Chapter 26 Nova
NOVA
“We saw Dirty Dancing. It was good to get away for a bit and just be a normal uni student for once.” Through my phone screen, Aleksi’s nose wrinkled, and I laughed. “Not to your taste?”
“Not really. If it was a rock concert, then maybe…”
“Speaking of—I made another playlist for you.” I copied the link, sending it to him. “Let me know what you think of it.”
He grinned. “Thanks. I’ll listen to it tonight. I’ve got something for you too.” An open sketchbook appeared on the screen, slightly out of focus. Leaning forwards in my desk chair, I narrowed my gaze, studying it carefully, taking in the harsh black lines of Aleksi’s signature style.
The picture came into focus, and I gasped.
He’d drawn me on the night of my eighteenth birthday, in the woods. I knew he hadn’t seen me out there that night, and the scene he’d drawn had never actually happened, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away.
I was standing in the darkness, surrounded by trees, black slashes of charcoal crowding around me.
Alek had depicted me as a shadowy, masked figure in the centre of the image, my hood down and my hair blowing behind me in the breeze.
My left foot was planted on a log on the woodland floor, and my right arm was raised to the sky, my fingers clasping my knife-torch.
He’d coloured the beam from the torch in a pale yellow, and the only other colour in the image came from the red slashes on my mask.
Charcoal smoke swirled around my ankles, and as I looked more closely, I could see a shadowy figure disappearing between the trees, their back to me.
I looked fierce and powerful, like everything I wished I were inside.
I swallowed around the sudden lump in my throat. “Alek. This is amazing. I wish I really looked like that.”
“You do to me,” he said softly.
Shaking my head, I smiled. “If only I could see myself the way you did. I miss you.”
“I know. I miss you too, and I’m worried about you. I’m sorry I couldn’t get any information from my dad about Operation Foxglove, but he wouldn’t tell me anything, and I didn’t want to make him suspicious. It’s hard when I’m down here in Alstone and you’re all so far away.”
The sketchpad disappeared, and his face filled the screen. His eyes were wide and concerned, and he was biting down on his bottom lip, like he did when he was worried or unsure.
“You don’t have to worry about me, I promise.
I don’t think I’d personally be a target of the investigation, anyway, because I’m just a uni student.
” Pausing, I sighed. “I am worried about my family and friends, though. Especially Ryker. When he came back to uni, he looked…I don’t know.
He looked so drained. So empty. He insisted he wanted to spar with me, but it was obvious he was just going through the motions. I’m worried about him.”
Alek’s mouth thinned. “Your brother is fully capable of handling himself.”
“I hope you’re right. He isn’t—” A soft rap on my door cut me off. “Hang on a second. Someone’s knocking.”
Leaving my phone on my desk, propped up against my portable speaker, I crossed to the door, sliding open the cover of the little window that had once been a hatch when my room was a cell.
My eyes widened. I darted across the room, back to my phone. “I’m sorry, I have to go. I’ll speak to you soon, okay? Don’t forget to listen to the playlist.”
“I will. Speak to you soon.” Alek nodded, shooting me a grin as he lifted his hand in a wave. I ended the call and moved back to the door. Cracking it open, I beckoned Jay inside.
He looked larger than life, a hooded figure standing here in my tiny room, the sharp line of his jaw and his full lips softly illuminated by my fairy lights.
“What are you doing here so late?” It wasn’t quite the question I wanted to ask. Yes, it was late—after 11:00 p.m.—but what I really wanted to know was what he was doing here, in my bedroom.
“I lost track of time in the gym. Thought I’d take a detour through South Wing on my way back to the house, see if any of my friends wanted company.” He lowered his hood, revealing his tousled raven hair, and his eyes arrowed to mine. “We’re friends, aren’t we? We can hang out.”
At his smirk, I shook my head. “We’re playing with fire. If anyone saw you…”
“They didn’t. I was careful.”
“What about my brother? Is he okay? He was so tired earlier, and I’m still worried about him.”
“Yeah. He’s okay, Nov. He’s a stubborn bastard, but I got him to go to his room, at least, and he said he’d try and get some rest. Whether he will…
who knows?” Jay dropped his gym bag to the floor and strode across the room to my bed.
Sinking down onto it, his legs spread as he flexed his hands at his sides, he cocked his head at me.
“Come on. Let’s talk. We didn’t get a chance to earlier.
Tell me something I don’t know about you. ”
“Um…” I was caught off guard by his presence here, and I wasn’t sure what to say to this gorgeous man who was giving me his full attention.
It was still strange for us to be around each other without hostility, and even though I’d been the one to suggest we’d try to be friends, this wasn’t exactly what I’d had in mind.
It was dangerous. Letting him in, letting him get to know me…if I did that, it would hurt even more when I inevitably had to cut him out of my life. There was no world in which a Volkov would let their wife hang out alone with a single man. Especially one as hot as Jay Attwood.
“Go on. Tell me something, and I’ll tell you something.
” He sat back, stretching his long, muscular legs out.
My gaze followed the movement of his body, and I watched avidly as he lifted his hoodie over his head, his T-shirt beneath riding up to reveal a glimpse of his abs and a dark line of hair disappearing into his low-slung joggers.
I swallowed, falling back onto my desk chair on shaky legs.
I was suddenly very aware that I was only wearing a pair of sleep shorts and a thin cami top beneath the oversized hoodie I’d pulled on after my shower.
And Jay was staring at my bare legs.
Friend zone. I repeated the words to myself until my heart rate slowed, and then I cleared my throat.
