9. Gemma
Chapter 9
Gemma
“Okay, tell me your secret. How did you pull off timing the flower deliveries so perfectly? How did you know when they died to send fresh ones the next day?”
A smirk crept onto Sasha’s face from across the intimate booth, lit by a candle in a bulbous wine bottle. Colorful wax drips decorated the outside of the glass.
“That’s easy, Kitten. I had the florist send me a single flower from your specific arrangements. When it began to wilt, I ordered more.”
Was this guy for real? He’d meticulously thought it through, planning ahead and making sure that I would never go a day without fresh flowers.
His grin grew so wide I could practically see his molars.
“Do you ever stop smiling?” The question was out of my mouth before I could stop it, natural curiosity winning out over manners.
Sasha’s booming laughter had several patrons turning their heads to stare, and I fought the urge to hide beneath the table.
The calloused pad of a thumb brushed over my knuckles. “Are you allergic to seeing people’s teeth?”
My resulting eye roll couldn’t be stopped.
“No,” I said like a sullen teenager.
“Why don’t you ask me what you really want to know, then?” Those blue eyes held a hint of challenge. “I’m an open book. I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”
Fuck it.
“How can you be so happy all the time?”
Lifting one shoulder, Sasha replied, “Easy. I’ve already lived through the worst day of my life.”
That was not at all the answer I’d been expecting.
I didn’t know what to make of him. I’d been to hell and back, and there were times I’d barely been able to convince myself to get out of bed and fight another day. If he was still this cheerful, his worst day couldn’t have been all that bad.
Holding my gaze, he explained, “My dad was killed by a drunk driver when I was ten.”
My gasp split the air, and both hands flew to my mouth.
You’d think I would be desensitized to death by now, but the devastating blow never lessened. Grief—even the act of empathy for those suffering with it—chipped away at you piece by piece until you threatened to crumble, unable to go on.
Frozen, I watched as Sasha slid from his side of the booth to crowd me on mine. Slowly, he pried my fingers away, dropping his forehead to mine.
Tears prickled behind my eyes. “I’m so sorry, Sasha.”
“It was a long time ago.”
Awareness dawned, and I finally connected the dots. “That’s why you don’t drink.”
Hand cupping my cheek, he wiped away the moisture that had leaked out despite my best efforts.
“My girl’s so smart.” His soft words made my heart clench.
“I shouldn’t have asked.”
“Hey.” Fingers gripped my chin as he pulled back, forcing me to look at him. I was shocked by the pure affection shining in his cobalt stare. “It’s part of who I am, what shaped the man I’ve become.”
“It must have been so terrible.” My words came out whisper-quiet. The image of a young, smiling Sasha having his world blown to bits by the loss of a parent made my heart twist.
“It was,” he agreed. “And if you’ll let me, I’d like to tell you about it.”
“Oh. No, you don’t have to—”
“I want to.”
I let out a shaky breath. “Okay.”
“We lived in Upstate New York when I was growing up. My dad loved to go on evening runs, even in the winter, declaring the weather was so much milder than it had been in the old country.”
“Old country?”
“Yeah. We moved from Russia when I was a baby.”
My brows shot sky-high, and I pulled away from his hold, my back hitting the wall inside the booth. “You’re Russian?!”
Head cocked, he surveyed my extreme reaction to that news. “Didn’t my name give that away? Gusev is pretty ethnic.”
Brain firing off at rapid speed, I tried to run through my limited knowledge of the Russian families outside of the Chicago area. As a woman, I wasn’t privy to the inner workings of the family business or the wide range of allies and enemies, so I came up empty on anyone with his surname having ties to a bratva.
Swallowing, I dared to ask, “Did you . . . did you have a big family growing up?”
“No. It was just the three of us. My parents had been saving up for a while before I was born and finally made their dreams of moving to America a reality when I was about six months old.”
Relief washed over me, and I closed my eyes, my racing heart needing a minute to settle.
