5. Emily
This second session with Alexei was going to be even better than the first one. He hadn’t arrived yet, but it was already a marked improvement from Monday. The patients were wonderful this morning. No one had fallen or expelled any type of bodily fluids, and most shocking of all, there was no whining. I was able to go home early, spend time with Audrey (no toddler makeovers this time), and leave her at my parents’ house with very few tears.
I decided to view all that from a Newtonian lens. If an object in motion tends to stay in motion, then a person in a good day will continue to have a good day. Right?
Okay, so maybe it”s a stretch to apply it that way, but I”m running with it.
When the receptionist tells me over the walkie that Mr. Kozlov has arrived, I’m more than ready for him. I’ll greet him professionally, run a perfect treatment session, and then have him walk me to my car. The fact that the route I have planned for us has the fewest security cameras is purely a coincidence.
I bounce down the hallway like a runaway balloon and fling open the door with a little more gusto than usual. What I see in the waiting room, however, is enough to send me plummeting back down to earth at terminal velocity.
Newton, you’ve let me down.
Alexei is there, but so are two other men. Even though there’s no one here but the receptionist and me, they’ve kept on their sunglasses and hooded sweatshirts.
They look like the opening line to a classic joke—a blonde, a brunette, and a redhead all walk into a hospital… except there’s nothing funny at all about it.
My eyes land on the man on the left. Based on the completely normal and not-at-all-creepy internet sleuthing I did on Tuesday after work, the redhead has to be Ian. Honestly, I’m even more impressed that no reporters followed them because Ian has been their favorite topic for the past few weeks. I waded through at least ten different articles all talking about his shoulder injury and what he’s calling his rookie redo season. Even so, I’m relieved they managed to get here unnoticed. I don’t need the press witnessing this horror show.
Alexei sits in the middle like a king flanked by his loyal knights. I search his face for any indication of his mood, but he is unreadable today. That doesn’t bode well for me.
The only man left is to Alexei’s right, and he’s the only one I can’t bear to look at. Even with a plain gray hood obscuring most of his golden hair and shades hiding those robin’s-egg-blue eyes, I know exactly who this man is. The question is why did he feel like he needed to bring two other people to confront me? There’s no way I’m that intimidating. Or maybe he just wants witnesses to build his case? Why else would he be here if not to make a custody bid? The thought makes me sick.
You don’t even know what he wants,a smaller, more rational part of my brain reminds me. Jumping to conclusions is going to help you as much as jumping off a cliff without a parachute will. Besides, a total scorched earth approach doesn’t line up with what you know personally or what you researched about him.
I take a few deep breaths to gather my courage and call them back to my office.
They follow me at a respectful distance, but the memories that he brought along with him overtake me and I nearly drown in them.
An impromptu party by the lake hosted by people I barely knew.
The woodsy scent of expensive cologne.
Strong hands around my waist and far too much alcohol.
We’d both been celebrating that night. I’d landed my first big-girl job at Grace Harbor not even a month after I’d graduated. He was still riding the high of one of the best seasons of his pro career. The minute he walked in, nearly every girl in the place swarmed him like Japanese honey bees on a hornet.
I’d love to say the reason I didn’t do that was because I held myself to a higher standard of behavior, but that would be a bald-faced lie. The truth was I was already extremely tipsy and was dancing on the table in the dining room for my own crowd of admirers. Knowing exactly one person at that party had its benefits. No one there had heard of my reputation as an insufferable science geek.
He’d wandered into the room, and everything came to a dead halt. When I turned to see what the fuss was about, I lost my balance and quite literally fell into him. If he hadn’t caught me, I probably would have sprained or broken at least one of my limbs. Even drunk, he had impeccable hand-eye coordination.
For the rest of the night, we’d been inseparable. He was unbelievably charming. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d stepped straight out of a romance novel. We’d danced, then drank, and danced some more until we were both covered in a slight sheen of sweat. One of us, I don’t remember who, had the bright idea to cool off with a swim. Somehow, we’d managed to sneak out without drawing any attention to ourselves. I do remember that it was his idea to skinny dip, but we never made it into the water. I’d only managed to take off my shoes before he offered to help me untie the halter top of my dress. What followed was one of the best fucks of my life.
