Sergei (7 page)

"That feels so good, Bianca." He used his other hand to lovingly pet her plump bottom. "Don't stop, baby."

She whimpered around his cock and pressed back against the fingers buried in her pussy. Smiling, he gave her what she wanted, thrusting into her cunt a little faster and harder. She rewarded him by eagerly sliding her mouth up and down his shaft and sucking him with such enthusiasm.

Whispering her name, he flexed his feet and tried to stave off his impending orgasm. When she took him even deeper into her mouth and moaned, the erotic vibrations hurtled him over the edge. At the last second, he wondered if she would be angry with him for spilling his seed in her mouth. Trying to give her warning, in case she wanted to pull off, he hurriedly grunted, "Bianca! I'm co—"

He didn't get the rest of it out. Her soft lips tightened around his cock and she sucked him hard while rubbing her tongue right there against the crown of him. The dam built around those months of pent-up sexual frustration detonated then and he let go. Growling her name, he came like a fucking freight train, his hips rocking and his legs shaking as she milked every last drop of cum right out of him and swallowed.

Shuddering and panting, Sergei groaned while she licked him clean. When she pushed up onto her knees and shifted to face him, he kept his fingers buried in her pussy. Her eyebrows arched questioningly but he didn't take his hand away. Her mouth fell open when he started to thrust into her and strum her clit. "Sergei…"

"Come for me, baby. One more time and then I'll let you sleep."

Clutching his forearm, she let him have what he wanted. He reached up to palm her breast and gave it a squeeze while his other hand drove her crazy. Wetter than any woman he'd ever been with, Bianca bucked against his fingers, swiveling her hips and grinding her pussy on him. He couldn't wait to get his mouth on that juicy slit of hers again, to pull her swollen clit between his lips and circle it with his tongue.

As he made her lose control, Sergei enjoyed the sight of her climaxing. He couldn't believe this was actually happening. He expected to wake up any minute now, alone in his bed and feeling so empty.

But it wasn't a dream. This was real. Tonight, Bianca was his.

When she fell onto the bed next to him, Sergei trapped her in place with his leg and took his time loving her mouth and stroking her body. He wanted Bianca to know this wasn't just a one-night stand to him. He needed her to know that he wanted something long-term with her.

Eventually, he found the strength to disentangle their bodies. She darted into the bathroom, tossing the still-damp tuxedo pants he'd requested at him. He slipped into them and went downstairs to check the house one last time. Using the side entrance to her house, he walked out to his SUV, grabbed his gym bag and gun, and locked the vehicle. He didn't expect trouble, but with a prowler on the loose, he couldn't be too careful, especially where Bianca was concerned.

Satisfied the house was secure, he climbed upstairs and found Bianca already in bed. He paused in the doorway to appreciate the scene. She was curled on her side with her hand resting on the empty space she'd left for him. His chest constricted at the image she presented and the teasing glimpse of a life he'd always wanted, of a woman of his own and a nice home.

Of a future that seemed somehow always just beyond his reach.

Feeling a bit shaken up by the thoughts invading his mind, Sergei dropped his gym bag on the ottoman and crossed the room. He stripped out of the tuxedo pants, switched off the lamp and slid into bed next to Bianca. The moment he opened his arms to her, she cuddled up against him and pecked his jaw. "Good night, Sergei."

His lips curved in a pleased smile at the gentle moment they were sharing. "Good night, Bianca."

She hooked her leg across his and rested her cheek on his chest. Once she had settled into a comfortable spot, he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. Despite the exhaustion gripping him, he found it impossible to drift off to sleep. Content to stroke her hair, Sergei stared up at the dark ceiling and considered all the ways he could convince Bianca that she could trust him and that he was worth breaking her rule.

He'd chased after her for five months without so much as looking at another woman. If she wasn't impressed by his dogged determination to win her, then he would simply have to try harder.

Sergei had finally tasted his personal heaven—and he wasn't giving her up without a fight.

* * *

When I came downstairs the next morning, I hesitated just outside the entrance to my kitchen. Feeling a bit nervous, I touched my hair and the front of my robe. Sergei had already slipped out of bed and out of sight by the time I finally dragged my groggy backside into the bathroom to go through my morning primping routine. I had no idea how he could wake up so dang early, especially after that torrid night we'd shared.

My face burned with the memories of all the dirty things we'd done together. I couldn't remember ever behaving so wantonly. I sure as hell had never gone all the way on a first date. Not that we'd even had a real date. I cringed at the realization I had fallen into bed with him so easily. What in the world must he think of me?

Hoping he wouldn't mistake my embarrassment for shame, I schooled my features and stepped into the kitchen. Wearing a gray T-shirt and black shorts, Sergei stood with his back to me while he tended something on the stove and listened to a Russian language radio station. I hadn't known that channel existed so the sound of it took me by surprise.

Judging by the scents filling the kitchen and the ingredients on the big island behind him, Sergei had fixed pancakes. Impressed by his sweet gesture, I decided to show him something equally as sweet. I tried to remember exactly how to pronounce good morning in his native tongue. Vivian's voice echoed in my head. I wasn't sure if I could get it out correctly but I was going to try.

"Um…
dobroye utro
."

Spatula in hand, Sergei spun toward me. He looked amused as he repeated the greeting. Then, with a teasing slant to that sexy mouth of his, he added, "I'll be sure to tell Vivian to give you high marks on your next report card."

I rolled my eyes and headed for the coffee pot on the counter. "Very funny."

Sergei stepped close to me, wound his arm around my waist and hauled me against him. Stooping down, he claimed my lips in a sinful kiss. "I hope you like blueberry pancakes."

My insides quaking from the possessive swipe of his mouth. "I do."

