The Master (The Game Maker #2)(63)

“Why?”

“In a time of trouble, I was a ready resource. Aleksandr saw that I could be an ally, and that I hold no true malice toward him.”

“I don’t understand why you would. Just because he left home?”

“It’s not a pretty story. One best told at another time.” He pinned me with his gaze. “Are you having second thoughts about this weekend?”

“I recall having first thoughts, but was a victim of your ‘persuasion.’ ”

His lids went heavy, the bulge in his pants growing. “Don’t remind me. I can’t touch that memory without getting hard as a rock.” He exhaled. “Too late. Have you ever been f*cked in a plane?”

“No,” I said breathlessly. “But I think I’m about to be. . . .”





CHAPTER 27




“How goddamned quaint,” Máxim grated as we wandered through our suite.

The space was large and luxurious, with a sizable bathroom and dressing area, but there were some kitschy touches. The mobster looked so out of place in a room with plank wood floors and Quaker quilts. Doilies covered the tops of oak tables.

“Quilts.” He smirked. “Charming.”

I hopped on the bed, giving him a pouty lip. “Oh, does my baby boy suffer without his Four Seasons?” There’d been a display in the lobby made out of cornstalks and a wide red ribbon. Nothing brought to mind the holidays like cornstalks.

I stretched out and made snow angels on the bed. “Just think, we’re going to have to snuggle here for warmth. We’ll have to build up friction.” I widened my eyes. “To preserve my very life, you’ll have to f*ck me all night long.”

“If I must. But only to save your very life.”

A faint motion in the window drew my gaze past him. “Ah! It’s snowing!” I leapt up and scrambled to a window seat. I’d seen it everywhere on the ground during our limo ride from the airport to the lodge, but hadn’t seen it falling. And I still hadn’t been out in it. “Máxim, it is actively snowing.” Every now and then, a flake would dance by! “Pero quién sabe por cuánto tiempo?” But who knows for how long? “We have to go before the snowfall stops.”

“I’m not sure that would count as snowfall. Once we get changed, I’ll take you out—”

I started ripping off my clothes. “When will our bags get up here?”

“Our things are already here.”

I tripped in the direction of the dressing room, then yanked open a closet. “All our stuff is unpacked.”

“I bring a valet for events. And now we have a maid for you as well. They’re currently pressing anything that needs it.”

No wonder he always looked impeccable.

“Wear layers,” Máxim called. “The waterproof snow gear and warm socks.”

“Got it.”

In minutes, I’d rifled through my stuff and changed into a red turtleneck, snow-white ski jacket, black ski pants, mittens, and boots. The pants were surprisingly thin and fit like tights. As with all pants on me, they were snug across the back. Fact of life. I had my red scarf, of course, and a cap to match it.

Once I’d dressed, I decided to tease him with my new outfit—just a little. I skipped back to the room. “Hey, Máxim, will you look at something?”

“Hmm?” He was unbuttoning his shirt.

I turned and leaned over the bed, innocently asking, “Do these make my butt look big?”

“You little witch.” He lunged for me, but I scampered over the bed. “I don’t think you want to leave this room.”

“No, no! I’ll be good.”

He hesitated, then pulled off his shirt, his expression telling me I’d been let off with a warning.

I manned the window. “The sun looks like it’s about to come out. Won’t the snowflakes go away? Come on, Máxim!”

“You try changing with a raging cockstand,” he said, his voice husky. “Those pants of yours aren’t even fair.”

I turned to him. “I need to touch snow!”

He’d removed his slacks, revealing gray boxer briefs and a very swollen erection. “And clearly”—he waved at his dick—“I need to f*ck you. Yet again.”

“What we did on the plane barely tided you over?” I’d joined the mile-high club with a scream. Sauntering over to him, I reached down to rub the wet spot on his briefs. “Can you f*ck me in the snow?”

“I like the way your mind works, Katya.” He swiftly dressed in jeans, a fleece pullover, and a black ski coat.

I grabbed his hand, pulling at him to hurry down the stairs. I’d seen a sign for a “winter wonderland trail” pointing toward the back of the main lodge. “Si me haces perdermela, no te lo perdonaré!” If you make me miss this, I’ll never forgive you.

He groused, but I could tell he was having fun.

At the exit, I turned back to scold, “Vámos! Apúrate, Ruso—”

I ran into a chest. Gazing up, I found a blond giant peering down at me. He had a couple of friends with him. They all looked like Nebraska farm boys. Or possibly Paul Bunyan and his brothers.

“Disculpe. Sorry!” I’d been chattering away, not looking where I was going.