Finding Alexei

by Kendall Ryan

  I’m still wearing my jeans, but Ryleigh’s rid me of my shirt, and she can’t seem to stop rubbing her palms all over my chest and abs. I’m not ashamed to say that I’m loving her hands all over me, no matter where they are. It feels really fucking good, and even though I want more, a lot more, I’m happy to let her set the pace.

  Then she reaches between us and unbuttons my jeans, and my heart rate triples.

  “Fuck, are you sure about this?” I kiss her throat as her hands work inside my boxer briefs. I can’t stop praising her, can’t stop kissing her, can’t stop wanting her. I never want this to end, but I need to hear her say that she wants this too.

  She stills unexpectedly. “Wait.”

  I pull back, terrified she’s come to her senses and is going to put the brakes on this whole thing. “What is it?” Blood pounds through my veins.

  Her nose scrunches up. “You didn’t, like, sleep with a whole bunch of groupies while you were gone, did you?”

  I smooth my thumb over the worry lines in her forehead. I can’t blame her for being worried. The shit some of my teammates do isn’t exactly a state secret. “No. I haven’t slept with anyone in months.”

  This makes Ryleigh smile.

  “Why are you worried? You didn’t have a whole bunch of dudes over while I was gone, did you?” I’m kidding, but I can’t help but tease her a little. At the same time, the thought of it makes my blood heat.

  She swats my arm. “I haven’t been with anyone in almost a year.”

  That news is surprising. She’s beautiful, and so sweet. “In that case, I think you deserve the deluxe treatment.” I smirk.

  “Hmm.” She grins. “And what does the deluxe treatment involve?”

  “Come here.” I stand, lift her in my arms, and carry her to my bedroom, where I place her on the bed. Then I tug her closer and press her thighs apart as I lower myself into the space between her legs.

  “Alexei . . .” She begins to protest, and then I draw her damp little panties down her legs. And when my tongue meets her silken wet core, her protests fade into cries of pleasure.

  “Lie back and enjoy, baby. I intend to taste every inch of you tonight.”

  I lick and suck at her tender flesh, holding her hips still with my hands. She tastes so good. All sweet, feminine arousal, and knowing it’s for me makes me impossibly harder.

  Within minutes, Ryleigh’s cries change into something more primal. She’s so damn close. Her pants and heavy breaths are about to make me come in my damn jeans like a teenager.

  I push one finger inside her tight heat and groan at how good she feels. Ryleigh cries out, lifting her hips to rock in time to my movements. Another lazy circle of my tongue and she comes, her body clenching around my finger as she cries out, panting my name.

  It’s the best fucking sound in the entire world.

  A few moments later, I join her on the bed, kissing and nibbling her inner thighs as I move up her body to lie beside her.

  Her hazy eyes blink open and find mine. “Wow. I think I’m a huge fan of the deluxe treatment,” she says, her voice breathy.

  I can’t help the chuckle that tumbles from my lips. Her honesty always gets me. Most girls I meet are only after my status, and are thrilled that I’m giving them the time of day, most likely with the hope that they’ll become a permanent fixture in my life. Ryleigh doesn’t care about that, and she’s fought me every step of the way up to this point.

  When her warm palm cups me through my boxers, my smile fades. I’m trying to rein in the desire I have for this woman, but she’s making it more difficult than I thought . . . that and the amount of time since I’ve been laid are at war with the gentlemanly pedestal Ryleigh has placed me on.

  “Can I touch you?” she asks.

  “Fuck yes.”

  Ryleigh plants a kiss to my chest on her way down, stopping to tickle my ab muscles with her tongue until she’s eye to eye with her prize.

  I tug my boxers and jeans down in one swift movement and chuck them over the side of the bed. Ryleigh’s eyes widen as she takes me in.

  “Oh, Alexei.” She groans, wrapping her delicate fist around my swollen shaft and giving it a firm stroke.

  Oh God.

  I release a guttural noise, and my eyes fall closed. I’ve wanted her hands on me since I first met her, and this is almost too much. Sensation overload takes over all rational thought.

