Page 24

Chapter Twenty-Three

Knova

Everyone is getting along. Dad and Noah are deep in conversation about the likelihood of the Venom making it to the playoffs this year—high, apparently—while Mom and Molly catch each other up on their respective careers. Molly owns a bookstore, and Mom’s thrilled to talk about her new album. Knight has relaxed, and he’s engaged Viktor in a conversation about physical therapy and recovery timelines.

While the rest of them talk, I just sit there, sipping my coffee and nibbling on a pastry, letting the reality of our situation sink in. I was so afraid of this moment, of what it would mean for us and our families. I was so worried about being judged.

But I’m not that girl anymore. I’m not looking for reasons to run. I’m not scared of loving him—not when he’s already proven that he won’t let me face my ghosts alone. If anything, I’m scared of how easy it feels now. How right. How much I want all of this.

I pull out my phone and open a new message. Baylor deserves to hear it from me first.

SuperKnova: I told them. All of them. That I love him and I want to stay married.

BowBeforeBaylor: Well slap my ass and call me a psychic. Also, I’m registering for your wedding gifts right now. You’re getting six toasters.

SuperKnova: Make it seven. I like options. Just don’t get me forks to go with them. And B—Thank you. For everything.

BowBeforeBaylor: Always. But if he hurts you again, I’m smothering him with your period-coded weighted blanket and blaming it on sleep apnea.

I snort into my coffee, smiling so hard my face aches.

I’m honestly glad we waited to tell all of them. If I hadn’t made up my mind about Viktor and was still dead set on making him out to be a villain, things would have ended very differently.

I needed to know that I loved him before we could move forward. Now that I’ve made up my mind, I’m more than willing to stand my ground.

Eventually, the ‘rents decide to leave and begin the long, tedious process of putting everything back the way they found it. Noah and Dad are engaged in shuffling the chairs when Mom takes my elbow and ushers me aside.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” she murmurs. “But given how your father was acting, I understand why you would be hesitant to share… personal information.”

“I’ve never seen you guys fight like you did the other night. I got worried when you walked out.” I worry my bottom lip between my teeth before I blurt what I’ve been thinking since that dinner. “Are you guys okay?”

Mom rocks back on her heels. “Knova, are you worried that your father and I are on the rocks?”

“Yeah, a little.” I shrink down into the collar of my comfy sweatshirt. “I’ve never seen you walk out before.”

“Sweetheart, I mean this in the nicest possible way… but have you met your father?”

I blink at her.

“You really think we’ve never fought?” She rolls her eyes, but her fond smile remains unwavering. “That man has an opinion about everything. The lawn. His career. My career. Which beer is the best. Knight’s form on the ice. The best pizza in town.” At the sight of my stricken face, she laughs. “It’s never been subtle, sweetie. I knew that when I married him. He’s stubborn, and it would be easy for him to get set in his ways. He needs someone who will bump him out of his comfort zone. Who will challenge him and his way of thinking. And that’s what you do for Viktor,” she continues, reaching up to pat my cheek. “You pull him forward. He grounds you. That’s partnership, Knova. Not perfection. Just showing up for each other, even when it’s hard.”

“You’re saying Viktor challenges me?” I ask.

“Every moment of the day. You challenge him, too.”

I sneak a glance into the living room, where Dad is lecturing Noah on the best way to carry a chair. Stubborn indeed. “I’m not sure that fighting is the best basis for a marriage…”

“Fighting? No, but there’s nothing wrong with a good debate. It clears the air. You and Viktor have your own communication style—”

I snort at Mom’s diplomatic phrasing.

“—but so long as it’s coming from a place of love, I think you’ll be fine.” She kisses my forehead and steps away. “I hope you’ll talk to me next time you’re dealing with something big, sweetpea. I miss you. Don’t be a stranger.”

“I love you, Mom. Maybe next time, Viktor and I can host family dinner.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I have a vivid memory of lying on my back, legs spread wide, my ass hanging over the edge of the kitchen table as Viktor fucked me in my little apron. My cheeks heat up. Thank God that table is sturdy.

Also, I need to apologize to that poor floral apron. May it rest in shredded, highly sexed-up peace.

