Chapter Seventeen #3
Then his hand brushed against hers.
Not holding.
A question.
She turned her palm and laced their fingers together.
Matvei looked down.
His thumb moved across the back of her hand.
The doors opened.
Tessa led him down the quiet hallway. Her room waited near the end, past identical doors and small framed prints of Helsinki beneath snow. She could feel him behind her with every step, close enough that she did not need to turn to know he remained there.
At the door, the key card failed on the first attempt.
Tessa tried again.
Red light.
“Of course,” she muttered.
Matvei stood close enough that his chest nearly touched her shoulder.
“You nervous.”
“The card is defective.”
“You use wrong way.”
“I am not.”
He reached around her and turned it.
The light changed to green.
Tessa looked toward him.
Matvei’s mouth curved. “Reporter.”
“Goalie.”
She opened the door.
The room felt different with him inside it.
Smaller.
Her laptop charger remained tangled on the desk beside tournament notes and an empty coffee cup.
Clothing occupied one chair. The coat Matvei hated had spent enough time there that its absence from the hook looked obvious.
The bed had been made that morning, white sheets pulled tightly beneath a dark blue runner.
Tessa stepped inside and placed her bag near the desk.
Matvei closed the door behind him.
The lock clicked.
Neither moved.
Outside, every touch had been guided by the cold, ice or the approaching moment of separation. Inside the room, there was no excuse. No practical reason to stand closer. No street to cross.
Tessa removed her scarf.
Matvei took off his hat.
She unbuttoned her coat.
He did the same.
The quiet became almost unbearable.
Tessa hung the coat on the hook and turned.
Matvei remained near the door, watching her. Without the heavy layers and Christmas lights, he looked uncertain in a way she had never seen at the rink.
“You can come farther inside,” she said.
“I am inside.”
“Technically.”
He stepped forward.
Only one.
Tessa smiled nervously.
The ridiculousness of the situation reached her all at once. They had spent months circling one another, walked across Helsinki three times and kissed beneath Christmas lights. Now they stood in a hotel room like two strangers who had accidentally been assigned the same space.
Matvei rubbed one hand across the back of his neck.
Tessa almost laughed.
“Are you nervous?”
“No.”
“You’re lying.”
“Yes.”
The admission eased something in her.
“Me too.”
Matvei looked toward her face.
“We do not have to.”
“I know.”
“If you change.”
“I know.”
“Tessa.”
She crossed the room before he could finish.
Her hands settled against his chest.
The black sweater beneath them was warm from the walk, his heartbeat steady but faster than usual. Matvei looked down at her, waiting.
Tessa rose onto her toes and kissed him.
His hands found her waist carefully.
The awkwardness remained through the first seconds, both of them adjusting to the absence of coats and the fact that nothing separated the touch now but the thin fabric of her sweater.
Matvei seemed unsure how firmly to hold her.
Tessa did not know where to place her hands without making every movement feel like a declaration.
Then she touched his jaw.
The scar beneath her fingertips gave them something familiar.
Matvei turned into her palm exactly as he had in the bar.
His mouth moved against hers again.
The kiss deepened slowly. His hand traveled along her back, stopping near her shoulder blade before returning to her waist. Tessa slid her fingers into his hair, and the low sound that escaped him removed the last of the distance.
He kissed her harder.
Not carelessly.
With the intensity he had spent months containing in every other part of himself.
Tessa felt it in the way his body pressed closer and then paused, checking her response before continuing. Every time she moved toward him, he answered. Every time her breath caught, he slowed long enough to make sure it was want rather than uncertainty.
His mouth traveled along her cheek and the line of her jaw.
Tessa tilted her head.
Matvei muttered something in Russian against her skin.
She felt the sound more than heard it.
“What did you say?”
“No.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
He kissed the place below her ear.
The question disappeared.
Tessa tightened her hands in his hair.
Another Russian word left him, lower and rougher than the first.
She smiled breathlessly. “I’m going to learn enough Russian to know when you’re swearing.”
“Bad idea.”
“Why?”
Matvei lifted his head.
His eyes were darker than they had been outside.
“Then you know.”
The words made warmth move through her.
He kissed her again before she could answer.
The edge of the bed touched the back of Tessa’s legs.
She sat almost without realizing it.
Matvei stopped.
The sudden restraint was so complete that she looked up.
