Chapter Eighteen #2
Tessa’s breathing changed beneath his touch, each sound made quieter by the rush of water around them. Matvei watched her face as long as he could, losing the ability when she reached for him and wrapped one hand firmly around him.
“Bozhe,” he muttered.
“That one I know.”
“No, you do not.”
“I absolutely do.”
Her hand moved again.
Matvei caught her wrist, not to stop her but because another second would have ended the moment too quickly.
Tessa looked up at him, eyes bright with amusement and want.
“You don’t like it?”
“You know.”
“I want to hear you say it.”
He stared at her.
“Reporter.”
“Goalie.”
Matvei kissed her hard enough to end the interview.
The shower made everything slower and more difficult. Hands slipped against wet skin. Tessa laughed when Matvei nearly struck his shoulder against the wall while trying to turn them. He gave up and lifted her instead.
The laugh vanished.
Tessa’s arms went around his neck, her legs fitting against his hips while he held her between his body and the tile. Matvei felt again how small she was against him, though there was nothing fragile in the way she pulled him closer.
He paused.
Tessa met his eyes.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
The answer came without hesitation.
This time, there was no awkwardness of unfamiliar sheets or the fear that one wrong movement would break the fragile decision between them. There was still care. Matvei could not touch her without it. But the uncertainty had changed into knowledge.
He knew how her breathing sharpened before she made a sound.
He knew she liked his hand at her hip and his mouth along the side of her neck.
He knew she said his name differently when she stopped thinking.
Tessa knew things too.
She found the place beneath his shoulder that made his control slip. She learned how to move against him until Russian left him in short, broken curses she no longer pretended not to recognize.
The water continued falling around them.
Matvei held her firmly, one hand supporting her and the other braced against the wall. Tessa’s fingers moved into his wet hair, pulling hard enough that he swore again.
She smiled against his mouth.
“You’re enjoying this too much,” he said.
“You make it very easy.”
The English nearly failed him then.
He kissed her instead.
The movement between them remained slow at first, limited by the tile, water and the care required to hold her safely. Tessa adjusted around him, and the change drew a rough sound from his throat.
Her lips touched his jaw near the scar.
Matvei’s rhythm broke.
“Keep going,” she whispered.
He did.
The restraint lasted only several more movements.
Tessa tightened around him, body arching closer as her breath became uneven. Matvei buried his face against her shoulder and fought to keep enough control to watch her, to feel the exact moment she stopped holding anything back.
Her nails pressed into his shoulders.
“Matvei.”
He changed the angle slightly, and her body reacted immediately. The sound she made disappeared against his mouth when he kissed her. She held him tighter, shaking as the tension broke through her.
Matvei followed before he intended to.
Russian left him in a low, helpless stream against the side of her neck.
For several seconds, he remained where he was, breathing hard with Tessa held against him and warm water moving over both of them.
Then she laughed softly.
Matvei lifted his head.
“What?”
“You’re going to miss your flight.”
“No.”
“You have no idea what time it is.”
“I know.”
“You left your phone outside.”
“I know time.”
“How?”
He looked toward the shower fixture as though it might provide the answer.
Tessa laughed again.
Matvei lowered her carefully.
Her legs seemed uncertain when her feet reached the floor. He kept both hands at her waist until she steadied.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
She rested her forehead against his chest.
“I might need another shower.”
“We are in shower.”
“That did not exactly accomplish the original purpose.”
Matvei reached for the hotel soap.
“I help.”
“You’ve helped enough.”
He ignored her and began washing her shoulder.
Tessa looked up at him.
“This feels strangely domestic.”
Matvei did not fully understand the word in this context, though he understood the expression on her face.
“Bad?”
“No.”
The answer quieted him.
He moved the soap slowly along her arm.
Tessa washed his back while he ducked beneath the water to rinse his hair. The intimacy of it felt different from the sex. Less urgent. Perhaps more dangerous.
She rubbed shampoo through his hair and laughed at the amount required.
“You have too much.”
“It is normal.”
“It’s practically a separate person.”
“You like.”
“I do.”
The admission was easy.
Matvei looked at her.
Tessa’s hands stopped briefly in his hair.
Neither said anything else.
They ordered breakfast because Tessa had no food.
Matvei discovered this after opening the small minibar and finding only two bottles of water, a packet of nuts and something made from dried fish.
“You eat this?” he asked.
Tessa sat on the edge of the bed wearing the hotel robe, towel wrapped around her hair.
“I had room service once.”
“When?”
“The first night.”
“And after?”
“Arena food.”
“That is not food.”
