So Over You (Chicago Rebels #2)(42)

“I don’t believe that.”

He looked thoughtful. “I told him he would get his place back on the line if he worked hard.”

She sighed, relieved.

“After he accused me of sleeping my way onto the roster.”

She pushed back against his oh-my-God-those-pecs-are-unreal chest, needing space to haul air into her lungs. “He accused you of what?”

“It means nothing. If my personal coach were a man, Shay would think of some other insult. Because you are a woman, this is the best the fool can come up with.”

“So you were defending my honor?”

“Actually, Isobel, I was defending my own.” His mouth lifted in a self-deprecating curve, and it broke something open inside of her. Something she hadn’t realized was better busted than cobbled together. “But the defense of yours was a natural by-product.”

Oh, this guy. She knew what he was doing. Trying to put her off so she wouldn’t feel all gooey that he’d come to her defense. It wasn’t working. Her internal organs were a liquefied mess.

As for her vagina? She may as well just get it stamped Property of Vadim Petrov.

“What about the first fight, Vadim? At the Empty Net a few weeks ago? Were you defending your honor then?”

A storm swept across his face. “What do you know of this?”

“Just that you had to be restrained from punching him out. What the hell is going on with you two?”

“As I said, he is a man with idiotic opinions.”

Agreed. “I don’t like you getting into fights, not when we’re so close.” She meant close to putting him back to where he belonged: on the ice before a crowd of twenty thousand screaming fans. But the words hung between them, as heavy as the sexual tension she was drowning in.

Close enough to touch, to kiss, to feel.

Everything.

And that’s what she wanted. Her sister’s caution tried to sound its harsh siren again, but it was overridden by something else Harper had said:

A man defending you is very seductive.

It was, and it wasn’t something Isobel was used to. Not needing anyone was how she’d been raised. Isobel had spent her life following her father’s blueprint.

Your gender is meaningless. You’re as strong as any man on the ice. You don’t need to rely on anyone for a damn thing, especially boys. They’ll only get in your way.

Being groomed for independence was all well and good, but sometimes riding this train solo could be so, so lonely. The solace of Vadim standing up for her, of being there for her even though she hadn’t asked for it, crashed through her.

The physical evidence of his chivalry was darkening with every passing moment. She reached out to touch the bruise on his jaw. “Gotta take care of this pretty face, Russian.”

“I would rather carry this badge.” He leaned into her hand, accepting her comfort. His eyes closed briefly on a gentle sigh, then reopened so fast she wondered if she’d imagined the moment. “This is dangerous, Isobel. If someone saw you come in here, it would not be good.”

“I’m just a coach going down on my player like a ton of bricks.”

“Going down? My English is not perfect, but I believe the phrase is ‘coming down.’?” His mouth dropped to her lips, and his eyelids fell to half-mast. Meanwhile, something else was rising to full mast. “Or maybe you mean what you said?”

She tried that on for size in her head. I’m just a coach going down on my player. It sounded so wrong, just right, and everything in between.

He was practically on top of her now, his erection pressed against her belly. Yet his words still tried to contradict the biological imperative that had both their bodies in its grip.

“Bella, if you don’t leave now—”

She kissed him before he could finish that ridiculous sentence.





THIRTEEN




Isobel Chase was kissing him.

He refused to kiss her back.

Rude, perhaps, but really he was thinking of her honor. In her position, she was particularly susceptible to accusations—witness Shay running off his mouth—and Vadim didn’t want to risk that. All he’d ever wanted was to protect her.

So he would not kiss her.

Tell that to his cock, which refused to play along.

Move to plan B. As long as he did not part his lips or grab her hips or give her any encouragement whatso—damn.

Somehow, during his oh-so-logical thought process on how to defend this woman’s honor, he had pinned her against the door. His body covered hers, his hands cupped her perfect heart-shaped ass, and his mouth devoured her like she was his last meal.

Yes, incredibly honorable.

There was always plan C. Just a few seconds. He would enjoy the heat of her mouth and the feel of her curves, then send her on her way. This he could handle. As long as she did not part her legs—fuck.

Her thighs fell open and the welcome of her still-covered pussy engulfed his still-covered erection. Her leg hitched up to give him better access, and his hips shoved forward of their own accord. She was moaning now, soft, desperate sounds into his mouth. Their tongues tangled, the taste of her all he had missed and everything he could not have.

Not going to last, not going to last.

He jerked away and put a few necessary feet between them. This huge suite was suddenly too small.