  “Yes, baby. Stroke me, please.” I’m not above begging, because her hand beats my hand every day of the week.

  But Ryleigh has other ideas. She lowers herself between my legs, her back arching as she brings her mouth to me. The curve of her bare ass is distracting, and my gaze moves between that enticing view to the slow, wet kiss she’s currently treating the head of my cock to that feels so damn good.

  “Oh, fuck yes.” I growl when she swallows my whole length all the way to the back of her throat.

  So good.

  It’s so, so good.

  Then she adds a hand, twisting her palm as it slides up my firm shaft, and I know I’m going to come way too soon and embarrass myself. But in this moment, I couldn’t give two fucks.

  Pushing my hips up off the bed, I can’t help but fuck her mouth.

  “Too good. Fuck, Ryleigh. Shit. Yes, baby.”

  Her eyes are closed in concentration, and her dark eyelashes rest against her high cheekbones. She’s beautiful. A few more wet strokes and I come, erupting into her mouth in a series of hot jets that make me see stars.

  Ryleigh, always surprising me, swallows every drop, making needy little sounds in the back of her throat.

  Fuck.

  This girl.

  When she’s through, she crawls back up my body and presses a soft kiss to my neck.

  “That was fucking incredible,” I croak, my voice tight as I try to slow down my breathing.

  She giggles. “Glad you liked it.”

  I pull her closer and kiss her on the lips, threading my fingers through her hair. “Liked it? Baby, I fucking loved it.”

  As if on cue, Ella lets out a cry from the next room, and Ryleigh stiffens.

  “Relax. I’ve got her.” I rise from the bed and tug on my boxers.

  “She’s hungry. There’s a bottle already in the fridge.”

  I lean down and press a kiss to Ryleigh’s temple before shuffling out of the room, feeling like the luckiest fucking man in the world.

  Chapter Seven

  Ryleigh

  I wake up to the sound of Ella crying, which is nothing new. But when I blink my eyes open, it takes me a few moments to adjust to my surroundings.

  Instead of the white walls and fluffy white duvet I’ve become used to the past few nights in the guest room, I see navy blue walls and dark gray bedding. And I’m surrounded by the best scent in the entire world—Alexei’s masculine scent of leather and spice.

  Mmm.

  I fell asleep in his bed last night, in his arms, it seems . . . and somehow it just feels right. A smile graces my lips as I sit up, ready to swing my legs over the side of the bed to go take care of Ella, but firm hands circle my waist and tug me back to bed. Or, more specifically, toward a hard-muscled chest. Heat zips down my spine at the memory of what we did last night.

  “Don’t go. Not yet,” Alexei says in his deep, sexy voice, making my toes curl. He nips at my neck and sends shivers down my spine.

  I don’t want to leave the warmth of his muscular chest, but a whimpering baby is a powerful pull. “She’s hungry. I’ve got her this time.”

  “You sure?” he asks.

  “Positive.” I pat one hand against his firm abs, and this time I succeed in escaping his arms.

  “Okay,” he says sleepily as he rolls over to doze back off.

  I tiptoe from the room, grab my pajamas, and quickly dress before I reach Ella. She smiles when she sees me, and my heart melts at the sight of her gummy baby smile.

  “Hi, pretty girl,” I say as I lift her out.

  We head to the k
itchen and I make her a bottle. As I sit on the couch and begin feeding her, I stroke her hair and watch her drink. Her bright blue eyes latch onto mine as she takes greedy pulls from the bottle. For some reason, standing here in the kitchen with her, both of us in our pajamas, it makes me feel oddly emotional.

  “I’m going to find your mom. I promise.”

  Ella blinks up at me, and I lift her to my face, pressing a soft kiss against her forehead. Carrying her through the apartment, I settle on the couch, holding her close as she makes progress on the bottle.

  It strikes me again what a mess my life is. I’m sitting here with a baby, part of me still reeling about that, the other part of me feeling like I’m on cloud nine because of how sweet and sexy Alexei is, and how good he is with his tongue—but the truth is, things are far from okay. I was evicted from my apartment, Andi is still dodging my calls, I have to work today, and I’m worried about how Alexei will act when I tell him I have to go to work.