“It is absolutely food.”
“It is bad.”
“So is dried fish.”
Matvei closed the minibar.
“I order.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Yes.”
“Why do you answer every objection like that?”
“Because answer.”
He found the room-service menu near the desk. Most of it was in Finnish with English translations beneath. Matvei ordered eggs, bread, fruit, coffee and oatmeal because Tessa said she did not want oatmeal, which meant she probably needed it.
When the food arrived, she protested at the size of the order.
“You’re leaving,” she said. “Who is eating all of this?”
“You.”
“I cannot eat an entire Finnish breakfast service.”
“You try.”
Matvei carried the tray toward the small table.
It would not fit around the laptop, notebooks and loose papers.
He began moving them.
“Wait.”
Tessa stood quickly.
“What?”
“My notes.”
“They are paper.”
“They are organized.”
Matvei looked at the piles.
“No.”
“They are organized to me.”
“That is not organized.”
She took the notebook from his hand and placed it carefully on the desk.
“You are never allowed to touch my work system.”
“You have no system.”
“I have several.”
“Worse.”
Tessa narrowed her eyes at him.
Matvei set the food down.
They ate sitting side by side at the narrow table, his knee pressed against hers because there was not enough room beneath it. Tessa ignored the oatmeal until Matvei pushed it closer.
“I said I didn’t want that.”
“You need.”
“You sound like my mother.”
“Your mother is right.”
“You have never met her.”
“I know.”
She took one bite to end the argument.
Matvei ate eggs and looked through the window toward Russia’s hotel.
The team would be awake now. Bags appearing in hallways. Players gathering for breakfast. Staff checking passports and equipment lists. Someone had probably knocked on his door already and found no answer.
His phone remained beside the bed.
He did not check it.
Tessa followed his gaze.
“You need to go.”
“Not yet.”
“You’re watching the hotel.”
“It is there.”
“That’s another one of your useless answers.”
Matvei turned toward her.
She had removed the towel from her hair. Damp strands fell around her shoulders, darker than usual. The hotel robe was too large, tied tightly around her waist and open enough at the collar that he could see the beginning of a mark he had left near her shoulder.
His attention stayed there.
Tessa noticed and pulled the robe closed.
“That needs to be gone before I get back.”
Matvei frowned. “Why?”
“Because I cannot walk into the locker room with evidence.”
“It is under shirt.”
“Still.”
He looked toward the mark again.
“I like.”
“That is not helpful.”
He returned to breakfast.
Tessa drank coffee.
The ordinary movements made leaving harder.
He wanted another hour at the table, another shower and another night.
He wanted to learn what she looked like working from the bed while he read beside her, whether she always forgot food when a story became difficult and how many cups of coffee existed between awake and functioning.
They had spent one night together.
Matvei wanted routines.
The realization should have frightened him.
Instead, it felt obvious.
Tessa placed the coffee down.
“What happens when we get back?”
The question had waited through breakfast.
Matvei knew it would come.
“I see you.”
Her expression changed, part amusement and part frustration.
“It isn’t that simple.”
“You always say.”
“Because you always make it sound simple.”
“You want see me?”
“Yes.”
“Then I see you.”
“Where?”
“My house.”
Tessa blinked.
Matvei continued eating.
“That was quick.”
“You ask.”
“I thought we were discussing this theoretically.”
“No.”
She looked toward the window again.
“We have to be careful.”
“Yes.”
“You cannot look at me differently in the locker room.”
“I look at you every day.”
“We’ve covered that.”
“I know.”
“You can’t give me things you wouldn’t give another reporter.”
“Like what?”
“Quotes. Information. Access.”
“I give you because questions good.”
“That is already something people could misinterpret.”
“They are wrong.”
“That does not stop it from mattering.”
Matvei set down his fork.
He did not want another argument. Not in the remaining minutes they had.
“I understand more,” he said.
Tessa went quiet.
“Not all,” he continued. “But more.”
Her expression softened.
“I know.”
“I do not make problem at rink.”
“You might not mean to.”
“Then tell.”
“That is what I’m doing.”
“Yes.”
The agreement seemed to surprise her.
Matvei reached for her hand beneath the table.
Tessa allowed him to take it.
“I cannot promise what happens,” she said.
“In Halifax?”
“Yes.”
“You regret?”
“No.”
The answer came with the same certainty as the night before.
That was enough.
Not forever. Not eventually.
For now.
Matvei lifted her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist.
Tessa watched him.
“You make it very difficult to be responsible.”
“Good.”
“That was not a compliment.”
“Yes, it was.”
She smiled despite herself.