Chapter 18
VAL
Fuck me, my everything hurts.
Head, back, shoulder, hand. Even my fucking balls hurt, which is the shit icing on the turd cake that tonight turned into.
Mercifully, there’s no damage to my legs or feet. Some road rash, a dislocated shoulder, some fractured ribs, and a motherfucker of a bruise on my right thigh.
And a concussion. That's what scares the fuck out of me. When you’ve already lost significant chunks of your memory…well…
But I’ll live. More importantly, I’ll still dance, in three to four weeks, according to the doctors. After my ribs heal up a little and the bruising and scrapes go down, I should be back to showroom condition.
Thank fuck.
Now, about tonight.
Was I riding recklessly, not paying enough attention to the road and other drivers?
Yes.
Was that because of a certain fucking man being permanently in my brain and refusing to eject himself?
Maybe. Probably.
Definitely.
What a fucking asshole.
Milena, Naomi, Dove, Miguel, James, Brooklyn, even Kir—Brooklyn's psycho-hot way older boyfriend who runs the Nikolayev Bratva and also happens to own the Zakharova and the Mercury Theater are all here. Kir and Brooklyn got here first, and even though my friends are all seriously concerned about me, it’s him who insisted on throwing his weight around as—apparently—a major donor to the hospital to get me moved to the VIP floor.
He’s also got his own personal doctor checking me out and has already informed me that he’s flying his go-to neurological surgeon in from London to examine me…
a Dr. Crowley, who's apparently world-renowned.
Fucking friends in high places, right?
Annoyingly, my own fucking brother is not here. He did send me a couple of texts telling me he’s glad I’m okay, though.
I swear, that fucking guy…
On the one hand, it’s amazing to have a brother I never knew existed. On the other…it’d be fucking nice if he acted like one.
Everyone’s fawning over me, making sure I’m feeling okay and that the pillows are fluffy enough—spoiler: they are. The VIP floor of the hospital is very fucking nice, thank you very much Kir.
But even as they all fuss over me, I pick up my cracked phone and tap on a certain contact.
My brow darkens when I re-read the last texts from Roman, including that outrageously hot, clearly alcohol-fueled pic of him in a hot tub looking like a goddamn snack.
I still haven’t texted him back. Not this time. Snack or not, just…no.
I don’t have time or space in my life for him or his shit. He can stay the fuck out of my life from now on.
“VAL!”
The door flies open and Evie comes streaking into the room like a pink bat out of hell.
“Am I allowed to hug you?!”
I grin as I open my arms. “Hell yeah, Eves. I’d love one.”
I wince when she wraps her arms around me and squeezes a little too tight for my ribs’ liking. But I hug her back anyway, a smile melting over my face.
…Until I look past her shoulder and see who’s lurking in the doorway, looking way too fucking good. He’s dressed like he just came from a nice dinner, leaning against the door frame, rubbing a bulging bicep with the opposite hand.
“I…I uh, drove her,” he grunts in answer to the question I didn’t ask.
He’s here.
And goddammit…
I don’t hate it.
At all.
Evie joins the chorus of people making sure I have plenty of ice chips to suck on, or enough pain meds.
Spoiler: I’m fucking great for pain meds right now.
But even as they all stay crowded around my bed, fretting and worrying, my gaze drifts past them, to him.
He doesn’t say anything to me, and I don’t say anything to him. Not out loud.
But the unspoken words that flicker between our gazes? That’s another story.
And he’s here.
He came.
Eventually, my nurse Tracy comes in and says everyone has to leave so they can run some more tests. Everyone says their goodbyes, and Tracy starts ushering them out.
“Actually…” She tugs on Roman’s wrist. “Can I use you for a second?”
My jaw clenches.
That’s my job, bitch.
Whoa. Where the fuck did that come from?
“Sorry,” Tracy apologizes. “The casters on this bed stick and I need to move—”
“No problem,” Roman says in that deep, sexy baritone. He turns to Evie, who smiles. “I’ll be in the waiting room with everyone else. Meet you down there?”
Roman nods and then steps back into the room with Tracy.
