Chapter 16 #2
I bring one finger up to my mouth, swirl the tip of it with my tongue in the most suggestive way I can manage, then bring that finger down to where our bodies join together.
I’m well on my way to another orgasm, but might as well help him out if he enjoys watching.
A couple of swirls and flicks of my clit with my finger and my hips are moving to meet his in time with each push and drag.
“Shit, Petra,” he grunts out. “You are so fucking sexy.”
In response, I pinch my nipple with my other hand, and my eyes half close with the pleasure coming from so many parts of my body.
I can feel my muscles clenching around him as the orgasm starts deep inside, but it’s chased by a second orgasm from the feel of my finger on my clit, and experiencing both at the same time has me gasping and panting out expletives over and over as the waves of heat and sensation roll through me.
Sasha’s eyes close tightly as he pushes into me with one final thrust, and feeling him pulsing against my inner walls sends me completely over the edge.
I come apart with a sound that’s half scream, half sigh, but he reaches down and covers my mouth, bending forward whispering, “This ends very differently if we wake Stella up.”
I glance around, for the first time considering that she might be able to see us or hear us from her bedroom. But then I remember that her bedroom looks out onto the terrace, and from that angle it’d be impossible to see us in here.
“How does it end if we don’t wake her up?” I ask as he pulls back to look at me.
He looks over his shoulder toward my bedroom door. “Let’s find out.”
When I wake up in the morning, everything is sore.
My body feels like I spent last night doing gymnastics, which in a way I guess isn’t far off.
Sasha was asleep with his arms around me when I dozed off, and even though I know he wouldn’t have wanted Stella to find us here together, it’s still disappointing to wake up alone.
I roll over to find a note on my nightstand.
I am taking Stella to school—didn’t want to wake you. Then I’m off to practice and a media event and will be home midafternoon. Text me if you have a busy day and want me to pick Stella up from school. Also, don’t forget Tom and Avery are coming over for dinner tonight.
I glance up at the clock. Shit!
I fly out of bed so fast I almost levitate.
I forgot to set my alarm last night, and I have a meeting in Brooklyn in half an hour to go over decorating the rooftop I’ve rented for Aleksandr’s end of season party with the rental company that will be supplying the decor.
Even if I walked out the door right now, which I can’t do because I’m naked, there’s no way I could make it there in time.
I shoot off a text to the building manager and my contact at the rental company letting them know I’m going to be late, and asking them to start measuring the space and getting any other details they need while they wait for me to get there.
Then I order a ride and give myself the ten minutes until they arrive to get dressed and ready, all the while reminding myself that it’s not Aleksandr’s fault I overslept.
When I walk back into the apartment at 6:30 p.m., I’m in a mood. It’s been a long day, the kind where everything that could possibly go wrong has gone wrong.
“There you are,” Aleksandr says, walking into the entryway as I’m setting my bag down on the large bench that sits against the wall. He takes one look at me, all sweaty and disheveled because I didn’t check the weather and dressed way too warmly for this spring day, and asks, “What’s wrong?”
I remind myself again that it’s not his fault I overslept.
I’m a big girl and can be responsible for setting my own alarm.
But if he’d just woken me up before he left, this day would have been very different.
Or if I just hadn’t slept with him last night, I’d have woken up well-rested and ready to take on the world.
The worry that’s been running through my mind most of the day returns—was getting involved with him in this way a mistake?
“It’s been a day.”
His face softens. “Is there anything I can do to make it better?”
“Doubtful.” I’m not pouting exactly, but I’m also glancing into my bag like I’m looking for something, so I don’t have to meet his eye. I’m afraid he’d see right through me—through the bravado and the success—and find someone who’s actually just barely holding it all together.
“How about if I make you a drink while you hop in the shower? Tom and Avery will be here in an hour.”
I try not to physically deflate at the mention of having company tonight.
I completely forgot, and I don’t feel up to that at all, even though of course I’d love to see Avery again.
I feel like she’s the kind of person I could be friends with—real, unassuming, fun—if I were staying in New York. But you’re not, I remind myself.
It’s a well-timed reminder because Aleksandr wraps his arms around me, giving me the supportive hug he somehow knows I need.
I rest my head on his shoulder, thinking how easy and natural things feel with him when we’re not fighting.
Though even the fighting feels like foreplay.
And yet, this is all temporary. It has to be.
I have a life and career back in Park City and a talk show that’s supposed to start in LA soon. I can’t stay, even if I wanted to.
But I don’t, right?
“What’s wrong?” I hear Stella’s voice and open my eyes to see her standing behind Sasha.
“Nothing,” I tell her, thinking that she must have seen my emotions flashing across my face.
If I don’t intentionally guard myself, my face shows everything I’m feeling.
“I just had a bad day and needed a hug.” I step back and Sasha’s arms fall to his side, then I take a few steps past him toward Stella.
“It helped, but maybe I need one from you too?”