So Over You (Chicago Rebels #2)(43)

“What’s wrong?” she panted, her eyes maddened with desire.

“This can’t happen, Isobel.” He waved between them. “I won’t have you be the subject of gossip.”

She was breathing hard, the rise and fall of her breasts mesmerizing him. All it would take was the hook of his little finger on the ring of her tracksuit zipper. He could pull it down slowly, reveal all that milky flesh. Taste her once more . . .

“I’m already the subject of gossip, Vadim. I may as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb.”

“I don’t understand that.”

“It means if I’m going to do the time, I may as well do the crime. Unless you don’t want this.”

He looked down at his cock, jutting true north, screaming at him to take what was his.

“I think there is little doubt I want this.”

“That’s just biology, Vadim. Cocks aren’t really known for their great decision making.”

“Mine is more discriminating than most.” He moved closer to her, but kept a safe distance. “Never doubt that I want you, Isobel. But I also know you’re trying to build your career as a coach and that it wouldn’t look good if it emerged that something happened between us.”

If she knew that they were already the subject of gossip because of her own indiscreet chatter, she would be furious. He would have to be strong enough for both of them.

He stepped away, his hard-on pulsing in protest. Quit your whine! You will fuck my fist later.

“This is for your own protection, Isobel.”

She nodded. “Okay. I suppose I should thank you for being the sensible one here, seeing as how my hormones are incapable of seeing reason.”

She should, but he suspected she would not. He wasn’t buying this for a second.

“I understand that you’re trying to protect me, but the way I see it, you’re really trying to protect yourself. I get it. After our first and only time together, your fear is understandable.”

“My fear?”

Turning her back on him, she placed a hand on the doorknob. “That you can’t make me come.”

The door opened.

The door shut.

That last action might have had something to do with him closing the gap and slamming the door so hard the frame shook.

“Do you really think I’ll fall for this?”

She didn’t turn, which was good, because if he looked into those emerald-fired eyes, he would be lost. His chest settled against her back. Her ass, while not touching him, was mere millimeters away from his erection.

“Fall for what?”

“This challenge to make up for what happened between us before.” His chin dipped, his lips glanced across her ear, drawing a shiver from her. “Do you think calling me chicken is the way into my bed?”

It is. It so fucking is.

“Not at all.” Her body shifted, testing the bounds of the space between them. The lightest brush against his cock triggered his groan. “I mean, I can tell your discriminating cock is raring to go, and I’ve no doubt you can perform on your end, but you have to admit a tiny bit of doubt, Vadim.”

“Any doubts I had were wiped away by your moans when you ground your body on my dick last week.”

On a lusty sigh, she fell back against his chest, aligning her curves with every welcoming slot on his body. Prekrasno. Perfect. Her ass against his groin fit like the final puzzle piece.

“I didn’t even make it home,” she murmured. “I had to pull over to the side of the road and finish all by myself.”

Chyort voz’mi! He gripped her arm and turned her, expecting humor and challenge. He got that, and so much more. Excitement and desire, but also vulnerability.

How could her face express so much when his mouth could express nothing at all?

“Do you doubt my ability to satisfy you, woman?”

She had the nerve to hesitate. “I’m pretty turned on right now, but I was last time as well. Eight years ago. Then”—she made a thumbs-down gesture—“nyet. Don’t worry, V. Some people aren’t sexually compatible. On the surface it looks like all the boxes are checked, but when the cock is locked, the key doesn’t turn.”

His heart thundered in his chest. His cock demanded vindication. He could not believe he was falling for her bait, yet every goading word was working to draw him in. “The key will turn, Isobel.”

“Yes, well, I’m sure it will.” She gave his bicep a squeeze, then patted it—all condescension. “Just not for us.”

He curled a hand around her neck and pressed his lips to hers. No kiss yet, because she didn’t deserve it.

“You little brat. I will show you how the key turns. The key will turn all night!” Furious at what she had driven him to, he stepped back and jerked his hand away from his body.

“Get in the bedroom. Now.”



Isobel could not believe Vadim had fallen for that.

Sure, she knew that intellectually he was completely aware of her game to get him on board. Really, she was annoyed that he was using the “protecting her honor” excuse to unilaterally decide this, but knowing Vadim the way she did, arguing this point would only entrench him.

Honor was big with Russians, and with Vadim in particular.

She wanted him and she would have him. Just for tonight, though. After all, a man like Vadim Petrov wasn’t for keeps.