Game Over (The Baltimore Banners Book 2)

by Lisa B. Kamps

  And still he didn’t move, afraid that she would interpret his intentions incorrectly.

  Not that she would be wrong. No, Nikolai was eager to share her bed—his bed. His body was eager to feel hers stretched out alongside his, to feel her body, warm and soft, against his. But he didn’t want to frighten her with his eagerness, didn’t want to betray the trust she showed him by making her offer. So when he finally moved, it was with care and slowness. He made sure to fold the blanket he had been using and place it neatly in the corner of the sofa, to neatly stack his pillow on top.

  Only then did he make his way to the stairs. Darkness filled the hallway above him, and his steps were careful, his tread steady but slow and certain. He paused outside the bedroom, his eyes resting on Bobbi’s shadowed form. She huddled under the covers on the far edge of his bed, her back to him, stiff and unsure.

  He was helpless to stop his chuckle, a soft throaty sound that broke the heavy silence of the room as he finally walked over to the bed. The mattress shifted and dipped under his weight as he climbed in on the opposite side, and he knew instinctively that she held her breath as he stretched out and pulled the comforter up and over his chest.

  “You are too nervous, moj dosadnyj malen’kij bich. Don’t be. You are safe with me.” He reached out and gently squeezed her shoulder, then rolled over so his back was to her.

  Nikolai was surprised by how quickly sleep reached out to him, calling him, pulling him into its darkness…a darkness made welcoming by Bobbi’s warmth next to him.

  **

  Bobbi rolled onto her back and kicked the covers away from her feet. She had been tossing and turning for the last two hours, trying not to disturb the man sleeping beside her, unable to get comfortable, unable to think about anything except the man beside her.

  And the thoughts were anything but professional.

  Nikolai was obviously one of those men whose internal furnaces blazed on high while asleep. She could feel the heat of his body across the space the separated them. She turned her head to the side and watched him in the pale light that seeped around the edges of the curtains.

  He was sleeping on his right side, facing her, the comforter casually tossed by his feet, only the sheet covering him to his hips. Her gaze roamed down his body, taking in the bulk of his biceps and forearms, the broad expanse of bare chest and sprinkling of hair, down across his hard abs and lower. A rush of warm appreciation coursed through her as she let her gaze wander up again, slowly memorizing every detail of the sculpted body resting so peacefully just a foot away from her. Her eyes finally came to rest on his face, on his chiseled jaw and full soft lips.

  And on his startling blue eyes, now open and focused on her. A squeak of surprise escaped her and she quickly rolled over, her back to him, as mortification filled her.

  The silence that filled the room shifted and changed, and she held her breath, waiting for him to say something, to tease her about staring at him or to tell her he found her amusing. His voice, though, when he spoke, was thick with sleep, quiet and husky in the surrounding quiet.

  “You are so beautiful, with the moonlight playing across your skin. I want nothing more than to pull you close and feel your body next to mine as I sleep.”

  Bobbi tensed at the words, softly spoken in Russian. She squeezed her eyes tight against the film of tears that suddenly appeared, holding her breath until she thought her lungs would explode. “I hate when you do that. You know I don’t understand Russian.”

  There was silence as he moved closer to her, and it was all she could do not to jump when his hand closed over her shoulder and gently rolled her toward him. He leaned up on one elbow, not touching her but still holding her immobile as he gazed down at her, his eyes locked on hers.

  “I speak in Russian because that is the only way I can tell you how I feel.”

  Again he spoke in Russian. But even if she hadn’t known exactly what he said, the emotion in his eyes, the gentle tone of his voice would have had the same effect. Her breath hitched in her chest as she gazed up at him, the heat of his body calling her, drawing her in. She expected him to touch her, felt herself leaning toward him, but he remained motionless.

  She released her pent-up breath and licked her dry lips, saw his gaze dart to her mouth then back to her eyes. “What does that mean?”