“That would be lovely,” Mom says, oblivious to the extremely graphic mental image playing on repeat in my fevered brain. I make a mental note to re-sanitize the kitchen table before my parents ever eat there. And maybe burn sage.

The parentals finally file out, leaving their snacks behind. Knight steals a few more pastries for the road. In their absence, our home falls into a blissful state of silence.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Viktor asks from the couch.

“No. Still intense, though. I could use a nap.”

“You could cuddle me here,” he suggests.

“Mm-hmm. Or I could help you move to the bed, and we could do a bit more than that.”

Viktor grins. His hair is all over the place, and his clothes are rumpled, but somehow I still find him absurdly attractive. I’ve got it bad for this man.

“Doesn’t sound like sleep is in the cards, does it?” he teases.

“I need a little pre-nap exercise to help me drift off.” I’m on my way over to him, but there’s a knock at the door that stops me in my tracks.

Viktor sticks out his bottom lip in a pout. “We could ignore it.”

“No way. I bet one of our parents forgot something. It’ll be quick.” I lope back to the door and open it.

A scrawny ginger in a courier uniform waits on the other side. He touches the brim of his ball cap in greeting. “I’ve got some papers here from Dante Giovanetti. If you want to sign them right now, I can wait.”

I accept the packet of papers; it’s surprisingly slim, given all the emotions riding on it. I pull the tab that holds the flap down and remove the contents. Sure enough, it’s the annulment. Dante finally came through.

“One second,” I say sweetly. Then I rip the papers in half.

I make eye contact the entire time, like I’m auditioning for a mob boss biopic. A slow, deliberate tear. Another. A third. He flinches. I double down. By the time I’m done, his soul has probably left his body. Good. Dante should know better than sending some poor kid to deliver this crap.

The courier’s eyes bulge as he watches me tear the papers into smaller and smaller scraps. When they’re reduced to little more than confetti, I stuff them back into the envelope they came in and return them to the courier’s limp hands.

“If you could just take that to Dante, please, I would really appreciate it. I assume he’s paid you for the round trip?”

The courier nods. He’s eyeing me warily, as if he’s afraid he’ll meet the same fate as the annulment if he asks any questions. “No, yup, I got paid. I’m just gonna…” He hooks his thumb down the hallway and crab-walks out of my line of sight.

“Babe.” Viktor makes eye contact from where he’s standing by the door. “You’ve never looked so sexy.”

“Then up you get, and let’s take this party to the bedroom,” I suggest.

Easier said than done. I trace my fingers along his jaw, slow and reverent. I’m not just turned on—I’m tethered to him. Anchored by how much I want this to be more than just physical. I want to worship every inch of him, busted ankle and all. I want to leave no room for doubt in either of us.

Any fantasy I had about a quick, teasing jaunt up the stairs to his—our—room is quashed by the tedious climb up the stairs. I’ve taken them for granted before, but given how hard Viktor is panting by the time we reach the landing, you’d think we’d just ascended K2.

“Sorry,” he says between gasps. “I don’t know how much I’ll be able to do for you. My leg…”

I’m supporting him with one arm. I pat his chest with the other. “You can lie on your back, Vik. You don’t need leg strength for me to ride your face.”

“Is that an option?” Viktor practically drags me to the bedroom. It takes both of us to get him undressed, and even with help, he flinches a few times during the process.

“You could leave some of your clothes on,” I point out.

Viktor is adamant, however. “No. We’ve rushed things before. I want to take my time with you.”

Well, that certainly does something for me. I finish working his sweatpants down over his wrapped ankle, carefully maneuvering around the brace. As the waistband clears his hips, his cock springs free, bobbing in front of my face—thick, flushed, already hard for me. I grin and lean in, giving the tip a slow, deliberate lick, just to watch his stomach clench and his fists twist in the bedding. Then I nudge him to lie back on the bed. He flops back against the mattress, watching me intently as I pull my shirt up over my head. Viktor lets out a sigh.

“You like what you see?” I turn away from him and shake my ass as I pull my sweats and panties down. This is so silly. My outfit isn’t even a little bit sexy, but I doubt that Viktor could gaze at me with any greater desire if I was wearing a lace teddy or a full-body catsuit.

He holds out a hand to me. “Come here,” he whispers.

