So Over You (Chicago Rebels #2)(54)

“You’re pretty funny for a Russian, Vad. You weren’t like this before.”

“I am half American. It took a while for my sense of humor to develop.” Seeming to realize what he’d said, he frowned and tugged on the edge of the afghan. He looked a little lost, and Isobel’s heart softened.

Sensing an opening, she took her shot. “Does your mother know about Mia?”

His expression hardened. “Alexei called her, so I expect she will show up soon. She may have even planned it. Sent her sick daughter here.”

“Paging paranoia.”

He regarded her with half-lidded eyes. “It is a Trojan horse gambit.”

“I’m sure your sister would love to be compared to a Greek classic. Or a wooden horse.” Or a battle in the war between her brother and mother.

“This is how she plays the game. My father is dead, I am rich, she is back. And look, I have a sister!”

Waiting until Vadim’s father died definitely put an odd spin on it, but Isobel refused to judge. Her own mother had left her father for good reasons: lesbianism and adultery were pretty much top two, she’d say. Walk a mile and all that.

“Mia told me you were her bone marrow donor. I don’t remember you being off the ice for long over a year ago.”

He smirked. “Keeping tabs on my career, Bella?”

“Keeping tabs on my team’s assets, Russian. It wasn’t in your file.”

“I only needed a week to recover and I convinced the Quebec team doctors to keep it secret. My life is very public, and she has enough pressure as it is, being the next great thing in female hockey.”

Isobel could relate. “So if you didn’t meet your sister until recently, how come she plays hockey?” Not many girls “fell” into hockey by accident.

“Mia says she was encouraged to play all sports: soccer, tennis, swimming, lacrosse, hockey. But the ice is in her blood.”

“The genes are strong with this one, huh?”

Vadim allowed himself a moment to look proud. “Have you seen her play?”

“Only online. It’s amazing how strong she is, considering she’s not fully grown. But she’s not a muscle factory, either. Her speed reminds me of yours.”

“She will be an all-time great. I have no doubt.”

Isobel blinked away threatening tears. How petty of her to think of her own ruined potential while admiring another player. Even Isobel could see that Mia was more talented than she’d been at that age.

“Well, my work here is done, so I should go.”

He grasped her wrist. “Have you had a flu shot?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Then you will stay.”

“Shouldn’t you be napping?” Hockey players were big on naps, and this would be about the right time for one.

His lips curved. “Get under the blanket.”

“Vad . . .”

He pulled back the blanket to reveal wafer-thin sweatpants, ridiculously low on his hips. Her Kryptonite! Those V indents were something else, absolutely lickable. His arm stretched along the back of the sofa, inviting her into paradise.

“There are people here.” She looked around as if the people were actually present in this room. Gordie Howe, proxy for society’s judgment, eyed her with ambivalence. “This is crazy.”

Sex she could handle. Insane, lights-out monkey sex, maybe against that floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the lake. But the comfort of his body was another thing entirely. Becoming accustomed to it would not be good for her mental well-being.

“Mia will sleep after her soup. Alexei has an errand to run that will take all afternoon. Lay your head on my chest and take a nap with me, Bella.”

She was pretty wrecked, and a few minutes wouldn’t hurt, she supposed. Feeling completely overwhelmed by his sheer Russian-ness, she threw an arm around his hard body, snuggled in the crook of his arm, and closed her eyes.





EIGHTEEN




Vadim woke up to indescribable pleasure. Isobel’s hand was stroking his cock.

He turned his head, noting her dark lashes fanned over her cheekbones, her breathing steady and even. Still asleep, yet she pleasured him in her dreams?

This girl—this woman—had completely bewitched him. Had she any idea how sexy she was or how much he wanted her? Likely she credited this attraction between them to proximity. Coaching had thrown them together in a relationship that was pressurized and adversarial. Sex was a natural way to relieve the intensity.

So strange, when it appeared that he was barely a blip on her radar all those years ago. His trade to Chicago was not his choice, but he had embraced it, his curiosity about her almost overwhelming. Now he was here, and he was determined to see this through.

Isobel would be his.

Because there was no doubt he was hers.

She owned him with every stroke of his cock inside his sweatpants, not hard enough to be deliberate, but tantalizing enough to drive him wild. He wanted to wake her, to make her aware of her actions so she would take it to the next level. Hard, fast strokes that would hurl him over the edge. But he also wanted to stay in this twilight where Isobel didn’t realize he was about to tilt her world off its axis as she had done to his.

So he watched her, half in agony, as she continued to give him the comfort he refused to admit he needed.