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Irina frowned as if my friendly threat might have scared her more than I intended. For a few moments, she looked haunted. I saw someone sitting atop a mountain of regrets and worries. I instantly wanted her to unwrap all her layers and show me everything hiding inside.
Instead, Irina kept the conversation light.
“My marriage happened when I was young,” she said, clearly bothered by the memory. “There was pressure from our families.”
I caught on to how a kid was probably involved. Despite the wider world’s view of single moms, small towns weren’t so welcoming.
“Where is he now?” I asked, wondering more about her kid.
“Gone,” Irina mumbled and downed the rest of her drink. Seeming recharged, she stepped closer and smiled softly. “I can’t stay long.”
“Why?” I asked, growing irritated at how I didn’t know who the fuck she was or why she had to run off.
When Irina looked at me with her big blue eyes, I realized I had to pick the cost I was willing to pay. If I pushed for answers, I’d lose time enjoying her lips. However, if I kissed her, I’d remain in the dark.
I imagined going without her for a week. Would I rather spend that time cataloging her details or fantasizing about her curvy body?
An hour later, Irina left the Pigsty rosy-cheeked and horny as hell. Watching her leave tore out my heart in the same way I felt when my mom ditched me to spend time with her new family.
With Irina owning so much power over me, I naturally wanted to sabotage things. Over the next week, I became paranoid over the idea that Irina was sent by an enemy. I still didn’t know anything about her. McMurdo Valley isn’t that fucking big.How could she live here without me finding out her every secret?
At the next party, Irina asked to see my room. I loved how she seemed shy yet blurted out really forward shit.
“I think about you all week,” she admitted that night.
Before she arrived, I’d been ready to interrogate her. Except her words were as unguarded as her expression. I’ve fucked more women than I can remember, yet none broke me with a simple look. I wanted Irina in a completely unhealthy way.
Kissing her felt like I’d found that missing piece to fill my unsatisfied heart. I’d always been on the outside. There were times when I sat with my friends yet felt alone.
As I peeled away Irina’s clothes, I removed the walls around my heart. I needed this woman.Irina was mine.Everything would work out. I had to trust those facts.
Yet, when Irina left me that night, I got pissed. Like she should drop her entire—unknown—life and stay with me. If she had problems, I’d fix them. If she was in trouble, I’d save her.
Irina, though, fled into the night to her waiting Uber before my dick was even dry.
I tried to get control of myself.I didn’t need her. She wasn’t special.Those words made sense. I believed them.
Until another chick tried to flirt with me, and I became horrified by her behavior.Couldn’t she tell I was spoken for?For fuck’s sake, I figured I had a giant “WHIPPED” sign on my chest.
That’s how it felt, anyway. I belonged to Irina. Being with any other woman would be cheating.
After the second night with Irina, I even went to a clinic to get checked out for STIs. I’d always been religious about condom use to avoid an unwanted kid or a dick-burning disease.
Despite assuming I was clean, I needed to be sure for Irina. I wanted to fuck her bareback, removing a barrier between us.
Without a doubt, Irina was clean. She acted like a woman who hadn’t been fucked in a decade, maybe longer. She looked so surprised when I went down on her for the first time. Her reaction was so hot that I planned to prevent her from leaving.
“I’ll drive you home in the morning,” I insisted, standing in front of the door when she wanted to go to her waiting Uber.
Irina’s gaze held a storm of emotions. I saw longing and sensed she was considering my offer. I also thought she looked ashamed and guilty. Those last ones won out. As she drove away, I decided her secrets couldn’t last.
I spent that week learning what I could. With only a few Uber drivers in the area, I located the guy who kept bringing her. He said he picked her up at the movie theater and once at the mall. He claimed he saw her catch a ride from a dark SUV after she was dropped off.
I asked around Valley Star Diner about Irina. That’s where she was when she first saw me. A chick who works at both Valley Star Diner and the club’s townie bar—Valley Gin Mill—put together certain shit for me.
“She works for Todd Rogers,” Gitty explained. “I saw the license plate on the Escalade she was driving. It was one of his personalized ones. She’s got to be working out on his estate.”
Todd Rogers is a piece of shit. I never understood how he got so rich. My assumption is he inherited his wealth. Most rich people got to the top by having a ladder handed to them by their parents.
