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Kova chuckled. "You have a weird way of showing it."
I reached between us and cupped his thick erection. Kova's nostrils flared and he gripped my wrist. "When you show me basically a porno of us, you get me so worked up I can't think straight, it's hard to remember why I hate you. I should be angry over what you did, any sensible person would be, but I can't feel the emotion."
"I knew you would not be mad," he said smugly. "I knew you would like it."
A mischievous grin tugged at the corners of my mouth. I arched a high brow and he loosened his hold on my wrist. We were on the same page, more than one could fathom. We had nothing and everything in common. It made no sense.
The only thing I was positively certain about was that we were inexplicably wild about each other.
"Calm down, you cocky, arrogant man. I'm sure tomorrow when I can think straight I'll be mad."
Kova shook his head, his eyes were full of happy laughter. He didn't believe my words as much as I didn't.
"What would it take for you not to be mad with me?"
I was sure he expected me to stroke him, but instead, I rubbed myself along his swollen length. With each rush of my hips, I applied pressure to him and he indulged by thrusting forward. His eyes darkened to a suggestive hue that tingled in my belly.
Damn, his eyes. They made me want to unravel every layer of him.
"For something just like that to happen, but while I am coherent," I moaned. The pleasure bloomed inside my veins, a high was on the horizon.
Kova nipped the tender flesh under my lobe. His hands skimmed my lower back and his fingers slid into my panties. His palm covered one cheek and he gripped it tight in his hand and yanked me roughly against him. A little yelp escaped me.
"But it is so much better when you are sleeping… I can do whatever I want to you. The best part? Your body reacts and still wants it even when you are incoherent."
A shiver ran down my spine at the thought. I shook my head, surging faster and faster. "You're incorrigible."
His fingers danced illicitly close to my sex. I clenched the fabric of his shirt in my hand and waited anxiously, continuing to rub myself on him.
"Impressive." He drove up with his hips and I sucked in a breath. "A big word for such a young girl." He groaned so deep and guttural that I think he liked the definition of the word and what he was doing to me.
"I am a young girl, and you love it. Admit it," I said breathlessly. Kova growled, but didn't answer. He was a fusion of brooding and passive, someone who was indisputably crossed.
"How can someone like you always seem to know what I like?"
I smiled against his mouth. "I'm attentive."
Two fingers dipped further into my wetness. He caressed me softly, slowly, sliding all around. I arched my back and my hips came up, hoping he'd push inside. I moaned, wanting more.
"This girl wants you to make her come."
Another stroke over my swollen pussy and Kova was pulling his fingers out and sliding them between his lips. I let out a frustrated gasp and reeled back. Kova pulled his fingers out with a pop and smiled from ear to ear. I wish he'd smile more. His whole face changed.
He tapped the side of my outer thigh like he was proud. "Time for me to go, sweet girl."
Chapter Thirty-Nine
The Rossi name was a curse. I swear it was.
We were rational yet highly emotional people. I could be the jaw dropping girl in the room, your confidant, and your worst enemy.
All at once if I had to.
And in those rare times when I was on the receiving end—because karma—I loathed it. I prided myself on being practical and levelheaded, but when my emotions slithered under and took root, spreading their vines when I least expected it, I acted just plain old stupid.
It was early Friday morning, twelve hours before our flight departed for the elite qualifier meet where I would test both Optional and Compulsory routines, when I woke up feeling downright weak. It was horrible. I didn't even have the strength to panic. I was lethargic and unable to process my thoughts and so physically drained that I called my mom. Holding up the phone was a job in itself.
Desperate times called for desperate measures.