The next morning, I woke up on the beach with my head on his chest and his shirt covering me like a blanket. The sun had just started to peek over the horizon, and there were already a few boats out on the lake. Since I didn’t have any liquid courage running through my bloodstream, I’d decided to make a stealthy exit. There was just one problem. My dress was nowhere to be found. Fortunately, his shirt was long enough to cover all the important bits, so I’d grabbed my heels and my purse and headed back to the cabin my parents had rented for me which was (thankfully) on the complete opposite side of the lake.
Not long after that, I learned that his shirt wasn’t the only thing of his that I’d walked away with that night.
At the door of my office, I tried to stuff those memories deep down under a layer of professionalism. That effort apparently came at a cost because once we were all seated in my office, my mind went completely blank and I couldn’t think of a single thing to say to them.
Before things got too awkward, he spoke up.
“I bet you weren’t expecting to meet someone better looking than Alexei here, much less two someones.” He grins, gesturing at himself and Ian before extending his hand. “I’m Oliver, and that’s Ian. I hope you don’t mind that we crashed the appointment.”
He doesn’t recognize me. He must have been more drunk than I thought that night.
I don’t know if I’m more pleased or more disappointed that he doesn’t know me. I’ll wade through all that later, preferably in a bubble bath with a glass of wine and an obscene amount of chocolate.
Disregarding the damage to my pride, I am relieved that this meeting was just going to be a regular physical therapy session rather than a confrontation.
I shake his hand with a reserved smile and introduce myself as well.
“So, what made you crash the appointment?” I ask a little anxiously.
“Alexei was so distracted during practice that he started making rookie mistakes,” Oliver says.
Ian clears his throat.
“Sorry, Ian. He was making mistakes that even Ian wouldn’t make.” He glances over. “Better?”
“Yes,” Ian answers petulantly.
I stifle a laugh.
Oliver turns the full force of his smile back on me. “So, we had to come to see for ourselves what had him skating in circles, as it were. Now that I can see how stunning you are for myself, I’m surprised he was even able to put his uniform on right side out.”
I blush in spite of myself.
“I didn’t come just to gawk at you.” Ian smiles. “I also had some questions about shoulder stretches and what you might recommend for preventative care.”
“But it was one of the reasons you came? Gawking, I mean.” I smile mischievously.
His face turns the same shade as his hair, and I can’t help being pleased by it.
“I tried to warn you.” Alexei shrugs. “She’s feisty.”
I turn my gaze to him. “So, you’ve been talking about me?”
“Just to them,” he admits. “I can make them leave if they’re bothering you.”
Do I want them to leave?
It would make things less complicated, but the way all three of them are looking at me makes me feel more desirable and powerful than I’ve felt in a long time.
Probably because the only sex I’ve had in the past four years or so has been with myself.
“If it doesn’t bother you, I’m fine with them staying,” I say against my better judgment.
A satisfied look passes between them so fast, I wonder if I imagined it.
I look back over at Ian. “I’d be happy to go over some stretches for you in the main area, but if you are concerned, I’d recommend scheduling your own session so we can set up a full plan for you. I don’t want to take too much time away from Alexei’s treatment session.”
“We tend to be good at sharing.” His voice is heavy with meaning. “But I’d be happy for any excuse to get to know you a bit better.”
Heat floods my center, and I have to clench my thighs together to keep from squirming.
“I suppose we’ll find out, won’t we?” I say boldly.
What is wrong with me? Am I seriously flirting with his friends right in front of him?
I glance nervously over at Alexei expecting a scowl, but I get my second surprise of the night. He’s got the same look on his face that he had right before he kissed me Monday night. And Oliver? He looks ready to bend me over my desk.
Focus, Emily. You’re on the clock.
I quickly shoo them into the main treatment area where it will be easier for me to behave myself and take Alexei’s preliminary vitals and a brief breakdown of his symptoms. While he’s warming up on the bike, I focus my attention on Ian. He gives me the rundown of his shoulder injury, most of which I already knew or had guessed, and I show him some gentle stretches he could do at home but reiterate that he really should make an appointment. To my surprise, he agrees right away and insists that I put him on my schedule as soon as possible.
We swap stories about our careers while Alexei works through his lunges and Oliver plays cheerleader. I find myself charmed by the way his eyes light up when he talks about how he, Alexei, and Oliver became friends and later, roommates, and the passion in his voice when he talks about hockey is inspiring. It makes me want to delve even further into the physical therapy scene. I might finally even take Jenna up on her offer from a few years ago and have her send me to the next conference.
