Page 37 of A Vegas Crush Collection #2

“You didn’t become the Ice Dragon because of one game, Boris,” she says.

“You earned that name. You earned your reputation. One shitty game does not make or break your career. It’s just the preseason and my being there or not has zero to do with the talent and ability you’ve been honing since you were a kid.

Your success is not dependent on me, though I’m certainly always rooting for you. ”

“How did you get so wise at such a young age?” I ask.

“Kid genius, remember?”

“Right, I forgot you went to college at, like, twelve. I was getting kicked out of school for fighting at twelve.”

“And yet here you are, one of the NHL’s top scorers. And one of its best-known pacifists.”

“I wasn’t such a pacifist when—“

“No,” she says. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But are you okay about it?” I ask, hoping she might tell me that much at least.

“I don’t think I’m suffering any significant emotional trauma over it, if that’s what you’re asking.”

I’m quiet for a moment. “You’re the strongest person I think I’ve ever met.”

“I’m not,” she says. “There are so many people out there fighting much more serious battles. Was I scared? Yes. Did I think there was a real chance I might not make it out of there? Yes. But I did, and you were there to save me. You gave me the number for the private security to call if I ever feel scared. That’s enough for right now.

I am so appreciative of you trying to help me to feel safe again, but now things are quiet and fine. I’m fine.”

“I think you are, krasotka.”

But I have to fight to convince myself to believe it.

We win our final game in Portland by a large margin, three of the goals being mine.

It’s my first hatty with the Crush, and even though preseason numbers don’t count for career stats, it’s my sixth.

So, overall a good result, a game more like our first one against Anaheim.

I feel the team is gelling once more after a short slump.

I can’t wait to get back to my Talia though.

There’s so much I want to tell her. We still need to talk about so many things.

I know next to nothing about her family and her life before she came to Las Vegas.

Likewise, with me. I’ve not shared much at all about my past growing up, and she deserves to know all of it.

After we land in Vegas the next afternoon, I unload from the baggage claim, shoulder my bag, and take an Uber straight to Talia’s office.

I make one stop for a bouquet of pale pink roses, then take the flight of stairs up one floor, bursting into her office with the energy of a child on Christmas morning.

She’s on the phone, but her eyes light up when she sees me, a wry grin pulling one side of her mouth up. She’s talking to a client about his quarterly results and I know I should be a gentleman, let her finish her call. But I simply can’t do it.

I step behind her desk and kiss her neck. She ignores me, mostly, which only emboldens me more. I want her. I want her attention. I want her body.

My mouth works against her creamy skin and I’m pleased to see her nipples pucker against the thin fabric of her blouse. I feel her up from outside her shirt and she leans her head back, clearing her throat as she tries to finish her conversation.

The moment she hangs up the phone, I’ve got her up and splayed across her desk, which is risky if a client walks in.

But I don’t care if someone sees us. I am simply overcome by lust. Pure lust because I’ve had her now and I won’t let her go.

Filthy thoughts run through my head as I pluck open the buttons of her blouse, baring her sweet, creamy breasts encased in a lacy white bra.

Mine.

It’s not like me to feel this territorial.

But then again, I’ve always said I don’t do casual.

This is real for me. It’s the real thing—she is mine and I am hers.

The need to brand her right here in this nearly public space is a wild notion made real when she responds with a growl, tearing at my zipper and pulling my cock from my pants.

In seconds I’m beneath her skirt, pushing her panties to the side, burying my cock into her wet, warm depths.

Oh, fuck!

YA khochu trakhnut’ tebya navsegda! I shout a string of Russian curses before pressing a blistering kiss to her lips. She bites my bottom lip as I pick up the pace, fucking in and out of her, the need to come inside and mark her as mine, a running mantra in my head.

When I feel her cunt clamping down on my cock, and know she’s coming, I allow myself to follow her over the edge. It’s hot and intense and explosive as I come hard, pounding into her until my cock is wrung dry. What the fuck was that? And when the hell can I do that again?

After one luxurious moment of kissing her, I’m reminded that we’ve just fucked on her desk, at her place of business, in the middle of her workday.

Anyone could come in the door at any moment and discover us.

Guiltily I pull her to her feet so we can crowd into the little office bathroom to clean up.

“Well, hello to you, too,” she says, blushing heavily.

“Sorry, that was—I don’t know what that just was.”