  He strolls out of the bedroom a short time later, freshly showered, and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. His long feet are bare, and his hair is still damp. He looks good enough to eat.

  Focus, Ryleigh.

  He starts a pot of coffee and then joins us in the living room, leaning down to touch Ella’s foot. “Good morning, princess,” he coos.

  I lift Ella to my shoulder and pat her back to burp her. Like the good little baby she is, she makes a loud burping sound almost instantly, and Alexei chuckles. I take a deep breath, hoping on the fact that he’s in a good mood. “I’ll need a ride to pick up my car today,” I say, testing the waters.

  “Sure. We can go after breakfast, if you like.”

  Wow. That was easier than I thought.

  “And, um, I’ll need to drop off Ella with my neighbor so I can go to work.”

  “You have to work today?” he asks, his voice tight.

  “Yes. From noon to six.” I hold my breath, waiting for him to make some comment forbidding me from going. Ella lets out one more small burp, and I place her on her special pillow on the couch beside me.

  Alexei heads into the kitchen and pours himself a cup of coffee. “I can watch her. There’s no need to get a babysitter.”

  I go back to folding the pile of freshly washed baby blankets, but there’s shock written all over my face. He surprises me at almost every turn. “You would do that?”

  “Sure,” he says offhandedly. “Why not?”

  “You don’t have work today?”

  “When we win a game, there’s no practice the following day. It’s a little perk they give us. I’m supposed to go in for an hour later for a team meeting, and we watch some of the highlight reel from the game. That’s it.”

  “But what about Ella?”

  He shrugs, heading back to the living room with his coffee mug in hand. “I can take her with me. It’s no big deal.”

  No big deal? “What will your teammates say?”

  “I don’t give a fuck what they say.”

  I smirk to myself. They’ll probably think she’s his.

  Why does the idea of that make my lips curl up in a smile?

  I realize if people saw all three of us out together, they would think we were Ella’s parents, and I can’t help but wonder what that would be like. To be part of a couple, part of a family again. Dreams like that are dangerous.

  “This is too generous, Alexei. As per usual with you.”

  He turns to face me, frowning as he sets his mug on the coffee table. “I’m far from being generous right now, Ryleigh. I don’t want you working there at all. But it’s a subject I’m guessing you’re not ready to discuss.”

  “I can’t quit, Alexei. What would I do for money? And don’t you dare suggest that I continue relying on you. You know I hate it. It makes me feel cheap and useless, and I won’t do it. You hardly know me. You have no obligation toward us.”

  He stalks closer with his eyes locked on mine, like he’s a predator and I’m his prey, and rubs his large hands up and down over my shoulders. “I know enough. I know that you’re self-reliant and independent. And I love that about you. Ninety-nine percent of the women I meet are happy to let me pay their way. You want to stand on your own two feet, and I respect that. I respect you.”

  I finish folding the blankets and stack them neatly inside the laundry basket. It’s been a huge blessing to have a washer and dryer here. My apartment doesn’t have one, and shuffling a baby out in the cold to a laundromat several times a week isn’t my idea of fun. That’s a reality I’ll have to face soon enough—well, as soon as I can get my back rent paid up.

  “Can I ask you something?” he says.

  “Of course.” After I move Ella to a blanket on the floor, I walk to the counter and pour myself a cup of coffee.

  “If you didn’t work there, what would you like to be doing instead?”

  That’s easy. “I always wanted to be a teacher. I finished my first two years of college on scholarship and with loans from my parents. Then the accident happened, and my parents . . .” I stop for a moment, looking down at my toes. “I lost my focus, I guess, and with it, my scholarship. That was two years ago now. I’d love to go back and finish my degree. But I make good money at the club, and now with Ella . . .”

  He nods. “I get it. But for what it’s worth, I think you’d make a wonderful teacher.”

  I smirk and mutter, “Thanks.” His words wrap around me like a warm blanket, comforting me and giving me hope at the same time.