  He gave her a small smile and shook his head. “It is not important.” He rested his head in the crook of his elbow and watched her. Another minute went by, a minute of pure frustration and anticipation for Bobbi, before he reached out and smoothed her hair away from her face, then removed his hand and tucked it against his chest, being so careful not to touch her.

  “You have been turning all night, but now you must sleep. Close your eyes and rest, moj dosadnyj malen’kij bich.”

  She kept her gaze locked on his, a thousand thoughts whirling through her mind. Emotion lay thick and heavy in her chest, and she swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump in her throat. “Nikolai…”

  Before she could think too much more, before she could talk herself into just rolling over and pretending to sleep, she reached out with her hand and gently placed it against his chest. His warm hard flesh seared her, the beating of his heart heavy against her palm. He clasped his own hand around hers, holding it in place, but gently enough to let her know that she was free to remove it, that he was demanding nothing from her. She entwined her fingers in his and brought his hand to her mouth, dropping a soft kiss on his palm. His fingers tightened momentarily over hers but otherwise he didn’t move.

  She glanced up at him, almost shyly, then turned her gaze back to his hand. He had such strong hands, powerful. Like the rest of his body, large and solid and strong. Yet she sensed the gentleness behind the power and knew that he would never hurt her.

  She tightened her grip on his hand, feeling his own fingers tighten around hers in response, and looked up at him, into the clear blue eyes locked on hers. “I don’t want to sleep.”

  Time seemed to halt as he continued staring at her, the slightest of smiles turning his lips briefly upward. Yet he didn’t move, and she knew that if anything was to happen between them tonight, it would be up to her. She swallowed, unsure of herself, then slowly leaned toward him, her lips gently brushing against his.

  The kiss was soft, shy, undemanding. And she quickly lost patience with it. She leaned in closer, letting go of his hand so she could run her palm over his chest and up to his neck, curling her fingers into his hair as she teased his lips with her tongue, coaxing his mouth to open under hers.

  She was shy at first, uncertain as she probed his mouth. She felt his chest lurch, heard his quick intake of breath, and the reaction fueled her confidence and erased any hesitancy she had felt.

  And suddenly she was no longer in charge. Nikolai’s hands cupped the side of her face, tilting her head back as his mouth closed hungrily over hers, increasing the tempo as their tongues met and swirled together, giving, taking, demanding. He shifted so she was on her back and the length of his body was hot and hard against her. She felt the press of his rigid erection against her thigh and shifted with her hips, searching, needing to feel him more fully against her.

  He pulled his mouth from hers and kissed her throat, his hand grabbing the hem of her t-shirt and pulling it up. Cold air caressed her skin as he moved away just far enough to pull the shirt over her head, then he pressed his body tightly against hers, bare flesh to bare flesh, and she pushed herself against him, reveling in the feel of his warm skin against her breasts, in the feel of the chest hair that teased her nipples into tight peaks.

  She slid her hands across his back, kneading the muscles under her palms, pressing him even closer against her before sliding her palms lower, lower until her fingers dipped into the waistband of his shorts. She pushed the nylon material down, her fingers caressing the smooth bare skin of his tight ass, pushing until her hands could reach no lower. She wrapped her legs around him, pushing at the shorts with her toes until he shifte
d just enough to kick them off himself. Then, finally, he rested completely on top of her, his heavy erection pressed between her legs, thick and hot even against the flannel of her sleeping shorts. She arched up, rubbing against him, searching.

  His mouth devoured her, moving from her jaw line to her neck and lower. His hands traveled over her body, warm and hot against her bare flesh, igniting a trail of fire wherever he touched. She moved against him, every inch of her skin craving the touch of his hands.

  Nikolai slid down her, his hands caressing, demanding, as his mouth closed over one nipple and suckled. The peak tightened more as he nibbled with his teeth and teased with his tongue. Her back arched, thrusting more fully into him as her hands reached out and tangled in his hair, holding him there, greedy and demanding.

  His mouth moved to her other nipple, lavishing the same attention, and her back arched again as a moan escaped her. She thrust her hips more fully against him, gasping at the feel of his hard length pressed against her, thrust again, demanding more of him.