It’s not just his passion for hockey that draws me to him. He asks me about my work, how I landed on physical therapy as a career, and just me in general. I’ve met my share of men who pretend to care to get me into bed, but that’s not Ian. His questions are genuine and thoughtful. He doesn’t always answer right away or throw out another pre-rehearsed question. He mulls things over and processes what I’ve said like I’m someone important.
Between Oliver’s overt flirtations, Alexei’s subtle comments, and Ian’s genuine interest, the tension is thick enough to cut with a knife by the time we make it into the hands-on treatment room. The room is quiet except for the soft moans Alexei makes as I work through the sensitive areas of his lower back. I can feel the heat of Ian and Oliver’s stares on my back. I know that if I turn to look, I won’t be able to stay professional.
The silence hangs heavily over us through the end of the appointment. My skin prickles with anticipation and anxiety as Alexei once again offers me his arm like a gentleman. I stop him as he turns toward the elevator.
I waver for a moment, but my desire to see what might happen next overrules my more rational brain.
“I thought we could take the stairs this time,” I suggest with forced calmness. “There’s less chance of being seen by anyone that way. I’d hate to be the reason your treatment sessions are outed to the press.”
“You sure?” His voice is husky. “I don’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position.”
I purposely look from him to Oliver, then Ian, and back before answering, “I’m sure.”
Even though I was expecting something to happen, I wasn’t prepared for Alexei to stop and pull me roughly against him in the first blind spot we passed. He tugs my hair out of its bun, sending it tumbling down my shoulders, then buries his hands in it as he kisses his way up my neck, across my jawline, and then finally, my mouth. I press harder against him, not caring that we have an audience.
He pulls away suddenly, and I squeak in protest, but he just spins me so my back is against his chest. Oliver and Ian are much closer than I thought they’d be. If I lifted my hand I could touch them, but I don’t want to break whatever spell this is so I keep still.
“Do you see the way they’re looking at you, Kitten? The way we’ve all been looking at you today?” he growls into my ear.
“Yes,” I breathe.
“It seems like you like it. Do you?” he asks.
I’m so turned on I can’t string two words together. I nod.
“Answer us, Kitten. You can’t play with us unless you explicitly tell us you want to,” he commands. “Do you like it?”
“Yes,” I admit.
“Good girl.”
A shiver of pleasure runs down my spine, but it’s quickly replaced by insecurity.
“But how does this all… I’ve never really… I don’t…” I sputter and glue my eyes to the floor.
A finger lifts my chin, and I’m eye to eye with Oliver. My breath catches in my throat when I smell his woodsy cologne.
“Come out with us after the game Friday night,” he says. “Let us take you out and show you how much we like to share.”
Ian must have seen me tense because he adds, “It’s a private club. No press, no phones, no internet. You won’t have to worry about any stories leaking out. I promise you’ll be safe.”
Oliver cups my face in his hands and promises, “If you don’t like it or want to stop at any point, we’ll back off, but we’d like the chance to convince you. Will you let us take you out?”
I nod.
Alexei squeezes my hips disapprovingly. “Out loud, Kitten. We’re big on informed, enthusiastic consent.”
“Yes,” I say.
Alexei plants a kiss on the side of my head and gently pushes me into Oliver, who pulls me into a kiss that makes my head spin. I’ve barely caught my breath after he pulls away and puts my hand into Ian’s.
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” He squeezes my hand reassuringly. “I’ll make sure they back off. All you have to do is say so.”
His earnest concern quiets the doubts still bouncing around my brain, and I’m filled with the need to kiss him.
“I want to,” I reassure him.
He still seems worried, so I lean in and place a soft kiss on his lips. What follows is one of the tenderest kisses I’ve ever experienced.
It’s not until I’m home buried in a nest of blankets that the reality of the situation hits me in full force.
I’ve just agreed to go on a date with three of the most famous men in the city, and one of them is my daughter’s father.
Do I tell them right now and destroy whatever this is before it starts?
Do I wait and see where this goes and try to keep my secret?
How long could I even keep a secret like that?
There’s only one thing I know for certain. My heart is in serious danger.