“Her? Not following.”
“London. She’s stuck at my house with me.”
“London’s at your house?” Tallie squealed, joining us from down the hall in a silky robe and fuzzy house shoes with her hair up in a haphazard bun-slash-ponytail combo that I couldn’t even attempt to name. “I knew you two would hit it off.”
“If you mean hit each other…”
“You’re not going to hit her,” Hunter said, taking a seat on the recliner across from me.
Tallie, bleary-eyed and clearly exhausted but still smiling, kicked off her slippers, curled up on his lap, and tucked her toes between his thigh and the arm of the chair.
Something inside me warmed at the sight, and I tried to brush it off. I wasn’t here to get any crazy ideas about things I might like to have. Things I didn’t deserve. That kind of shit needed to get out of my head right this second. “Might have if I didn’t leave,” I ground out.
“Mm hmm, whatever,” Tallie said. She leaned her head on Hunter’s shoulder, her wild hair blocking half his face from my view. “If you two would just get over yourselves, I bet you’d go at it like rabbits.”
I gave her a look that said I wasn’t amused.
Her eyes went wide. “You already have! I knew it. Bet it was good, too. The way you two go at each other all the time, I can only imagine the sparks.”
“No sparks.” More like full-blown explosions.
Tallie rolled her eyes.
“How did she end up at your house?” Hunter asked, moving the conversation back to safer territory.
“Went to get gas for snow blower. Bought it after the snow last winter. Thought I could help neighbors with their cars, but someone stole her car at the gas station. Couldn’t leave her there. Woman all alone in wheelchair, stranded at gas station in snowstorm.” Papa would roll over in his grave at the thought. He’d raised me better than that.
“No, you couldn’t,” Tallie said, “because you wanted to get her home and screw her brains out.”
“Not screwing her brains out.” Which was a fucking lie. That was exactly what I’d been doing, and what I wished I could continue doing, because it shut her up and got her to leave me in peace for a while. At least for as long as we were fucking. But now she said no. No sex, just talking. The last thing I wanted to do.
“So you two are arguing a lot or something? And you’re stuck together in your house until everything thaws?” Hunter asked, sounding like this entire conversation amused him to no end. Some friend he was.
“Woman won’t stop pushing. Why you have tattoos? Why you have beard? Tell me about wreck when you tried to kill your best friend.”
“She wouldn’t say that,” Tallie said, her tone just this side of chiding.
“How you know? You meet her one time, think you know her. She sees one tattoo, she thinks she knows.”
“Maybe she knows more than you think she does,” Tallie said, and I scoffed.
“London probably wouldn’t say something like that, but I bet you would,” Hunter added with a pointed look in my direction.
“I didn’t try to kill Sergei.”
“We know you didn’t. But do you know that?”
“Fuck you,” I bit off, and he laughed. “Sorry, Tallie,” I added sheepishly once I realized I’d cursed in front of her. I tried not to do that, to lose my cool like that around my teammates’ wives and girlfriends. Not that I was careful around all women. I’d cursed at the team owner’s wife once, but there was something about her that practically begged for it. She was horrified, which only made me want to do it again.
Tallie waved me off like it was nothing. “This ain’t my first rodeo. But seriously…y’all are going at each other?”
Like monkeys in heat, but I wasn’t going to say that out loud. She’d just cackle like she won the lottery if I admitted how right she was on that score. “Constant arguing. Constant prodding.”
She grinned. “I bet the makeup sex is hot, though.”
“Not making up.”
“No? So angry sex, then?” She waggled her brows. “That’s good, too.” She gave Hunter a pointed look that I did my best to ignore.
“And you got so worked up you needed to go for a walk,” he put in.
“Yes.”
“In the snow,” Tallie said. “With no shoes on.”
“I’m Russian,” I grumbled, silently cursing myself when I shivered. “Thought Harper needed me.”
“She’s been out like a light since that call. She’s fine. And now that we know it works as well over the phone—”
“I can still come. I can rock her. Works better.” I might have been too desperate in my argument, but I wasn’t ready to give up my time with that baby. I needed Harper more than she needed me, and that wasn’t easy for me to explain.
Tallie gave me a questioning look, but she didn’t contradict me.
“Have you cooled off enough you’re ready to go home?” Hunter asked. “She’s in a wheelchair. You can’t leave her alone in your house with all those stairs for too long.”
The walk had worked a hell of a lot better than a cold shower would have in terms of getting rid of my hard-on, but I wasn’t so sure it had done anything for my inappropriate anger. I scowled at him.
“Come on,” he said. “I’m driving you home.”
“Can’t drive in this. People getting stuck. Causing wrecks.”
“Wanna bet I can’t? Did you pass any cars that were stuck on your way over?”
I hadn’t, but I didn’t want to tell him as much. The bigger problems were on the highway and main roads. No one had been out in our neighborhood when I’d walked over to his place, and he was surely a competent driver in snow. In other words, he was kicking me out so I would have to deal with London, whether I wanted to or not.
“Go on,” Tallie said. “You can’t leave her alone like this, and there’s not a chance in hell I’m letting you walk home in your bare feet and without a coat on.”
