by Lily Harlem
“Oh, damn, I don’t seem to have any paper,” Harmony was saying, tapping the pockets on her short white skirt in an exaggerated manner. “How silly of me.”
“Then we’ll have to improvise,” Jackson said, sticking the pen in his mouth and pulling the lid off with his teeth.
“Oh, what do you suggest?” Harmony asked, batting her eyelashes.
He waggled the tip of the pen in the air and then angled it at her chest, speaking around the lid, “It may have to be a skin autograph.”
“Well that’s a good idea,” Harmony said, stepping closer and tugging her top so that the swell of her breasts, and the top arc of her nipple, were completely visible.
I resisted shaking my head. She really was incorrigible. But who could blame her? With our brief few hours on the ground, if she didn’t move quickly it wouldn’t happen. Nothing would ever happen. The life of an international flight attendant was one that required snap decisions and lots of action. Sleep was usually the priority so free time wasn’t something we had in abundance. Just as well I was due a weeks’ leave in two days. Bliss. I couldn’t wait. I’d head down to Miami for some fun, hit the malls and the pool big time.
As Jackson leaned in close and slowly scrawled his name on Harmony’s flesh, I looked at the tall player in front of me again. He was still kind of smiling at me but now he also had a sinful glint in his eye, one I recognized. He liked what he saw. He liked me, or rather, my tight pink top, denim Donna Karan hotpants and waist-length hair. A swell of triumph grew within me, because that was just fine—I liked what I saw, too.
“There we go,” Jackson said, replacing the lid on the pen. “How’s that?”
Harmony glanced at her chest. Her brunette locks fell forward and tumbled over the signature. “Wonderful. Thank you.”
Jackson shifted his bag over his shoulder and frowned. “What you gonna do when you shower?”
Harmony pouted. “I don’t know. I’ll be sad to see it go.”
“Then you should come home with me so I can redo it, later that is, after you’ve showered.” He held out his hand to her and raised his eyebrows.
“Well that would be a solution,” she said, smiling coyly and delicately resting her hand in his.
He raised her knuckles to her mouth and kissed them. “I’d hate to leave a fan wanting,” he murmured. “Or disappointed.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’d never do that,” she said.
“Not a chance.”
Harmony giggled and turned to me. “I’ll catch you later, Samantha. I’m going with Jackson, so he can redo this and—”
“Yeah, sure.” I gave her a have-fun smile and waved her away.
She didn’t need telling twice and turned, tottering off on her patent-red Vera Wangs.
Jackson slipped his arm around her waist and she bumped hips with him before gluing herself to his side.
She’d have a wild evening, no doubt, and who could blame her for grabbing the opportunity? She was young, free and single and knew what she wanted—a woman of the twenty-first century.
“Vadmir,” the man in front of me said, holding out his hand. “My name is Vadmir Arefyev.”
I tore my attention from the departing couple and let his warm fingers wrap around mine. He had a few callouses on his palm and his nails were neat and square-shaped. “Samantha.” I paused. “But I guess you know that because my friend just said it.”
“Yes.” He grinned, a proper smile this time, not the half-amused curl of his lips he’d had before. “But you have lost your friend.” He spoke with an accent, Russian I guessed, having heard passengers speak that way.
He released my hand.
“I’ve only lost her for a few hours.” I knotted my fingers together, trapping the warmth infused from his palm. “Let’s hope she doesn’t eat him alive.”
He laughed, a deep, rumbling chuckle that shifted his huge pecs beneath his t-shirt. “I hope she does. Jackson is still getting used to his new Viper fame and it might teach him a lesson. Knock him up a peg or two.”
“Do you mean down a peg or two?”
“Yes, yes, that is what I mean, down.” He smiled again and I noticed that his two front teeth were slightly crossed.
“Yes, he’s new, isn’t he?” Harmony had mentioned that earlier. “In that case, he might be a little worn-out at practice tomorrow.”
