Game Over (The Baltimore Banners Book 2) (7 page)

     The door finally opened, revealing Nikolai, alive, well, and in one piece. And obviously fresh from bed. He stood in front of her, his shaggy hair mussed, his eyes slightly squinting from the light...and wearing only a pair of running shorts, hanging loosely around his lips.

     Her mouth went dry and she was momentarily struck speechless at the sight of all that gleaming bare skin and muscle. It wasn't until he spoke that she was actually able to pull her gaze to his face, and the worry in his eyes felt like a punch to her gut.

     She was standing in his doorway, ogling him as he stood there, a clear target, and he was clearly worried about her. She shifted so she was more fully in front of him, blocking him as his gaze took in the large duffel bag slung over her shoulder.

     "Um, the water line busted in my complex and they said it was going to be at least a week before it was fixed. I was wondering..." She paused, swallowing, feeling like an incompetent idiot. The story Denny had concocted felt so phony on her lips that she was sure Nikolai would see straight through it. "Um, I didn't have any place to stay and wondered...I know it's an imposition—"

     Nikolai didn't let her finish, he just reached out and took her bag from her and pulled her inside, a small grin turning up the corners of his full mouth. He locked the door behind her and motioned her into the living room. "Nonsense. You will stay here."

     She followed him into the room, her stomach knotting at the deception. It didn't matter that it was for his protection, didn't matter that he welcomed her and even seemed pleased at the idea. And it wasn't just the deception that bothered her, it was the fact that he was now in danger and she couldn't shake the feeling that she was responsible. Knowingly or not, somehow her being with him had brought the wrong kind of attention to him. And if anything happened to him, it was going to be her fault.

     Denny was right, she didn't have the kind of training for this. And she would never forgive herself if anything happened to Nikolai. She stopped suddenly, a wave of fear and doubt washing over her and she reached out for the sofa, her hand gripping the wooden back to steady herself.

     Strong arms suddenly wrapped around her, holding her close, making her feel safe and secure. She buried her face in Nikolai's bare chest and squeezed her eyes shut against the burning behind her lids. Nikolai's voice was soft in her ear as he whispered soothing words of reassurance, his hands gently rubbing her back. Several minutes went by as she felt some of the tension leave her, as her body accepted the comfort he offered.

     "What has happened to upset you,
moj dosadnyj malen'kij bich
? I do not like seeing you like this. Tell me, and I will help you."

     She took a deep breath, inhaling his warm spicy scent, feeling the heat of his chest against her face, and her stomach gave a little flip of excitement.

     Which was such a completely inappropriate response under the circumstances. "Damn. My life is so screwed up."

     The words tumbled out without any thought, and it wasn't until Nikolai's arms tightened around her and he murmured more words of assurance that she realized she had spoken them loud enough for him to hear. She pulled away, only slightly since he didn't loosen his hold on her, and looked up at him.

     His hand reached up and cupped her cheek, and she fought the impulse to rub against him like a cat. His gaze was serious, honest and concerned.

     "You say your life is screwed up. So tell me. You are pregnant?"

     "What?" She nearly shouted the question in her surprise and pulled out of his arms. "God, no! What? No! I haven't even had sex in over two years!"

     And okay, she hadn't meant for
that
to come out but..."God, no, I'm not pregnant! Why is that anytime a woman gets upset, men always assume it's because she's pregnant? God..."

     She turned her back to him and placed her hands over her face, feeling the heat of embarrassment flame her cheeks. Deep breaths...she forced herself to take three, then two more, trying to calm herself down, to regain some kind of control over the situation.

     And completely failing.

     "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell. It's just been a really bad day." And wasn't that an understatement? She turned back toward him, looking down at his feet, afraid to meet his gaze. "Listen, if I can just crash in your spare room for a couple of nights...I mean, no big deal if I can't, I can find another place to stay—"

     "Over two years?"

     The disbelief in his voice made her look up and she wanted to scream at the expression on his face. Shock and amusement were clear in his eyes, and she was torn between laughing and stomping on his foot. Neither reaction would have helped, so she chose to ignore his comment instead.