  Nikolai skimmed his hands along her body, stopping to rub against her intimate center, pushing through the flannel of her shorts until a guttural growl escaped him and he yanked them off with one quick movement. And finally, God, he was touching her, his finger exploring her wetness, separating her, easing inside her then pulling out, then entering again until she groaned.

  His mouth trailed down her body, his tongue swirling circles around her belly button then lower. His touch gentled as he lavished soft kisses along the crease of one leg before moving to the other, his breath hot against her skin.

  Her hands searched for him, reaching, wanting to touch and hold but not finding any purchase as he traveled further down her body, caressing her thighs and calves with both his hands and his mouth. She arched her hips again, reached out with one foot and stroked the smooth skin of his back, then tried to use her leg to urge him forward. She wanted to feel him against her, needed the heat and weight of his body to anchor her against the storm building deep inside her, threatening to tear her apart.

  She felt his hot breath against her skin some more, felt him finally moving upward, and she heard soft murmurings that didn’t make sense, English or Russian, she didn’t know, didn’t care, she only wanted him…

  His mouth finally closed on her, hot and wet, licking and tasting, his tongue teasing and probing. Her hips arched against him as her body demanded more, a sharp gasp ripped from her as she felt the first tremors begin to travel outward from her deepest core.

  She reached out with her hands, searching, needing to feel him, to hold him. One strong hand grabbed hers and she twined her fingers with his, needing that connection, squeezing tightly as his mouth and tongue continued exploring, delving, pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

  And still the pressure built, rising, spinning, swirling higher and tighter until, finally, with one last thrust of his tongue inside her, one final arch of her hips against his mouth, she exploded into a million fragments, wet heat escaping her as his name was ripped from her lips, as spasms racked her entire body and she arched and twisted against him.

  She heard her name being called but couldn’t focus, her mind as fragmented as her body, floating and splintering out of control as wave after wave rushed through her. Nikolai’s mouth crushed against hers and she tasted her own salty warmth on his soft lips, opened her mouth to him and drank greedily, arching her body against him, against the hand pressed tightly against her and the fingers that continued exploring, that continued sending shock waves racing through her body.

  “Nikolai, please…” Her plea was barely a whisper against his mouth as her body arched even more, seeking. She wanted him, needed him to be inside her, needed him to fill her, to make her complete, to find his own release deep inside of her.

  His hand left her and she immediately felt bereft, empty, even as smaller aftershocks coursed through her and her hips surged upward, seeking. Even as she cursed his absence she realized he was smoothing a condom over his rigid shaft before settling himself fully against her.

  He brought his arms against her, holding her tightly as both of his hands cupped her face. He whispered her name in a hoarse voice, demanding that she look at him. Her eyes slowly opened, her vision swimming before slowly focusing on his face, on the searing gaze of his eyes that refused to let her look away.

  “My beautiful one. You are mine. And mine alone. Just as I am yours, and yours alone.” The Russian words were ripped from him in a hoarse growl, and Bobbi shook her head, denying understanding even as her heart leaped in acknowledgement. Nikolai cleared his throat, claimed her lips in a searing kiss, and thrust himself deep inside her.

  Her breath hitched at the heated intrusion even as her body arched against him, her legs wrapping high around his waist to invite more of him, pulling him deeper into her. Nikolai thrust once more then held himself away as he broke the kiss and stared down at her.

  “You are mine,” he said, this time in English. His gaze held hers, searing in its intensity, searching her face for an answer. Because no matter that he phrased it as a demand, there was no doubt in her mind that it was a question.

  She reached up and cupped his cheek in the palm of her hand, her thumb caressing his lower lip as she slowly nodded. Her voice was shaky, ragged as she spoke a single word.

  “Yes.”

  He turned his face into her hand and delivered a single kiss to her palm, then thrust even deeper inside her, his rhythm marking her, branding her as his with each movement.

