Team Russian (Saints Team Series Book 4)

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Team Russian (Saints Team Series Book 4) Page 16

by Ally Adams


  “Thanks Dad. You can say no ... but if I talked him into speaking with you about this, instead of a psychologist, would you talk with him?” I asked.

  “Of course, darling. But be warned, I’ll be asking him his intentions for my daughter as well,” he said.

  I rolled my eyes and Dad laughed.

  “Come on, let’s not keep your mother waiting.” We rose and I linked my arm through his. I had some work to do with The Russian. I was prepared to do it – I wondered if he was. However, I had my limits ... I won’t be called a tart or accused of fucking around when I didn’t do that. I was drawing the line right there. We entered the kitchen and Mom announced lunch would be ready in ten minutes.

  “I’m going to go and call Alex and wish him luck for the game,” I said, and excused myself. I felt more secure in my own head now that I hadn’t done anything wrong – I just hoped he’d cooled down and thought about his actions too. I walked outside into the church grounds and checked the time – he was probably on the team bus on the way to the stadium now ... may be best just to text him.

  I decided to check his messages first. I took the silencer off my phone and saw he had called three more times last night and three times since six a.m this morning. He’d left two messages in my phone message bank and both of those had been left earlier today ... that was probably a good thing. I was glad he hadn’t vented last night; I wondered if he’d learned from experience not to do that.

  I put the phone to my ear and listened to the first message that he had left about six a.m.

  “Brooker,” he sighed, “I need to talk with you, hear your voice. Call me.”

  His voice was heavy with stress and weariness. I listened to the second message, which he had left about an hour ago when I had been in church.

  “Please, call me.” That was it.

  I checked the text messages and there was one there that he had sent about three a.m., and one this morning about half an hour ago. He mustn’t have slept at all.

  I dreaded opening the first one which he had probably written when he’d been majorly pissed off. I tapped on it and read:

  Are you in bed alone?

  For the love of God, thank goodness he hadn’t left a stack of those; he’d have so much more to apologize for this morning! Seriously! I opened the text he had sent thirty minutes ago and read:

  Where are you? Call, please Carla.

  He’d used my first name ... I didn’t know what it meant. There was no apology. I decided to text him and I tapped out the words:

  Play well today. I’ll be thinking of you. Cx

  That was good, it was generous given what had transpired. I took another long look at the words I had typed, took a deep breath and pressed send. Done!

  If he was still angry, well, that was a peace offering and might help him put things on the back burner until the game was out of the way.

  My phone rang moments after the text had gone off to him, his name flashed on my screen. Butterflies filled me, my stomach churned ... I truly felt terrified answering it. I thumbed across the screen, accepting the call.

  “Hello.”

  “Brooker,” he said, his voice was heavy, he breathed out as if he had been holding the weight of the world until I called. “I’m sorry.”

  I couldn’t help myself, I started to cry.

  I heard him swear softly under his breath. “Babe, don’t cry, I’ve been sick for hours about what I said to you ...”

  I still couldn’t say anything ... I didn’t know what to say.

  “I hate being the one to make you cry, don’t cry,” he said again. “I’m truly sorry ... where are you?”

  “At Mom and Dad’s.”

  “You went home? Are you okay?”

  “Yes. I drove home early this morning and went to Dad’s service. Dad helped me.”

  “You told him what I said?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m never meeting him,” The Russian said, and I laughed for the first time in over twenty-four hours. It felt good to have a bit of tension lifted.

  “He’s not judgemental and he’s a counselor too, he has some good advice for us,” I said. “And he’s praying for your soul,” I joked.

  The Russian chuckled. “Thank God someone is.”

  I heard a voice in the background.

  “Where are you? Was that Lucas?” I asked.

  “I’m out the front of the hotel, we’re just getting our gear on the bus to go to the stadium. And yeah, that was Lucas,” The Russian said.

  Lucas’s voice came down the line again. “Is that Carla?”

  “Yes,” The Russian answered.

  “Thank fuck for that,” he said.