     "Can I stay here or not?"

     "Of course,
moj dosadnyj malen'kij bich
. Come." He grabbed her bag and tossed it over his shoulder, then took her hand and led her to the stairs. "We will take your things upstairs, and then I will make us some tea. And you can tell me why you are so upset."

     She followed him upstairs, her mind barely registering her surroundings. "I don't want tea." She sounded like a petulant child and mentally kicked herself for it. Her apology died on her lips, though, when she realized Nikolai was leading her into his bedroom. She stopped at the threshold, refusing to follow him in.

     The room was completely different from what she had seen of the rest of his house. While the other rooms consisted of bare-bones economical furnishings, this bedroom was pure masculine opulence.

     A huge bed constructed of dark oak took up the back wall. The coverings, rumpled from Nikolai's earlier slumber, were a rich black and cream design. They matched the rest of the décor in the room: dark oak dresser and night stands, a dark oak shelving system along the wall across from the bed. Leather-covered books, knick-knacks, and a few framed black-and-white photographs filled the shelves, along with thick white candles in various wrought iron holders. And really, how many men actually had candles in their room?

     The walls were a dark cream color, the drapes a heavy material in the same black and cream design of his bed coverings. Art of various styles covered the walls, and a thick cream-colored area rug contrasted with the dark wood of the refinished floor. The faint aroma of something spicy mingled with vanilla wrapped around her, teasing and tantalizing.

     The room was masculine, inviting, and—somehow—completely and utterly seductive.

     And there was no way in hell she was sleeping in this room with Nikolai.

     "No, you misunderstood. I said the spare room." She glanced over her shoulder and lamely pointed to the two closed doors off the upstairs landing. With a heavy sigh, Nikolai dropped her bag to the floor and walked past her, opening first one door then the other for her inspection.

     Bobbi's heart dropped when she looked into each room. The one at the end of the hall was a bathroom—again invitingly decorated and larger than she would have thought—and the other was indeed a second bedroom.

     That had very obviously been transformed into a weight room. Of course it had.

     She walked into Nikolai's room, doing her best to ignore the huge bed, and grabbed her bag off the floor.

     "I'll sleep on the sofa," she said as she tried to push by him. Which was about as effective as pushing a steel tank out of the way. He blocked her exit from the room, refusing to budge.

     "No. You are my guest, you will sleep here. I will sleep on the sofa."

     "Nikolai—"

     "No arguments." He grabbed her shoulders and turned her around, gently nudging her back into the room. He again took the bag from her, placed it on the foot of the bed, then walked to the closet and pulled out a pillow and blanket. "Sweet dreams,
moj dosadnyj malen'kij bich
. Do not let your worries bother you the rest of the night."

     She stared after him, open-mouthed as he walked out of the room and closed the door behind him.

     That had so not gone the way it was supposed to.

     With a sigh, she unzipped her bag and pulled out her sleeping wear—a simple pair of flannel shorts and an oversized t-shirt—and quickly changed. Once she was changed, she reorganized the contents of the bag so her gun was on top within easy reach, then sat the bag on the floor next to the bed, on the opposite side that Nikolai had obviously been sleeping on. She flopped down and stared up at the ceiling, her mind spinning.

     How had she made such a mess of something that should have been so simple? All she had to do was make up a story so Nikolai would let her stay with him. She knew him well enough to know that he wouldn't turn her away, so it should have been easy. Temporarily move into his guest room so she could be close—not too close, just enough—and keep an eye on him. Denny and Howard were both convinced that nothing would happen while he was at home, that he was most vulnerable when he was out in the public. And they had someone watching the house anyway, to make certain nobody entered.

     So all she had to do was stay close enough. A second bedroom would have been perfect. But how could she have known that he had no second bedroom? Although, thinking about it, she should have guessed.

     She blew out a deep breath and pushed her hair away from her face, watching the slowly spinning blades of the lacquered wood ceiling fan overhead. She should have considered an alternative to a second room. It wasn't going to do any good to have Nikolai downstairs if she was up here. She should be the one on the sofa. If somebody did try to break in, he would be safer upstairs.