He rubbed his hand over his chin, creating a sharp sound over his dusting of pale stubble. “I’m not here tomorrow but it would be good to see.” He nodded at the parking lot. “So do you need a ride now?”
“I’ll grab a cab, that’s how we got here.”
“I don’t mind taking you somewhere. I’ve finished for the day.”
“No really, I don’t want to bother you.”
“It is no…er…bother.” He gestured to the lot. “Anyway, there are no cabs here.”
“I’ll call one.”
“That will take a lot of time, and standing in this heat.” He shook his head. “Not good.”
As he’d spoken, a small, hot breeze lifted my hair from my shoulders and wafted the scent of dew-coated moss and light herbs my way. He was wearing an unusual cologne that seeped into my nose and heightened my awareness of his magnetism. There was definitely something seriously sexy about Vadmir Arefyev.
Damn, I really should get a ride out of here.
In fact, better still. I should make him my ride.
“Well I guess you’re right,” I said, “there are no cabs, so yes, a ride would be cool. As long as you don’t mind.”
“I really don’t mind.” He adjusted his bag, his upper arm muscles straining against the sleeve of his t-shirt. “It’s this way.”
He turned to the lot and I fell into step beside him. I had to take two strides to his one but luckily my Hermes wedges were up to the job.
He swung his keys around his fingers again. “Samantha, that is a pretty name.”
“Thanks, yours is…unusual.”
“Not where I’m from.” He shrugged. “There are plenty of Vadmirs there.”
“Where is that, then?”
He glanced at me. “You are not a Vipers fan?”
“No, sorry, I was just hanging out here with Harmony. I’m more of a Prada, Gucci and Jimmy Choo fan. Don’t mind a bit of Donna Karan and Armani, either.”
He chuckled again. “I get you.”
“So you’re from where exactly?” I asked.
“Russia. North of Moscow. I’ve been here four years now.”
“Your English is good.”
“Thank you. I have worked very hard to get it right.”
“And do you miss home? Russia?”
He paused at a white convertible Chevy Camero and clicked his key fob. The car beeped to life and he tugged open the passenger door. “Yes, of course. I miss my family, my parents are not getting younger but at least, doing this, playing here, it means I can provide for them.”
“That’s very kind of you.”
“They’ve always been very kind to me.” He smiled and gestured for me to get into the car.
I climbed inside and he shut the door. As he walked around the front, I buckled up and placed my purse down at my side.
“And you,” he said, dropping into the driver’s seat. “You’re not American. I can tell.”
“Ah, well spotted. No, I’m English, well, technically half-and-half but I grew up in England so that’s home. But my father lives over here, in Denver. America has been home, too for a long time now.”
“We played Denver last month. I liked the cold. The heat in Florida can be very…tiring.” He revved the engine and flicked on the air-conditioning.
“I won’t disagree with you there.” I crossed my legs.
His gaze drifted over my thighs and knees and I couldn’t help yet another small thrill. It seemed Vadmir was a leg man, which was just as well. I had great legs. Not by chance but by hours in hotel gyms and a healthy dose of good genes from my grandmother and mother. Right now my legs w
ere also tanned to a milky-coffee shade of brown.
“Tell me if you get cold,” he said. “You’re…er…not wearing much.”
Now it was my turn to laugh. “I’m fine, it’s a relief to be out of the sun.”
He looked me in the eye and my breath hitched. There really was something captivating about him, and being this close to him—his handsome face, his scent and his obvious interest in me—was hitting all my buttons.
I pulled in a deep breath, licked my lips and willed my heart not to race too much.
“So where do you want me to take you?” he asked, his attention dropping to my mouth and his eyelids getting heavy.
On a fast and sweaty one-way trip to Heaven.
“I’m staying near the airport,” I said, “so my hotel would be great.”
He blinked, long and slow and I studied his lashes. “How ’bout we grab a drink on the way, Sammy?” He paused. “Can I call you Sammy?”
