Smoke Signals (18 page)

TORI AND I
spent most of Saturday over at Hunter and Tallie’s house. Hunter’s brother, Kade, and Dima both spent a few hours there, too. It was weird to have Dima hanging out with us and not chasing after some girl or another, but maybe he was having a hard time connecting with the ladies since it wasn’t hockey season. That seemed as good an explanation as any. The guys and I spent our time painting the walls of the nursery and doing other things that Tallie had no business doing right now. The two women spent their time in the kitchen frosting cupcakes and doing God only knew what else. They made a huge mess, but they were both smiling when they brought us the fruits of their labor.

I drew Tori in for a kiss when she tried to pass me a cupcake and move on.

“I like seeing you smile,” I murmured against her lips.

She looked down and her eyelids fluttered with her embarrassment. “I like Tallie.”

“I’m glad.” And it was the truth. Anything that would make her smile was a good thing, in my opinion. I only wished I was able to bring the same smiles to her lips that Tallie could. Maybe someday.

Hunter broke up our tender moment by smooshing an entire cupcake—covered in bright green frosting—all over Tallie’s face. She squealed and retaliated by plunking one down on the top of his head and smearing the yellow icing all through his hair. Kade got in on the act, too, and Tori looked at me with a mix of terror and curiosity widening her eyes.

“You want to get out of here?” I asked.

She nodded, so I took her hand and my cupcake on my way out of the nursery. Dima was hot on our heels. Apparently not a fan of food fights. I wouldn’t have minded getting involved in it, myself, but it would have been much more fun doing that naked and alone with Tori.

And I really needed to stop thinking about getting her naked, at least until after her appointment with Dr. Rodriguez.

The three of us sat in the living room, listening to the barks of male laughter mixed with Tallie’s feminine giggles coming from down the hall while we ate our cupcakes. It wasn’t long before Dima and Tori started talking…in Russian. Considering the only Russian word I knew was
blyad
, or the equivalent of
fuck
, I knew I was in over my head trying to figure out what they were saying. No point in wasting my energy on it. I glanced at Tori to be sure she was comfortable with the situation.

She nodded and said, “It’s fine.”

That was good enough for me. I got up and decided to work on cleaning up the mess she and Tallie had made of the kitchen. By the time Hunter and Tallie came out, both grinning like loons and covered from head to toe in pastel-colored frosting, I’d made a decent dent in the mess, and Tori and Dima were still talking up a storm. Considering neither of them were known for being very talkative, it was a shocking development.

Tallie stumbled to a stop when they arrived in the kitchen. “Well, aren’t you a sweetie,” she said, still trying to catch her breath. “We were just going to go shower to clean all this off, but—”

“Go,” I cut in. “Shower. Don’t touch anything in here or you’ll mess up all I’ve already done.”

“But it’s our mess—”

“Come on.” Hunter was the one to cut her off this time. “He’s right.”

“And don’t think I’m doing anything crazy like touching the disaster zone you created in that nursery. That’s all on you.”

With another tug, Hunter got Tallie to follow him toward their master. I assumed Kade was following suit in the guest bathroom. Not my concern, any way I looked at it.

After rinsing off a few more utensils, I put them in the dishwasher and found a canister of cleaning wipes to tackle the mess on the counters. The rumble of Dima’s voice combined with the rich sound of Tori’s coming from the living room was almost soothing, even though I couldn’t understand a word.

After a few more minutes, Tori showed up at my side. I glanced up to see that Dima was gone. She stood behind the sink and turned on the faucet to rinse a few more dishes. “Dmitri went to nursery. Cleaning. Said you—” She shook her head, a shy blush staining her porcelain cheeks. “Never mind.”

“He said I what?”

“Called you
mudak
.”

“And what does that mean?” I asked, more out of curiosity than anything. No doubt it was some sort of curse word or another. I was sure Dima had called me hundreds of awful things in the time we’d known each other, just as I’d called him things I’d never say to his mother. It was just how it went. In a locker room, if you weren’t being cursed at and picked on, that was a good sign that no one liked you. And considering how much money he’d contributed to Mrs. J’s curse jar last season…more than a few of those had to have been directed my way.

She glanced up sheepishly. “It means asshole.”

I laughed. “Well, he’s right about that one.”

Her mouth dropped open. “You’re not asshole. You’re good man.” She sounded offended on my behalf.

I wondered if she’d ever come to accept the fact that I wasn’t anywhere near as nice and good as she seemed to think I was. Maybe not, and I didn’t know what to do with that.

“Did you have a good talk? I bet it’s nice to know someone here who speaks Russian.”

At first, she just nodded and kept washing dishes. But then she shut off the water and faced me, eyes shining. “He has uncle in Moscow. Policeman. He said maybe can find Mama. Or find out if”—she bit down hard on her lower lip, as if she needed the pain in order to stop her tears from pouring down her cheeks, not in the seductive way she’d always done it before—“if she’s alive.”

There weren’t any words that could possibly be adequate for news like that, so I did the only thing that made sense. I dropped everything, wrapped my arms around her, and hugged her tight.

To my surprise, after a moment, she hugged me back.

I could definitely get used to the feeling of having her in my arms. I only hoped the feeling was mutual.

SATURDAY NIGHT FOLLOWED
our typical pattern, with me waking on a few occasions to Tori’s hand going on a quest to free my cock. I wasn’t sure how much more I could take before I cracked. The Monday afternoon appointment with Dr. Rodriguez couldn’t come soon enough.