     But she hadn't thought that through, either.

     Damn, she muttered, pushing herself to a sitting position. She glanced down at the bed, taking in its large size. It was easily big enough for two people to sleep in comfortably without even coming close to each other. She was a mature professional, this shouldn't be a problem.

     Forget about Denny's accusation, about his snide comment about how easy it would be for her to get that close to Nikolai. Screw him. Let him think what he wanted.

     Nikolai stretched out on the sofa, his knees bent so they wouldn't hang off the edge. He tossed one arm over his eyes, trying to block the light from the streetlamp outside.

     Trying to block out the image of Bobbi, curled in his bed upstairs, her hair fanned across his pillow, her body warm with sleep.

     He had been surprised, pleasantly so, when he opened the door and saw her standing there on the crumbled steps, a look of uncertainty marring the smooth skin between her beautiful eyes. She reminded him, for those first few seconds, of a waif, lost and struggling to find her way, and in that moment, he had felt a deeper kinship with her.

     A brief smile lifted his lips at the image, so far from what he knew to be the truth. Bobbi was neither lost nor struggling. No, there was a strength inside her, a ribbon of steel that ran through her, whether she realized it or not, whether she wanted others to see it or not.

     And the story of no water...he wasn't sure if he believed it or not. And it truly surprised him to realize that he didn't care. No, for some reason he wanted to trust Bobbi, whether it was the smart thing to do or not. He felt drawn to her, like the pull of a magnet he was helpless to resist.

     Helpless? Or had he just reached the point where he no longer cared? Had loneliness driven all sense of caution from his soul?

     Perhaps.

     Or perhaps he would be better admitting to himself that it wasn't just loneliness...that there was something about Bobbi herself that drew him, something inside her that spoke to him on such a deep level, he didn't dare examine it. And he didn't dare to question the wisdom of such foolishness.

     He shifted again, searching for a way to get comfortable, then stiffened at the sound of wood creaking. Just a quick sound, followed by another. Hesitant, unsure.

     Bobbi was coming down the stairs, her steps slow and uncertain. Nikolai was afraid to move, afraid to dare breathe for fear of scaring her off, for fear of changing her mind in doing...whatever it was she was doing.

     The steps halted in the hallway, then slowly resumed. One, then two more, stopping before she came into the living room.

     "Are you awake?" Her voice was a whisper, soft enough not to disturb him if he was sleeping, but loud enough to hear if he wasn't.

     "You should be asleep,
moj dosadnyj malen'kij bich
."

     "Yeah, okay." She stepped into the room but stopped several feet away. "Listen, this is stupid. I know you won't let me sleep down here, but it's your bedroom. And...we're both mature adults and the bed is huge and...I just wanted to let you know, I mean...you should be sleeping in your own bed, not down here. That's all."

     Her words, so hesitant at first, finished in a rush, ending in a harsh breath. Another smile crossed Nikolai's face, a smile he felt safe allowing, knowing that she couldn't see him in the darkness, not while he was stretched out on the too-small sofa. But he didn't say anything. Indeed, he was afraid to say anything, afraid of saying the wrong thing. But Bobbi didn't wait for a reply, just turned around and went back upstairs, her steps louder and quicker than they had been coming down.  

     And still he didn't move, afraid that she would interpret his intentions incorrectly.

     Not that she would be wrong. No, Nikolai was eager to share her bed—his bed. His body was eager to feel hers stretched out alongside his, to feel her body, warm and soft, against his. But he didn't want to frighten her with his eagerness, didn't want to betray the trust she showed him by making her offer. So when he finally moved, it was with care and slowness. He made sure to fold the blanket he had been using and place it neatly in the corner of the sofa, to neatly stack his pillow on top.

     Only then did he make his way to the stairs. Darkness filled the hallway above him, and his steps were careful, his tread steady but slow and certain. He paused outside the bedroom, his eyes resting on Bobbi's shadowed form. She huddled under the covers on the far edge of his bed, her back to him, stiff and unsure.

