by Raine Miller
“I do have one request though, if you don’t mind.”
“Yes? What would that be?” Her eyes flash up at me curiously.
“You’re going to be naked while you read to me—well, you may wear this green tie if you like, but that is all.”
Many hours and orgasms later, when I have her warm and naked beside me in my bed, I know that Talia is set apart from all other women I have ever known in my life. She’s this nerdy math and money girl who can be bold and shy at the same time. She loves books and eats meat like it’s going out of style. She’s always got something spilled on her clothes. She’s got a mouth worse than my teammates, sometimes. She’s strong and bold and sexually unafraid. Talia Wentworth is amazing. And I am in love with her. I’m sure of it.
But I also know I have to be content with just this for now, because she’s not ready for more than this. To hold her, to share my bed with her, to hear her breathing as she falls asleep, that will have to be enough…for now.
Our first game on the road at Anaheim is a win. I score one goal to Evan’s two. He’s playing the best I’ve ever seen him this season, and that’s saying something because he is a legend. I’ve heard rumors he might retire in the next season or two. He’s still young, but he has two kids now, a wife. He’s talked about coaching somewhere. I think he’s ready to change the pace of his life.
We go for a beer after the game and when I ask him about it, he gives a vague shrug.
“My wife would like me home more, I’m sure, but I’ll always love playing the game. Coaching would still require a lot of traveling, so maybe broadcasting might be more of a future goal. I still have time to think about it, but the wheel keeps on turning, you know? Not getting any younger.”
“I wondered. I just started seeing someone and I feel bad leaving her behind already.”
Evan’s eyebrows shoot into his hairline. “You’re dating someone? Really?”
“Is it so hard to believe?”
“No, I mean, I guess…never mind. Who is she?”
“My investment manager,” I say with a chuckle. “Talia.”
“Wow, she’s some investment manager.”
“She’s a genius when it comes to managing my ‘puck-money’ as she calls it. She’s smarter than me by a mile.”
He smiles. “Those are the really special ones. Good for you, man. I hope it works out.”
I have a hard time sleeping after the Anaheim game. Thoughts of what could’ve happened to Talia the night she was kidnapped creep into my headspace at odd times. It’s too much to stomach when I delve too deeply down the rabbit hole of what-ifs and why nots.
My mind is not in the game when we lose to Los Angeles. I admit, I do not play my best, and I hear it from Coach after the game. Back at the hotel in a funk, I decide to call Talia.
“How are things in Sin City?” I ask.
“Same as before you left. How are things in the City of Angels? Did you know you’re in my hometown?”
“Ahh, yes, I do remember you saying your family was in LA. Maybe I would have played better tonight if you were here in the stands. I think you are my good luck charm, krasotka.”
“You didn’t become the Ice Dragon because of one game, Boris,” she says. “You earned that name. You earned your reputation. One shitty game does not make or break your career. It’s just the preseason and my being there or not has zero to do with the talent and ability you’ve been honing since you were a kid. Your success is not dependent on me, though I’m certainly always rooting for you.”
“How did you get so wise at such a young age?” I ask.
“Kid genius, remember?”
“Right, I forgot you went to college at, like, twelve. I was getting kicked out of school for fighting at twelve.”
“And yet here you are, one of the NHL’s top scorers. And one of its best-known pacifists.”
“I wasn’t such a pacifist when—“
“No,” she says. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“But are you okay about it?” I ask, hoping she might tell me that much at least.
“I don’t think I’m suffering any significant emotional trauma over it, if that’s what you’re asking.”
I’m quiet for a moment. “You’re the strongest person I think I’ve ever met.”
“I’m not,” she says. “There are so many people out there fighting much more serious battles. Was I scared? Yes. Did I think there was a real chance I might not make it out of there? Yes. But I did, and you were there to save me. You gave me the number for the private security to call if I ever feel scared. That’s enough for right now. I am so appreciative of you trying to help me to feel safe again, but now things are quiet and fine. I’m fine.”
“I think you are, krasotka.”
But I have to fight to convince myself to believe it.
We win our final game in Portland by a large margin, three of the goals being mine. It’s my first hatty with the Crush, and even though preseason numbers don’t count for career stats, it’s my sixth. So, overall a good result, a game more like our first one against Anaheim. I feel the team is gelling once more after a short slump. I can’t wait to get back to my Talia though. There’s so much I want to tell her. We still need to talk about so many things. I know next to nothing about her family and her life before she came to Las Vegas. Likewise, with me. I’ve not shared much at all about my past growing up, and she deserves to know all of it.
After we land in Vegas the next afternoon, I unload from the baggage claim, shoulder my bag, and take an Uber straight to Talia’s office. I make one stop for a bouquet of pale pink roses, then take the flight of stairs up one floor, bursting into her office with the energy of a child on Christmas morning.
She’s on the phone, but her eyes light up when she sees me, a wry grin pulling one side of her mouth up. She’s talking to a client about his quarterly results and I know I should be a gentleman, let her finish her call. But I simply can’t do it.
I step behind her desk and kiss her neck. She ignores me, mostly, which only emboldens me more. I want her. I want her attention. I want her body.
