Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Sunlight blared through the Explorer’s windshield, forcing Kyle to flip down the visor as he parked in front of Victoria’s building.
She hadn’t said much since they’d left the gym. Even when they’d all grabbed a quick lunch with Jack, Gina, and her friends, she’d been mostly silent. Not even Gina’s attempts to draw her out did any good, and that was saying something.
Provoking her had made him feel like crap, but her body had been frozen with fear, and he’d needed to say something to knock her out of her stupor. He’d known she could do it. She had to see that, too. Afterward, she’d seemed fine. Ecstatic, even. Then something had changed.
He shut off the engine. Across the street, the security man he’d hired hung a right turn, squaring the block. He’d instructed the guy to check the rear of the building periodically to verify the back door remained closed and locked.
“Well,” she said, clasping her hands on her lap. “Would you like to come up for a drink?”
A drink? After the silent treatment she’d doled out for the last two hours? Not that he had a single doubt where he wanted things to go. Since the moment he’d wrapped his arms around her soft body at the gym, every dream he’d had about her for the last decade flamed to life.
He wanted her.
He’d always wanted her, but she’d been hurt terribly. Emotionally and physically. This was her script, and he’d accept however she wanted to write it. “Sure.”
Minutes later, he stood in her living room, taking his first real look at the apartment. The last time he’d been here, there hadn’t been much of a chance.
Sunny yellow walls seemed to glow in the late afternoon sun shining through the windows.
A large Persian-style blue-and-red rug covered most of the floor, and an overstuffed blue sofa took up one wall, and two matching armchairs another.
The window ledge and a coffee table tucked beneath the ledge were loaded with pots of green, leafy ferns and blooming pink orchids.
The only photo in the room was on the hall table, the one of Victoria’s mother.
He leaned against the kitchen doorway and crossed his arms, watching her open and close one cupboard door after another.
“Your apartment suits you. Warm, homey.” Very unlike the house she’d lived in with Yuri—cold and barren.
He guessed she’d had nothing to do with decorating it.
“I’m sorry to hear of your mother’s passing. ”
“Thank you,” she said over her shoulder.
Yuri’s file had information on both her parents.
Her father had died when she was only two.
He’d learned about her mother during one of the regular database queries he’d run on Victoria over the years.
For safety reasons, so he’d told himself.
To make sure she was okay and hadn’t popped up on the Bratva’s radar.
He’d also done it because the stupid part of his brain had wanted to maintain that faint connection with her.
Every query he’d run had been torture. Even if she’d popped on one of his searches, which she never had, unless she’d been in danger, he wouldn’t have done a thing.
She deserved a loving husband, a stable one—sans baggage—who could be there for her, plus the 2.
3 kids, a dog, and a house with a white picket fence in a safe suburb.
So what the hell was he doing in her place? Could he give her all those things now?
Back then, the decided answer to those questions would have been a resounding no.
Had he changed that much, enough to be what she needed?
Honestly, he didn’t know. For her sake, he should be walking out the door and speeding down the road, yet he couldn’t make his feet move. More importantly, he didn’t want to.
“You have a green thumb,” he said, totally in the dark about where to take the conversation. Weather and plants seemed safe.
“Thanks.” She threw him a sad smile. “With Mom gone and no children, I guess I needed something to take care of.”
At the mention of children, that sad smile was still there. Not for the first time, he thought she would have made a great mother and maybe still could be.
Thoughts of children he didn’t have and probably never would could still form a knot in his throat.
Next, she opened the refrigerator door, closing that, too. “I really didn’t think this through. I don’t have any beer, wine, or anything else to offer you.” She chewed on her lower lip, as if she hadn’t fully written that script and decided where she wanted this to go. “I only have coffee or tea.”
Inside, his body zinged with anticipation, but he had to allow her to set the pace. “Coffee is fine.”
When she reopened the refrigerator door her knuckles were white. “I’m out of milk.”
“I take it black.” If tea was the only thing she had, he would gladly have drunk it, and he hated tea. To him, tea tasted like dishwater.
She turned back to the cupboard and pulled out a pack of filters. “Caf or decaf?”
“I don’t care. What do you want?” The true meaning of his question was clear, and he’d meant it to be.
Though they’d been apart for ten years, it was like being thrown back in time to when they’d danced around the passion smoldering between them.
Then, there’d been no possibility of anything happening between them.