     He was helpless to stop his chuckle, a soft throaty sound that broke the heavy silence of the room as he finally walked over to the bed. The mattress shifted and dipped under his weight as he climbed in on the opposite side, and he knew instinctively that she held her breath as he stretched out and pulled the comforter up and over his chest.

     "You are too nervous,
moj dosadnyj malen'kij bich
. Don't be. You are safe with me." He reached out and gently squeezed her shoulder, then rolled over so his back was to her.

     Nikolai was surprised by how quickly sleep reached out to him, calling him, pulling him into its darkness...a darkness made welcoming by Bobbi's warmth next to him.

**

     Bobbi rolled onto her back and kicked the covers away from her feet. She had been tossing and turning for the last two hours, trying not to disturb the man sleeping beside her, unable to get comfortable, unable to think about anything
except
the man beside her.

     And the thoughts were anything but professional.

     Nikolai was obviously one of those men whose internal furnaces blazed on high while asleep. She could feel the heat of his body across the space the separated them. She turned her head to the side and watched him in the pale light that seeped around the edges of the curtains.

     He was sleeping on his right side, facing her, the comforter casually tossed by his feet, only the sheet covering him to his hips. Her gaze roamed down his body, taking in the bulk of his biceps and forearms, the broad expanse of bare chest and sprinkling of hair, down across his hard abs and lower. A rush of warm appreciation coursed through her as she let her gaze wander up again, slowly memorizing every detail of the sculpted body resting so peacefully just a foot away from her. Her eyes finally came to rest on his face, on his chiseled jaw and full soft lips.

     And on his startling blue eyes, now open and focused on her. A squeak of surprise escaped her and she quickly rolled over, her back to him, as mortification filled her.

     The silence that filled the room shifted and changed, and she held her breath, waiting for him to say something, to tease her about staring at him or to tell her he found her amusing. His voice, though, when he spoke, was thick with sleep, quiet and husky in the surrounding quiet.

    
"You are so beautiful, with the moonlight playing across your skin. I want nothing more than to pull you close and feel your body next to mine as I sleep."

     Bobbi tensed at the words, softly spoken in Russian. She squeezed her eyes tight against the film of tears that suddenly appeared, holding her breath until she thought her lungs would explode. "I hate when you do that. You know I don't understand Russian."

     There was silence as he moved closer to her, and it was all she could do not to jump when his hand closed over her shoulder and gently rolled her toward him. He leaned up on one elbow, not touching her but still holding her immobile as he gazed down at her, his eyes locked on hers.

    
"I speak in Russian because that is the only way I can tell you how I feel."

     Again he spoke in Russian. But even if she hadn't known exactly what he said, the emotion in his eyes, the gentle tone of his voice would have had the same effect. Her breath hitched in her chest as she gazed up at him, the heat of his body calling her, drawing her in. She expected him to touch her, felt herself leaning toward him, but he remained motionless.

     She released her pent-up breath and licked her dry lips, saw his gaze dart to her mouth then back to her eyes. "What does that mean?"

     He gave her a small smile and shook his head. "It is not important." He rested his head in the crook of his elbow and watched her. Another minute went by, a minute of pure frustration and anticipation for Bobbi, before he reached out and smoothed her hair away from her face, then removed his hand and tucked it against his chest, being so careful not to touch her.

     "You have been turning all night, but now you must sleep. Close your eyes and rest,
moj dosadnyj malen'kij bich
."

     She kept her gaze locked on his, a thousand thoughts whirling through her mind. Emotion lay thick and heavy in her chest, and she swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump in her throat. "Nikolai..."

     Before she could think too much more, before she could talk herself into just rolling over and pretending to sleep, she reached out with her hand and gently placed it against his chest. His warm hard flesh seared her, the beating of his heart heavy against her palm. He clasped his own hand around hers, holding it in place, but gently enough to let her know that she was free to remove it, that he was demanding nothing from her. She entwined her fingers in his and brought his hand to her mouth, dropping a soft kiss on his palm. His fingers tightened momentarily over hers but otherwise he didn't move.