My mouth works against her creamy skin and I’m pleased to see her nipples pucker against the thin fabric of her blouse. I feel her up from outside her shirt and she leans her head back, clearing her throat as she tries to finish her conversation.
The moment she hangs up the phone, I’ve got her up and splayed across her desk, which is risky if a client walks in. But I don’t care if someone sees us. I am simply overcome by lust. Pure lust because I’ve had her now and I won’t let her go. Filthy thoughts run through my head as I pluck open the buttons of her blouse, baring her sweet, creamy breasts encased in a lacy white bra.
Mine.
It’s not like me to feel this territorial. But then again, I’ve always said I don’t do casual. This is real for me. It’s the real thing—she is mine and I am hers. The need to brand her right here in this nearly public space is a wild notion made real when she responds with a growl, tearing at my zipper and pulling my cock from my pants. In seconds I’m beneath her skirt, pushing her panties to the side, burying my cock into her wet, warm depths.
Oh, fuck!
YA khochu trakhnut’ tebya navsegda! I shout a string of Russian curses before pressing a blistering kiss to her lips. She bites my bottom lip as I pick up the pace, fucking in and out of her, the need to come inside and mark her as mine, a running mantra in my head.
When I feel her cunt clamping down on my cock, and know she’s coming, I allow myself to follow her over the edge. It’s hot and intense and explosive as I come hard, pounding into her until my cock is wrung dry. What the fuck was that? And when the hell can I do that again?
After one luxurious moment of kissing her, I’m reminded that we’ve just fucked on her desk, at her place of business, in the middle of her workday. Anyone could come in the door at any moment and discover us. Guiltily I pull her to her feet so we can crowd into the little office bathroom to c
lean up.
“Well, hello to you, too,” she says, blushing heavily.
“Sorry, that was—I don’t know what that just was.”
“Intense?”
“I couldn’t wait,” I say with a shrug.
“Guess not. But thank you. It’s good to be wanted.”
“You are. Wanted. Always.”
She smooths her hair and checks her blouse before walking back out to her desk. I follow her out, feeling her mood change and a chill descend over us.
“Everything okay?” I’m not imagining it, am I? “I’m sorry, krasotka, I was so…desperate with you.”
She gives me a sad smile. “I’m fine. It felt good. It’s just…maybe this is going too fast?”
Shock strikes me with a painful blow to the heart. “I’m sorry?”
“It’s just…something you said on the road about me being your lucky charm? I’m not, Boris. I can’t be. You built your brand long before you met me. And I don’t know if I’m ready to be part of the wives’ club or whatever. This is…it’s an intense feeling between us. I feel it. It’s real. But I need…I think we both need to take a breather. Slow it down.”
“I don’t think I know what you are asking for.”
“I know you’re not a casual relationship guy, you’re all in or you’re not in at all. I get that. But this is…it’s really intense, really fast, you know? What happened to dating?”
“We can,” I say. “I’ll take you on a million dates.”
“I just…I think maybe we need some space.”
“I do not need space,” I tell her. “But if you do, then I’ll respect your wishes.”
“Thank you.” Her voice doesn’t sound the same as she sits in her office chair and flicks her hair back behind her shoulders. I see the very moment she switches to professional mode, though, her back going ramrod straight, her lips pursing in concentration.
“I’ve got all of your investments set up. Early indicators look good, but the market is somewhat volatile due to the upcoming election, so there’s some fluctuation. Your first quarterly earnings report will be ready in October, but the January report will be more telling. We can make adjustments as needed at that point.”
I feel myself backing away, horrified, shocked, angry. What the hell is going on here? I left the airport and rushed over here to see the woman I love. We had sex on her desk. She came. I came. And now she’s behaving like I’m a fucking client, in full professional mode.
I feel sick about whatever she’s doing here. But if she wants space, I have to give it to her. I don’t have a choice.
I’m in a daze as I leave her office. It’s good my subconscious knows the way home, because I don’t think I could consciously make my way there right now. Over and over I replay how I burst into her office, so eager to see her, to have her. I was a brute. I took her like some animal, rutting into her with no self-control. I scared her away and it’s my fault. I did this. But there are two people in a relationship. And perhaps right now, because I called her my lucky charm, she’s not actually as committed as I thought. And there is fucking nothing I can do about that. Shit.
Bruce, my dyslexia coach, is a nice guy but he tries too hard to be funny. My first session is completed, and even though I am most decidedly not in a funny mood, I can see the value, so I make another appointment for the following week.
Ally meets me at the Starbucks across the street after my session so we can go over the next week’s schedule. There’s a lot of internal Crush stuff happening on the calendar this month. Social media, photo shoots, and press events to gear up for the big home opener. We review and get everything calendared into my phone, but as we finish up, she’s onto me. I’m not fooling anyone.
“Boris, will you tell me what’s up with you, please?”
“Talia broke things off,” I admit.
“Why on earth would she do that?”
“She just said things were moving too fast. She needed space.”
“Space to continue to act like she isn’t in love with you?”
