Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
AVELINA
The air inside the rink is cold, but I’m still warm from skating. My lungs burn a little, and my chest is tight in that all-too-familiar way which means I’ve pushed too hard.
I sit on the wooden bench, carefully lacing up my sneakers. He sits beside me, silent and still in the way only he can be. Like a statue, all carved muscle and shadows. But the warmth he brings does more than he’ll ever know.
Elbows resting on his knees, he stares at the rink. “You were beautiful out there,” he says, finally breaking the silence we’ve fallen into.
I glance at him, surprised. Not because of the compliment, but because of the earnestness and softness behind it. He doesn’t say that kind of stuff easily. “Thank you,” I murmur, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
He shifts toward me. “Why’d you stop?”
My heart trips. I knew he’d ask. Everyone always does. I had such promise. I had some talent. I had so much ahead of me. I just didn’t expect to have to fumble for an answer so soon.
I chew my bottom lip, then release it. “I...I competed until I was eighteen.”
He nods and doesn’t push. That silence of his—the patient kind rather than passive—eases me a little.
I exhale. “There was...something that happened. So, I stopped. It all worked out in the end.”
He looks at me, head tilted to the side, and I brace for him to push for a real reason. I can feel his curiosity, but there’s something else there too. “Just like that?” That’s not the question he wants to ask, and I know it.
“Just like that.” I smile tightly. “It stopped feeling the way it used to.” A shiver rolls through me when I think about Gennady. You never have to see that man ever again, I tell myself.
“What did it use to feel like?”
My gaze is on the ice. At the reflections of the overhead lights flickering on the surface. “Like…flying. Like I could touch something bigger.”
Viktor goes quiet again. So quiet that I start to wonder if I’ve said something wrong. But then he leans back, palms on his thighs, and nods. “I don’t... I’ve never felt that sort of feeling before. I don’t feel things the way most people do.”
My breath catches. It’s such a raw and honest statement that my heart thunders in my chest. Little by little, he’s letting me in.
His brow furrows. “I’ve never told anyone that. Not outright or out loud.”
I face him fully now. His jaw is tight, eyes locked on the ice, but I can feel that vulnerability seeping through. It’s something soft. And it’s something that craves love like anyone else... “You know, I think I know what you mean,” I say softly.
His gaze cuts to mine. Sharp. Unreadable. Searching. “You do?”
“I think I can empathize. Because I see some of the same things in Sofia.”
His shoulders ease the tiniest bit. “It’s not something I talk about. Having autism, that is. People tend to think I’m broken. Or cold. Or strange.”
“You’re not any of those things, Viktor.”
“I used to think I was.” He pauses. “But lately... I’ve started feeling things. Real things. And it scares the hell out of me.”
My heart almost stops beating.
“I think it’s because of you. You make me feel, Avelina.”
The words land on me like a brick and a balm.
“I don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he murmurs. “But...it’s something I never thought I could have.”
I reach for his hand, without thinking, curling my fingers around his. And he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he curls his fingers around mine. “You don’t have to be anything you’re not,” I say softly, giving his hand a squeeze. “Not for me.”
He looks at our joined hands, then up at me. And he smiles. A small, tentative smile. Barely there. But real. And I feel like I’ve won the lottery.
We sit in silence for a while, our fingers laced together.
The ice glows beneath the lights, and I find myself thinking maybe, just maybe, something with him could work.
He’s not Geliy. He’s different in the best possible way.
He’s honest. Raw. He doesn’t shy away from those hard facts about the work he’s involved in—and that makes me feel more protected than any white lie ever did.
Viktor’s thumb brushes over my knuckles. Tentative but steady, like he’s testing how it feels. I can hear the gears and wheels in his head turning, but he doesn’t let go. He holds on tighter.
I lean into him slightly. Our shoulders brush. And it feels fragile. Like a small bridge between two people who have been at war with themselves for too long.
“I miss it,” I say softly. “Skating, I mean. Not the training. Or the pressure. Just the feeling of being out there. Feeling like I’m flying. Feeling like...I’m making magic.”
“You looked like you belong there,” he rumbles against my temple.
The smile I offer is bittersweet. “Sometimes. But most of the time I don’t recognize myself at all.”
He hums before tilting his head. “So, why Tinkerbell?”