“Yeah, sure.” I shrugged, feigning nonchalance because I was Samantha without exception—well, apart from now. And for some reason I didn’t mind Sammy when he said it. Perhaps it was the accent. “And I guess we could grab a drink on the way, if that’s what you fancy Vadmir.”
Chapter Two
Vadmir took a right off the turnpike and pulled up to a small, wood-clad bar. It was fake Western complete with a rail to tie up non-existent horses, and had saloon-style doors. Above it a sign shaped like a spur read Watering Hole.
“Wait there,” he said after he’d turned off the engine.
“Why?”
“Just wait.” He unfolded his big body from the car and strolled ’round the front, his finger gliding over the bonnet. He then pulled open my door and held out his hand. “There you go.”
I smiled. “I can open a car door, you know.”
“I’m sure you can, but a lady shouldn’t have to when there is a gentleman around.”
Oh, he was a charmer all right. And with that spark in his beautiful blue eyes and that cheeky grin, he could be very dangerous indeed.
Or perhaps he could be just what I needed.
I took his hand. His hold was solid as I straightened.
“Phew, it’s getting hotter out here,” I said, “and it’s only March.”
“There’s still thick snow on the ground in my hometown,” he said, grabbing a dark green sports cap from the glove compartment. He pulled it low on his head and clicked his car locked.
“At least you get a few hours a day at the rink, in the cold.”
“Yes, that time in the cold is good.” He slipped an arm around my waist and urged me forward. He stooped slightly, as though trying to make himself inconspicuous, which was impossible given his size.
The Watering Hole was cool and dark and a familiar country song was playing on a jukebox. The floor was made of something designed to look wooden but felt like linoleum underfoot.
Vadmir dropped his arm from my waist as we walked toward the bar.
I missed his touch.
“What are you having?” he asked, looking down at me.
“A cola thanks.”
“JD with that?” He tugged on his bottom lip with his teeth and appeared to be holding in a grin, as though daring me to throw caution to the wind.
“No.” I smiled. “Too early in the day for me to hit the booze.” Besides, if I was going to be lucky enough to get up close and personal with him, I wanted to be compos mentis, store the whole experience accurately in my memory to bring out on lonely nights and long flights.
“Two colas,” he ordered, holding up his index and middle finger to the barman.
The barman stared at him for a second too long and then set to filling up a couple of tumblers from the draft. “Here,” he said, sliding them toward us. “On the house.”
“Nah, I’ll pay,” Vadmir said, shoving five his way.
The barman shrugged, took it and then pushed forward a pen and a cardboard bar mat. “Can I get your autograph? I root for the Vipers every game.” He gestured to a board behind him. It was covered in red and white Vipers paraphernalia including a pic of Vadmir with his arm around the team captain who’d I’d seen earlier. They were both grinning broadly and their shiny black gum guards gave them a menacing appearance despite the obvious jubilation of the moment.
“Sure,” Vadmir said, hovering the pen over the paper. “Who is it for?”
“Devon,” the barman said. “Please.”
Vadmir quickly scrawled on the mat and pushed it back.
“Thanks,” the barman said, grinning and spinning to the wall behind him. He set about rearranging the existing pictures and newspaper clippings to accommodate the new autograph.
Vadmir picked up the colas and turned to me. “Quiet corner?”
“Yes, sounds good.”
He led the way to what was indeed a dark and quiet corner. I took the opportunity to study his butt—it was high and taut and his jeans sat just right, and damn, he had long legs, like super-model-long legs, and I’d wager they were as solid as his arms were.
Feeling a little in awe of his physical size, I scooted into the booth opposite him and sipped my drink through the yellow-striped straw. He dropped his gaze down my throat and I wondered if he was watching me swallow—I wondered if he was imagining what it would be like to shove his cock in my mouth and come. Would I swallow then? Was his cock as big as the rest of him?
“So,” I said, licking my lips. “What are the chances of your team picking up the cup this season?” Harmony had mentioned something about a cup, I was sure of it.