  I heard The Russian walking, putting some distance between them.

  “Brooker, I’m a fucking idiot ...”

  “But you’re my fucking idiot,” I said, teasing him and he laughed ... that beautiful, rich, baritone laugh.

  “We’ll land about seven tonight, can I come over and see you then?”

  “Okay,” I agreed.

  “Or you could pick me up at the airport?” he suggested, “Like some of the partners do.”

  “Or I could pick you up at the airport,” I agreed.

  “Russian!” I heard a male voice yell. “Final call for the bus.” The Russian ignored it.

  “Great. I’ll text you the flight details later.” He breathed out again. “Brooker, I’m worried that ...”

  I held my breath. Please don’t say ‘we’re not going to make it’, or ‘we’re not suited’ ... I couldn’t take it.

  The Russian continued. “I’m worried that I don’t know how to fix this and I’ll blow it between us.”

  “Russian,” I said, his name softly, “We’ll sort it, I promise.”

  Lucas interfered again. “For Fuck’s sake, Russian, get on the bus!”

  “I’ve got to go, they’re all waiting.”

  “What? You’re the only one not on the bus?” I laughed. “Go then, I’ll be watching the game and sending you positive vibes.”

  “Thanks for calling me back, I needed to hear your voice.”

  “Russian!” I heard a chorus of voices that time.

  “I’m fucking coming for Christ’s sake,” he yelled back. “Got to go. Text me later? See you soon?”

  “Yes to both,” I said, feeling in love and happy again after that horrendous night of pain.

  “Bye,” he said the word slowly and deeply, like he was drawing out the moment before disconnecting. He was walking at the same time; I could hear his movements.

  “Hang the fuck up now and get in here,” Lucas said in the background.

  I heard The Russian swear again and hang up, and I laughed. We were okay; we were going to be okay ... I hoped we were going to be okay.

  I went back inside and felt so much better. Mom called out that lunch was ready and I walked through the hallway and living area to the kitchen, past the shrine that had been set up for my sister, my deceased sister ... the reason I hadn’t been coming home very often.

  Chapter 21

  I was recording the Saints game at home—I know, such a dedicated sports journo, and perve—but I watched it with Mom and Dad as well, and then headed home just after. I got in around three-thirty with plenty of time to preen before I had to join the WAGS (wives and girlfriends) at the airport to pick up The Russian. I texted him to congratulate him on a brilliant game—maybe he should get stressed out more often—and he texted back the flight details and the cutest message about not being able to breathe properly until he saw me. It always surprised me when he put himself out there, romantically.

  As I walked in the door and found the house empty—not sure where Josh was—my phone rang. It was Sasha.

  “Hey Sasha, good game and another win,” I said in greeting.

  “Great game. Makes my life so much easier when they win ... plenty of media coverage and it’s all good,” she said. “Not to mention the mood around the office is so much bet
ter. Speaking of which, what did you and The Russian discuss in his office the other day?”

  I grinned recalling our misadventure. “Oh you know, just the usual stuff ... technique, the highs and lows of sport ...”

  “Uh huh,” she said, unconvinced. “Kay said the meeting appeared to go well. Anyway, I’m just checking to make sure you are okay.”

  “Oh, that’s nice, thanks. Why?” I wondered if The Russian had told anyone in the team about our fight, or maybe Lucas had spread the word.

  “Nik woke The Russian up in the hotel corridor this morning. He was sleeping outside his room, Lucas kicked him out!”

  “Oh that,” I said. “We might have had a few words and some late night and early morning text messages ... maybe he didn’t sleep so well and Lucas kicked him out to get some sleep.”

  “Mm, well, Lucas and The Russian aren’t spilling, but I don’t care about the details ... I’m not a gossip girl. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t eating ice-cream and watching break-up movies,” she said.

  “Sash, you’re the best, thanks for caring. I’m just fine,” I assured her. “Will you be picking up Nik tonight?”

  “Yeah. Are you coming?” she asked, surprised.

