So Over You (Chicago Rebels #2)(75)

Not a hockey player. Not a coach. With Vadim—if that’s what he wanted, if she could stop being a jealous shrew about his star-bright career and the sexting hordes—she’d be a WAG. A player wife or girlfriend.

“I don’t know who I am without hockey, Vadim.” And a WAG is not enough.

He circled her neck with his hand, his chest flush with hers, his heart beating hard against hers. “You are Bella. The girl who can do anything. The woman who drives me crazy. There is plenty for you to be.” He kissed her, and after a soft press, she kissed harder, then pushed him away, scooping up her stick as she went. But not her helmet.

She didn’t want to be the woman who drove him crazy. She didn’t want to be defined in relation to a superstar, because as soon as that happened, she would slip away into the shadows as Vadim Petrov’s woman. Surely she was more than that.

“Bella,” he said, resignation in his voice. Tired of her drama, no doubt.

She raced to the end of the rink, sliding a loose puck into the empty net with ease, but her skate caught on the goal frame and she fell to the ice.

He was on her instantly, down on his knees.

“Isobel!”

“I’m okay,” she whispered, but her tears contradicted her desperate assurance. That womanly weakness her father despised.

“This stops now. You have been on the ice for long enough.” He stood and held out his hand.

She hesitated, but then she allowed herself to be pulled up. To be supported.

The notion made her ill.

Back in the locker room, he placed her on the bench and knelt before her to unlace her skates.

“We were like figure skaters out there,” he murmured, evidently trying to make light of what had come before. “In our sparkling costumes.”

She inhaled a deep breath, though her lungs seemed incapable of filling. “What would you do if you couldn’t play hockey, Vad?”

He stopped unlacing and considered her question.

“I would take more naps and drink more tea.”

He grinned at her, and she grinned back, suspecting she looked like a funhouse mirror version of herself. But his smile? It was like this rare outbreak of spring sun after a long, hard winter, and unfortunately it wasn’t only her hormones that skipped in delight.

Bella, I am here. Wake up.

Yes, my love, you are.

She inhaled a sharp, cutting breath, barely able to cope with the shocking recognition.

She was in love with Vadim.

Oblivious to her distress, he kept on smiling, that devastating, soul-destroying grin. It was either cry her eyes out or punch his perfect jaw or—she bent down to taste him. To absorb his life force and beauty into her blood. His hands fell away from her skates and crawled up her legs, plotting his way to the heart of her.

Bastard.

His mouth on hers was the only thing keeping her grounded in this world, but she didn’t want the security his strength would give her. She didn’t want the love. She wanted the danger.

She couldn’t have hockey, but tonight she could have him.

With a shaking finger, she traced his perfect cheekbones, ran her thumb over the seam of his lips. She’d fallen for him in a way that was a million times worse than all those years ago. Then, her future was mapped out, and no man—not even the destined-for-greatness Vadim Petrov—would stand in her way. Now her future was uncertain, and this man on his knees before her was either her port in the storm or the rocks she would happily dash herself against.

She loved him.

She hated herself for it.

And in this sublime moment of realization, something else struck her. “My ass is cold.”

He blinked. “Your ass?”

“You took my panties, remember?”

“You were skating for over an hour with no panties?”

She pushed him back and slipped from the bench to straddle him.

“Either you give them back or you figure out another way to warm my ass.”

“I refuse to return what belongs to me. I have many dirty fantasies designed around them.” He pushed his hands up her thighs to cup her chilly rear. “I shall take care of this problem of yours if you take care of this problem of mine.” He slid her flush over his problem.

She moaned softly on coming into contact with his erection, pushing against her slick softness through his pants. “Have you ever fucked with skates on, Russian?”

“It has never seemed wise.”

“Let’s live dangerously, shall we?”

Never removing her eyes from him, she unzipped him slowly—a tough job given how much resistance his dick was putting up. With determined hands and his help, she pulled his boxers down to free him.

She tilted her head, left, then right, taking him in like a centerfold. “You’re so beautiful, Vadim. So perfect.”

“Only when I am inside you. Don’t leave me waiting, Bella. I am cold, too.” He lifted her, spreading her ass cheeks and parting her with his thumbs. She shivered wonderfully as he stroked through her wetness.

“Condom,” she murmured. Her hand patted his pocket and he obliged with his wallet and the rubber.

“Before the next time, we will discuss this,” he said. “Skin on skin. I want that.”

It might happen, if she could survive this moment with her sanity intact.

“Next time,” she said as she slipped her body over his like a glove.