Amour Amour (Aerial Ethereal #1)(81)

I have to know. I’m afraid I’ll never grow the courage to ask again. “Why is she so complicated?”

He combs both hands through his hair, pushing the longer strands back. “Because…” He holds my gaze. “She was my partner.”

“What?” My face falls.

“Tatyana Ulanova.”

My mind rotates a million miles per hour, tilting, back-peddling, and out of all thoughts, the first I land on is so insignificant. “I thought it was Tatyana Ulanov, not Ulanova?” Maybe I begin with this because it’s the easiest to touch.

“It’s Ulanova. Whoever told you Ulanov was wrong.” He rubs his jaw. “In Russian, surnames change according to whether you’re male or female.”

My face twists as I process this. “But Katya and you are both Kotova…wait, is that even your real last name?”

He tries hard not to smile.

“It’s not funny,” I say. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Yes you do, myshka. Tatyana is a Russian citizen, but I’m not. Those of us born in the United States had to take the same family name, by law. For whatever reason, they agreed on Kotova, not Kotov.” He casually adds, “It’s a sore subject with my father, considering he speaks very little English and holds Russian customs to a high standard. To the rest of us, it’s just a name.”

I bet Tatyana knew all of this about him. Of course she did, Thora. She’s Russian. I’m at a disadvantage with a girl that I’ve never met. What’d he say about her? She’s the best in her discipline. At aerial silk. She can communicate with him, in any language. And she probably fits better with him. Physically.

I tremble, cold sweeping my limbs, my wet shirt like ice.

“Thora…” He nears again, about to undress me. To warm me.

I press my palms on his chest again to stop him. “Just let me think…”

“She’s out of the picture.”

“She was injured,” I remember. “She got hurt, Nikolai.” I shield my wince with my hands and groan. “Is that why you broke up?”

Girl sustains a career-ending injury.

Girl no longer works with Guy.

Guy breaks up with Girl.

Girl leaves Vegas.

It seems callous on Nikolai’s part, to desert a girl after something traumatic. Who am I really with?

He rubs his eyes like the memory is still raw. It shouldn’t still be raw, right? That makes me the…

“Rebound,” I whisper. “I’m your rebound.”

Nikolai drops his hand and cocks his head like you’re so wrong. “No. We broke up two months before she was injured. I was with her for three years romantically, longer professionally, but the feelings I have for her now are…” As he tries to find the right word, his face slowly contorts in a cringe, and he pinches the bridge of his nose. And then shakes his head.

“Your feelings seem to be strong,” I breathe, crossing my arms for warmth. I shake some. Stop shaking, Thora.

“Not in the way you think.” His voice is harder, more powerful. He shuts off the bath and then walks over to me, wanting so badly to take me out of the wet clothes. “You’re freezing.”

“I just need to process this with clothes on.”

“I don’t see what it matters if you’re naked.”

I exhale a tense breath. “Because I’ll be distracted.”

“By your own body?”

I scowl.

“You said it.”

“By you staring at my naked body.”

His lips curve upward, in a charming smile. “I’m not going to tell you that I’ll look away because that’d be a lie.” He tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear. “Can you hurry with your thoughts?”

My jumbled, tangled, helplessly confused thoughts. Ask something important. Everything feels important, so that really does not help my case. “Where is she now?” I manage to say. Good one. You’re doing good. Or well. Whatever. I kind of want to shut off my brain now.

“Yekaterinburg. It’s where she grew up.”

So she’s most likely with her family, at least those who aren’t in the circus. “Is she coming back ever?” I ask.

“No. She wants to live in Russia.” He watches my arms vibrate with the chill, concern narrowing his eyes. Stay strong, Thora. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she has a boyfriend or a fiancé. Or even a husband by now.” He doesn’t pale or cringe or recoil by these facts.

“It doesn’t bother you—”

“Why would it? I’m with you.” Intensity still permanently latched to me, he removes his boxer-briefs, the last article of clothing. I breathe shallowly and seem to tremble more.

This is such a weird conversation to be undressing to. And I’m really to blame for that. It needed to be said. True. It’s better with this knowledge.

He steps closer to me, until his body pins mine against the sink. “Anymore thoughts?”

With that one action, they’ve all escaped. I strain my neck just to see his hard, masculine face, flooded with desire. My arms are still crossed, pulling my shirt closed, despite being unbuttoned. He can’t kiss me in this position. He’d need to back up so he can lean down, and it’s frustrating on all accounts. I should’ve left my high heels on.