Now, the reasons might be different, but he wasn’t sure anything had changed.
Beautiful blue eyes regarded him with a mixture of apprehension and something else he couldn’t pinpoint.
Given her past, apprehension he could deal with.
If it was fear, he refused to be the cause.
“It’s your choice, Victoria. What do you want,” he repeated, feeling the heat inside him bubbling like a volcano ready to erupt.
She put down the filters and let out a deep breath. “I know I don’t want you to leave.”
“Are you sure?” His question came out husky, almost a groan.
Slowly, she nodded, and when she replied, her voice was a soft whisper. “I’m sure.”
“I would never ask you to do something you aren’t ready for.” He’d wait forever, if that’s what she wanted of him.
“I know.” This time her smile wasn’t hesitant. It was one filled with promise.
Like his boss had said, there were parts of his past he had to let go of.
Victoria wasn’t one of them. He uncrossed his arms and held out his hand.
While it was probably only seconds, it seemed like an entire minute passed before she laid the palm of her hand in his.
He held it to his lips, dropping a light kiss on her fingers.
Tears filled her eyes, and she blinked them away.
“What is it?” He touched her face, outlining her cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. “Tell me.”
“All the beautiful women you must have been with in your life…” A few tears escaped and slid down her cheeks. “I can never live up to them. I’m not experienced. I’m not beautiful. I’m afraid I won’t be enough for you.”
“Not enough for me?” He couldn’t stop the bark of incredulity escaping his throat.
Since transferring to New York, there’d been a few here and there but only for physical gratification.
Reality was, he’d been practically celibate for the last decade, because she’d been the only woman he’d given more than a passing thought to.
The only one he truly wanted. “You are incredibly beautiful. I thought that the moment I laid eyes on you.” To this day, he’d never forgotten that moment on Semyon Novikov’s balcony.
“Don’t ever doubt that, and don’t let someone else’s hurtful comments get to you.
” He didn’t want to say the man’s name out loud, and he didn’t have to.
They both knew to whom he was referring.
That asshole had inflicted an emotional beat-down on her to the point where she couldn’t see herself the way others did. The way he did.
Victoria’s jaw dropped. “The first day we met my face was covered with the remains of bruises. I was anything but beautiful that day.”
“You’re wrong about that. So wrong.” Not even the imprints of Yuri’s knuckles could diminish her exquisite loveliness.
There was so much more to her beauty than what was on the surface.
Inside, she was a warm, caring, loving person.
Now he had to undo the damage that had been done to her. Slowly, and at her pace.
He leaned down and began kissing away her tears.
Her skin was warm and soft, wet and salty.
“I used to dream about you,” he murmured against her lips.
“About us. Together.” She sighed against his mouth, her breath a warm, whispering caress.
“As for not being experienced or living up to anyone else, all you have to do is be yourself.” The rock-hard erection behind his zipper was evidence of that, but he had to take this slow and let go of the fact he’d been dreaming of this moment for ten long years.
She stared at his chest, shaking her head. “I’ve tried making love with other men. It was always a disaster, and none of them ever called me again. At that point I never wanted them to. What if I don’t live up to your expectations? What if I’m lousy in bed?”
“Then we’ll make love on the floor.”
Though she didn’t meet his gaze, he caught her lips twitch. “I’m being serious here.”
“So am I. So, let’s be clear on something else.” Gently, he clasped her chin, tilting her head and forcing her to look at him. “You’re worried I won’t find you sexually exciting.”
“Well”—she bit her lip—“yes.”
Unable to stop himself, he laughed, heartily this time.
“In my business there’s nothing like good hard physical evidence to dispel a bad theory.
” He took her hand and placed it over his crotch, holding it there long enough for her to feel just how good and hard his evidence really was. “I rest my case.”
She burst into laughter, instantly lightening the mood.
“Seriously,” he said. “I have only one expectation.”
“What’s that?” she asked, her smile gone, replaced by lingering anxiety in her eyes.
“I expect you to trust me.” That day at the bank flashed before his eyes.
He’d been going through life in a stupor, blaming himself for the past, some days not caring if he lived or died.
That day, he’d seriously considered taking a bullet.
Until the memory of Victoria came to him like a shining star in the sky.
Now he wanted more out of life, and he wanted her in it. “Do you? Trust me?”
The next step was all hers. Whether she took it toward him or away from him, he would accept her decision.