  “I am! Until then, and hey, thanks Sash.” We hung up and I decided to give the house a quick clean and change the sheets, just in case. I hear make-up sex is really good.

  *****

  I got to the airport about twenty minutes early and found the gate where my man would be arriving soon. I was pleased to see Sasha already there; I joined her and she introduced me to a few of the other girls, including Eddie’s fiancée, Tiffany, and Laura who was Buzz’s fiancée ... I’d heard they’d only recently gotten engaged. Laura was gorgeous with this wild red hair and green eyes.

  Alice was there from the office too and she waved and came over with her friend, whom I recognized as Mia – Captain Fantastic’s girlfriend. I was fit tall, but she was fit cute ... about five-foot-five, well-proportioned, with runner legs and slim hips. She had her shoulder length brown hair tied back in a single braid.

  “Hi Carla,” she said, “I hear our boys shared a room last night ... well, for a while,” she grinned.

  I shook her offered hand. “Yes, The Russian must have been snoring and got kicked out!” We had a laugh and a chat about sports. She was keen on getting some physio experience with my Suns team and I said I’d be happy to introduce her to the current physio staff. She asked after my injury, which was kind, and she was genuinely interested. I could see what Lucas saw in her, she was calm but confident, in charge, and she inspired me ... she made me realize that maybe I needed to be firmer with The Russian. Close down his insecurity, not let him run away with it, and instead of trying to appease him, I should try pulling him into line and making him see how ridiculous it all sounded. Seemed like a good plan anyway.

  Then the plane landed and my heart rate increased. I looked over and saw a few journos and photographers waiting for the team. One of the photographers recognized me and gave me a wave; I waved back and prayed he wouldn’t come over ... I needed The Russian to see me with the girls and waiting one hundred percent for him when he came through that door. I wondered how the super cool Russian was going to react. Sasha said he always avoided the spotlight with his ex Leesa, but I guessed she had always been in the spotlight. Would he kiss me publicly? Would he hurry me out of there, or treat me like I had always been part of the furniture and be super cool about it? My money was on the latter.

  The doors opened and a few of the flight attendants came out, along with a handful of passengers. Buzz was out first and greeted us. He wrapped an arm around Laura and gave me a wink as they left, as though all was forgiven for his prank. Some of the Saints’ crew followed, then the coach, and Lucas who gave Mia a wave and pointed in the direction of the journos. She nodded, knowing he had to give a quick interview first.

  “Bloody journos,” she said, winking at Sasha, and then she remembered I was one too and rolled her eyes dramatically. “I’m surrounded by them. Wow, it’s going to be hard not to report the internal scoops you hear now, Carla,” she said to me.

  “Tell me about it. I’ve had to separate my inside knowledge of the Suns from my job for years!”

  Tomás came into sight, greeted us all and left with Alice, and then Nik and The Russian appeared. The Russian’s eyes scanned the area and found mine, and he gave me a smile that would launch ships. He walked towards me, threw his bag over his shoulder and wrapped his spare arm around me, pressing me hard to him, our lips locked. It was so healing, his lips on mine, his skin against mine, just the feel of his strong body encompassing me, and he didn’t stop kissing me. I couldn’t believe it, in front of his teammates and everything!

  “Geez, not in public you two, cut it out,” Lucas teased, coming over and giving Mia a showy kiss.

  “Get a room, Russian,” Nik added as Sasha threw herself at him, and then we heard the sound of flashes and The Russian released me just a few inches, enough to draw a breath.

  “So needed that,” he said. “Hello, Brooker.”

  “Hello Russian,” I grinned up at him, admiring his dark eyes and beautiful face. He looked exhausted.

  One of the journos yelled out to us. “Going to teach him to play basketball, Carla?”

  “I don’t think he’s tall enough,” I replied with a wave. The Russian nodded at the journo, and hurried us along.

  “We need to get home immediately,” The Russian said, slightly breathless. “Let’s go.”