For a second there, the worst-case scenario had filtered through my mind—that the Russians had taken exception to Gio’s lies about being responsible for Rory’s disappearance and were going to use me to get even.
Enzo had warned me that my display at the DMV drew too much attention, potentially placing a target on my back. The idea that it was all orchestrated from the start, that they had eyes on me and sent in an unlikely mercenary, paralyzed me.
Rational thought finally broke through that if Sasha were here to snatch and grab me, he wouldn’t also happen to have a high-profile sports career in the same city where I decided to move. That, and he hadn’t tried to hide his nationality. He could have played off his surname as coming from one of the many Eastern European countries from the failed Soviet Union.
“Gemma?” Sasha’s cautious tone had me peeking at him.
Heat burned a path up my neck as shame sank in that I’d done what so many others did when they heard my nationality. Mafia movies had once been all the rage, sensationalizing organized crime, primarily focused on Italians—feeding into the stereotype that all Italians were mobsters. Granted, my family was, but not all those with names ending in vowels were.
Repeat after me, Gemma: Not all Russians are bratva.
“Sorry,” I mumbled under my breath.
When he reached tentatively for my hand, I met him halfway, an additional form of apology on my part.
“I’m not even sure what you’re apologizing for.”
“Doesn’t matter.” I shook my head.
Gently, he tugged me closer, curling his arm around my waist so I was forced to rest my head on his shoulder. The position was intimate, and usually, my first instinct would be to pull away, to not let myself be vulnerable, but I was so damn tired of fighting. Was it so wrong to want to feel safe after a lifetime of hyperawareness, expecting danger and pain at every turn?
“Already forgotten.” Sasha’s lips brushed against my temple. Now, where were we?” He paused for a moment before getting back to his story. “So, Dad liked his runs. One night, he went out but wasn’t back by the time I was getting ready for bed. Mom was worried, so she packed me in the car and drove around the neighborhood. We made it about two streets over when we saw the flashing lights.”
My stomach dropped. “Oh God.”
His grip on me tightened like he needed an anchor to share the rest. “He was pronounced dead at the scene. They’d already taken him away and had the driver in custody.”
I turned my face into his chest, my words muffled. “I can’t imagine.”
“The first time I ever saw a grown man cry was inside a courtroom as they handed out the sentence to the drunk driver who’d hopped the curb, killing my dad. He was filled with remorse, not making excuses for his actions, as he apologized in front of the judge and all those gathered. I guess he’d gotten fired from his job earlier that day and went on a bender, afraid to come home to his wife. His drinking that day not only took a life, it ruined his, as well. He didn’t get to watch his kids grow up, and the man he killed didn’t either.”
With my heart breaking for all those involved, I turned to peek at his face. “How can you still be smiling after living through that?”
Thumb stroking my cheek, he replied, “It’s because of that.”
“What? That doesn’t make any sense?”
“I made two decisions that day. The first was that I would never let a drop of alcohol touch my lips. The second was more of a vow—to remain positive about anything that came my way from that point forward.”
“I don’t understand you,” I whispered in awe of the maturity of a ten-year-old boy who had grown into this happy-go-lucky, albeit slightly unhinged man.
“The whole situation gave me a new perspective on life. I don’t live with regrets because I’ve seen how quickly it all can change on a dime.”
Wryly, I mused, “Yet, you’re out on a date with a woman who serves liquor for a living.”
“It doesn’t bother me. If it bothers you, quit.”
A scoff flew past my lips at his flippant tone. “Easier said than done.”
His blue eyes stared at me with an intensity that had me squirming in my seat. “Do you like tending bar, Gemma? Is that what brings you joy?”
“No one derives joy from tending bar, Sasha.”
“Then why do you do it?” The question was asked with sincerity.
“Because if I don’t, I can’t afford to pay my mortgage, my utilities, or eat. I have a limited skill set, so I’m not qualified to do much else, and the tips behind the bar are a hell of a lot higher than those of a restaurant server.”
