The Player (The Game Maker #3)(57)

At that, this man, my husband, kissed me.

And I could taste the last of his tears.





CHAPTER 25

Dawn neared when we began to doze off. After his catharsis in the rain, Dimitri had brought me inside, making love to me again.

Now I lay with my head on his chest, listening to his lulling heartbeat as he stroked my hair. I could have pressed him for answers, but my instinct said to share these hours with him in peace—without dredging up the past.

Reading my mind, he said, “In time, I will tell you everything.”

“I know you will.” Had he been somewhat crazy tonight? Yep. But I would roll with it for now, letting him set the pace.

“You have an idea though.”

I nodded against him. “If you mean dissociate when you say drift, then yes.”

He tensed beside me, then seemed to make an effort to relax again. “Da.”

So he had been abused. My heart ached for him. “Is there anything I shouldn’t do? I don’t ever want to hurt you or remind you.”

“There’s nothing you could do. Just . . . just do not leave.” He was such a complicated, intriguing man. Sometimes all dominant and in command; at other times vulnerable.

I’d known Dmitri Sevastyan for a mere four days. As he’d said, there was a difference between being wed and being married. I’d committed to one, but not to the other.

Could I, given time?

Over the day and night, I’d come to five conclusions.

One: I would never be more attracted to, or sexually satisfied by, another man.

Two: His past only amplified my feelings—because he was working so hard to achieve a better future. In spite of everything, he did still hope.

Three: Though Dmitri’s mental issues had probably heightened his infatuation/obsession, it was possible he could grow to truly love me.

Four: He desperately needed someone to look out for him.

Five: Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t shed my jadedness overnight.

At length, I told him, “When you wake up, I’ll be here.” After I’d gotten some sleep, I would wrestle with my ever-growing feelings—tenderness, gratitude, protectiveness, guilt.

“That’s enough. For now.” He stroked my hair till I was almost asleep. “Vika?” His breaths were deep and even. He was about to nod off as well. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“I’m honored to be your husband.” He dozed off.

You beautiful, f*cked-up man.

In sleep, he clutched the ends of my hair, as if he wanted to leash me to him.





CHAPTER 26

“Victoria?” Dmitri yelled from the bedroom landing. He must’ve just awakened to find my side of the bed empty.

I quickly called, “Right in the kitchen!” I’d watched him sleep for hours before hunger had driven me downstairs.

Though I was a notoriously bad cook, I decided to make him breakfast in bed. Luckily, each dish in the refrigerators had been labeled with heating instructions and accompaniment suggestions.

As I warmed food, I’d texted Karin an update. Vice: Sister vault. I did a bad bad thing.

She would know what I meant, that I’d gotten too close to my mark, letting down my guard.

KV: How deep?

Vice: I’m attempting to make him breakfast in bed.

KV: WHO ARE YOU???

Vice: Like a sap, I watched him sleeping.

Figuring he needed the rest, I’d let him slumber on. His sigh-worthy face had been relaxed, a world away from the pain he’d shown when he’d balked at sex—or his euphoric expression on the cliff.

KV: I take it “consummation” went well. What’s your move now?

Once I’d replayed the events of the night and wrestled with my feelings, I’d made a decision: I still wouldn’t reach for the stars.

But maybe I could case their joint and look for an in.

Vice: I want to see where this leads.

KV: Which leaves the ring as your only option. I’ll come pick it up, no more than 9 days from now.

Because Al would need time to convert it to cash.

Dmitri hastened into the kitchen wearing gray boxer briefs and nothing else. His eyes were a little wild, and he was out of breath. “Vika?”

“I waited beside you as long as I could, but then I decided to wake you up with food. Look”—I waved at the tray I’d put together—“I even put a flower in a vase, though that orchid I clipped probably cost a bazillion dollars.”

“You’re . . . topless.” He swallowed.

I only wore a lacy black thong. “Why, I am!” I shook my shoulders to give him a jiggle, loving his brows-drawn look.

“Mercy,” he said. “Now I know I’m still dreaming.” Had he awakened only to believe everything had been a dream?

I had.

He stalked closer, all tousled black hair and hooded eyes. “Do you always eat topless?”

“Ah, see, my husband ordered me not to cover these.”

He smiled. Fully! “Your husband sounds like a brilliant man.”

My breath hitched. “He is. He’s a tech genius.” I craned my head up. “I wanted to be there when you woke. I debated an alarm-clock BJ, breakfast, or tickling.”

“In the future, I’d prefer two out of those three. And one in particular.”