The Sweetest Things

by Nikki Winter

  The Sweetest Thing

  by

  Nikki Winter

  Dedication

  Okay, two things here, people. 1—Janet is involved in a few of the shenanigans you will witness. Yes, she is aware and yes, she takes full pride in that. 2—Billy has stamped a British flag so far in the flesh of Konstantine Vetrov’s ass, a few times I heard him murmur to me, “This one does so enjoy taking the mickey, eh?” I don’t even know what that means! (sigh) She might’ve converted him. Just please, please don’t make the mistake of thinking you can have Koz…because Billy’s…well…she’s off her trolley. I adore her…but it’s true! She’ll beat me when she sees this but then she’ll remember that the blue-eyed Russian belongs solely to her and all will be forgiven. With that being said, enjoy the fruits of my labor!

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. This is a work of fiction. All references to real places, people, or events are coincidental, and if not coincidental, are used fictitiously. All trademarks, service marks, registered trademarks, and registered service marks are the property of their respective owners and are used herein for identification purposes only. eBooks are NOT transferable. Re-selling, sharing or giving eBooks is a copyright infringement.

  The Sweetest Things © 2013 Nikki Winter

  Editor: Katriena Knights

  Cover Art: Marteeka Karland

  Books are NOT transferable. Re-selling, sharing or giving eBooks is a copyright infringement.

  Contents

  One. 8

  Two.. 15

  Three. 22

  Four. 29

  Five. 37

  Six.. 46

  Seven.. 52

  Eight. 60

  Nine. 68

  Ten.. 77

  Epilogue. 86

  Prologue

  Harper’s tummy felt funny; like there were a million butterflies taking up space inside. It didn’t matter how many times she inhaled, the butterflies never disappeared, not even a little.

  “Yo, Sweets!”

  Sixteen-year-old Harper Sweet’s head snapped up at the call of her nickname. Her hands instinctively tightened around the bat resting in her palms as she gazed across the field, staring into laughing, ice-blue eyes.

  “You’re up!” Konstantine “Koz” Vetrov—Harper thought he had the weirdest but coolest name ever some days—shouted from the pitcher’s mound. He was grinning, teasing her, and she knew why.

  Harper wasn’t surprised. That was the norm between her and Koz, her older brother Owen’s best friend. She and her sibling were extremely close, and somehow that had extended to Konstantine. From the age of six he’d been taunting her, poking her, pulling her hair and calling her that stupid nickname.

  Most kids thought it was because her last name was Sweet. Those close to them knew it was because Harper had a serious sugar addiction. When she wasn’t on the field playing softball, like today, she was in the kitchen helping her mama bake amazing desserts.

  Stepping up to the base so she could bat, she raised it, ready for Konstantine. She had a lot to lose this time around. Even though it was just a normal ballgame between the neighborhood kids that each of them drafted for occasional Saturday games, she and Konstantine had made a bet.

  If she lost, she had to kiss him and subject herself to being his date on Friday night at the junior Valentine’s Day dance. Harper shuddered a little. If he lost, he had to bring pompoms to every one of her league games, when he wasn’t playing himself, and cheer for her on the sidelines the whole time. It was a deal too sweet to pass up—no pun intended. The thing Harper kept questioning, though, was why did he want to kiss her?

  It wasn’t like she thought she was ugly or anything. It was just that Konstantine was...well, Konstantine. She’d seen him laugh, cry, and throw up, so him asking to kiss her was just weird. But she really didn’t have a choice but to go through with it.

  “If you strike out we win the game, Sweets!” Konstantine called out.

  Harper narrowed her eyes on him. “Then I won’t strike out!”

  With a smirk, he pulled his arm back, wound up, and pitched. With a deep breath, she waited until the ball was right where it needed to be and swung, her bat vibrating from the connection it made. With wide eyes, she watched it fly. It kept going...and going...and going...and then...it landed right in Mitch Russo’s mitt.

  “No!” Harper cried, throwing down her bat.

  “Yes!” Konstantine threw up his hands as the rest of his team celebrated their victory.

  She stood there, staring off blindly as everyone left the field, laughing and heading home while Konstantine walked closer, his smile as broad as humanly possible.

  “Time to pay up, Sweets.”

  One

  Sixteen years later...

  Why was this feeling so familiar? The sensation of butterflies tumbling around inside her gut had Harper shifting from one foot to the other restlessly. It was almost impossible to stay completely still, so she’d given up trying about twenty minutes ago. Instead she bounced on the balls of her feet, eyes scanning the hordes of people walking past her, never once allowing her gaze to stray too far from his gate.

  She wasn’t exactly ready, so whatever extra amount of time she could get once she saw him approaching, seconds she could use to unscramble her brain, would be valued.

  “Sweets?”

  It didn’t matter that it had been years since she heard that voice without the help of a computer. It didn’t matter that as soon as it hit her ears, getting a lungful of air seemed like a distant memory. All that mattered was...