Nodding, he declared, “As far as I’m concerned, you’re making a living the best way you know how.”
I blew out a heavy breath. “How am I supposed to stand there, wondering if the next drink I pour is going to be the cause of an innocent life being taken too soon?”
Arching a dark blond eyebrow, Sasha asked, “Are you in the habit of overserving your patrons?”
“Of course not.” I bristled at the insinuation.
“Then you can rest at night with a clear conscience.”
Thankfully, we were saved from any further discussion on the matter as our server arrived with our entrees.
When Sasha dug into his plate, overflowing with pasta, I gaped at him.
Sensing my stare, he swallowed the bite in his mouth and turned to face me. “What?”
I titled my head toward the other side of the booth he’d previously occupied. “Aren’t you going to go back over there?”
“Nope.” He scooped another heaving forkful of pasta into his mouth.
I couldn’t help but let out a disbelieving laugh. Neither of us were small people, so it was a tight fit for us to be seated on the same bench. Our thighs were pressed together, and our elbows bumped as we ate.
Sasha had given me a few keys to unlocking what made him tick, but I was still just as perplexed about the man who had pestered me until I’d agreed to this one date.
We kept the conversation light for the rest of dinner. Sasha told me more about his professional hockey team, impressing me with tales of their recent championships while making my heart long for some of the camaraderie he described having with his teammates.
Growing up, my friendships had been superficial at best. I was isolated as the niece of the current Don and cousin of the future one. Other girls born to men loyal to my family were afraid to get too close, fearing it could negatively impact their standing within the organization.
Being born a Bellini was a curse in so many ways.
I was stuck on that thought as we drove back to my place.
Sasha was this bright and shiny person. I couldn’t imagine dulling him, but that would surely happen if I allowed him to pull me down the path he had set out for us in his mind.
Escaping from my past life in Chicago was an illusion. I would never be truly free. I couldn’t change the blood running through my veins or forget the past that had damaged me beyond repair.
So, I was left with only one choice: I had to let him down easy.
But I would always cling to the memories of our one evening together when he’d treated me like an equal.
I let him lead me to my front door, and I fumbled in my purse for my keys as the nerves kicked in.
His large palm covered my trembling one, the heat radiating off his body seeping into my bones. “You don’t have to be nervous. I’ll take good care of you.”
Okay, time to shut this down.
Turning to face him, I sighed. “Look, Sasha. Tonight was fun, and you’re a really nice guy—”
I didn’t get any further before he caught me off guard, caging me in against my front door. His eyes darkened to a deep ocean blue, and he rasped, “You’re right. I am a nice guy , but you know what they say about us, don’t you?”
My heart hammered against my ribcage erratically, and I stammered, “N-no.”
Sasha flashed me with a wicked grin before he dipped his head, lips brushing against the shell of my ear. “That we finish last.” He let out a low groan that had my toes curling. “And fuck, Kitten, is that ever true. I’m going to have you coming so many times that you’ll be a shaking, whimpering mess before I take a single ounce of my own pleasure from your sweet body. That’s a fucking promise.”
Those words were the bucket of ice water I’d so desperately needed.
A snort sounded, and it took viewing Sasha’s slightly amused expression as he pulled back to realize it had come from me. He stared at me expectantly, waiting for an explanation of my reaction.
Fuck it. I didn’t need to impress him by playing coy.
“It was a smooth line, and you get points on the delivery, but unfortunately, it was wasted on the wrong woman.” When he only blinked at me, I explained, “No man has ever made me come.”
Instead of backing away and accepting the rejection, he forced a knee between my thighs, causing me to gasp at the bold move. With his body pressed flush to mine, I could feel the outline of the massive erection insistent against my hip.
My mouth went dry. I knew he was packing a monster down there from the brief glimpse I’d caught that day at the rink. He’d been just as unashamed of it then as he was now.
