Page 7

Chapter Six

Viktor

When I can’t sleep, there’s one sure-fire way to relax and quiet my thoughts: masturbation. Especially on game nights. And despite our win, between Frances Scott Key rolling over in his grave and Knova almost burning down the house—wasn’t that a song from decades ago? God, I hope I never hear Knova singing it—my adrenaline is at an all-time high. Polishing the banister is a cure-all that never fails.

Some nights, I seek out porn to aid the endeavor. Others—and I would literally eat Tide Pods before I would admit this to my teammates—I turn to AO3. There’s this one insanely long The Witcher Geralt/Yennifer fic that never fails to get me going, and I’ve bookmarked a few Game of Thrones titles, too. Today’s viewing options don’t compare to the shows of my dad’s day.

Tonight, I don’t need any of those. As soon as my hand closes around my dick, I’m thinking of Knova.

Snatches of our night together linger in my mind, blurring together with dreams I’ve had or fantasies I’ve entertained. I’ve always assumed that if Knova and I ever slept together, it would be a power struggle. Kind of like a sexy wrestling match.

And now I know how she smells. How she tastes. The silky smooth texture of her skin. The slope of every curve.

I could bury my face in her sweet pussy and live there.

I run with that fantasy now, gripping myself tighter as the fantasy takes shape.

Knova pins me to the ground, her arm across my throat, her hips straddling mine. I’m naked, and she’s wearing that little black dress from the other night. The dress has twisted around her hips during our struggle, revealing one of her pert breasts, her nipple already taut with her arousal. Her pussy presses against my dick, slick and inviting.

“You’re going to give me what I want,” she growls. Her cheeks are flushed bright red, her eyes shining. “You’re going to satisfy me. I’m going to use you like a toy until I’m finished, and I won’t let you come until I’m done with you.”

“Shit,” I pant aloud. My fist stutters on my cock, which is now fully invested in my imagined scenario. I would love for Knova to use me. Though, truth be told, I’m not sure what chance I have of that. I didn’t make it to the main event during our night in the hotel, and I’m already panting with desire. I have got to work on my stamina where she’s concerned. Too much pent-up desire, augmented by scuffles and G-rated wrestling matches since my return to Vegas, have me in a chokehold, much like fantasy-Knova.

“Is that so?” I flip Knova onto her back, pinning her beneath me. “That shouldn’t be so hard. I know how bad you want me.”

I know no such thing, but it’s my fantasy, and if I want to get off on the idea that Knova is just as horny for me as I am for her, who’s going to stop me?

“I do,” she breathes, the fight leaving her.

Eh. Not realistic. Knova’s not a quitter. Rewind, revise, try again.

“And how bad is that, exactly?” she taunts.

I rut against her, pressing the tip of my cock to her entrance. “Badly enough that you’re already aching for me, sweetheart. Want me to prove it?”

Her breath is ragged in my ear. “You can try.”

I enter her in one thrust, and Knova keens, but I was right. She opens for me, her body yielding to me in a way her mind never seems to. I rock into her until I’m buried in her, until I’m so far inside her that I’m not sure where she ends and I begin.

“You’re so wet for me, aren’t you?” I purr. “Look at you, painting my cock with your slick.”

“Viktor—” Knova’s eyes flutter. Her cunt tightens around me.

“You want me to explode inside you, sweetheart? Want me to claim what’s mine?”

“Viktor!”

My fist tightens, and my hips buck off the bed. I’m so close.

“Viktor, I…” Knova’s eyes open. “I haven’t been with another guy since Mick.”

My hand relaxes, and my eyes open. What the hell? Since when do my fantasies feature Knova saying another guy’s name?

They don’t, I realize. That was my subconscious, intervening at the worst possible time. Knova said those words to me before, in real life. When? Probably during our, uh, honeymoon?

I let out a bark of laughter in the silent room. My dick is already softening as reality reasserts itself. Who is Mick, anyway? Knova and I haven’t talked much about the directions our lives went when they diverged after high school. She’s never brought it up, and I don’t have much to tell. Sure, I’ve had other girlfriends. I really liked the girl I lost my virginity to back in high school, but…

She wasn’t Knova. Nobody ever measures up to her. Every time I try to get over her, to get involved with a woman who actually likes me, I realize I’m holding something back. I can’t tell Knova that, of course. She’d laugh in my face, not just because our dynamic, but because she’s always said she’s skeptical of love ever working out for her.

But if that’s the case, who is Mick, and why hasn’t she given me the whole story?

Why hasn’t Knight ever mentioned him? Shit, they have that twin thing on lock.

A chime fills the house, a tinkling of bells that has me sitting up and looking around for its source. Is that my phone? The screen is dark; when I turn it on, the clock says it’s almost two a.m.