     She glanced up at him, almost shyly, then turned her gaze back to his hand. He had such strong hands, powerful. Like the rest of his body, large and solid and strong. Yet she sensed the gentleness behind the power and knew that he would never hurt her.

     She tightened her grip on his hand, feeling his own fingers tighten around hers in response, and looked up at him, into the clear blue eyes locked on hers. "I don't want to sleep."

     Time seemed to halt as he continued staring at her, the slightest of smiles turning his lips briefly upward. Yet he didn't move, and she knew that if anything was to happen between them tonight, it would be up to her. She swallowed, unsure of herself, then slowly leaned toward him, her lips gently brushing against his.

     The kiss was soft, shy, undemanding. And she quickly lost patience with it. She leaned in closer, letting go of his hand so she could run her palm over his chest and up to his neck, curling her fingers into his hair as she teased his lips with her tongue, coaxing his mouth to open under hers.

     She was shy at first, uncertain as she probed his mouth. She felt his chest lurch, heard his quick intake of breath, and the reaction fueled her confidence and erased any hesitancy she had felt.

     And suddenly she was no longer in charge. Nikolai's hands cupped the side of her face, tilting her head back as his mouth closed hungrily over hers, increasing the tempo as their tongues met and swirled together, giving, taking, demanding. He shifted so she was on her back and the length of his body was hot and hard against her. She felt the press of his rigid erection against her thigh and shifted with her hips, searching, needing to feel him more fully against her.

     He pulled his mouth from hers and kissed her throat, his hand grabbing the hem of her t-shirt and pulling it up. Cold air caressed her skin as he moved away just far enough to pull the shirt over her head, then he pressed his body tightly against hers, bare flesh to bare flesh, and she pushed herself against him, reveling in the feel of his warm skin against her breasts, in the feel of the chest hair that teased her nipples into tight peaks.

     She slid her hands across his back, kneading the muscles under her palms, pressing him even closer against her before sliding her palms lower, lower until her fingers dipped into the waistband of his shorts. She pushed the nylon material down, her fingers caressing the smooth bare skin of his tight ass, pushing until her hands could reach no lower. She wrapped her legs around him, pushing at the shorts with her toes until he shifted just enough to kick them off himself. Then, finally, he rested completely on top of her, his heavy erection pressed between her legs, thick and hot even against the flannel of her sleeping shorts. She arched up, rubbing against him, searching.

     His mouth devoured her, moving from her jaw line to her neck and lower. His hands traveled over her body, warm and hot against her bare flesh, igniting a trail of fire wherever he touched. She moved against him, every inch of her skin craving the touch of his hands.

     Nikolai slid down her, his hands caressing, demanding, as his mouth closed over one nipple and suckled. The peak tightened more as he nibbled with his teeth and teased with his tongue. Her back arched, thrusting more fully into him as her hands reached out and tangled in his hair, holding him there, greedy and demanding.

     His mouth moved to her other nipple, lavishing the same attention, and her back arched again as a moan escaped her. She thrust her hips more fully against him, gasping at the feel of his hard length pressed against her, thrust again, demanding more of him.

     Nikolai skimmed his hands along her body, stopping to rub against her intimate center, pushing through the flannel of her shorts until a guttural growl escaped him and he yanked them off with one quick movement. And finally, God, he was touching her, his finger exploring her wetness, separating her, easing inside her then pulling out, then entering again until she groaned.

     His mouth trailed down her body, his tongue swirling circles around her belly button then lower. His touch gentled as he lavished soft kisses along the crease of one leg before moving to the other, his breath hot against her skin.

     Her hands searched for him, reaching, wanting to touch and hold but not finding any purchase as he traveled further down her body, caressing her thighs and calves with both his hands and his mouth. She arched her hips again, reached out with one foot and stroked the smooth skin of his back, then tried to use her leg to urge him forward. She wanted to feel him against her, needed the heat and weight of his body to anchor her against the storm building deep inside her, threatening to tear her apart.