He stood between her knees, both hands resting lightly against her hips.
“You sure?” he asked again.
Tessa understood what it cost him to keep asking when every part of his body revealed how much he wanted the answer.
“Yes.”
She took one of his hands and pressed it more firmly against her side.
Matvei closed his eyes briefly.
Russian slipped from him again.
This time, she knew from the tone that it was not meant for conversation.
Tessa pulled him closer.
The hesitation gave way by degrees.
Tessa pulled Matvei’s sweater over his head, and it landed near the chair with one sleeve folded beneath it.
His watch joined her phone on the bedside table.
When he tried to remove his undershirt without taking his eyes from her and caught his arm in the fabric, she laughed.
Matvei emerged with his hair standing up and gave her an offended look before leaning down and kissing the laughter from her mouth.
His hands found the hem of her sweater. He paused there, fingers curled lightly into the fabric, and waited until she lifted her arms. The sweater disappeared over her head.
Matvei looked at her.
Not quickly. Not politely.
His gaze moved over every inch she had uncovered, lingering long enough that heat spread across her skin beneath it.
“What?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“Nothing.”
“That is clearly not nothing.”
“Beautiful,” he said, sounding almost frustrated by how inadequate the word felt.
Then he bent and kissed the exposed skin above her bra.
Tessa’s breath caught.
His mouth moved slowly across her chest while one hand traced the curve of her waist. When his thumb brushed over her through the thin fabric, her body reacted before she could contain it.
Matvei looked up.
The intensity in his eyes made her feel more exposed than being half-undressed beneath him.
He repeated the touch, more deliberately this time.
Tessa gripped his shoulders.
A rough Russian word left him under his breath.
“Was that swearing?”
“Yes.”
The honesty made her laugh, though the sound broke when his mouth returned to her skin.
Her fingers found the fastening of her bra. Matvei watched as she released it, his breathing visibly changing when the fabric fell away. For a moment, he only stared.
Then his hand covered her.
The contrast between the size of his palm and her body sent a sharp rush of heat through her. He touched her carefully at first, learning the weight of her, the places that made her inhale and the pressure that caused her back to lift from the bed.
Tessa drew his mouth back to hers.
The rest of their clothes came away less neatly.
Her fingers fumbled at the button of his trousers. Matvei’s belt struck the floor loudly enough that both of them froze and looked toward the door. When the hallway remained silent, Tessa covered her mouth to suppress another laugh.
Matvei caught her wrist and pulled her hand away.
“You laugh too much.”
“You nearly threw it through the floor.”
“It is heavy belt.”
“That does not make it better.”
He kissed her before she could continue, his mouth firmer now. Tessa felt the growing urgency in every movement, in the hand sliding down her side and the way his hips pressed against hers.
She could feel how much he wanted her.
The knowledge made her bolder.
Tessa slipped one hand between them, touching him.
Matvei broke the kiss.
His breath left him in a harsh rush. Russian followed, faster this time, the words barely more than sound.
She moved her hand again.
Matvei’s eyes closed.
“Tessa.”
Her name sounded almost like a warning.
“What?”
He looked at her.
The restraint in his expression had thinned to almost nothing.
“You know.”
She did.
She liked that she could affect him this much. Matvei, who controlled every answer and movement, who rarely allowed anyone to see what he felt, was breathing hard beneath her touch.
He caught her wrist gently and brought her hand to his mouth, kissing the inside of it before lowering it beside her head.
“Not yet,” he said.
The promise inside the words sent another pulse of heat through her.
Matvei eased her backward onto the bed and followed, supporting his weight above her. The first full press of bare skin against bare skin stole the humor from both of them.
Tessa felt him everywhere.
His chest against hers. His thigh between hers. His mouth moving down her throat while his hand explored lower, following the line of her stomach and hip.
He paused before touching her more intimately.
His eyes returned to hers.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me.”
“I’m sure.”
Matvei’s hand moved.
Tessa’s breath broke.
The first touch was slow, almost cautious. He watched her face as his fingers learned what she liked, adjusting whenever her body tightened or her hips shifted toward him. Each response made his breathing rougher, but he never stopped paying attention.
When he found the movement that made her gasp his name, he repeated it.
“Matvei.”
A curse left him against her throat.
Tessa gripped his arm. The muscles beneath her fingers were tight with restraint.