The Player (The Game Maker #3)

by Kresley Cole

  I’d never understood a sea breeze.

  A spray of white caught my eye, then another. Something sliding through the ocean . . . “Look!” I whirled around and grabbed his hand. “Whales! Real ones.” Not high rollers.

  The corner of his lips tilted up. “They migrate past here.”

  No way! “You can see all of this from your balcony?”

  “You can see all of this from our bed.”

  I dragged my gaze from his face and turned back to the water. “Amazing.”

  “And you haven’t even beheld the sunset. I have to warn you, though, it does rain here a lot. Much more than you’re used to.”

  “But that’s why it’s so green.” Unlike my apartment complex, where drifting sand chased me across the parking lot.

  He turned me to face him, the warm breeze ruffling his hair. “You want to make our home here?”

  I wished he’d simply asked me if I liked it. The odds of me living here for an extended period were slim—not when spending my days with him meant losing days with my family.

  I forced myself to hold his gaze. “The property’s stunning, Dmitri.” He was stunning. “I’m pretty sure I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

  Never taking his eyes off me, he said, “I am certain I have.”

  CHAPTER 22

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  “What do you think?” I asked Dmitri, modeling a bikini I’d designed.

  He’d been doing laps in the heated pool while I’d gotten settled and changed, but he treaded water to avidly view my suit. His expression said, Are you kidding me?

  A cutout in the center of the black bandeau top displayed my cleavage. The red thong bottom had a flirty tie on each side for even easier access. I turned in a circle for him.

  Voice rumbling, he said, “I think I am going to enjoy being married very, very much.” He swam to the steps. “And this is further evidence you’re an exhibitionist. Did you design it?”

  “I did.” I’d packed the bikini, having no idea it’d be part of my freaking trousseau. “It’s made of . . .” I lost track of what I’d been saying when he emerged from the water.

  He wore board shorts that hung low on his narrow hips, a dive watch, and nothing else. Drops sluiced over his rugged muscles, his rigid pecs and washboard abs. He was semihard and growing.

  The sight of him swindled my breath yet again. I wanted more of what he’d given me, craved to touch every inch of that body.

  “Do you want something to drink or eat?” he asked.

  “Hmm? Oh.” Gourmet snacks had been arranged on the outdoor dining table in an enticing display, along with a champagne bucket. “Champagne sounds great.”

  He crossed to the table, shaking out his hair in such a guy way; reminders that he was a mere mortal thrilled me.

  He inspected the vintage, then popped open the bottle. After pouring two flutes, he gave me one and took my free hand in exchange. “Watch the sun set with me, moya zhena.”

  “What does that mean?”

  He led me to the steaming hot tub. “My wife.”

  Heart thud. “Sure. Why not?” I sank into the warm water, sitting beside him on the bench. “Your bodyguards aren’t going to be coming around, are they? I might be an exhibitionist, but not with your employees.”

  He’d already sent the chef, assistant, and the housekeeper home for a couple of days.

  “Understood. Our bodyguards have a house on the property, and monitor security through cameras.”

  “Cameras?” I frowned over my shoulder.

  “Only on the other side. No one can approach the house by land without being monitored, but we have privacy on the ocean side. Motion sensors only.”

  “The place is seriously high-tech.” Earlier, he’d introduced me to the house. You could talk to it: “Lights.” “I’m cold.” “Music.”

  His expression was amused, eyes crinkling at the sides. “Well, I am a tech genius.”

  I grinned. “I don’t even know what you used to do.”

  “I’ll explain my work soon. And you can teach me about clothing design.”

  Would I be here long enough? Pang.

  With a sigh, I turned toward the ocean, taking a generous sip from my flute. Right now my family was celebrating with the bubbly too. Cheers, guys. Go Muppets.

  I wished they could see this sunset. Rays blazed over the water, setting it aflame, and I had a front-row seat.

  Because of Dmitri Sevastyan. He’d wanted me to draw back curtains for him? He was drawing them back for me.