I knew it. I didn’t like it, but I knew it.
Damn it.
I TRIED TO convince Hunter to stick around for a while, but, bastard that he was, he left as soon as he dropped me in front of my house. He didn’t even wait to be sure London hadn’t locked me out, though, because the snow had turned to sleet and freezing rain in the time that we’d been gone from his house, and it was only going to get worse from there. He needed to get home, and I knew it, but I still wasn’t happy he was abandoning me.
He could’ve been a friend and acted as a buffer for me for a few minutes at least, especially after all the ways I’d been helping him and Tallie with Harper. That wouldn’t be asking too much, would it? But he was gone, and I was doomed to be all alone with London again.
When I walked through the front door, she wheeled into the hall.
“So you didn’t freeze to death,” she said.
I grunted. “I’m Russian.”
“So you’re fond of saying. You’re also an idiot.”
The last thing I wanted to do was start another fight right away. I climbed the few steps in the entryway and moved past her into the living room.
“Your feet are blue,” she said, following me.
I whirled around, praying for patience. “You need anything? Or can I put you in bed?” It was plenty late enough that I was ready to be done with her for the night.
She gave me a suggestive look.
“No fucking, you said.”
“So I did.”
“You need anything?” I repeated.
“I should probably go to the bathroom again,” she said. “With my—”
“Chair and purse,” I cut in. I knew the drill by now, whether or not I understood why the fuck she would need her purse to piss. I crossed over and picked her up to get the process started.
She shivered the instant I touched her, and damn if her tits didn’t harden to stiff peaks.
I glared, mainly because I couldn’t stop myself from focusing on those gorgeous breasts, a
nd it pissed me off. “Sorry I’m cold.”
“You should take a hot shower or something. Warm up.”
I noticed she didn’t offer to warm me up herself.
I deposited her in the bathroom and went back for the rest of her stuff. Once she was settled, I decided to do exactly what she’d suggested, going into the other bathroom and turning on the steaming spray.
By the time I finished and came out with nothing but a towel around my waist, still dripping, she had wheeled herself into my bedroom. Her eyes roved over my body again, assessing and appraising, and triggering yet another erection. Which, I might add, she noticed, if the way she licked her lips was any indication.
“So you’re sure about me sleeping in here?” she asked.
Positive. Especially because if I left her in here and went downstairs to sleep on the couch, it meant I could be away from her for a while. Eight hours without fighting or fucking sounded really good at the moment.
“Bed is all yours,” I said, going into my walk-in closet to find something to put on.
“You could share it with me,” she said.
“You ready to fuck again? Had enough talk for now?”
“No, but I wasn’t offering sex. I was suggesting we could share the bed.”
“Next time I’m in bed with you, we’re fucking. Got it?”
She snorted in laughter. “Message received, loud and clear. Enjoy the couch.”
When I came out of the closet in sweatpants, she’d already gotten into the bed and was situating the blankets over her. I paused long enough to debate whether I was doing the right thing or not. But chances were high that she’d try to talk to me all night long, and all I’d want to do was fuck her. Not a good combination.
I stalked out of the bedroom and started to close the door, but she said, “Dima?”
I stopped with the door cracked. “What?”
“Might want to leave that open so I can shout for you if I need you.”
“You shout loud enough.” So loud I could hear her at Hunter’s house, most likely. But I left the door open and went downstairs to figure out how I’d manage to sleep on my couch.
HOURS LATER, I woke up shivering, with a massive crick in my neck and my hips and knees aching like a son of a bitch. My couch had not been designed for a man over six feet tall to sleep on it. Regardless of that, though, I shouldn’t be this cold if I still had electricity. I mean, I had a fucking blanket on.
I blinked my eyes open and squinted toward the kitchen, expecting to see the green glow from the microwave clock, but it was pitch black. The streetlights outside weren’t even glaring in my house.
No power.
So we had no heat.
Lord only knew how long we’d been without. Quite a while, based on how cold it was in the house. And if I was already this cold, there was no doubt London was freezing her ass off. She was a woman, and in my experience, women were always complaining of being cold—at least until they reached menopause, when they were constantly hot.
There wasn’t any way around me building a fire and going up to check on her. I rolled off the couch and grabbed the blanket to take it with me, deciding to wake her first, and then stumbled up the stairs.
“Dima?” London said. Her voice shook, which made me feel like an ass. Not that it was my fault the electricity was out. None of this had been my fault, but I couldn’t stop myself from feeling like I should have done something to prevent it.
I stood in the open doorway to my bedroom and saw her, curled up in a fetal position and shaking as hard as I’d ever seen a person shake. Damn it.
“Power’s out,” I said.
“Has been for hours.”
“Why you didn’t call for me?” Not that I could have prevented the power lines going down under the weight of the snow and ice, but still.
“I thought maybe you needed more time.”
“Time?”
“To get over me poking at you so much.”
“You planning to stop?” I asked.
“Nope.” She tried to wink, but she was shaking so hard it made her look like a crazy person. “But I thought I should give you time to adjust, at least.”
“You’re freezing.”
“You think?”