Earlier tonight, he’d made a point to reassure me that he could make it fit, no matter how tight the space. But getting a true gauge on the size of it now, I had my doubts. Even if he could cram that cock inside a woman, it was more likely to elicit a pained response from his bed partner versus a pleasurable one.
Voice husky and low, he taunted, “I don’t need a diagram, baby. I know where all the right spots are. Don’t you worry.”
“Oh, I’m sure all the others did too,” I shot back. “The only way I’m getting off is with a vibrator pressed so hard against my clit it hurts.”
Sasha’s head cocked to the side, a determined glint entering his eyes before his nose brushed along the side of mine. “I know you didn’t just issue me a challenge. Have you forgotten that I’m a competitor? That my job requires a level of unmatched focus? If I say I’m going to make you come, I’m not leaving this house until I do.”
Sighing, I argued with our lips a breath apart, “I’m telling you that I know my body, and it’s simply not possible. Sorry to bruise your sensitive male ego.”
The cocky bastard refused to back down. “It’s not ego, Gemma. It’s fact. Never in my life have I let a woman leave my bed—or hers—unsatisfied.”
“That’s what you think,” I retorted.
“Excuse me?” He reared back.
“Don’t feel too bad. Women have become experts at faking orgasms.”
“F-faking?” Sasha huffed out. “Oh, baby, there’s been no faking.”
When I rolled my eyes, his free hand gripped my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze as he said the following words. “Maybe a lesser man can’t tell the difference, but when a pussy clamps down so hard around your cock it feels like it might cut off circulation, little doubt remains.”
Before I could formulate a response—my brain misfiring at the mental picture he painted—soft, warm lips pressed to the side of my jaw, working a path down my neck. When I couldn’t help but shift my hips, my core pressed right against that solid thigh jammed between them.
My moan couldn’t be stopped; the throbbing need he stirred within me, unlike anything I’d ever felt before, became impossible to ignore.
Sasha’s chuckle buzzed against my skin.
Smug bastard.
“It works best if you grind down, sweetheart. Rub that sweet clit over me until you soak through your panties and onto my pants.”
Head dropping back against the door with a thud, I panted, “First date. Too soon.”
“Is that how you see tonight?” When I didn’t grind on his thigh as instructed, he pulled my hips down onto it, rocking me over the firm muscle. My breathing hitched as he continued, “Honey, we’ve been dancing around this for over a month.”
A whimper caught in my throat when he licked a path up the side of my neck before tugging on an earlobe with his teeth.
“And I think we can both agree you’re too curious to find out if I can make good on my promise to make you come, to take you where no other man has before.”
Fire surged in my veins. Sasha had already proven he could illicit a response from my body, the likes of which no man had ever succeeded in doing before.
But it was because of that reaction that I was scared. If I let him show me what it was supposed to be like between a man and a woman, I feared I would want more, and I’d already decided to make a clean break before he could get even more attached.
Mind hazy, trying to think of any excuse not to let him come inside and ravish me—because that’s basically what he’d declared he was going to do—I was grasping at straws when I blurted, “I didn’t shave.”
There was a beat of silence. When I felt Sasha pull back, I dared to open my eyes.
He had the most infuriating smirk on his gorgeous face.
I didn’t know why, but I felt the need to drive the point home by clarifying with a dip of my chin. “Down there.”
The barking laughter that sounded had me gaping at the giant still pressing me against my front door.
What the fuck was so funny?
He shook his head, amusement lacing his tone. “Now I know you were telling the truth about not being taken care of the way you deserve.” Face coming closer, his chest rumbled as his voice grew deeper. “That might be a dealbreaker for the boys you’ve been with, but I’m a grown man. A little pussy hair isn’t going to scare me away.”
Oh. My. God.
My body screamed at my brain to shut the hell up when it forced my lips to form the words, “It’s important to me.”
“Fine. I’ll shave you myself.”
My eyes widened at the offer.
