Page 14 of Brutal Secrets
“No. I just made all that up. I have no idea what sandalwood and cedar smell like, but it sounded impressive.” I turn to watch a smile ghost across his lips, but I’m disappointed when he doesn’t come any closer.
The ghostly light from the snow bounces off the walls. Outside the window, bare black branches bend under the weight of snow, and a pale gray wash of sky provides a backdrop.
“Where are we? Is this a house on chicken’s feet that’s about to take off into the woods?” I ask.
His shoulder is level with my eye, and I have the strange desire to lean over and taste his skin, to kiss every scar and tattoo, but he’s studying the planks above us as if they hold the clue for the winning lottery numbers.
“It’s a dacha,” he says without looking at me.
“What’s a dacha?” I reach over and touch his shoulder, and he inhales sharply, so I leave my hand where it is. I wait for him to wrap me up in his arms the way he did last night, but the space between us feels alive with something, and he doesn’t bridge the gap.
“A Russian country house. Since Soviet times, a lot of families in the city have had one. During the week, everyone was all cooped up in a tiny apartment in the city, but on the weekends, everyone would flood into the countryside, grow vegetables, grill meat, breathe in the forest. There’s not much else to do around here.”
Great. I’m miles away from anywhere, stuck in the middle of the woods with a gangster I’ve known for a few hours. What felt like a great way to escape the situation in my dressing room last night seems less sensible in the cold light of day. A tendril of unease unfurls under my solar plexus, but I focus on keeping my breathing even.
Memories of last night filter back to me. The couples at the next table watching him with suspicion. The way the maître d' fumbled around. The bright-orange drink. But after that, the memories of the night are hazy. Did I kiss him? How did I get back here? I sift through the images of church domes reflecting in water and vodka shots on a table in flickering candlelight, but I come up blank.
I pull my hand away from him and run it down my side, over the huge t-shirt I’m wrapped in. I’m naked under the worn gray fabric, and I swallow down a ball of embarrassment and fear.
“I’m not wearing my dress. Did we...? I’m guessing we didn’t...” My voice trails off into the morning air and the snowy light beyond the window.
“Those beads didn’t look like they’d be very comfortable to sleep in. You were like a rag doll. The time difference knocked you out once the adrenaline wore off.” He reaches out and lets his knuckles graze my cheek.
“Is this where you spent your childhood?”
At the mention of his childhood, Vadim’s hand stops moving. “No. Sasha and I didn’t get to use this place until we were older. A man we know, a mentor of ours, lends it to us.” He shifts on the bed, rolling so that we face each other. His eyes are such a pale, clear blue they look unreal.
“Who’s Sasha? A girlfriend or a sister?” I watch the rise and fall of his chest and let my gaze fall on his mouth.
“No, Sasha is my best friend. You met him last night. Handsome fucker. Scary guy.” He leans across to catch my hand, pressing it against his pec. His chest hair dusts my fingers.
“He didn’t like me.” I think back to the conversation in Russian and the way Sasha looked at me.
“Don’t take it personally. He doesn’t warm up easily.” Vadim bites the tips of my fingers gently before smiling properly for the first time since he lay down. “I like you, though.”
Does he?
Last night he was constantly touching me, threading his fingers through mine, pulling me against his side, wrapping me in his coat, aligning our bodies. This morning he’s keeping his distance, and I’m aware of how little I know about him. He’s gorgeous, but he’s a man that scares people.
“I doubt I’m your type,” I say.
“You’re everyone’s type.”
“My god. You wouldn’t say that if you knew what my life was like.” I let my eyes drift across his perfect face, then reach out to touch his scar. His eyes flutter closed as I run my finger over it, down his cheek, and along his jaw.
“When I saw you on that stage, it sounded as if you were singing to me. It was all I could think about. There were a couple of half-naked women sitting next to me, but I only saw you and that cloud of golden hair and that golden voice. You are luminous.”
I choke as a tumble of words clogs my throat. He couldn’t be further from the truth. I bury my head in his shoulder, and he slides his hands under the t-shirt, drawing it up.
“You shine so brightly. Men want some of that to rub off on them. I think I was looking for you last night when I went backstage and stumbled across you.” He pulls me against him and buries his head in my hair, his words shivering against the skin of my neck and vibrating along every meridian in my body. “Fucking hell. A girl like you has no business with a man like me, but I wanted to snatch a few hours for myself.”
His hot hands roam up and down my naked back, cupping my butt and drifting down my thighs as he licks my neck, sucking and kissing my collarbone and shoulders as he mumbles in Russian. He lowers the t-shirt until my hard nipple almost pokes out.
He sits up, looking down at me with pupils blown wide and his nostrils flaring. “Take it off. I want to see all of you.”
I go for the hem of the t-shirt, but he’s quicker, pulling it up to my neck. Running his hands up my body. Cupping my breasts.
He gently pinches one nipple, and I gasp as he lowers his head to the other. He sucks almost all of my small breast into his mouth as he draws the hard bud against his palate, and I make a mewling noise which sounds foreign to my own ears. I’m turned on, but there’s an edge of fear as well.