Meanwhile, the sound persists. I roll out of bed and grab a pair of sweatpants to avoid freezing my balls off as I commence my search. It sounds like it’s coming from downstairs, so I descend to the lower floor and do a quick check of the kitchen. The sound is coming from all around me, soothing but nevertheless urgent.

Something thumps against the front door. My heart kicks into gear. No one ever comes by this late. And no one ever rings the bell. Could it be—? No. Don’t be stupid. Don’t hope.

“Viktor?” Knova’s voice calls. “Are you in there? I can hear you, asshat, and I’m pretty sure you just turned the lights on.”

I hurry to the front door. “What’s that sound?” I demand.

“What sound? This?” Knova prods the doorbell. That same ethereal noise floats through the house.

“I have a doorbell? ” I’m truly baffled. Although, come to think of it, who drops in? I’ve lived here for more than a year, and not once has that thing gone off.

“How did you not know what your own doorbell sounded like?” Knova asks. She nudges me out of the way. “Invite me in, or at the very least don’t block the door.”

“How come my doorbell sounds like it was composed by Enya?” I shoot back. “Also, do you know how late it is? I’m not the one being rude here.”

“Whatever.” Knova drops the duffle she’s holding. It’s the same bag she was carrying when I dropped her off at Knight’s more than an hour ago. “If you’ve changed your mind, I’ll go.”

I let my eyes roam from her damp hair, which has taken on a slight curl in the desert air, to the bandages on her hands. “Hang on. Did Knight kick you out?”

“Ugh, no.” She kicks off her shoes. My throat goes dry. She’s here. In my place. Again. This time without alcohol, or chaos, or a wedding chapel. Just her. Just me. I don’t know how to act normal when she’s in my space like this. Everything about her feels like a promise I’m not allowed to keep.

So much for whatever she was saying about leaving. “He showed me to the spare room, and the next thing I know, he and Sofia are banging so loud that I’m surprised you can’t hear it from here.” She shudders. “There was a groan that sounded like a foghorn, followed by a slap on bare skin. She called him daddy. Twice . I mean, ew? We know her dad! How is that hot?”

I have to laugh. Because it’s easier than acknowledging the part of me that snarls at the word daddy leaving her mouth. Not because I’m jealous. Just… territorial. Or something. Whatever. Shut up, brain .

Sofia’s a goody-goody most of the time, but I’ve already observed what freaks she and Knight can be when they get down and dirty. Their infamous bathtub, large enough to hold two people, is visible from one of my windows, and I’ve seen things I can’t unsee.

Not that I’m looking . I mean… that would be perverse.

Then I imagine Knova calling me daddy, and I file that away in the spank bank for the next time Fantasy-Knova is riding my face.

“Yeah, I’m sure it’s hilarious for you . I’m going to need to go back to therapy.” Knova drops onto one of the couches. “Why does today suck such giant donkey balls?”

She spreads out like she owns the place, and something tightens in my chest. She’s wearing a Venom hoodie. She’s in my space. Her scent’s in the air now—lavender and smoke and Knova—and I feel like a man one breath away from ruin.

“Technically, it’s tomorrow.” I pull out my phone and tap through to one of my apps. “And it sucks because you’re a one-woman disaster who managed to burn her parents’ pool house down?”

“Asshole!” Knova rolls onto her side so that her face is pressed into the cushions.

“Hey, I think it’s great.” I sit on the other sofa. They’re arranged in an L, so I have to sit sideways to face her. “I have the reputation of being the worst kid in our parents’ friend group, but I think you’ve finally stolen the title.”

Knova laughs into the cushions. “ That’s your takeaway from all this? Jesus, Viktor, not everything is about you.”

“Look, we all know the ‘rents keep score, and this one’s going to cost you. Sure, you passed pre-calc, but only one of us has committed arson.”

“It was an accident!” Knova flips over to face me. She’s trying to give me the same death glare she wore at the stadium, but the slight curve of her mouth gives her away. “Why are you always so—”

“Right?” I suggest.

“So impossible . Are you going to put on a shirt?”

“And deny your eyes the pleasure of observing these abs?” I gesture to my stomach. “Nah.”

Instead of dismissing me outright, Knova gives me a lingering once-over. Her scrutiny is so intense that I’m tempted to cross my legs and twist away from her. I know I look good, but Knova’s spent time in the service, and she’s presumably seen a lot of fit guys. Is she comparing me to them?

To Mick?

Just who the fuck is Mick?

Having finished her perusal of my body, Knova shrugs. “I’ve seen better.”

“Hey!” I snatch up one of the couch cushions and hurl it at her. “Rude!”

Knova cackles and snatches my pillow out of the air. “I’ve turned over a new leaf. I’m done being nice. From here on out, I’m not holding back. It’s the start of my villain era!” She whips the cushion right back at me.

“Today, the pool house. Tomorrow? World domination!”

A knock at my door startles us both into silence. Knova sits upright to peer over the back of the couch. “Please tell me it’s not a booty call? I can’t listen to anyone else having sex tonight.”

