So Over You (Chicago Rebels #2)(76)

In keeping with the location, her mood, the proximity to dangerous weapons on their feet, it should have been frenzied and urgent. So why did it feel like a dream? Possibly because she was trying to hold on to the essence of herself.

She closed her eyes against the intensity waving off him, but he was having none of that. Beneath her, he shifted his body up and closer. His hand palmed her neck.

“Do not hide from me, Bella,” he whispered, his breath a warm wisp of entreaty.

Her eyes fluttered open to find him smiling at her. That damn smile. The hand at her nape shifted, and his thumb swiped at her cheek, coming away damp.

Oh, God, she was crying. During sex!

She jerked back from him, intending to separate altogether. He already had her heart. Anything more was far too selfish of him.

Still, the tears fell. He sopped them up with his thumb and put that thumb in his mouth, just like that night in New York when he had tasted her pleasure. Now he got to taste her pain.

“Yes, my beautiful girl. I see all of you now.”

He pushed her dress—this stupid dress she’d worn because she wanted to look pretty for him—up above her waist.

“Take everything you need from me, Bella.”

Dreams abandoned, she thudded to the reality of now. The pain, the pleasure, Vadim. Only and always. This she could control, and so she moved up and down, sliding along that hard length, marveling at his power to hold himself and fuck up into her with long, liquid pulls. They found a rhythm that rhymed, a tempo that teased, a pleasure that knew no beginning or end.

They found each other—but a part of her knew she was forever lost.





TWENTY-FIVE




Vadim let himself in quietly, not wishing to do anything that would wake Victoria. Mia had returned to New York two days ago, where an aunt Vadim had never met would stay with her. She’d already missed too much school, and with Alexei on the mend, Vadim would not have to worry about spending more time than necessary with her mother.

But Alexei couldn’t be here twenty-four hours a day, so Vadim had stopped in to ensure that Victoria didn’t need anything. Merely the actions of a good host. Then he would go see his woman.

On the ice, Vadim’s life was perfect. The Rebels were close to the play-offs, needing only one win out of their next three to guarantee a wild card spot. Two wins would place them in the top three in the division. Tonight it had been four-two against Nashville at home, and two of those goals belonged to Vadim.

Off the ice, his life was not so rosy. In the week since Isobel had heard the news of her decimated dreams, she was not rebounding with the resilience he had expected. Her smiles were beautiful, but sad. Her eyes deep pools, but dull with her pain. Tonight he would see her, comfort her with his body. Tonight he would tell her he loved her.

Knowing the landscape of his rented house well, he didn’t bother to turn on the lights, so he was surprised to encounter an obstacle in his path. What the—?

He switched on a lamp. The obstacle in question was a leg.

And it belonged to Alexei, who sat at one end of the sofa, his face fire engine red, his shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest and revealing a thick pelt. At the far end of the sofa sat Victoria, looking equally flushed, but thankfully still dressed.

Why had he not seen this coming—and how could he go about unseeing it?

“I thought you were sick,” Vadim murmured to both of them.

“I’m feeling much better,” Victoria said, her embarrassed tone pronouncing her outrageous guilt. With Alexei! “Actually, I’ve booked a flight for tomorrow.”

“Good.”

She winced, and he rejoiced in hurting her. But she was brazen now that she had slid another knife between his ribs and cracked him open again. “You played so well tonight. Congratulations.”

“I’m surprised you had time to watch!”

“Do not speak to her like that.”

Vadim stared at Alexei. His employee. His friend. His . . . he did not know anymore.

“She is your mother and deserves your respect.”

His mother placed a hand of restraint on Alexei’s arm. “Let him be angry.”

He did not need her permission. The anger inside him was his right, and it was time she realized this.

“He doesn’t know how hard it was for you, Vika,” Alexei said.

Vika? Since when did Alexei call his mother by such an affectionate nickname? All his pent-up emotion found release now that Mia wasn’t here to curb it.

“How hard it was? My father wasn’t an easy man, but what woman abandons her child?” He rounded on his mother. “I imagine the only reason you took Mia is because she was physically tethered to your body!”

Her eyes grew wet, but he refused to buy it. Where were the tears when this thief of his childhood left in the dead of night?

“I—I’ll be back in a moment.”

When she left, Alexei stood, closed the gap between them, and punched Vadim square in the jaw.

Chyort voz’mi! The old man still had fire in his fist.

He switched to Russian. “You are acting like a brat. You need to hear her out.”

“Hear her lies. Hear how she left me alone.”

“You weren’t alone. I was there.”

Vadim froze. “You were there because my father ordered it. Because your family owed me service.”