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“Why?” I asked, even though I’d only met Alice once.
The Russian shrugged. “Just a feeling they won’t make it.”
I smiled at him and gave him a poke.
“What?” he grinned at me.
“Sasha said you loved to be amongst the girl gossip.”
“Hard not to be,” he rolled his eyes. “Right next door to my office is Kay, Sasha and Alice; I go home to visit and Dad and I are outnumbered as you know. If you can’t beat them – metaphorically speaking,” he added quickly, “might as well join them.”
“Hmm, that so?” I studied him. “So what do you think about that potential new couple ... The Russian and that gorgeous Suns’ player he’s met, Carla Brooker?” I asked, tongue-in-cheek.
“Well,” he said, and gave a long sigh. “Luckiest girl alive, I’d say.”
I laughed and poked his muscled chest again and he grabbed my hand and kissed it.
“Careful, Brooker. Don’t work me up,” he teased. He kissed the top of my head and tucked me under his arm. His condo was close now and our beach walk was going to be over in moments. He must have thought the same thing and suddenly got very serious.
“The thing is, Brooker, I want you to have all the success in the world, because like you, when I finish my contract—and I’ve got a few more years to go yet, knock on wood—I’m going to be trying to stay in the game somehow ... in sport administration, coaching or business. It’s my life. So this existence, these hours and the routine, they are not a passing phase,” he said.
“Exactly, it’s our passion; it’s what I want to stay involved in, I’ve worked hard at it, so have you.”
We arrived back at his place and headed up the stairs. He unlocked the sliding glass door, we left our shoes outside still and entered. The Russian locked the door behind us and turned to me.
“Are we good?” he asked.
“I have one more question,” I said, trying to look as serious as I could.
“Okay, shoot,” he said, a frown appearing on his handsome face.
“What did you make for dinner?”
He grinned. “The best lasagne you have never tasted. It was superb. Still in the fridge ... really, you would have been impressed.”
“Your mom made it didn’t she?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.
“Fine, yes she did.”
I laughed.
“So, are we good now?”
“We’re good,” I agreed. He smiled and looked relaxed for the first time that night. He leaned his forehead against mine and we breathed each other in, and then I yelped as my feet disappeared from underneath me and he swept me up.
*****
I wrapped my arms around his neck as he carried me into the main bedroom and wow, The Russian was an alpha in every sense of the word – it was a room for a king: a huge king bed, a huge room, ocean views, a huge ensuite that I could see through the door and a walk-in-wardrobe that you could live in.
The Russian placed me beside the bed, standing me in front of him, but he didn’t let me go. He reached to beside the bed where he hit a button and the bedroom blind went down. Then he looked at me again – his dark eyes scanning my face.
“We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready ...”
“I’m ready,” I said. “Are you?”
He made a scoffing sound as he pressed against me, his body and his erection hard – in fact, everything about him was hard except for the look in his eyes. His hands went down to my legs and he lifted the skirt of my dress, slowly pulling it up and over my head. I stood in front of him with a pale cream lace and satin lingerie set on. I had bought it for that night and I had started thinking I had lost the chance to show it off. I was pretty sure The Russian appreciated it; he made this growling sort of sound and his hands ran down my body; I broke out in tingles all over.
He stopped long enough to pull his T-shirt off over his head and then it was my turn to be tongue-tied. Actually, my tongue just wanted to trace that six pack and work its way down lower. I ran my fingers along his arms, feeling his muscles, his built arms. He undid his belt and slipped his jeans down and off. He stood tanned and muscled, in a white pair of fitted boxers. I wish I could have gotten a photo for the nights I was alone.