He released me and gave my bottom a pat before returning to his post at the stove. "I hope you don't mind me using the blueberries in the fridge. After I'd dumped them into the bowl, it occurred to me you might be saving them for something special."

"I normally just toss them into my yogurt in the mornings." Pouring coffee into a cup, I said, "Cooking breakfast for me is pretty special, Sergei."

He shrugged. "I was hungry and thought you would be too."

I didn't miss the way he wouldn't meet my curious gaze. He said it with the faintest hint of defensiveness. Was he feeling as emotionally exposed as me this morning? Was he questioning where this thing between us was going or if I'd simply used him in the way I had a feeling a lot of other women had?

Remembering last night's glimpse at the chink in his emotional armor, I abandoned my cup of coffee and wrapped my arms around his waist. He glanced down at me, his gaze almost wary. "I'm really glad you're here this morning."

Sergei visibly relaxed and dropped a kiss on the top of my head. "I'm glad you let me stay."

He turned back to the pancakes and I finished fixing my cup of coffee. At the round table near the bay window overlooking the backyard, I discovered the newspaper and two place settings. He carried over a plate piled high with steaming hot pancakes as well as a butter dish and the organic syrup I preferred. After turning the radio to an English-language news program, he ducked into the refrigerator to find some juice before rejoining me. Soon, we were eating breakfast and trading sections of the newspaper. To say it was a surreal experience was an understatement.

"What is that, sweetheart?"

Secretly loving all the little pet names he used for me, I looked in the direction he was pointing with his fork. "Oh. That's my design board. It's the spot where I collect all the pieces that inspire me for redoing the house."

"It's nice." He splashed more orange juice into his glass. "What time do you leave for church?"

I patted my mouth with a napkin. "Ten. It's not that far from here but I have to pick Mama up first and that takes a while these days."

"How is your mother doing? Is rehab helping her?" He must have seen the surprise on my face because he quickly added, "Vivian told me about the stroke your mother had last year."

"Oh. Well, rehab is going well. It's a lifelong process, I guess."

He hesitated before asking, "They took her leg, yes?"

"It was the diabetes and high blood pressure that caused the stroke in the first place. Then, when she was in the ICU recovering from the stroke, she developed a blood clot in her leg that caused some problems with her feet." I shook my head sadly. "Basically, those first four months after her stroke were a nightmare. Every time they would solve one problem, another would pop right up. They took her right leg when they couldn't get the infection under control, and she had another mini-stroke while in surgery."

Sergei swore softly and reached for my hand. "I'm sorry, Bianca. That must have been difficult to go through alone."

"I wasn't totally alone. I had my extended family and the church and the boutique employees and Vivian. She used to go right from her morning classes to the boutique to run the registers and help with brides all afternoon and then she'd go straight to Samovar to wait tables until ten at night. Sometimes, she'd let herself into my mama's house—where I was staying at the time—to do my laundry or clean the place."

"I'm not surprised. Vivian doesn't do anything by half-measures." He pulled another stack of pancakes onto his plate. "Your mother has live-in help now?"

"No. She's in an assisted-living community."

The knife he'd stabbed into the butter stopped midway to his plate. "You put your mother in a nursing home?"

Taken aback by his tone, I bristled defensively. "It's not a nursing home, and I didn't put her there. She chose to go there."

"I find it hard to believe that any person would choose to go into a place like that." He gestured around the kitchen with the knife. "Your mother should be here with you."

I started to tell him off but then it occurred to me that maybe this wasn't about me at all. Leaning back in my chair, I asked, "Where does your mother live, Sergei?"

His jaw tightened, and he smashed the butter onto the pancakes in front of him. Finally, he growled, "I had to leave her behind."

The pain etched into his handsome face slashed at me. "Why?"

He glanced away from me and fixed his gaze on the opposite wall. "Something very bad happened back in Russia, and I had to get out—fast. There wasn't time to make arrangements for my mother or my brother—"

"You have a brother?"

He dragged his gaze back to me. "I had two brothers. Now, I…I only have one."

"Why do I get the feeling we have more in common than I'd ever suspected?"

"Because we do," Sergei said with a sigh. "But it's much too early to get into all of that ugliness."

"Yeah, you're probably right." I didn't feel like digging into the painful memories of my past either. "So your mother and brother are back in Moscow?"

"Yes."

"And…you haven't tried to bring them over?"

His expression turned dark. "I've been trying for two years. It's a complicated and very expensive process."

Another thought suddenly struck. "Um…are you legal?"

Sergei snorted and sliced his fork through his pancakes. "Yes. I have a green card. I'm a permanent resident."

"Oh. Okay."

"Why? Would you not date me if I wasn't?" He popped a triangle of pancakes into his mouth.

"I would be hesitant to get involved with someone who could be deported at any moment." I fiddled with my fork and poked at the sliver of pancakes left on my plate. "Is that what we're doing? Dating, I mean."

He swallowed his mouthful. "I thought we were going to start. After last night, I'm not going back to the way it was between us. We either begin to date and give things between us a try, or it ends here with breakfast."

Despite my reservations, I couldn't bear the thought of sending him away. The connection between us was too real to deny. "I'd like to try dating."

"Good." He ate another bite while I sipped my coffee. Sighing again, he reached out and touched my knee. "I shouldn't have snapped at you about your mother. That's…that's
my
baggage and
my
bullshit. I'm sure that your mother is very happy where she is now."

"It's a nice place. Really," I added upon seeing the skepticism that flashed in his eyes. "She has her own apartment and round-the-clock access to skilled nursing and on-site rehab. There's a chef and housekeeping and an amazing recreation center where she gets together with other residents. She even plays video games now!"