  He released me only enough so I could walk, tucking me into his body, ignoring the flashes of cameras. When we got to my car, he threw his bag in the back seat and sat back while I drove, annoying me by rubbing his hand over my leg, and anywhere else he could get access to before I hit him away for being distracting. We hardly spoke, we just wanted to be together, to be near each other.

  Luckily, Josh wasn’t home and The Russian hustled me straight into my bedroom, closing my bedroom door with his foot and knocking me onto the bed. When we were settled, he stopped and placed his forehead on mine.

  “I’m sorry, forgive me?” he asked. It was so sincere and private, and I felt all his pain and anxiety and I hated Leesa for causing this beautiful man to doubt himself.

  “You scared me a little,” I whispered and he pulled away to look at me. He looked ashamed. “Russian, do you really think I’m promiscuous?”

  He put his finger on my lips. “Never, don’t say it, don’t think it. This is my problem, I know it ... when I calmed down last night and stopped panicking that I was going to lose you to some guy, I realized I was going to lose you because I had been such an asshole. Then, you were so far away ... I didn’t sleep ... I couldn’t reach you ...”

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to hurt you by not answering – I was freaked out and I had to talk with Dad and look at my part in this, whether I was ‘tarty’. I was also a bit scared to ring you back ...”

  He groaned and put his head on my chest. I ran my hand through his hair. “Shh, we’re all good,” I said, and then he started to kiss me, slow at first, but then our need kicked in; it felt desperate for both of us. He kissed me hard, his tongue angry and thrusting inside me, and mine giving as good as it got. My clothes were off in moments and I pulled at The Russian’s Saints’ traveling uniform shirt and pants, discarding them quickly.

  His finger dipped inside me, and within seconds, he was slipping on a condom and pushing himself inside me. I dug my nails into his arms, I needed to feel him so badly and he had the same hunger, I could tell from the force of his thrusts.

  “Harder,” I said, sinking my fingers into his butt cheeks, and he forced himself in deeper until I cried out with the pleasure and pain of it.

  Then his fingers found my clit and he moved his mouth to my nipple. He wasn’t gentle and I didn’t want him to be – nipping, tugging, thrusting; I exploded around him and when I came down off the roof, he moved his hands under my butt and thrust har
der. He looked so intense and gorgeous, and then I felt him pumping into me, and I buried my face in his neck and held him so tight as he released inside me that he’d have bruises afterward. Then he stilled, breathing heavily, and lowered himself beside me. We stayed that way, just holding each other for the longest time.

  I think we were both almost asleep when The Russian forced himself up and discarded the condom. He returned and, lying on his back, he wrapped me against his body, and within minutes I could hear his steady breathing. My beautiful guy was wiped out from no sleep and the pressure of the game, but at least now he was there with me and we were going to be okay. I mouthed that I loved him because I did, and I watched him sleep. We’d have to work on the king of the jungle’s Achilles’ heel.

  Chapter 22

  The Russian’s phone alarm went off at six a.m. and we both jumped awake. He grabbed it and groaned.

  “You know I don’t work Monday’s since I work Saturdays,” I said, “but I really appreciate the early wake-up call so I don’t fall out of my routine,” I stirred him.

  The Russian smiled and flipped me onto my stomach. “Since you’re awake, and I’m a morning person ...”

  He lowered himself onto me and I felt his erection between my butt cheeks. His hands slipped underneath me to the front of my body, where—with a few skilled moves—he had me moaning and wet in moments.

  “Come inside me,” I begged.

  “Who’s driving here?” he asked.

  I laughed. “You are, Russian.”

  “That’s right,” he said, in his sexy low voice. “And who is about to orgasm?”

  I moaned with pleasure as he pinned me down so I couldn’t even wriggle and played me like a violin. I tried to tell him how good it felt, but I couldn’t get the words out before I orgasmed spectacularly, and I wasn’t even a morning person. I panted as I came down from my sexual high. “Come inside me, please Russian.”

  “Yes bossy, Brooker.” I heard him slip a condom on and, keeping me pressed down into the pillows, he positioned himself at my entrance and slowly worked his way in.

 

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