  “I believe the display is best when there are low storm clouds,” he said. “We’ll have rain soon.”

  “It looks too wild to be real.” That dreamy sense persisted.

  “The night you and I met, I imagined watching a sunset here with you.”

  I faced him with a smile, thinking he was kidding.

  But his sunstruck eyes held my gaze. “With my first sight of you, I was done-in. All this shining blond hair and these shapely curves drew my eyes like a magnet. You looked like an angel to me. One with an edge.” An edge? He should see me sharp cards. “My chest tightened, and my pulse raced.”

  “Really?” No nails-over-chalkboard sensation. He was telling the truth.

  He nodded. “When I registered the blue of your eyes, I believed I was having a heart attack. I thought I would die—with you as my last sight.”

  Intense man! My flute shook on the way to my lips. I’d already drained it?

  “Our courtship might have been brief, but it was grueling all the same—because I’ve never wanted anything so badly, and I knew I would get only one shot at winning you.”

  “I understand you were attracted to me, but don’t you have a history of pursuing something all hot and heavy, then losing interest? It kind of sounded like that happened with your computer work.”

  He took my empty glass, setting his and mine aside. The muscles in his damp forearm flexed and something caught my attention. I squinted, able to make out the faintest scar running across his wrist, then up his arm.

  The first hint of an imperfection on this man’s body. From a surgery?

  Before I could ask, he said, “I had goals I wanted to accomplish in my career, and once I did, I turned over my work. My goal with you will take a lifetime to achieve.”

  “What goal?”

  “I told you I would always want more from you. Affection. Attachment. There is no limit. I will coax it from you.” He pulled me across his lap, then coiled his arms around me.

  “You just put a ring on it, Dmitri.” God, had he ever. It still branded my finger. “Seems like you got a lot of me today.”

  “There’s a difference between being wed and being married. We were wed today, but I want our lives entangled, until they are seamless. Until the line between us blurs to nothing.”

  I almost wished I hadn’t grown so jaded, so I could believe in fairy tales and love at first sight. Take away my armor, and I would be head over heels for Dmitri already.

  He was a dream man who’d brought me to a dream home to watch a dream scene. Lava-orange and yellow and scarlet battled in the sky. “This is all make-believe.”

  “This can be our life,” he rasped at my ear. “I want it to be.”

  What if you found out something bad about me? I needed to ask him—but that would only make him look harder.

  He curled his finger under my chin. “I haven’t kissed my wife nearly enough today.” He leaned in.

  His lips covered mine, and I let myself fall under his spell again. When my lids slid shut, I saw residual images of the sunset—and his eyes.

  Lady Luck help me, this felt like . . . a beginning. A true one.

  Once I was panting against his lips, he drew back, a wicked gleam in his gaze. “I want you to watch that sunset while I touch you. I’m going to play with you till dusk.” He untied my bathing suit top, peeling it off my breasts. He cupped one, and his
breath gusted over the top of my sensitive ear. “You’re not to cover these when we’re alone.”

  I nearly moaned. To walk around topless in a glass house? It was as if he’d bought it with an exhibitionist in mind! Simply being outside and half-dressed was a huge turn-on. Steam kissed my stiff nipples, but then a cool breeze would come tickle them.

  He leaned down and nuzzled one peak. He drew it between his lips, flicking it with his tongue.

  I whimpered, cradling his head.

  He sucked harder, tugging at my nipple just shy of discomfort, but I loved it. As he moved to my other breast, his hands dipped, and he untied the bow at the side of my bottoms, pulling those away as well.

  CMNF.

  Leaving my breasts aching, he straightened to run his lips up my neck. “I want your body open to my touch.” He maneuvered me on his lap until I was leaning with my back to his chest and my feet flat on his knees. Under my ass, his erection strained against his shorts. Then he spread his own legs, forcing me to part my thighs. “That’s it.” His fingertip grazed my entrance. “Now keep watching. Whenever you see a Pacific sunset, I want you to remember this pleasure.” Under the water, he eased his middle finger inside me, lazily thrusting it.