“It’s the bottom left side one,” she sighs, pointing to that corner of my bed. “Sorry to ask, but you’re…well…” She grins, blushing a little as she eyes him.
Back. The fuck. Off. Cunt.
Roman chuckles easily. “No problem. Where’s he going?”
“Just to the other side of the room, a little closer to the window. So the machine can reach.”
“Got it.”
Roman gently moves Tracy out of the way before he grabs the foot of the bed. I watch eagerly as his arm muscles fucking bulge when he grits his teeth and gives the bed a sharp yank. Then he drags it across the floor—with me in it—to where it needs to go.
“How’s here?”
“Perfect!” Tracy says. She puts her hand on his arm and giggles.
Fucking giggles.
Bitch…
“I’m so glad you were here!” she gushes, squeezing his arm. “You’re so strong!”
Roman just smiles.
I picture heavy objects falling from orbit and reducing Tracy to Jello.
“I hate to ask…” She winces. “I need to ask another favor. Would you mind waiting here for a minute? I need to check with our x-ray tech about your friend's scans, but I can’t leave him alone since he’s not hooked up to a monitor yet. Do you mind?”
My eyes swivel to Roman. He swallows.
“Not at all,” he blurts. “Yeah.” He smiles. “I can for sure stay with him.”
“Great, thanks. Back in ten or so.”
The door shuts behind her, and then we’re alone: me in this hospital bed, him standing right next to me.
“So…” He laughs nervously. “Tracy’s a bit of a flirt, huh—”
“What are you doing here, Roman,” I grunt.
His smile falters and drops. “I…I drove my sister.”
Yeah, not the answer I was looking for.
“Cool,” I say dryly.
“And…I was worried about you.”
My pulse skips a beat as my eyes snap to his.
Did he for real just say that out loud?
“Why,” I growl. “Why were you worried about me.”
He looks away, rubbing the back of his head. “I… I dunno. Because I’m a human being? With empathy?”
I smirk. “That empathy stop you from killing people or beating them up?”
“Not really.”
My brow lifts. “Then I’m touched.”
He grins a goofy, adorable smile, then blushes when I wink at him.
“How do you feel?” he asks, turning serious.
“Like I got ridden hard and put away wet, and not in the fun way.”
Roman smiles. “What happened?”
“Some fucker cut me off. I swerved, skidded out, and slammed into a crosswalk post at the corner of Broadway and Houston.”
“Christ,” he growls. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”
“Yeah…”
I trail off, and the room goes silent.
“Look, I’m…”
“Don’t.”
Roman frowns. “I want to apologize for—”
“For attacking me? For hitting me?”
“I…” He sighs, looking at the floor. “That was fucked up.”
“No shit.”
His eyes snap to mine. “You got some pretty good hits in yourself.”
“Eh, you can take it.”
My lips pull into a grin, and his do the same.
“You throw a pretty fucking good punch,” he murmurs quietly.
“Thanks. I know.”
He grins. “Where’d you learn to fight like that?”
“Foster care.”
He nods. “Right, Evie’s mentioned that.” His brow furrows, and I watch as he rests his tattooed hands on the edge of my bed. “That must have been tough.”
I shrug. “When you’re a queer kid who dances ballet, you learn to fight pretty fucking fast. But also…I think… I kinda like it. Fighting, I mean. Weird, right?”
Roman shakes his head. “Not so weird. I’ve boxed for years as…I dunno…self-help or therapy or whatever.” He shrugs. “I’ve always liked street fighting, too.”
“I’ll take that love tap of yours as a compliment, then.”
He chuckles quietly.
“So…” He clears his throat. “What now?”
“I’m sure you've got time to give me a sponge bath before Tracy gets back.”
He blushes deeply. “I meant…”
“I know what you meant,” I murmur. I take a deep breath. “You meant now what with us.”
Roman’s face turns red and he looks down at his hands, which start twisting the bedsheets.
“Well…I… I don’t know. Yeah, I guess.”
“You guess, or that’s what you meant.”
Slowly, he drags his gaze up to my eyes. “That’s what I mean,” he whispers.
“Ask the question, Roman,” I growl.