“She’s not in love with me,” I say. “But I thought she might get there someday.”
“How long have you guys known each other?”
“Only a few months. And we had a rather serious experience not long ago. I think it scared her a lot more than she’s admitting.”
“The thing where she fell?” Ally asks in a knowing tone.
“She didn’t fall. She was abducted and held hostage. I had to break her out.”
“Whoa.”
“It was intense. Scary. I would have been scared if I was her, and it was my fault. The guys were after my money and they used her as bait.”
“That’s insane. And she’s pretty young, right?”
“Early twenties. She said she hasn’t really had a relationship before.”
“I think there’s a lot to unpack. But if it’s real, you’ll find a way. You have to earn trust. Relationships and trust take time to build, Boris. My advice? Give Talia the space she’s asking for but also make sure she knows how you feel about her.”
“So, you think I should fight for her, then?”
“I mean, it sounds like you already have. Like, literally.” Ally grins. “But hell yeah.”
I have some work to do. Actually, a great deal of work.
And maybe I’m more of a fighter than I thought.
Fight? For Talia, my beloved krasotka, puck-money goddess?
Hell yes, I will fight.
Twenty-Eight
Quidditch Match?
Talia
“I don’t think I’m going,” I say, arms folded with feet firmly planted.
“Don’t be a baby,” Parker says. “You said yourself you loved the first game.”
“And then I got kidnapped and slapped around by a bunch of goons.” I lift my chin at her and stand my ground.
But Parker gets up in my face, and then she pulls me into an awkward hug, my still-folded arms wedged between us. “I know you keep saying you’re fine, but I don’t think you’re really fine, are you?”
I bury my head in my best friend’s shoulder and cry. It’s the first time I’ve allowed myself to break down. I’ve tried to convince myself I was fine, but she’s right; I’m not fine. She doesn’t ask me to talk about it. She knows what happened. She knows I’m having horrific nightmares and waking up terrified. She knows Boris saved me. She knows I pushed him away. There’s no need to rehash it.
Parker just lets me cry for a very long time. Finally, when the tears subside, I pull away.
“I probably look like a blotchy, red mess,” I say, sniffling.
“You do, but it’s okay. You needed that, huh?”
“I think I really did.” I wipe under my eyes to get the last remnants of tears brushed away.
She sighs. And that’s the thing with Parker. She will rip into me when I’m being a dumbass, but she’ll also come to my rescue to stand by my side. Literally. And when she sighs like this, I hear her unspoken promise. You will get through this, and I’m by your side until you do. God, I’m thankful for her.
“Talia, we can’t live our lives in fear, can we?” No. She’s right about that. “Let’s get dressed up and go see a Crush home opener.”
We certainly can. There are two tickets at Will-Call with my name on them waiting to be claimed. Because Boris has made sure to send me messages and gifts daily since our breakup a little over a week ago. The first delivery was a dozen dark pink roses with a handwritten note that said:
Krasotka,
Dark pink roses stand for “appreciation and gratitude” both of which I feel for you. I will be forever grateful I walked into your office that day and found the best puck-money goddess in the world. I miss you.
Boris
His handwriting isn’t the prettiest, but I can tell he has labored over his message, because it’s perfect with no mistakes in the spelling or otherwise. Every day since, a different color of roses has arrived along with a handwritten note in th
e same disorderly scrawl.
The second delivery was a dozen pure white roses plus a one-year subscription to MeowBox for LuLu. A box of gourmet cat treats and kitty-friendly toys will be delivered each month to LuLu Wentworth, tailored specifically for her. His note though? Even more touching than the gift.
Krasotka,
Two meanings for white roses are “purity and heavenly.” My feelings for you are as “pure” as they come and it feels like “heaven” being with you, so the color white is very fitting I think. But white also reminds me of your sweet LuLu, who I am also missing very much.
Boris
The third delivery contained two dozen red-tipped yellow roses and a fancy subscription box from The Bookworm Box—romance themed—the biggest one they have, of course. The proceeds from the subscription boxes go to charity, so I know he’s spent a great deal of money. I can now look forward to special editions signed by my favorite authors to add to my collection each month, but it was his sweet note that made me cry all the tears.
Krasotka,
Yellow roses tipped with red mean “friendship and falling in love.” We started out as friends and I liked you right away. I knew you were smart and kind and beautiful, but the night you first read to me was when I started to fall in love with you. I miss you reading to me almost as much as I miss you. Almost…
Boris
Day after day it went on with roses and presents and letters. I’ve sent a thank-you text for each gift with a picture of the accompanying roses, so he’d know I’d received them. Even if I haven’t been ready to see him quite yet, I wanted him to know the romantic gifts and his heartfelt notes were accepted and read by me. But otherwise, we haven’t spoken. My apartment and office are swimming in the scent of roses, and both could pass for florist’s shops. I have more subscriptions and gift cards than I know what to do with. The Designer Eyes gift certificate in an obscene amount of money for custom Tiffany & Co frames probably takes the cake for most impressive, though. It’s a straight-up fact Boris Drăghici has game when it comes to romancing a woman. Undisputed fact.