I crawl across the mattress to him and kiss him deep and slow. Viktor’s hands fist in my hair, but without the same control and urgency as usual. Bit by bit, we arrange ourselves so that we’re both comfortable, with Viktor lying on his back in the middle of the bed and me pressed to his side.

Eventually, he pulls back, though his face is still only inches from mine. His soft smile melts things inside me that I didn’t even know were frozen. “So,” he whispers, “how about that face-sitting I was promised?”

I smack his chest with the back of my hand. “And here I thought you were going to say something sweet?”

“What?” He nuzzles my cheek. “Are you trying to tell me that asking you to use me like a toy isn’t sweet?”

I roll up onto my knees and straddle his chest. “Are you sure about this?”

“So sure. I want my tongue inside you.” Viktor motions for me to clamber up into place.

It’s not exactly a graceful ascent, and we’re both laughing by the time I finally manage to position myself over his face. I grab the headboard and frown down at him. “Ready?”

His cheeky smile is half-obscured by my thighs. “Born ready.”

“That’s a horrifying phrase to use in this context…”

With a snort, Viktor guides my hips lower with the press of his palms, and I settle against his mouth. His warm breath makes my core quiver. I gasp when his tongue traces my entrance, licking along the seam of my pussy, opening me with every successive lick.

“Is this okay?” I ask.

Viktor makes a sound of wordless agreement that echoes through the deepest parts of me. I turn my head toward my arm and gasp, closing my eyes at the sudden intense sensation. Gently, careful not to smother him—although knowing him, he’d be into it—I roll my hips, guiding his tongue and deciding just how much pressure I get to experience. I lose myself in the sensation. Viktor’s hands clench around my thighs. At some point, he smacks my ass, urging me on. I jump at the startling sensation, and he laughs into me. He smacks me again. Within moments, I’m left a quivering mess, panting his name as I come against his open mouth.

Viktor makes a strangled noise, and I realize belatedly that I’m not supporting myself at all. I scramble to the side so that the poor guy can breathe. “Sorry,” I gasp.

Viktor’s face is red. A vein pulses in his forehead; his lips shine with the evidence of my arousal. “I’m not. That was the hottest thing I’ve ever done. I think I might have blacked out a little.”

I pat his cheek. “You, my darling, are a bit of a freak, too, aren’t you?”

“Pot, meet kettle.” Viktor reaches down to stroke himself. His eyes are shinier than I’ve ever seen them, almost feverish in their brightness. “Death by thighs sounds like the best way to go.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for the future.” I shimmy down and slide back onto him, straddling his hips and nudging his hand out of the way in the process. “If you ever get too mouthy, I’ll know how to shut you up now.”

“Is that a threat? Because it sounds like a challenge to me.” Viktor cuts off with a groan as I guide him into me. His eyes roll back and close for a few seconds, but it’s as if he can’t bear to take them off me for any length of time. Almost immediately, he opens them again.

“Are you offering to make me come every time you annoy me? Because on balance, I would work with that.” I sit back on my heels and rake my nails lightly across his chest.

Viktor doesn’t answer. His muscles twitch and tense beneath me with each roll of my hips. I keep things slow, taking our time like he asked. There’s no rush. We’ve got no plans today. Nowhere to be but here, together, tangled up in one another’s limbs.

“Knova?” Viktor asks. He traces my hips and torso with a touch so light it makes me shiver. “You know I love you, right?”

I lean forward and press my palms against his chest for support. “I do. And I love you right back. I still can’t believe I told my dad before I told you, but it’s true.”

“Hm.” His mouth twists into a small smile. “I don’t know if I believe it yet. You’ll have to say it a few more times.”

I lower myself until my chest touches his, until our mouths are only inches apart. “I love you, I love you, I love you. I’m going to keep saying it, even when it finally sinks in. I’m going to tell you so many times that you get sick of hearing it.”

“Nope.” He brushes a lock of hair out of my eyes. “Not possible.”

I laugh and arch my back, his cock pushing deep in my pussy, wringing a guttural moan from his throat at the change in angle. “Well, like you said before: challenge accepted.”

And when he smiles at me like that—open and unguarded, like I’m his whole world—I know this is no longer pretend. This is love, in all its messy, complicated, beautiful truth.

Ours.