He exhales quickly as his eyes dart all around the room. “I—fuck, I don’t know. What is this?”
“Define this.”
His eyes finally come to rest on me. “This,” he murmurs, pointing first at me, then at himself.
I shrug. “I genuinely have no fucking idea. But…”
He tenses but doesn’t pull back when I put my hand on his.
“But I like whatever it is,” I growl, tightening my grip. He twists his hand, and slowly, our inked fingers intertwine.
“Me too,” he murmurs. His brows knit. “But I’m really not gay, Val.”
Jesus fuck.
“You moaning and groaning and grabbing my hair while I suck your cock says otherwise, friend.”
Roman’s face turns purple, his jaw dropping wide as he stares at me like I’ve just brought down tablets from the Mount.
“I…I just…” He pauses. “It’s just an external stimulus…”
I snort a genuine laugh. “Are you fucking serious right now?”
“It feels good, that’s all,” he blurts.
“No, Roman,” I growl, tightening my grip on his hand. “That’s not all. That’s the whole point. You’re saying you’d get the same way if a girl had you on your knees with your mouth on her pussy?”
He makes a face somewhere between angry and disgusted.
“What if we skip the labels for now, Roman, and just let it be whatever it is.”
I think it’s safe to say I know what I’m talking about. I know the straight ones, and I know the bi ones. And this motherfucker isn’t remotely confident enough in himself or his sexuality to go the bi route.
Nope, Roman Nikitin is gay as fuck. At least, gay for me, which is all I really give a shit about. Because I’m maybe, possibly, fucking obsessed with him.
Roman’s brow furrows. “I’m getting married, Val.”
“Do you fuck her?” There’s a glint in my eye when I say it, and I know the motherfucker sees it.
“No,” Roman says, shaking his head. “I’ve never touched her.”
“She ever touched you?” I growl, feeling the glint in my eyes get a little more vicious as a murderous feeling twists and coils inside of me.
“No,” Roman says, shaking his head. “No, never.”
“Good,” I growl. “Keep it that way.”
I love the little smile that creeps over his jaw when I say it. Then he sucks his lip between his teeth.
“You’re glossing over the part where I’m engaged—”
“Do you want to marry her?”
“No. Obviously.”
“She want to marry you?”
Roman smirks. “I doubt it.”
“But you probably can’t stop it from happening.”
“Val—”
“Roman.” His cheeks turn red again when I squeeze his hand. “Leave it to me.”
He frowns. “Whoa, hang on—”
He gasps as I pull him close, using his misbalance from leaning over the bed to make him fall toward me. He catches himself, but it puts him right in my face.
He shudders when I reach up and cup his jaw.
“I know you get hard for me,” I purr. “And I get real hard for you, little wreckage.”
His eyes widen. A cute little breathless huughn sound tumbles from his lips.
“Val—”
“It’s your fault, Roman. You got me all addicted to you, the fucking taste of you, your scent, and the way you submit. How you crave being put in your place.”
And then…
He groans, in that sexy, deep and yet slightly whimpering way that makes me fucking lose it, every time.
His throat works, his breath catching. “I—I should go meet Evie.”
I nod.
Yes, he should. Because if he stays here any longer, I can’t be held responsible for any damage I do to myself climbing out of this bed and fucking him in it.
“Before you go, you need to do something for me.”
His brows knit. “What's that?”
“Admit what you are.”
Roman frowns and starts to open his mouth to protest, but then he shuts up.
Because I kiss him. Hard.
He tenses at first, but when my tongue slides into his mouth and demands to play with his, he fucking comes alive. He groans into my lips, kissing me just as hungrily as I do him, and by the time we pull apart he’s panting, a look of pure need on face.
“I don’t give a shit what you call yourself,” I murmur into his lips. “Gay, bi, questioning, whatever. You can even tell yourself you’re straight, for all I care.”
He whimpers—fucking whimpers—when I grab his jaw and pull him close.
“But you know what you are, un-fucking-equivocally?”
Roman shivers, gasping quietly when I drag my thumb over his bottom lip and kiss it.
“Mine.”