  “I’ve told you about that goddamn nickname!” Harper spun around and stopped dead in her tracks. She had no clue where her awkward, messy-haired Konstantine Vetrov was but the man standing in front of her was not him. “Koz?” She could be ashamed about how high her voice had gone later...much later.

  “I’ll be calling you that forever.” Konstantine grinned down at her, and Harper remembered a time when they were the same height. Those were the days when she could smack him for calling her Sweets and get away with it. Being that he stood a foot and a half over her now, his shoulders so wide that she couldn’t even see past him, she wasn’t going to try her luck. Besides, he was too pretty to be smacked.

  Koz was the reminder of why she’d had a thing for dark-haired men all her life. His wavy mop of inky black locks fell just to his shoulders, a little less out of control than they used to be. His features had broadened, the angles hardening and forcing out the baby fat that had once taken up residence on his face. His lips were full and a soft pink. His skin was just sun-kissed enough that it put her in the mind of soft, sandy beaches. But those eyes...after all this time those eyes had managed to hold her attention like nothing else.

  During the strangest times, Harper had thought about the ice-blue orbs currently staring down at her with a softness that made heat build in her lower belly, chasing away the butterflies. Video calls hadn’t been the same as seeing those eyes face to face, actually feeling his gaze as it scanned her.

  God, she’d missed him. More than she’d actually thought before. Having him stand in front of her, one hand constantly moving hair off his forehead, the other holding onto his book bag for dear life, she wanted nothing more than to throw herself at him and never let go. That shit was just weird. So instead, she punched him in the shoulder.

  “Ow! Viper woman!” Konstantine dropped his bag then wrapped his arms around her, squeezing as hard as possible.

  Harper kicked her legs, gasping, “You...giant...bastard...stop.
..”

  His chuckle sent a shiver down her spine. “Is this what you wanted, Sweets?” he teased in a patronizing voice. “For Kozzy to hug you nice and tight?”

  “I...hate...you...”

  “I love you too!” He then proceeded to plant kisses all over her face until she started screaming.

  When her feet finally touched the ground again, she swiped at her face. “Oh, my God! You just gave me some foreign STD, didn’t you?”

  Konstantine waggled his brows. “For that to happen I need to kiss more than your face.”

  She blinked at him. “Do I need to reach for my mace? I will reach for my mace.”

  Lips curling, he swiped a finger down her nose. “You’re so cute when you try to threaten me.”

  Harper smacked his hand. “Is there any way for me to stop the pilots and put your ass back on the plane?”

  His gaze was wide and innocent when he said, “But then you would miss me, because I am, in fact, the light of your life.”

  “You’re the bane of my existence.”

  “You adore me.”

  “I loathe you.”

  “You want me here.”

  “I don’t know why you’re here.”

  They stopped, staring at one another for what seemed like an eternity when it was just a few short seconds. Konstantine held his arms out, and Harper easily walked into them. This time the hug wasn’t teasing or playful. It wasn’t forced or done for annoyance’s sake. It was warm and honest and something she needed more than anything.

  The sound of his heartbeat steadily drumming through her ears, the feel of his arms embracing her, the smell of his cologne—they were all things that settled her soul. It didn’t occur to her maybe that should’ve freaked her out. All she knew was her best friend was holding her, rocking back and forth, and it had been nearly six years since she’d had this pleasure.

  When they pulled back, she was surprised when he cupped her cheeks and swiped tears away that she hadn’t known escaped.

  “You crying, Sweets?”

  Harper snorted. “Its all that cologne you’re wearing. It started choking me. I felt like I was dying a slow death at the hands of Giorgio Armani.”

  For her smart mouth, he smushed her cheeks on either side with one hand until her lips puckered out before moving her head from side to side. “So damn cute!”

  He stopped when she started flailing.

  ***

  It really didn’t matter she’d fed him that line of bullshit about being choked to death by his cologne—his Sweets was as affected as he was at the moment. She’d missed him too. He knew it from the way Harper had clutched him seconds ago.

  Konstantine could’ve stood in the airport like that for the rest of the night, holding her. He would’ve probably passed out from exhaustion after the eight-hour flight into JFK from London, but it would’ve been worth it. Seeing the way her gaze had lit up the moment it landed on him told him all he needed to know. There was so much they needed to talk about, so much he needed to fix, but right now...

  “Koz, get your hand off my ass!”

  He bit the inside of his cheek. “But...it looks so soft...and inviting.”

  “Konstantine...”

  It wasn’t as if he were lying. Harper had always been a cute kid, but as they’d gotten older something had changed. The gangly-limbed body that he remembered was long gone, and lush curves and voluptuous flesh had taken its place. At six foot five, Konstantine was used to constantly having to adjust the way he held and dealt with women, but Harper seemed to be more than a bit equipped to handle every inch of him.

  The top of her head reached his shoulder, her height perfectly proportioned with her figure. He had memorized every angle of her heart-shaped face—which wasn’t hard since he’d been able to see it at least twice a month from the time he’d left White Plains years ago.

