So Over You (Chicago Rebels #2)(23)

“Vad!” She grabs my hand and drags me inside; then her arms circle my waist as she presses her body to mine. Her supple breasts push up inside her low-cut top, which is pink and has sparkles on it. Her hips are covered in tight black pants that stop halfway down her calves. Her feet are bare. It’s weird to see her in anything but hockey gear or sweats.

I smell it immediately. “Have you been drinking, Bella?”

A small giggle escapes her. “Just one.” More likely two or three. “To steady my nerves.”

I smile. “Why would you be nervous, Bella? I am just a friend visiting another friend.” But I push my erection into her fabric-covered heat all the same.

“You’re more than a friend, Vadim.”

Yes, there’s nothing very friendly about my feelings toward her.

“I shouldn’t be here if you are drunk,” I say, thinking it through and not enjoying the conclusion.

“I’m not drunk,” she insists, and her words aren’t slurred—or not slurred enough—so I allow my desire to muffle any negative thoughts. I’ve waited too long to let a couple of drinks stand in the way. After a month of flirting and touching—and let’s face it, her skating rings around me, an incredible turn-on—I will finally have her.

But I don’t want to rush her because this girl is special. Every time I see her, my heart skips beats and my dick throbs painfully to make up for it. Either way, it produces problems for my circulation, making my brain a blood-free zone.

I’m a dizzy fool when it comes to Isobel Chase.

“Want a drink first?” she asks. “I have vodka.”

“I don’t like vodka.”

“But you’re Russian!”

“The only thing I want to drink, Bella, is you.”

A very pretty blush blooms underneath her makeup. “Oh wow, you sure know how to fire up a girl.”

“Yes. Yes, I do.” And then I take her mouth boldly, only gentling at her gasp. Take it slow, Vad. We’ve kissed once before in the locker room at the rink, but it was quick, our worry about being caught by her father keeping our passion at a simmer.

“We’re alone?” I whisper against her mouth, though I know she wouldn’t ask me here unless we are.

She nods, eyes glazed over with both lust and trust, then she takes my hand and leads me toward the stairs.

Again I hesitate. I want to get it right. Treat her right. “Perhaps we should watch TV?”

She steps in close, her hand cupping my raging erection. “Does this want to watch TV?”

No, it does not. It wants out and in, where the “in” will be the sweetest oblivion. With her soft hand stroking my dick, I know I would be an idiot to turn down this opportunity. This beautiful, bright-eyed blitzkrieg of a girl wants me, has made it clear from the moment we met in every heated look and flirty comment.

The Girl with the Blazing Skates has this boy on the ropes.

His mind whiplashed back to the present. One of the trainers—Ted—was calling him over to the table.

What did the past matter? Once there was a boy, infatuated with a girl, desperate to have her. Too desperate, it would seem, for he hadn’t taken care of her in the way a woman, especially a virgin, should be cared for. In the years since, there was no doubt as to his prowess. Women spoke to newspapers about it, for God’s sake.

No lover left his bed wanting. All of them received the Vadim Petrov deluxe orgasm treatment (perhaps he should slip that to the newspapers). If he were to make the mistake of favoring Isobel Chase once more, she would be left in no doubt as to what had occurred. The best orgasm of her life!

“How’re you feeling today, Vadim?” Ted asked.

Furious. “A little stiff. It is often this way in the morning.”

Ted nodded as Vadim assumed the position: track bottoms pulled down to shorts, and on his back on the table. This gave Vadim a chance to assess Kelly, who was still working on St. James’s shoulder.

Vadim aimed for cool objectivity as he glanced sidelong at the man. Open and easygoing, Kelly possessed an all-American guilelessness that immediately aroused Vadim’s suspicion, not because he doubted Kelly’s motives for asking out Isobel, but because Vadim understood them all too well.

He was what one would call “a good guy.”

This disgusted Vadim. Isobel would be bored to tears with this man in her bed. He probably would ask for permission to kiss her, to touch her, to go down on her. Theirs would be a relationship filled with “you first; no, you; no, you.” So much respect for each other that there would be no allowances made for the demands of true lust.

This was the man she wished to allow access to her body? He would not know what to do with her.

Just as you did not know all those years ago.

The door opened and a dark ponytailed head curved around it. Isobel’s green eyes alighted on Vadim and dismissed him before moving on to Kelly and staying put.

Vadim’s blood raged at the notion that Kelly Townsend was more deserving of Isobel’s attention.

“I’ll come back,” she said to Kelly, as if picking up in the middle of a conversation.

Kelly stepped away from the trainer’s table just as Bren St. James sat up, the rubdown finished. “We’re done here. What can I do you for?”

Isobel smiled with a lot more warmth than this worm deserved. “It’s not important. It’s just . . .” She hesitated and swung her gaze to Vadim, who made no secret of the fact that he was listening. He held that green-eyed gaze with challenge.