Chapter 11
A crisp chill permeated the dawn, leaving Grace wistful over the loss of her husband's warmth from their bed. Their honeymoon had passed so quickly, and Grace was not ready to share her lover with the world just yet. She would not complain, as she knew it was difficult for Drago to leave her. He had confessed that if not for his upcoming fight he would have taken a month to spend alone with her.
His next opponent, Sayre Mainn, a formidable striker with black belts in both jujitsu and judo, would be a test of Drago's skill. A win would prove that he did more than merely get lucky in his late first-round knockout against Matt Harrison and put the rumors to rest. Grace understood that Drago needed to train, and she would not hinder his efforts. When a fighter's wife didn't support him, one of two things happened – the marriage ended or the fighter's career ended. Grace had never seen another result. The pressure of conflict in the home usually produced a loss in the ring.
She'd married a fighter. She would make the best of the consuming schedule, she decided resolutely, smiling at the thought of his return to her each evening. Her next thought was what she would do with herself all day. A trip to the dairy shop would fill her morning. Preparing lunch would occupy a little more time. Wondering if Drago would break in the afternoon for any length of time, Grace realized she needed a schedule.
After a wonderfully hot shower, she readied for her first outing alone in the city. The old, painted dressing table and mirror already felt familiar, and it pleased her to know that Drago had prepared so thoughtfully for her comfort. Navy blue cargo pants and a team Anto-Engage sweater over a white turtleneck seemed a good choice to face the cool weather, she thought with a final glance in the large mirror. Grabbing her coat, hat, and gloves, Grace set out. Exiting their apartment, she descended the stairs and could hear the activity in the gym below. Over her chest and shoulder hung the canvas bag for toting items from the market, for she did not want to walk alone on unfamiliar streets with her arms occupied.
Drago's voice found her ears, and an involuntary flutter of excitement coursed through her. Reaching the vestibule on the first floor, Grace donned her hat and gloves before facing the elements.
“Where are you off to?” Drago asked.
She smiled, happy to see him.
“I'm going to attempt to find that little dairy market. How is your morning going?”
The damp, dark hair and red cheeks proclaimed the productivity of the session.
“It goes well.” He grinned and leaned closer. “Will you be back in time for lunch?”
“Yes. I'll have something ready for you. Will you break for the afternoon, then?”
“I will be free from noon until three-thirty. Hurry back.”
Grace sensed his teasing mood. Opening the door, she hurried onto the sidewalk, eager to complete her errand and return.
Retracing the route Drago had shown her, Grace clipped along towards her destination. She passed the city blocks, studying the quaint exteriors and passersby with bold curiosity. The tiny dairy front came into view quickly, and bells tinkled as she opened the glass door. The old green and white checkered floor shone from a fresh scrubbing, and a young mother looked up from the small table she stood beside. Two little girls stared up from the low seats where they had been busily coloring.
A greeting was offered, but Grace smiled and shook her head apologetically.
“English?” she inquired.
“Ah, yes!” the woman responded cheerily.
Grace retrieved the list from her bag and offered it to the slim woman.
“Can you help me find these items, please?”
“This is no problem. Come and look.”
The woman browsed the long narrow aisles until the items were gathered. It took only a few minutes.
“I am Anja,” the woman stated. “And you?”
“Hello, Anja. I'm Grace.”
“Are you visiting Bratislava?” she inquired as she rang out the purchases on an old adding machine.
“I very recently moved to the area,” Grace replied.
“Welcome! I hope you will be happy here. Will you drink tea?”
Not entirely sure if this was a regular custom or if it was offered because she was new to the store, Grace accepted the kind offer. Even with Anja's broken English, communication flowed easily between the pair as they shared a little about themselves, and Grace was touched at the open hospitality shown to a stranger. Over a glass of hot tea, she learned that Anja and her husband had taken over the store from her parents and lived above it with their two daughters.
Their glasses emptied, Grace paid the bill and loaded her satchel.
“I hope you will come again next week. If you arrive at nine, a few neighborhood friends will be here for tea. You can meet them,” Anja invited.
“Thank you, that sounds wonderful. I'll try to come, Anja, and maybe I'll make something to share.”
Grace was overwhelmed. Encouraged at the prospect of forming friendships in her new surroundings, she headed for home with a hint of belonging blooming inside her heart. The walk home passed quickly as her thoughts consumed her. She was eager to explain what had transpired to Drago over lunch.
Rounding the corner to her home's street, Grace reflected on all that she had to be thankful for. A new husband whom she adored, a lovely home, welcoming family, and new acquaintances – such goodness! She had been apprehensive at the prospect of living thousands of miles from her father and all she had ever known. In truth, she had been a little fearful that she would feel isolated and too dependent on Drago. Today's events reassured her that this transition promised much good in spite of her fears.
Entering the gym, Grace Zadrovec was confronted with a tense atmosphere. A tall, blond woman stood in the foyer with her arms folded across her chest. Wisps of honey colored hair hung around her face, the rest piled on her head in an elaborate up do. Flawless, pale skin surrounded large, aquamarine eyes, and her full lips were pursed into a sultry pout. Black stockings covered her long, thin legs up to the camel-hued, wool dress coat cinched snugly at the waist.