  My gasp turned to a moan when he wedged his ring finger into me as well, making a rock-on gesture. “So tight.” He thrust his two fingers harder, his palm cupping my clit.

  My head lolled, but he said, “Ah-ah, beautiful. Keep your eyes on the sun.”

  With effort, I did, though he kept up the pumping motion of his hand.

  “I need you to be ready for me.”

  Because we were about to have sex. And his cock was unnervingly large. “How long has it been for you?”

  “Longer than you can imagine,” he answered. “I should know.”

  What should he know? Maybe his English was off. The thought faded as I edged closer to my orgasm.

  “Open yourself to me.” Even his voice was hypnotic. “In all ways.”

  I wanted to. I wished I could.

  “Are you watching the sun, Vika?”

  Through a haze of pleasure and steam, I watched. On either side of the sinking sun were inky black storm clouds. “It’s almost there, Dmitri,” I said, talking about the sunset—and my orgasm. “It’s so close.” The winds picked up as the last glowing sliver disappeared. “There. All of it.” In the distance, lightning flared over the dark water.

  “Are you ready for me, moya zhena?” My wife.

  I didn’t think I’d ever needed sex more than I did at that moment. Which was saying something after the last three nights. I turned to him, not bothering to hide the need in my expression.

  Curt nod. “I’m taking you to our bed.” He swooped me from the water, striding across the pool deck with my naked body tucked against him. As he carried me up the stairs, I couldn’t keep still. I kneaded the muscles of his chest, rubbing against him.

  “Look at you.” He gazed down at me as if staggered by what he found in his arms. “I carry my greatest treasure.”

  Irresistible man.

  Inside the bedroom, he told the house, “Fire,” and the fireplace near the platform bed flickered to life. He let me slide down his body as he set me on my feet.

  “I need you naked, Dmitri.” I reached for his bulging shorts, drawing the tie loose, and he helped me work the sodden material over his dick.

  The sight of him unclothed before the fire left me thunderstruck. Flames lovingly painting his muscles, his long lean body, his tanned skin. His pierced erection.

  I went to my knees on the rug and grasped him with both hands. “You’re going to have to pry me away from this.” I tenderly ran my cheek against his shaft.

  In answer, his Adam’s apple bobbed, and he rested his big hands on my head.

  Lightly stroking him, I cupped his dusky balls, hefting their warm weight. “These look like they ache.”

  Slow, solemn nod.

  I nuzzled his sac, his scent intoxicating me. He groaned, widening his stance for more. When I tugged on his balls, his cock jerked with excitement, precum beading on the crown.

  I leaned in to rub the slippery, plum-colored head against my lips, then I licked them for his taste. Sublime. “Swallowing you last night only whetted my appetite.”

  His brows drew together, as if he was racked with disbelief—and delight. “Vika . . .”

  I gave him another lick, then circled the crown. Peering up at him to gauge his reaction, I flicked that ring with my tongue. “I could play with this forever. My new favorite toy.”

  Flick, flick. Flick, flick.

  He shuddered, his torso muscles rippling. “Suck it between your lips.”

  I gripped the base of his shaft as my mouth closed tight over the swollen tip. “Ummm,” I moaned around it, letting him feel the vibrations.

  “Fuck! Take it deep for me!”

  As I moved farther down his length, I pumped my fist, hand and mouth working together. All the while, I held his gaze.

  “Look at your plump lips clinging to my cock! You suck me like you’ve been waiting your entire life for it.”

  I felt like I had been! When my other hand drifted down to frig my clit, a ragged groan broke from his chest.

  “Are you wet?”

  In answer, I raised my damp fingers for him to taste.

  His shaft pulsed against my tongue as he quickly leaned down. “Ah, my good wife!” He sucked my slick fingers clean, snarling in bliss, his seed climbing.

  He released them with the terse order: “Keep fingering yourself.”