His lips ghosted over mine, his breath fanning my face. “Are you out of excuses yet?”
God help me, I was. Every roadblock I’d thrown up had been carelessly tossed aside by this man.
He took my silence as confirmation. “Let me in, Gemma.”
There was so much meaning behind that single request.
I could let him in my home, in my body, but under no circumstances could I let him in my heart.
“Just tonight.” That caveat might as well have been a shield, my last line of defense.
“Deal, but I get the whole night. I’m not leaving until the sun comes up and I’ve taken you as many times as I’m able.”
“Okay,” I breathed out.
That was all it took to unleash the beast.
Sasha’s mouth slammed onto mine, his tongue brutally demanding entry. I was powerless to stop him, my lips parting as he claimed me.
Hands tangled in my hair, angling me where he wanted so his tongue could dive deeper. I was forced to swallow his deep groan; the vibrations of his chest against mine had my nipples hardening painfully, and I moaned into his mouth.
It was as if he was trying to possess me through a kiss. And a part of me wondered how thoroughly he’d lay claim once I allowed him between my thighs.
Speaking of thighs, I took his advice, grinding down hard on his. The pressure was perfect, the throbbing of my clit demanding attention.
Why did it feel so good with him when I’d never experienced even the tiniest stirring of arousal with any other man—or myself, for that matter?
There wasn’t time to ponder that question because Sasha tore his lips away, our ragged breathing sending icy puffs in the cold night air.
“Keys,” he demanded.
When he stepped back, my boneless knees threatened to buckle, and I had to grab the doorknob to remain upright.
A dark chuckle fell from his lips, such a stark contrast to his light and free personality. “Oh, baby. If one little kiss has you melting into a puddle, you might not survive the night.”
I was out of words, staring mutely at the big man making all kinds of promises he intended to back up with action.
Slipping my purse strap from my shoulder, he rummaged inside until the distinct jangling of keys sounded.
I could barely breathe, barely move, as he crowded my space once more. His tongue perched between his teeth as he concentrated on fitting the key into the lock and turning the deadbolt.
It swung open so suddenly that I stumbled back, but a strong arm looped around my waist, holding me steady.
Sasha’s chuckle rolled over me, heating my blood to nearly a boiling point. He’d barely touched me, and I was ready to explode.
He walked me backward, and I jumped when the door was kicked shut with a bang.
Not missing a beat, Sasha grabbed two fistfuls of my ass, squeezing before sliding his hands lower to skim beneath the hem of my skirt. Rough palms spread over the back of my thighs before lifting me into his arms.
I squealed, shocked that he’d done so with ease. The trance he held over me was momentarily broken as I gripped his shoulders to steady myself, commanding, “Put me down! You’re going to pull something!”
He ignored me, striding toward the staircase.
“Sasha! I’m serious!”
Not stopping his strides, he stared up at me. “Are we playing this game?” My eyes narrowed into thin slits, but he didn’t back down. “What do you come in at? A little over two hundred?”
I gaped at him. I wasn’t a fan of scales, but I was somewhere in that ballpark.
“Baby, I bench press more than that.”
“Um—” My brain struggled to come up with a reply, but I had nothing.
Why are you having this argument with him? He chased after you. Athlete or not, he clearly has no issue with your size. Might be nice to see what it’s like to be thrown around like a ragdoll.
A sexy smirk tipped up on his kiss-swollen lips, and he took the first step with me held securely in his arms.
Reaching the landing, he eyed me in question. My townhouse only had two bedrooms, but with the doors closed, it was impossible to tell which was mine.
Afraid to remove my arms from around his neck, I directed, “The one on the left.”
Jostling me, he shifted one arm beneath my ass so he didn’t have to put me down to turn the doorknob.
The ensuite bathroom was visible from where we stood on the threshold, and with sure strides, Sasha carried me inside before setting me on my feet.
When he reached into the shower and pulled out my razor, I swallowed. Hard.
This was my moment of truth.