  • • •

  After breakfast and a shower, Alexei drove me to my place so I could pick up my car. I also managed to sweet-talk my landlord into opening my apartment so I could pack up some of my belongings, and get more clothes for Ella and me. He agreed, but only after I handed over several hundred dollars toward my back rent. Then I spent six hours in my underwear serving cocktails to men.

  When I finally arrive home, the first thing on my agenda is a long, hot shower to wash the grime and regret off of me. Alexei gave me the code to his underground parking garage, and as I ride up the elevator, I smile, my anticipation at seeing the two of them bigger than you can imagine. The doors open, and nothing could have prepared me for what I find.

  The first thing I notice is the classical music playing. Interesting choice. The second thing I notice is the aroma of roasting chicken. It smells delicious.

  “Alexei?” I call out, not seeing them in the kitchen or living room.

  “In the bedroom,” he calls, already heading down the hall toward me.

  “Where’s Ella?”

  He grins at me and places a tender kiss on my forehead when he gets close. “Sound asleep.” He chuckles like this amuses him. “I’d like to get her on a regular schedule that doesn’t include a nap right at dinnertime, but for now, it is what it is.”

  I follow him into the kitchen, more than a little amazed he’s even thought about her schedule, let alone the fact that he’d like to make improvements to it. Why does that make my belly tingle?

  “But she’s been awake for the last several hours,” he says, checking on something inside the oven. “As she grows, that time frame will eventually increase.”

  I nod, accepting the wineglass he hands me like this all makes perfect sense. When did this big, strapping jock become a 1950s housewife?

  I blink and take a sip of the chilled white wine he’s handed me.

  “Welcome home.” He smiles.

  My insides twist. This isn’t my home. Ella isn’t our baby. None of this is real and playing make-believe like this is dangerous.

  “Thank you,” I murmur, my eyes on Alexei’s.

  “You want to take a shower before dinner?” he asks. “There’s time.”

  “Sure.” I take another sip of my wine and set the glass on the counter before making my way to the guest bath.

  My knees are trembling, and it’s not from the wine. It’s from the drop-dead sexy man who’s babysat all day, cooked me a hot meal, and was thoughtful enough to remember t
hat I like a shower when I get home from work.

  What am I going to do when it’s time to leave this fairy tale and return to the real world?

  I don’t even want to think about that tonight. And if I’m being brutally honest with myself, I don’t want to think about that ever.

  • • •

  After my shower, I dress in a pair of leggings and a tank top that hugs my curves. I apply moisturizer and light makeup, even taking the time to dry my hair so it falls in soft waves over my shoulders. I hate how I feel so dirty and grimy when I leave work, and now I feel fresh, clean, and worthy of the man who is waiting on me down the hall. Smiling one last time at my reflection and giving my hair a fluff, I head off.

  I find Alexei where I left him in the kitchen. He watches me approach, a dark and predatory look on his face. I like it way too much. It sends a shiver all the way through me.

  “Hi,” he says, his voice tense.

  “Hey,” I say, attempting a casual and breezy tone.

  The truth is, he makes me feel anything but casual. He makes me feel hot and irritated at times, but also cherished, and it’s a feeling I’m not accustomed to at all. The truth is, his caring for me makes me nervous. What will I do if he changes his mind tomorrow and decides we’re too much work? I won’t let myself be devastated. I can’t.

  I consider asking him about his choice in music tonight, but I have a feeling he’d say something about classical music being good for babies, that it increases their IQ or something. It’s a statistic I think I’ve heard somewhere. He’s like a freaking baby-whisperer.

  Alexei sets the table while I retrieve my wineglass. There are two whole roasted chickens, baked potatoes with all the fixings, and steamed broccoli. It’s better than I’ve eaten in a long time. This is a far cry from my usual dollar-menu fare from the drive-through I often have for dinner. I don’t want to tell him as much, as I sense it will only make him angry—or sad—and I can’t bear either of those looks from him.

  “This is amazing,” I say instead, sitting in the chair he pulls out for me.

  The other times we’ve eaten dinner together have been at the breakfast bar or on the couch. This feels like something different, and it makes my mouth twitch with a smile. I busy myself with cutting the chicken he serves me, and heap sour cream onto my steaming potato.