On Sunday, I surprised her by taking her to a ballet put on by a small professional dance company that toured the Southwest. I’d honestly never been to a ballet performance before, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. In my ignorance, I’d been sure it would be full of women in pink tutus leaping around and twirling on their toes.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

The entire production was set to rock music. There wasn’t a tutu in sight, with the dancers wearing any number of modern costumes, and their movements were smooth and sleek, showing off crazy amounts of strength and control over their bodies. These men and women were athletes in every sense of the word, as much as I was. There wasn’t a chance in hell I could do half of what they were doing. Watching them, I was enthralled.

Not nearly as much as Tori, though.

She couldn’t seem to sit back in her seat, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees and her chin propped on her hands. She might as well have been dancing with them, because her back kept rising and falling far more than made sense after sitting still for as long as we had been. Out of curiosity, I stretched my arm over to rest on her shoulder. She barely reacted to my touch, nothing more than a brief glance at me and the tiniest of smiles before returning her attention to the stage. I dropped my fingers down to her upper back. Her heart was pounding like it was trying to break free from her chest.

After that, I spent the rest of the performance watching Tori. Studying her. Analyzing her. Trying to figure out how to bring her this kind of excitement and engagement on a more regular basis. Because, for the first time since we’d met, she seemed alive. Engaged. Enraptured.

And it was enough to steal my breath.

She spent so much of her time timid, the frightened rabbit waiting for the right moment to make her escape, always wary and watchful.

Getting her back into dance might help, so it was a good thing that was on the agenda for this week. And if Dima’s connections in Moscow could help her get any news of her mother—even bad news—she could possibly find closure for that part of her life, which had to be like an open wound.

When the production came to an end, Tori was the first person in the auditorium on her feet, clapping like a madwoman. I stood and did the same, and soon the rest of the audience followed suit. She was the last to stop, too, continuing for several seconds after the applause had otherwise died off.

Gradually, the seats around us emptied as everyone made their way out of the dance hall. Tori turned to me with bright eyes. “It was wonderful.” And before I could prepare myself for it, she launched herself into my arms, locking hers tight around my neck.

“So I guess you liked it?” I murmured into a mass of her hair. Vanilla. Always vanilla. I slid my hands up and down her back, reveling in the moment because I had no way of knowing how long it would last.

“I loved it,” she said, her voice muffled against my shoulder. “Thank you.” There was no missing the fact that her nipples were hard peaks, pressing into my ribs. She lifted her head, her eyes blazing like blue fire instead of their usual gray turbulence.

This was what she was meant to do. This was who she was meant to be.

If simply watching other people dance was enough to bring out this side of her, I couldn’t wait to see what being the one dancing might do.

But now I knew what she needed. She’d given me a glimpse into what brought her to life.

Time to rev up the engine.

I WOKE UP
, head still fuzzy with sleep, thinking I must still be dreaming.

A fucking wet dream, like I’d had when I was going through puberty, only a thousand times better. No, a million times better.

Because I could have sworn I was getting the best blow job of my life.

Warm, wet lips surrounded my cock.

A pointed tongue traced the sensitive underside.

Fingers massaged my balls, squeezing just enough but not too much.

Then a single digit slipped inside my ass, just far enough to drive me wild.

I bucked my hips out of instinct.

That was when I came fully awake.

Tori bobbed down again, taking my full length into her mouth, past her gag reflex.

“Fuck,” I ground out. It felt so damn good. Too good. So good I didn’t want it to end, but it had to. This wasn’t even close to fair to her, and I couldn’t let it happen. I pushed against her shoulders, trying to dislodge her, but she was determined.

She licked and sucked, working me over with her hands as well as her mouth, and my balls tightened up in preparation.

I rolled away from her and stumbled to my feet. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I practically shouted.

She sat up on her knees. Naked. Her fucking perfect body was lit up in the moonlight streaming in through the windows. It made shadows on her face, emphasizing her hurt even more than the daylight would.

“Trying to fuck you,” she shot back, sniffling. “Trying to thank you for ballet today.”

God, I was such an ass. I shouldn’t have shouted at her. And I
knew
what she’d been doing without having to ask. There wasn’t any reason I’d needed her to tell me. It was as clear as every other time she’d made similar attempts. “I’m sorry,” I said, trying to calm down. “But you didn’t need to do anything more to thank me than you already did. You didn’t even need to say the words. Just seeing you enjoy yourself was enough.”

Her jaw and lower lip quivered. “I don’t understand.”

“I know you don’t, beautiful. And it’s killing me, because I don’t know how to make you understand. Sometimes, I want to do things for you just because I want to make you happy.”

“But you won’t let me make you happy.”

“Fucking you isn’t going to make me happy.”

“But you want it. You want me.”

I sat down on the edge of the bed. She glanced up, and I stroked her cheek. Her skin was as soft as silk and pale as the moon.

“I’m a man, Tori. I’m a man, you’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever known, and I’d have to be blind and asexual to not want you. But I don’t just want you for sex. It’s not about what you can do for me. Fucking you, and having you want
me
as much as I want you, knowing that you’re into it and it feels good…that would be amazing. But sex alone isn’t going to make me happy, even if I’d enjoy it.” Especially since I wasn’t sure it was even a possibility. Would she ever really
want
my touch? Was there a way for her to experience sex without pain? I didn’t know.

“Then what?” She drew her knees up, wrapped her arms around them, and rested her chin in the hollow between them. “What makes you happy?”

“Seeing you smile. Hearing you laugh. Knowing you don’t have anything to be scared of. Watching you dance.” I tucked some stray hairs behind her ear. “That would be a good start.”

“You are strange man, Razor.”

I was all right with her thinking I was strange. I understood it. I didn’t fit the mold of men in her life.

I kissed her on the forehead. “Yeah. I’m a strange man. And apparently, you think I’m a good man, too.” I chuckled, baffled by the fact that she thought that of me when everyone else in my life was constantly telling me what an asshole I was. “Go to sleep, Tori.”

Maybe tomorrow we would get some answers.