He cleared his throat and captured my gaze with his. “Good, more than good, things are going…swell.”
“Swell, mmm….” Despite the cool drink I was hot and the word swell, damn, it made me think of swollen, engorged. Fuck, I was getting horny. I squirmed on the leather seat, plucked a band from my purse and set about scooping my hair onto the top of my head. I collected it in a thick ponytail then wound the band at the base.
Again he watched my movements, then took a long slug of his drink.
My breasts shifted beneath my t-shirt. He appeared to struggle momentarily on keeping his attention on my hair but then he gave in and his eyelids drooped and he watched my chest.
My nipples were tight and tingling and I knew without looking they’d be poking at my top.
“Phew, that’s better,” I said, “it’s hot in here.”
He grinned, slow and lazy, as if he had all the time in the world. “You’re hot,” he said, tipping his head and returning his attention to my face. “Like real hot, and real pretty, too.”
“Why thank you.” I steepled my hands beneath my chin and leaned forward on the table. I then studied the dampness on his soft bottom lip—a residual speck of moisture from his drink. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
He laughed, a low chuckle and winked. “So I’ve been told.”
“I can’t imagine a player for the Vipers doesn’t know what he’s worth. You must be very talented to be on the team.”
“Yeah, I’m talented.” He paused. “And not just at hockey.”
I shrugged, trying to go for nonchalant, but I was enjoying our banter. “So what else can you do?” Jesus, I could just imagine.
He sat back and folded his arms, his knuckles pressing against his biceps. “Wanna find out…Sammy? Want me to show you what else I can do?”
My belly clenched and a quiver attacked my inner thighs. They were a loaded couple of questions that I didn’t need decoding. He wanted to know if I was going to fuck him today. If I wanted to find out what else he was good at.
Hell yes.
I was a woman with needs and, from where I was sitting, I’d wager Vadmir Arefyev would be able to fulfill those needs and then some. Likely a few I hadn’t even known needed attending to. I also had an empty evening ahead of me now Harmony had taken off, so what harm could a little company do? Hot, horny male company with no strings attached and a body of the incredibly lickable variety.
/>
He was still studying me. His mouth had closed as though holding in more words as my brain formed an answer to his questions. Would I bolt? Slap him for his boldness? Or would I tell him that I’d been having dirty thoughts about sucking his cock for the last few minutes?
I reached for my drink again. Slurped up the last dregs of cola and then pushed it aside.
“My hotel is only five minutes from here,” I said. “Is your place closer?”
He shook his head. “No, ma’am. It’s about fifteen.”
“Then we should go to mine and you can show me your other…skills.” I paused. “I’m guessing you need privacy to do that.”
“Privacy is a definite requirement.” He unfolded his arms and leaned forward, coming so close to me I could smell his earthy cologne again. “I don’t want Devon over there snapping pics of my naked ass for his memorabilia wall. My new boss, she would likely have something to say about that.”
“I guess so.” Now I knew, without a doubt we were on the same page. And thank the Lord for that, because I was going to get up close and personal with a sexy Russian ass and I could hardly wait.
* * * *
The drive to the Daylight Hotel took a grand total of four minutes. Vadmir was foot-to-the-floor the entire way. He didn’t speak, just glanced at me a couple of times with a decidedly hungry look in his eyes.
But that was okay, because I was planning on letting him feast on me in the most unwholesome of ways. I just hoped he could walk the walk as well as talk the talk because I was buzzing for a bit of action.
He slammed to a stop underneath the hotel’s covered entrance, tossed the keys to a valet and, after opening my car door, strutted through the automatic doors into the foyer with his hand pressed against the small of my back.
I glanced around, hoping to God I wouldn’t see any of my flight team hanging about. I didn’t. They were most likely at the malls or sleeping. Luckily I was an old hat at shift work and lived in my own time zone.
“The elevators are this way,” I said, gesturing past a large urn holding orange and purple parrot flowers.