“Intense?”

“I couldn’t wait,” I say with a shrug.

“Guess not. But thank you. It’s good to be wanted.”

“You are. Wanted. Always.”

She smooths her hair and checks her blouse before walking back out to her desk. I follow her out, feeling her mood change and a chill descend over us.

“Everything okay?” I’m not imagining it, am I? “I’m sorry, krasotka, I was so…desperate with you.”

She gives me a sad smile. “I’m fine. It felt good. It’s just…maybe this is going too fast?”

Shock strikes me with a painful blow to the heart. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s just…something you said on the road about me being your lucky charm?

I’m not, Boris. I can’t be. You built your brand long before you met me.

And I don’t know if I’m ready to be part of the wives’ club or whatever.

This is…it’s an intense feeling between us.

I feel it. It’s real. But I need…I think we both need to take a breather. Slow it down.”

“I don’t think I know what you are asking for.”

“I know you’re not a casual relationship guy, you’re all in or you’re not in at all. I get that. But this is…it’s really intense, really fast, you know? What happened to dating?”

“We can,” I say. “I’ll take you on a million dates.”

“I just…I think maybe we need some space.”

“I do not need space,” I tell her. “But if you do, then I’ll respect your wishes.”

“Thank you.” Her voice doesn’t sound the same as she sits in her office chair and flicks her hair back behind her shoulders. I see the very moment she switches to professional mode, though, her back going ramrod straight, her lips pursing in concentration.

“I’ve got all of your investments set up.

Early indicators look good, but the market is somewhat volatile due to the upcoming election, so there’s some fluctuation.

Your first quarterly earnings report will be ready in October, but the January report will be more telling.

We can make adjustments as needed at that point. ”

I feel myself backing away, horrified, shocked, angry. What the hell is going on here? I left the airport and rushed over here to see the woman I love. We had sex on her desk. She came. I came. And now she’s behaving like I’m a fucking client, in full professional mode.

I feel sick about whatever she’s doing here. But if she wants space, I have to give it to her. I don’t have a choice.

I’m in a daze as I leave her office. It’s good my subconscious knows the way home, because I don’t think I could consciously make my way there right now.

Over and over I replay how I burst into her office, so eager to see her, to have her.

I was a brute. I took her like some animal, rutting into her with no self-control.

I scared her away and it’s my fault. I did this.

But there are two people in a relationship.

And perhaps right now, because I called her my lucky charm, she’s not actually as committed as I thought.

And there is fucking nothing I can do about that. Shit.

Bruce, my dyslexia coach, is a nice guy but he tries too hard to be funny. My first session is completed, and even though I am most decidedly not in a funny mood, I can see the value, so I make another appointment for the following week.

Ally meets me at the Starbucks across the street after my session so we can go over the next week’s schedule.

There’s a lot of internal Crush stuff happening on the calendar this month.

Social media, photo shoots, and press events to gear up for the big home opener.

We review and get everything calendared into my phone, but as we finish up, she’s onto me. I’m not fooling anyone.

“Boris, will you tell me what’s up with you, please?”

“Talia broke things off,” I admit.

“Why on earth would she do that?”

“She just said things were moving too fast. She needed space.”

“Space to continue to act like she isn’t in love with you?”

“She’s not in love with me,” I say. “But I thought she might get there someday.”

“How long have you guys known each other?”

“Only a few months. And we had a rather serious experience not long ago. I think it scared her a lot more than she’s admitting.”

“The thing where she fell?” Ally asks in a knowing tone.

“She didn’t fall. She was abducted and held hostage. I had to break her out.”

“Whoa.”

“It was intense. Scary. I would have been scared if I was her, and it was my fault. The guys were after my money and they used her as bait.”

“That’s insane. And she’s pretty young, right?”

“Early twenties. She said she hasn’t really had a relationship before.”

“I think there’s a lot to unpack. But if it’s real, you’ll find a way. You have to earn trust. Relationships and trust take time to build, Boris. My advice? Give Talia the space she’s asking for but also make sure she knows how you feel about her.”

“So, you think I should fight for her, then?”

“I mean, it sounds like you already have. Like, literally.” Ally grins. “But hell yeah.”

I have some work to do. Actually, a great deal of work.

And maybe I’m more of a fighter than I thought.

Fight? For Talia, my beloved krasotka, puck-money goddess?

Hell yes, I will fight.