“Josip!” the woman snapped, “Why are you not ready? You've forgotten, no?”
The impatience in her voice was noted immediately.
“Anika, sweetheart, the party is hours away,” Josip soothed as he hurried to her. “There is plenty of time. Do not upset yourself.”
Josip Igrec, tall and solid, was built like a bull. He had a presence of body that did not fit the catering persona Grace now witnessed. Black hair was cropped close to his dark head, and his face was shadowed by whiskers. He was not impressively handsome, but there was a blatant masculinity about him. Grace, remembering her encounter with his sister, wondered at his dark features compared to her fairness. The trait the siblings did share was their ice-blue eyes, and she supposed that striking feature was the only physical similarity between the brother and sister.
“Don't aggravate me more with your nonsense. Ugh! You're sweaty and smelly. Don't touch me,” she hissed. “Go shower or something. And don't take all day!”
Josip leaned over to kiss her cheek, which Anika accepted with a look of disgust before he headed up the stairs to the showers.
“All right, Anika, all right.”
Grace, waiting for a break in the exchange, took the opening to excuse herself and started for the stairs. Anika was staring at her.
“Hello,” Grace greeted.
“Are you delivering something? Because I don't work here,” Anika stated flatly.
“Oh, no,” Grace replied with a smile, thinking the flustered woman misunderstood. “I'm Grace, Drago's wife. You must be Anika.”
A look of something like amusement passed over the woman's face, making Grace rather uncomfortable. But it was gone in a flash, replaced with mock innocence.
“Ah, the American who managed to land our Drago.”
The thin veneer of civility was transparent, and Grace knew that the phrase our Drago was meant to put her in her
place. The place of an outsider.
Anika continued without blinking.
“I suppose it suits him, marrying to further his career. How lucky for him that Guy Antolini had an unmarried daughter.”
The cat-like smile betrayed her pleasure at the cutting remark.
Grace stiffened slightly. If this woman wanted to engage in a game of tactics, Grace would oblige her.
“What ever would make you think that?” Grace baited with her own mock innocence.
“Why, darling,” she condescended, “Drago could have any beautiful woman he wanted. He has certainly sampled more than his share, yet he married you.”
Grace, thankful for the years of watching her father skillfully maneuver around adversaries in the business, replied with dripping sweetness, “How lucky for me that he found those samples so very lacking.”
She smiled as she started up the stairs. Looking back at the astonished Anika as she attempted to regain herself, Grace dismissed her before the woman could think of a reply.
“Have a good time at your party, Anika.”
Anika Oreskovic had not anticipated the possibility that the tiny American would throw down the gauntlet, but she had. Then she cheered, knowing they would meet again. Tapping her high-heeled foot, she yelled, “Josip, what's taking you so long?”
* * *
Closing the door softly, Grace hung her coat and set the bag on the table. Her body shook from the confrontation downstairs. Comforted that she had held herself together during the exchange with Anika, she now released the pent up emotions swirling inside her. Angry tears spilled down her cheeks as Anika's words echoed in her ears, taunting her. She did not believe that Drago had married her to further his career, but the words cut anyway. It pained her that this was probably whispered behind her back, that some would think Drago the sort of man to execute such a plan. But she had known that rumor would circulate. But to have it boldly thrown in her face was infuriating!
What bothered her more was the thought of Drago with another woman. Other women. Women like Anika. Would her life be filled with encounters like the one today?
Strong arms encircled her from behind.
“Grace, what is wrong?” Drago's voice was deep and soft as he kissed the back of her neck. “Look at me.”
She remained still, struggling to compose herself, not wanting him to see that she had been crying.
“Grace,” he repeated, turning her in his arms.
He cupped her chin and raised it, his eyes searching.
“Why do you cry? Tell me.”
She wanted to speak, but couldn't. Her anger was too fresh for explanation.
He grasped her to himself tightly and demanded, “You must tell me, Grace.”
Looking up at her husband for a moment, she softened and answered.
“I...I met Anika, and she... she had a few things to say. I don't doubt you, Drago, I simply heard things I didn't want to.”
Drago flinched. He knew Anika well, and was certain she had alluded to his past exploits. That was long ago, and he needed Grace to know that.
“There is no one but you, Grace.”
He crushed her mouth with his, the ferocity of his claim in his kiss. His hand fisted her long silken hair as he clasped her against his body.
“There will be no one but you,” he murmured into her mouth.
She was secure in his love, knowing that he meant what he said. Grace returned his passion, parting her lips for his invasive caress. Her hands left his denim clad hips and roved to his bare chest, causing Drago to shudder at the contact of her skin upon his.
His hands possessed her body as his lips tasted her sweetness, exploring her mouth, loving her sensual response. He lifted the sweater and shirt over her head, feathering kisses across her bare shoulders and dipping to her lace covered breast, drawing hungrily on one erect tip. He throbbed, wanting to be inside her, showing her how he needed her. He wanted her to need him. Cupping her other breast, he roamed to the small valley between them with nipping kisses.