  When I resumed with another moan, he thrust his hips, then seemed to make an effort to be still.

  I wanted to tell him it was okay, but I was too busy devouring him, too busy edging my own orgasm.

  “Continue looking up at me! Look at me, and you’ll fucking keep me here.” What did that mean? “I’m close!” His accent had never been so thick. “Can’t hold back from you much longer!”

  I hollowed my cheeks and sucked him without mercy, until his cock throbbed between my lips and I teetered right on the verge. . . .

  Just when I thought he’d treat me to his cum, his body stilled. “Wait. Wait . . .” He cradled my face.

  I hadn’t heard him correctly.

  “Wait!” He eased my head back. His cock slipped free of my greedy mouth.

  “Dmitri?”

  He gazed down at me with such a stark look of hunger, I gasped.

  I’d never seen a desperate need like that on a man’s face. “Have I done something wrong?”

  “Nyet.” He looked gutted with want. “I am better off not knowing.”

  Damn it, not knowing what? “Tell me what you mean.”

  He helped me to my feet, then moved to sit on the edge of the bed. He raised his hands to his head, fingers splayed as if he were trying to crush his own skull.

  I sat beside him. “Dmitri?” I touched his back.

  He flinched.

  “What would you rather not know?”

  He rose with his fists clenched, the tendons in his arms and neck taut like bowstrings. He jerked his head from side to side, opening his mouth to say something, only to snap it shut. The warring emotions in his eyes reminded me of the feverish colors of that sunset. Just as incomprehensible.

  “Dmitri, talk to me, please.”

  He disappeared into his dressing room, returning in jeans, but his tension had only ratcheted up. Beginning to pace, he broke into an angry spate of Russian, gesturing heatedly. I heard his own name among those words; talking to himself again?

  “Please tell me what your issues are.”

  Seeming overwhelmed with confusion and frustration, he squeezed his head once more. The muscles in his forearms contracted, drawing my gaze to that faint scar. Based on his behavior right now, I worried that mark hadn’t been surgical.

  Without warning, he launched a fist into one of the cabinets, splintering the wood. Another hit and another.

  Once I recovered from my
shock, I leapt off the bed to reach him. “Stop that!” I grabbed his arm.

  He turned heartbreaking eyes to me. “And if I can’t?”

  I should’ve been running the other way, but the torment in his expression was killing me. I took his banged-up fist in my hands, and gradually got him to lower it. “Tell me what’s wrong, Dmitri.”

  He shook his head. He was so beautiful outside, and so clearly damaged inside. Beautiful, fucked-up man.

  “You told me I would need to help you,” I reminded him. “I want to, but you have to talk to me.”

  “If I do this now, and my mind drifts . . . will I come back from it?”

  Drifts? “Come back from what?”

  His eyes darted. “The more pleasure I feel, the worse it is. And pleasure with you, Vika, is in a different goddamned realm. Your lips could turn any man mad.”

  “What does that mean? What did I do?”

  “Maybe I didn’t work hard enough, or I wasn’t clever enough.” Again he squeezed his head, as if he wanted to purge it of thoughts. “I believed I could do this. I misjudged everything.” His tone sounded wretched.

  “We can figure something out, Dmitri! Just talk to me. Please.”

  He drew back from me, then strode toward the bedroom door. Over his shoulder, he murmured, “I am . . . sorry.”

  CHAPTER 23

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  Dazed, I shrugged into a robe, the terry cloth skimming my sensitive nipples. Dmitri had left me in a state, despite my bewilderment.

  I curled up in the bed. What should my next move be? My first impulse was to call my sister, but this situation felt too private—as if I’d be betraying Dmitri to reveal this secret.

  Wasn’t I betraying him enough already?

  Angry Russian words began booming from another room. I really hoped he had made a call and was talking to someone other than himself. Based on the pauses in his tirade, I assumed so.

  What had happened to him? What was the source of his damage? I’d never known anyone who’d attempted suicide. Had he?