“I’m married. I don’t do booty calls.” I get up and pad over to the door. “Also, please note that he knocked like a normal person, rather than compulsively ringing the doorbell like a fucking sociopath .”

“Doorbells are normal,” Knova protests.

I return a few moments later, holding two boxes from Knova’s favorite pizza place. I know it’s her favorite because she insists that I order the same thing every time she helps me move a piece of furniture or carry boxes of stuff over from my old bedroom.

“Ooh.” Knova sinks lower until only her eyes are visible, like some sort of adorable pizza-loving gremlin. “Is that what I hope it is?”

“Prosciutto, goat cheese, and hot honey thin crust.” I indicate the second, smaller box. “Plus some of those spinach and feta garlic knots you like. While you were insulting me, I ordered delivery from the place downstairs. Luckily, they stay open extra late to take advantage of bar close.”

I wanted to feed her. Stupid, maybe, but primal. Like if I could fill her up with something warm and good, I could erase everything that’s hurt her tonight.

Knova’s hands appear over the back of the couch, opening and closing like a pair of crab claws. I love her grabby hands. When we were kids, I used to tease her for how crabby she got when she was hungry, and she leaned into the pun. “For me?” she asks. “Are we sharing?”

“I already ate.” I pass her the boxes and retrieve a roll of paper towels from the kitchen. That hot honey gets everywhere if you’re not careful, as evidenced by a permanent stain on the undersides of several couch cushions. “You were making dinner when you burned the place down. I thought you might still be hungry.”

Knova pauses with the box of garlic knots open on her lap. “Really? That’s so sweet. If I didn’t hate you so much, I’d kiss you right now.”

I look away. That’s dangerous language from her. She never calls me sweet. I don’t want it if it’s pity. But some reckless, buried part of me wants to believe she means it.

Instead of deflecting with my usual reply—something along the lines of I hate you more —my mouth opens without running a clearance check with my brain. “Well, I think you should kiss me anyway.”

“And why’s that?” She rips into a piece of the still-steaming bread. “Are you looking forward to experiencing my garlic breath?”

“I thought you might give me the wife experience.”

I wish I could cram the words back into my mouth. She’s going to bolt. I’m going to ruin this. I open my mouth to backpedal—but she beats me to it.

Knova freezes with her mouth full. She looks up at me, unblinkingly, like a rabbit that has just sensed danger.

I’m a bumbling idiot. Why did I say that? Knova just told me that she doesn’t want to stay with her brother, so if she leaves now, she won’t just leave the condo, she’ll leave the neighborhood. Besides, she felt safe coming to me. What kind of selfish bastard would sabotage that? What kind of blathering idiot ruins his own forced proximity? Romance novel guys stand for that shit. I wasn’t even asking her to sleep with me. Not that I’d complain if she did, but what I had in mind was more of a trial run. I should have known how it would sound to her, though.

I’m trying to figure out a casual way to roll that back or laugh it off when a wicked smile spreads across Knova’s face. She swallows her mouthful of garlic bread.

“The wife experience, huh? I’m familiar with the girlfriend experience. I’m guessing it’s like that, minus the sex, right?”

“Sort of.” Thank God she gave me an out, though I’m surprised she didn’t shoot down the idea altogether. “I meant things like having dinner together, and support at the games. Wearing my jersey. Doing stuff together. Normal things. Kind of like a test run. But only while you’re here.”

Knova rolls her eyes. “If the next words out of your mouth are ‘walking around holding hands,’ I will throw up right here.”

“We could skip all that if you’d rather call me Daddy,” I suggest.

Knova drops the other half of her garlic knot back into the box. “I’m done. I quit. I’m going to bed.”

“Ah, yeah, about that. I forgot to mention… I only have one bed.” I know I’m pushing my luck, but as usual, my dumb mouth doesn’t know when to quit.

“Then I hope you like the couch,” Knova says. She grabs the paper towels, both boxes, and her duffle. “You should get used to sleeping on the sofa, anyway. It’s all part of the husband experience. And whoever ends up married to you is going to see a lot of fucking up.”

“You’re not going to eat that in my bed, are you?” I am genuinely aghast. “You know I just got new sheets.”

“I’m going to eat it on my bed, darling.” Knova blows me a kiss.

“No prosciutto on the linens!”

“You know what they say: Happy wife, happy life. I’ll eat my meat wherever I please.” She saunters off toward the stairs, leaving me to figure out my sleeping arrangements.

She disappears around the corner, and I’m left staring at the space she occupied. I want to follow her. I want to ask her to stay on the couch with me. I want to tell her I remember every second of that night we never talk about. But I don’t move. Because I know she’d leave if I did.

I could probably talk her into switching, but if this is the only way I’m going to get Knova in my bed, so be it. If she ever finds out how much power she has over me, I’ll be in real trouble.

I’ll be hers. And she’ll never even know it.