I giggle softly. “It’s silly. It was my favorite outfit. There was something about it that made me feel...right. Like I was dancing on air. Like a fairy. I wore it at a regional competition.”
Viktor doesn’t laugh. He just nods. Like it makes perfect sense. Like he understands the tether to something before everything crumbled apart. “I think you’re still that girl in the video.”
I look up at him.
He means it.
And that does something to me. Completely unravels me.
I blink hard, swallowing the emotion tightening my throat.
He squeezes my hand.
“Thanks for coming,” I say softly.
“I’m glad I did.”
“Me too, Viktor.”
The silence stretches between us again. But this one isn’t uncomfortable. It just is. Like that old blanket on the couch. Warm and soft. Well-loved.
I close my eyes for a moment, just enjoying the feeling of being with someone who treats me like he does. With reverence and respect.
I shift on the bench until our knees bump. His hand settles on my waist like he’s steadying me. I lean in slowly, pressing my lips to his.
It’s a kiss that lingers.
It’s not a desperate kiss. It’s something else. A question. One he answers as he deepens it.
My breathing is ragged by the time we pull away. My forehead rests on his. “I want this to work,” I breathe.
He nods, cupping my cheek. “Me too.”
I kiss him again, harder this time. Almost frantic. Like I need to hold onto him.
And for the first time in a long time, I let myself believe something good is here.
Because Viktor is my sunshine after a storm.
When we reach the compound, we retreat to Viktor’s bedroom.
His tongue traces the seam of my lips, and I part them willingly, sliding onto his lap as his hand glides down the thin material of my skating leotard. Every touch of his fingers brands my skin, the heat of his palm searing against my spine.
His mouth claims mine again, and I thread my fingers through his hair, pulling him closer, greedy for more. More of his scent, of his taste, of everything.
A quiet groan escapes him as I nip his bottom lip. His grip tightens on my waist, pulling me fully against him. And I feel him—hard and wanting beneath me, tension coiling like a spring between us.
His fingers trail beneath my dress, brushing my bare skin, and I shiver. My hips rock forward—just enough to draw a deeper groan from him, a sound that curls heat low in my belly.
“You’re driving me crazy,” he rasps against my lips as we both pant for air.
“Good.”
His hand tangles in my hair, dragging me back in.
His mouth is hot and hungry as it moves along my jaw, down my neck.
His lips part against my throat, sucking gently before nipping the sensitive skin and soothing it with his tongue.
Not hard enough to bruise, but enough to make my head fall back and steal my breath.
“You taste sweet,” he murmurs, voice rough. “Like something I can’t even name.”
My fingers slip beneath his shirt, palms skimming the hard lines of his stomach and the ridges of muscle that contract beneath my touch. He’s so warm, and God, I want to touch him everywhere and map every inch with my tongue and fingers.
He kisses back up my neck, finding my mouth again.
His tongue strokes mine in slow, consuming sweeps that leave me gasping.
I grind against him, desperate for friction, for relief, for so much more.
He meets me halfway, hands digging into my hips, guiding me against him with a low, desperate sound that makes me ache.
“Fuck,” he growls. “You feel incredible. Like everything I’ve ever needed.”
His hands slide down my thighs, fingers grasping my soft flesh as he pulls me into him more.
Nothing is tentative or hesitant. This is wild. Frantic. Pure passion. It’s everything that’s been building between us.
He pulls back, chest heaving. “I want to take my time with you,” he breathes against my neck, pressing soft kisses there. “I...”
“I know,” I murmur.
“This is all...”
“A lot,” I finish, nodding as I breathe hard against him, his forehead pressed to mine.
“A lot,” he agrees, and I see the frustration and need burning in his eyes.
“It’s okay to feel things that don’t make sense, Viktor. I’m not going anywhere.”
Because beneath all that quiet strength is a man who doesn’t just want my body. He also wants to cherish me.
And I want to let him.
So, I kiss him again and again until we’re both breathing hard, fingers tangled in each other’s hair, lost in this moment together.
Until there’s nothing left but us.
My chest tightens. Something as simple as making out shouldn’t turn me to liquid warmth. But here I am, melting as he looks at me like I’m his lifeline.
No one’s ever looked at me like that before.
And it’s a look I only ever want from this one man.