  Her large, cat-like, gold-flecked brown eyes still had that same twinkle, her full lips curving into an all too familiar smirk. Her smile was as blinding as it had always been, one dimple flanking her left cheek. Her curly lashes thick. Her riotus hair stuffed under a baseball cap, the gold-tipped strands that escaped a perfect complement to her smooth, peanut-butter skin.

  His Sweets was just as he’d remembered her, but so much more. Too bad she was oblivious to the “so much more” aspect. If he had his way, she would know soon enough. Instead of pointing that out, though, he simply kept his hand in its comfortable spot on her ass, moving up ever so slowly until his fingertips slipped under the waistband of her jeans and skimmed just the outer edges of her panties.

  “Koz!”

  “Well, well, well,” he murmured. “I see someone’s taste in underwear has changed since the days of Wonder Woman briefs.”

  Harper turned around, slapping at his head. “What is wrong with you?”

  He flashed her an easy grin, despite the fact that his cock was as hard as granite after feeling the lace of what was most assuredly a thong. “My little pastry chef apparently has a taste for other confections.”

  “I can’t wait to take you to Owen’s.”

  His brows winged as he pulled up short. Harper stopped walking and shot him a questioning look. “I’m not staying with Owen.” He said.

  She frowned. “You get a hotel reservation?”

  Konstantine shook his head slowly. “No.”

  “So then where in the hell...” Her eyes widened. “You are not staying with me.”

  “I can’t stay with Owen and Janet! Would you want to stay with Owen and Janet?” He loved his best friend and pseudo sister-in-law dearly, but they took the word inappropriate as a goddamn challenge. Of course he could tell her about the condo he had in Manhattan, but that would be rather unproductive for what he had planned.

  Harper winced. “Let’s not even mentally go down that road.”

  He pouted a little. “Please don’t make me stay there...please.”

  Eyes rolling, she turned and started back through the airport. “Don’t piss me off, Koz.”

  “Not a promise I can keep, Sweets. Not a promise I can keep...”

  ***

  “I see we’re bypassing the don’t piss me off rule!” Harper popped Konstantine’s hand as he turned the station on her two seater’s radio. They’d managed to successfully get his luggage without any incidents that would end with Harper in handcuffs.

  “You are extremely slap-happy today.”

  “Because I’ve told you about touching my stuff. Did we not learn anything from the time I bit you?”

  “Aside from the fact that I need to keep my rabies shots on record? Um...no.”

  She bit the inside of her cheek. “I’m going to beat you when we get out of this car.”

  There was silence.

  Stopping as airport traffic slowed their momentum, she turned her gaze to Konstantine, who was sitting silently, staring straight ahead. Taking a hand off the wheel, she pinched him.

  “Ow!” Snatching his arm away, he rubbed it.

  “You’re so damn immature!” Harper growled.

  “You said it!”

  “But you knew what I meant, you Russian mafia reject!”

  He tucked his lips in then quietly said, “I’m sorry.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  Konstantine waggled his brows. “I can kiss you and prove it.”

  “Or I can put you out on the side of the road.”

  “Why do you insist on being mean to me? I just wanna love you.”

  Harper bit her lip and glanced at him out the corner of her eye. “No, you just wanna drive me bat-shit while you’re here, but I’ll be damned if you succeed. No matter how long I have to put up with you, your stay in my home will not end with me being read my Miranda rights.” Konstantine was supposed to be home for at least three weeks to visit. His traveling was apart of his job for his father’s business as a corporate and international lawyer.

  He smirked over at her. “Not a promise I can keep, Sweets...not a promise I can ke
ep...”

  Two

  “Yo! Sleeping beauty, stop competing with my engine!”

  Konstantine jerked up. “Wha...?” The soft chuckle beside him caused him to turn blurry eyes toward the source of the noise—Harper. He rubbed his face, drawing in a deep breath. “Please tell me I’m somewhere near a shower and a mattress.”

  “Ah…” Harper’s voice was hesitant. “All I have is a haystack and an outhouse.”

  Rolling his eyes, he reached over then slapped the bill of her cap downwards. “Shut up and help me get out of this coffin on wheels.”

  She gasped. “How dare you? This is German engineering at its finest.” Rubbing a hand across the dashboard of her Audi, she cooed, “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about, baby, don’t listen to him.”

  He blinked at her. “If I find sex mix tapes in here, I’m gonna be really concerned.”

  Harper’s eyes narrowed on him. “Out of my car, philistine.”

  Konstantine snorted and swung open the door. “I see that innate strangeness has not—” His words abruptly stopped when he came face-to-face with her home. It was, to say the least, immaculate. She’d told him on the ride over, before he’d fallen asleep, that it was a modernized, three-story construct built in 1960 and nestled in Westchester where they’d grown up, but what she’d done with it was amazing.

  “Sweets,” he whispered, a little awed. Standing in the wrap-around cobblestone driveway, he got a good look at the fresh-cut lawn and the seasonal flowers planted in various places.

  “Awesome, huh?” she said with a small smile.

  He shook his head. “Business must be damn good.”