  Their touches became more frantic, more demanding of the other with each passing minute, giving, seeking, taking. Bobbi felt herself tightening again, raked his back with her nails, grabbing him and pressing him even more tightly against her as she rose to meet each thrust. She splintered into a million pieces, his name ripped from her lips in a ragged cry. Her mouth searched for his, claiming him in a demanding kiss as his thrusts quickened.

  He pulled his mouth from hers and raised himself on his elbows, his gaze hot and possessive. “Mine,” he growled in Russian, then raised himself to his knees. His hands closed around her hips and he pulled her more fully against him, ran his hands down her legs and wrapped his arms around her knees, thrusting even deeper, eliciting a cry from her as the movement hurled her over the edge. One thrust, then one more, and he cried out with his own release as he pumped himself into her.

  Seconds that lasted an eternity went by before he collapsed against her, his arms tightening around her, holding her, protecting her. Bobbi felt the call of his touch through the haze of pleasure still consuming her, her body instinctively meeting his, succumbing to his touch.

  Minutes more went by before Nikolai shifted off of her, and she uttered a sleepy moan of protest at his loss. He pulled her to him, settling her tightly beside him and wrapping his arms around her, reaching for her hand and lacing his fingers with hers. His lips rained gentle kisses on her face, his breath warm against her ear.

  “Sleep well, my beautiful one, and know that I am here.”

  Her hazy mind couldn’t tell if the words were spoken in English or in Russian, but her heart carried the comfort of them with her as she drifted off to sleep.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Nikolai grinned to himself, knowing he was being foolish and not caring. Why should the foolishness bother him after last night? No, he would allow himself to grin, to smile at the memory of Bobbi clinging to him, of her body yielding to him…of his body yielding to her. They became one last night, and she was his as much as he was hers. She did not realize it yet, but they were one together. His body—his heart—had known it as soon as he took possession of her.

  As soon as she had taken possession of him.

  He pulled the pan from the stovetop and slid the eggs onto the platter, already filled with sliced sausage and thick slices of black bread. The tea was ready, strong and black. With a nod, he grabbed the platter and pot and pushed through the door into the dining room, carefully placing them in t
he middle of the small table.

  His grin faltered and he looked around the room, trying to see it as Bobbi would. Regret filled him. Regret, and something like shame. For eight years, he had lived like this…meager, simple, plain. For eight years, he had refused to let it bother him, had accepted it. He had no choice, and told himself it didn’t matter. It couldn’t matter. What was done, was done. He had made his choice, his decision, and he could not regret it, could not regret the reasons for it.

  But suddenly he wished, he wanted…more. Was it so bad of him to feel this need? To have what he should so he could take care of…

  Nikolai shook his head, firmly. No, this was at it should be. As it had to be. He was taking care of what was important, and would continue to do so. He would not allow himself to want for more, because it would lead to futility, possibly to danger. No, this was as it should be.

  Soft steps sounded behind him, pulling him from his senseless train of thought. He forced a smile on his face and turned to face his guest. The smile turned real as he gazed at Bobbi, dressed casually in dark slacks and a light sweater, looking hesitant and shy as she stood in the doorway of the dining room.

  “There she is, moe krasivejshee. And just in time.” He walked over to her and grabbed her hand, leaning down to give her a lingering kiss good morning. Her fingers tightened around his hand, and the barest whisper of a sigh escaped her lips when he lifted his mouth from hers. And yet the faintest blush tinged her cheeks, making Nikolai chuckle.

  He pulled her further into the dining room, noticing the way her eyes brightened at the food on the table, appreciating the genuine smile she offered him as he pulled the chair out for her. Bowing with a flourish, he helped her slide closer to the table, then reached over and poured her a cup of tea before taking his own seat. He motioned at the platter sitting between them, and nodded at the cup steaming in front of her.

  “You must eat and drink. The food is hearty, and we have a long day ahead of us.” He pushed the platter toward her, indicating she should serve herself, and winked. “And a long night behind us.”