogged his throat. He swallowed it down. This was best for both of them. She would not get hurt, and he . . . He would not make the same mistakes of the past. They could be friends without getting any closer. He hoped so. The only alternative was to dissolve the partnership. It would mean hurting Belle’s career. It would mean never speaking to her again, for he could not imagine she would feel the same loyalty to him as she did to her childhood friend despite his abandonment.
The pain in his chest cut deeper than the blade that had sliced his calf muscle four years ago. It was too late to go back to the cold indifference he’d forced himself to project over the last months. He didn’t have that much control. Did he have enough control not to kiss her again? He had to try. Both their careers depended on him not wrecking everything. Not destroying their chance at a medal this time.
Chapter 6
So much for steering clear. Belle shifted forward on the seat so Bohdan’s arm didn’t keep brushing against her shoulders. She’d done as he asked, making her own social life, meeting up with Simon and Dani and a few of the others on the team for dinner and then heading to the athletes’ lounge to hang for a while. He wasn’t supposed to be here. She’d nearly crawled under the nearest table when he walked into the room. The crowded venue had suddenly seemed overheated.
After that whole thing in the practice room, she couldn’t stop thinking about how it would feel if he kissed her again. From the blank look he’d given her when Arielle invited him over, it was as if it hadn’t happened. He was good at that. A trick she needed to learn.
The last thing she expected was for her usually reclusive partner to turn up at the lounge with his roommate, creepy Neil Swayling. Dani had promptly absconded with Neil, sitting with him in a corner and chattering up a storm. Seemed like she couldn’t make up her mind between Davo or Neil. Belle knew which one she would choose, but Neil was eye candy and a charmer who knew his way around the bedroom all too well. He’d come on to Belle more than once at Olympic publicity events. Hopefully, Dani would see through him before she became another notch on his already badly scarred bedpost.
Arielle Baldwin was there with a couple of the other Canadian skaters, nice-looking guys she seemed to know well. Belle recognized one as a singles skater, but the other one had the build of a hockey player.
When she seated herself next to Arielle, she’d hoped Simon would sit next to her. Of course, he didn’t, leaving that space for Bohdan, like he had the right. And the great lunk couldn’t be polite and ask Simon to move along. He had to squeeze himself into the tiny space so the length of his thighs rubbed hard against hers. Heat burned through her double layers of leggings and ski pants. It was so squishy, he had to hook one arm over the back of the seat behind her. If he touched her, she was pretty sure she would scream.
Focusing her attention on Arielle, she began to ask a question, but the girl was staring across the room, her pupils dilated. The room was full of athletes, but it only took a moment to identify Brady with one of his trademark statuesque blondes.
Arielle’s snort probably went unnoticed by the rest of the table, but Belle heard the reaction. If Brady had jerked this girl around, he deserved to land hard on his crotch next time he did one of his fancy tricks. There was something happening between them. Brady was staring back, giving the blonde the brush-off, plowing through the crowd like he was being sucked in by a tractor beam.
Damn Bohdan. Always in the way. Making her touch him. Belle leaned past him to whack Simon on the arm. “Brady’s here. He’s coming over.”
Simon’s face hardened. “What’s he want?”
Belle had her suspicions, but she wasn’t going to verbalize them. “I don’t know. But be nice. We don’t want an all-out brawl before the Olympic Games even start. After all, he’s on the same team.”
Bohdan grunted out a laugh. “You think it better if it were an international brawl between countries?”
“You know what I mean.” She dug him in the ribs with her elbow and turned to greet Brady, hovering on the opposite side of the table, shoulders hunched. “Brady, this is a surprise
“Hey, I saw you guys and thought I’d pop over.” He might have been talking to her, but she could see his attention was on Arielle.
Simon, of course, had to be snarky. “You’ve never bothered before. Why start now?”
“Simon, stop it.”
Bohdan seemed to loom closer, and she squirmed, hating that she reacted so easily to just his touch.
Brady, at least, was acting like a grownup. Maybe even trying to mend the friendship. But now he was making moves to go. She didn’t blame him for leaving under fire, and there was nothing she could do about it. Not when he’d signaled her not to. He headed toward the exit, shoulders hunched. She hated the hollow feeling that came from being helpless in the face of someone else’s pain.
Thanks for nothing, Simon.
And from the look on Arielle’s face, someone else was disappointed too—and puzzled.
Belle was tempted to fill her in, but it wouldn’t be fair to her old friend. Simon had already made enough of a scene. Besides, if there really were something between Brady and Arielle, it would be better if they talked about it, rather than have Belle’s interpretation of events play out in front of half the Australian and Canadian Olympic teams.
Giving general advice was about as far as she dared go under Bohdan’s disapproving eye.
“He has more layers than an onion. It would take a woman with a strong will and determination, not to mention patience, to begin to peel back those layers.”
Arielle’s eyes flared. Her polite thank you dripped with sarcasm as she packed up her stuff and made a beeline for Brady’s retreating back. Good luck to her. Brady was worth fighting for, even if the chances of coming to grief were high.
In the meantime, Belle’s own personal challenge was still sitting beside her. At least now that Arielle had gone, there was room to put some space between them.
“You interfere too much, Belle. It is not your business.” Control freak much?
“What would you know? You have to care for someone to understand about wanting to help them.”
Bohdan’s brows lowered, his voice husky as he leaned close. “I care. But it is not your responsibility to tell others how to live their lives.”
Shocked, she sat tall in her seat. “What do you mean?”
“That girl, Arielle. You didn’t want her to . . . hook up with Brady. Is that like the dog in the manger? You do not want him yourself but also don’t want other girls to have him.”
“I didn’t. That’s not why.” Simon was watching the conversation with a look in his eye that warned her he was taking notice. “I don’t want her to get hurt. Even years ago, he never stuck with a girl for
more than a few weeks. It could ruin everything if she gets involved with him and loses focus.”
“What does it matter if it only lasts through the next two weeks? If she is happy, she performs well. Where is the harm?”
It came across like he was talking about something else. Like he was talking about them. Is that what he was hoping for? A “what happens in PyeongChang stays in PyeongChang” deal? A brief fling to get it out of their systems and then go back to normal? It would kill her. It was bad enough having these feelings about a guy who, at best, reckoned she was a decent skater he’d maybe like to shag and at worst . . .
Well, she didn’t want to think about what he might really think about her. He was so determined not to get involved. It must be something wrong with her.
Maybe he didn’t like control freaks. Probably thought one in the family was enough. And he hadn’t even gotten to know her mother. It was scary to think she might turn out like her. Mum was supposed to be the compassionate one, working with refugees. But she did it like she was a general fighting a battle. Dad was the soft one. Like Simon’s dad. Probably why the two couples got along so well.
“Simon needs to go home to bed. Are you coming?”
Bohdan’s question broke her concentration. Simon looked utterly beat. Weathering all these emotional undercurrents was draining. “All right. These early mornings are exhausting when my body hasn’t properly adjusted to the time lag. At least it’s only an hour difference when we head back to Australia.”
Bohdan looked uncomfortable, a faint flush staining his cheeks. As if she’d said something wrong. “You are going back to Australia?”
“Of course.” He said it almost too quickly.
• • •
Bohdan untied his skates and slipped on his wool-lined boots. They’d made it through the first team event with great scores. Even better, he’d managed to avoid being alone with Belle for the last three days. It nearly killed him. Especially when he caught glimpses of her with her friends. She seemed to hang out a lot with Arielle and her friend Tina. As long as Belle didn’t try to interfere again, it was a good friendship for her.
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