“Need to make a fire. You have to come down with me.”
“I have to, do I?”
“Unless you want to freeze. I can leave you here.”
She shook her head. I crossed to the bed and threw the blankets off her. She was like an icicle when I picked her up, and she curled around me, sucking away any warmth I had left in me. “Fuck, woman. How long you planned to wait before calling for me?”
“Long enough.”
“Fucking stubborn-ass woman.”
She smirked at me.
I carried her downstairs, tossed her on the couch, and bundled her in blankets. Then I went outside to bring in some wood and started building a fire.
London made a dreamy, sighing sort of sound, which irked me.
“What?” I demanded.
“Just watching the way your back muscles work while you do that. You’ve got a gorgeous back, Dima. A lot like the rest of you. The moonlight is lighting you up like a Christmas tree. And speaking of Christmas trees, why don’t you have one?”
“Russian Christmas isn’t like American Christmas. Not even on the same day.” I threw a couple more logs into position and got up to find matches.
“What was Christmas like for you?”
Lonely, just like most of the rest of my life, but I wasn’t going to tell her that. I came back to the fireplace with my box of matches and struck a few until I got the kindling to take flame. “Christmas was quiet. Me and Papa. That was all.”
“Not your mother?”
“No mother.”
“You mean you never knew your mother?”
I blew on the flames, gently urging them to spread. “Why does it matter?”
“Why are you so determined that you shouldn’t matter?” she shot back at me.
The flames took hold of some of the bigger logs, so I set the grate back in place. Too bad it hadn’t taken longer. Now I had to face her.
The moonlight combined with the flames highlighted the reddish undertones to her hair, making them dance in front of my eyes. Her gaze pierced me. Never wavered. Drove me mad with wanting, but I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what it was that I wanted, other than her. But that was a stupid thought, because she made me feel crazy all the time. How could I want her? And better yet, why would I want her?
But I did.
“Be back,” I muttered, going back upstairs before she could pick away at one more layer of the scars surrounding me.
I stripped all the blankets and pillows off the bed and grabbed as many more as I could from the closet. The pile was so big I couldn’t see over it, but I carried them downstairs with me and created a pallet on the floor in front of the hearth. When it was ready, I plucked London off the couch and lay her on it, tucking the blankets all around her.
She never took her eyes off me, damn her. Constantly searching, but I didn’t have a clue what she thought she would find. There wasn’t anything worthwhile in me for her to discover.
I tried to get up and go back to the couch, but she grabbed my hand.
“What you want?” I bit off, jerking to free myself from her grasp.
She wouldn’t let go. Instead, she tugged on me, dragging me down beside her. “We can keep each other warm,” she said.
“Told you, next time I’m in bed with you, I fuck you.”
“Hmm. Well, I guess it’s a good thing this isn’t your bed, then, isn’t it?” Then she yanked harder on my hand and pulled me down beside her, wrapping herself all around me. It was kind of similar to how Tallie had wrapped herself around Hunter earlier, which was exactly the wrong thing for me to think about at the moment.
I couldn’t deny it felt good to have her warmth and to feel her body pressed against mine. But I also couldn’t rela
x.
Because I’d never slept with a woman before.
I’d fucked plenty of them, but it had only ever been sex.
This was feeling like a hell of a lot more than sex, and I wasn’t sure I liked it.
I’D NEVER FELT so deliciously toasty as I did when I woke up the next morning, with the fire still burning, Dima’s limbs entwined with mine, and the sun streaming through the windows. My face, though—and the tip of my nose, in particular—was freezing. I definitely didn’t want to move out of my cocoon of warmth, and I wasn’t ready for Dima to get up yet, either. He was like a human furnace. Like my human furnace. I couldn’t stand the thought of losing his body heat, let alone the semblance of intimacy we’d forged in sleep.
Actually, lying here next to him, I was surprised to realize I wanted a whole lot more intimacy than the little bit we’d already established. Not just sex, but closeness on a soul level.
Which was a dangerous thought. Dima hadn’t budged an inch in terms of letting me in, or even letting go of all the negativity that he was desperately clinging to. He was as bound and determined as ever to keep living in the past. Based on my own history and my relationships with other people who’d moved past traumatic, life-changing events, that wasn’t something I could live with in the long term. I couldn’t be with someone who refused to forgive himself for a mistake. He’d never let me love him if he couldn’t love himself.
Still, even if indulging myself with the fantasy that Dima could ever move on and be ready for a life again was a bad idea, I needed to take advantage of this unguarded moment while it lasted. I snuggled closer to him, but instead of humoring me, he rolled away. In a flash, the dream fizzled out from under me.
Bastard, I thought to myself. The man was hell-bent on keeping his distance in everything but sex. “Don’t get up yet,” I complained, my voice cracking from sleep.
He kept going, though, climbing out from beneath the mound of blankets and getting to his feet. “Calling electric company.”
I felt the loss of him immediately, so I rolled back toward the flames.
“They won’t be able to tell you anything but that they’re working on it,” I shouted after him.
“Calling anyway.”
Ghost Dance (Tulsa Thunderbirds Book 3) Page 10