Her legs were weak; they would not hold her, but he lifted her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Through the denim, his hard length pressed against her, telling of his desire. Seeking their bedroom, Drago set her on the edge of the bed and ravished her mouth as he removed the barrier of clothing to her sex.
Easing her back, he slid the cotton panties over her hips, grazing and nipping her thighs which parted in welcome to his touch. Sliding his tongue over her slick entrance, he heard with satisfaction her soft moan. Again he laved over her, tasting her essence. Grace panted in anticipation, aching to be filled. He sucked at her with gentleness and slid a finger into her tightness, growling with pleasure at her mewling cries. Grace felt she would shatter into pieces any moment.
“Drago, please,” she whispered.
“Tell me, Grace. Tell me you need me.”
He paused, then ran his tongue over her again.
She gasped.
“Tell me you are mine. Always mine.”
“Yes, Drago, yes.”
He slid another finger slowly into her as he kissed her most sensitive spot.
“Tell me, Grace. I need to hear it.”
“I'm yours, Drago. Always,” she confessed unashamedly.
Casting his jeans aside instantly, he sought her body greedily. He came over her, his thighs pressing her hips open to accommodate his body fully. Easing the tip of his fullness into her tight warmth, Drago emitted a throaty growl, kissing her deeply. His dark eyes smoldered, holding her gaze.
“My love is yours, Grace.”
He eased further into her, slanting his mouth over hers, taking more of her heart. Her hands caressed his face, her hips rocking him deeper into her.
“Love me, Drago.”
Hearing the words she spoke to him on their wedding night, words of trust and surrender, Drago thrust into her, filling her completely. His arms encircled her beneath him. Moving within her, swift and deep in, slow and sensual out while making love to her mouth with his, their pleasure built in intensity until Grace cried his name against his lips.
The strong contractions of her climax broke his reserve and he filled her body with his heated essence and her ears with his strained groan.
“Gracie, my Gracie.”
He remained buried within her, moving to rest on his forearms. His hands held her, and tenderly he kissed her soft lips. Grace was still wrapped around him, legs about his, arms holding him, unwilling to break the intimate contact. Her brown eyes shone softly for him.
“Please do not allow Anika to upset you. I cannot watch you cry. She's a cruel woman – it would make her happy. You are sweet to her bitter, and it angers her to see that.”
“I have to ask you, Drago, for I don't want to be caught off guard ever again. Were you involved with her at one time?”
“No, Gracie,” he laughed softly in her ear. “Let's say she tried once. But I was not interested, which is why she was vicious toward you.”
“I see,” Grace replied with a hint of understanding. “Well, I admit I am glad,” she giggled, “because she's awful.”
“Ah! So I inspire a bit of jealousy in my wife,” he teased playfully, tickling her sides as he nipped her lips.
Her laughing and wiggling was enough to cause him to begin to harden within her again. As he tortured her in relentless love play, she utilized her quickness and flexibility. Thinking to turn over and scramble away from his grasp, Grace moved swiftly. But he was aroused once again. And quick. As her leg cleared his muscular form, he grabbed her hips from behind and held her firmly to him, remaining deep within her.
Grace went completely still at the sensation of being filled this way, and Drago groaned in approval at their new position. His grasp on her slender hips was iron tight, his breathing ragged, the playfulness replaced with intensity. Curling his chest around her back, his voice deep and gruff, he spoke.
“I would have introduced this way of loving in time, moja žena. But it w
ill be now. Relax for me, milenka, sweetheart.”
He remained perfectly still within her as he kissed across her shoulders and back. Stretched around his thickness, Grace gasped at the feeling of complete fullness and vulnerability. When Drago's hands began to caress her body, down her thighs and around her waist, her taut muscles eased, relaxing under his reassuring touch. He stroked his finger over her sensitive bud, heightening her arousal to match his own.
As desire built inside her soft sounds of passion escaped her throat, and she moved against him gingerly. Drago, confident she was now eager with arousal, withdrew partially and slid himself again into her sweet body, fighting to maintain his control and hold his seed. He growled at each invasion into her lushness, stroking her with his finger on each retreat. Grace welcomed his increasing vigor, moving with him as his powerful form invaded her softness.
Fulfillment broke over her in waves and she cried out, stripping the last thread of his restraint. He ran his hand up under her breast and grasped her shoulder from underneath while his other arm stretched across her back, his hand firm at the base of her neck. Thrusting into her, his mouth wild and hungry on her back, he hoarsely called her name again and again against her flesh as he came deep inside her.
Drago slowed his pace, savoring the lingering tremors of his orgasm, wrapping his arms around her possessively. Grace trembled in her husband's embrace, overcome with the intensity of their lovemaking, thankful that his arms supported her. He slipped from her body and lay them against the plush bedding, pulling her close. Resting her head on his chest, cradled in his arms, Grace sighed with contentment.
When he spoke, his voice was strained with emotion.
“Forgive me, milenka, if I was too rough with you.”
Grace moved to look into his eyes.
“No love, you were wonderful,” she breathed and kissed him sensually.
He rolled them and rained his kisses down on her between his words of love.
Chapter 12
Claiming The Prize Page 14