“Um. Well. You know I like art—I mean, you know I did A-level art, and you saw my sketchpad in the barrow. Um. Here.” My hand shook as I sifted through my sketches and paintings to find the right one.
Showing my art was so personal. It felt as if I were giving him a piece of me.
A piece that had been private until now.
Aleksi was the only other person who’d seen my work outside of my former classes, and it was different with him because he was an artist like me, and we worked on our art together.
I handed the textured cotton paper to him, and he studied it in silence, his hair falling over his forehead as he stared down at the page. My heart rate was increasing the longer he remained silent. He hated it. He—
He lifted his gaze to mine. “Nova. This is fucking incredible. Has Ryker seen this?”
I shook my head. “He… No. He used to get a bit touchy when I mentioned my art classes, you know, because of Alek being in them. And it’s…it’s hard, showing someone art of themselves.”
“I think he’d really like it.”
Staring at the watercolour painting I’d done of my brother on the ice, mid-motion with the puck flying across the rink, I shook my head. “You’re biased,” I mumbled, and his lips curved up.
“Yeah, probably, but I’m telling the truth. This is fucking incredible, and Ryker would love it. Have you drawn any more of him?” He carefully placed the paper down next to him on the bed and then looked at me expectantly.
I bit down on my lip, debating the cost of opening even more of myself up to him.
There was one painting I’d done recently of Ryker—again, on the ice, but this one included some of his teammates.
I’d kept them as vague outlines, except for the person he’d been passing the puck to, whom I’d painted in detail.
Fuck it, Nova. Just show him.
This time, my hand was steady as I passed the paper to him.
“Fucking hell,” he breathed. “Fuck. Come here.”
My sudden burst of confidence deserted me. “I-I can’t.”
“Nova. Come. Here.”
Forcing myself to move, I closed the scant space between us. He placed the painting down on top of the other one before moving them a safe distance away, and then, without any warning, tugged me down on top of him.
I gasped as his hand wrapped around my throat, tilting my head towards his, and then his mouth was on mine. He groaned against my lips as I opened up to him, and sparks raced through my body. It was so good. I never wanted it to end.
Wrapping my arms around his shoulders, I rocked forwards, feeling the hard line of his erection against me.
“Fuck, Jay,” I moaned. “We can’t. We have to stop.
” I was a liar. We didn’t stop. I kissed him harder, and his hand left my throat, his palms spanning my hips.
We moved together in a slow, dirty grind, my hips rolling down against his bulge, kissing until I lost my breath.
I was so wet, my core aching, and his cock was throbbing against my pussy through the thin layers of fabric. If we didn’t stop now—
“Want you so much,” he rasped, mouthing at my neck, his teeth scraping over my skin, and I was helpless, lost, caught up in everything I wanted, right here with me.
My silky sleep shorts dragged against his joggers as I ground down harder, sliding my pussy along his dick, the material between us soaked with our combined arousal.
A low groan fell from his throat. “Fuuuck. I’m gonna fucking come if you keep doing that. ”
“Me too,” I panted. His hands dived under my hoodie, finding my aching breasts, cupping them and stroking them and teasing my sensitive nipples until I was shuddering against him. “Jay. Gonna—”
“Fuck. Yes. Come for me, princess.” His hands went back to my hips, sliding me harder and faster over his cock, sending me higher and higher until I shattered against him. He rasped my name, thrusting up, and I felt his cock pulse, hot cum soaking the fabric between us.
“Bloody hell.” I buried my face in the crook of his neck as we both panted for breath, while his hands stroked up and down my back beneath my hoodie.
“Yeah.” He exhaled unsteadily and then pressed a kiss to the side of my head. “I promise you that was not my intention when I came to your room.”
I huffed out a laugh. “I don’t think my art has ever had that effect on someone before.”
“The way you drew me,” he began, and I raised my head to meet his gaze.
“Oh, I see. You were turned on by yourself.”
He growled as he kissed away my smile. “Nope. It was all you. You’re a woman of many, many talents, and you deserve to be appreciated.”
“I definitely don’t mind you showing your appreciation in that way.”
“Yeah?” He grinned, pulling me into him. The next moment, he winced. “Fucking hell. I’m glad I have my gym bag with me.”
“Oh…” Reality set in as I became aware of the dampness clinging to my thighs, and I shifted uncomfortably. “I’ll leave you to clean up while I go and take a quick shower. Then we can…talk? Actually talk? Like friends do.”
“Like friends do,” he confirmed with a smirk. I shot him a warning look, and he held up his hands, his palms facing me. “I’ll keep my hands and my mouth to myself this time. Promise.”
“Me too,” I said. I just hoped we were strong enough to stick to our agreement.
Surprisingly, we did. Jay took my desk chair while I lay on my bed, and we talked for hours.
Now the barriers between us had been lowered, it was all so easy and natural.
I found myself telling him things I’d never told anyone, about my art, about my half-formed ideas and hopes for the future when I was free of my obligations, and about how I could combine my passion with my business degree to provide art education or even therapy.
In turn, he told me about his own ambitions to not only run the accounting side of his dad’s business, but to start his own accountancy firm providing services to small businesses throughout the Cotswolds.
We shared the music and films we liked, and as the sun began to rise and we moved on to our favourite books, he read to me from The Poetical Works of Lord Byron.
“…There are seven pillars of Gothic mould, In Chillon’s dungeons deep and old…”
My eyelids fluttered closed as I snuggled into my pillow. It felt as if I were dreaming, lying here in a former prison cell with a gorgeous man reading poetry to me. I could listen to his smooth, deep voice forever.
My lids grew heavier. The last thing I was aware of was a soft press of lips against my forehead, and then I was lost to my dreams.