Anton Read online

  “Done. Now let me put these in some water,” she says as she lifts the flowers a few inches into the air. When she brushes the fingertips of her free hand across her plump, still-wet lips, it’s all I can do not to throw the fucking flowers on the ground and grab her.

  While she’s getting a vase and some water, I get ahold of myself. It takes thoughts of elderly nuns holding kittens to calm my erection. I hope Mia and I will get to a place where we fuck like rabbits as soon as we see each other sometimes, but for now I want to be a gentleman.

  “You want me to order some Chinese for dinner?” I ask.

  “That sounds great.”

  “What do you like?”

  She considers. “Beef fried rice. Extra soy sauce.”

  I sit down on the couch and order the food with an app on my phone. I’ve decided to keep letting my diet slide for the first month of the off-season, so I also choose some mandarin beef and seafood delight for myself.

  Mia sets the vase down on the coffee table in front of us and then sits down next to me.

  “How’s your visit with your brother going?” she asks.

  I shrug. “The usual. We ordered in a bunch of Russian food that we love and Uncle Dix hates. Talked hockey for hours yesterday. Played poker and Alexei won Dix’s fucking wheelchair.”

  Mia laughs and lowers her brows with surprise. “How is that gonna work?”

  “Alexei makes Dix rent the chair back when he has to use the bathroom.”

  “Ooh.” The ‘O’ shape of her lips gives me dirty thoughts. “I bet Dix is pissed.”

  “Yeah. It’s a dollar a minute, so some of his shits get expensive.”

  Mia frowns and laughs at the same time. “He’s an old man with constipation. It should be a flat rate, at least.”

  “Alexei loves getting under his skin.”

  Mia touches the lightning bolt necklace I gave her, which she’s still wearing.

  “I love this,” she says softly. “Thank you again. I feel bad that I only got you socks for Christmas.”

  “I love those socks.” I take her hand and squeeze it.

  “I missed you.”

  Fuck, it feels good to hear her say that. I’m trying hard to start our relationship right by not coming on too strong. My balls were Smurf-colored by the time I got home from our first date, alone, unless the bottle of lotion on my nightstand counts.

  “I missed you, too.”

  She looks like she’s going to say something, but then she stops, an uncertain look crossing her face.

  “What?” I ask her.

  “I’ve been thinking.”

  “Okay.”

  She turns to face me on the couch, legs pulled up to her chest. “So you know how I’ve struggled with worrying that the fantasy of me is better than the reality?”

  “Uh-huh, but I don’t know why. Your imperfections make you even better in my mind. More real.”

  She arches her brows and gives me a look. “What imperfections might those be?”

  “Well…your muffins might not be my favorite.”

  “That’s my grandma’s recipe.”

  “Yeah, but…did your grandma cook them for as long as you do?”

  She rolls her eyes. “What else?”

  I answer quickly. “That’s it, babe. You’re perfect to me other than the muffins.”

  “Hmm. Not sure I believe you.”

  “Anyway, you were saying?”

  She clears her throat and starts again. “Anyway, I don’t want to do that anymore. I’m not perfect, but I’m me, and it’s taken a lot of hard work and perseverance to become me, you know?”

  “I do. I’m glad you’ve come around.”

  “The thing is…there’s one thing I still need to tell you.” She looks down at her hands and twines her fingers together nervously.

  “It’s okay, Mia. Just say it. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “I need a little bit more time. This thing…it’s something Adam gave me a lot of grief over. I feel…shame, I guess, when it comes to this. And I should also tell you I’m not ready to sleep with you yet.”

  There’s a moment of disappointment, but I swallow it. I want this thing with Mia to last, and I know I can’t rush it. She just got out of a shitty marriage, after all.

  “We’ll wait until you’re ready,” I say. “However long that takes.”

  She glances up at me with a relieved smile. “I do want it, you know, physically. I just want to be ready emotionally.”

  “I want that, too. You don’t need to explain.”

  She sighs softly. “And this thing I need to tell you…I’ll do it soon. Before we sleep together for sure, because I feel like that’s a commitment, you know? To me it is.”

  “To me, too.”

  “But even if we don’t have sex yet, we can still…you know.”

  I feign confusion. “No, what?”

  “Anton…”

  “Mia…”

  “Maybe I should just show you what I mean,” she says.

  “Yes.”

  A thousand fucking times yes. My dick pulses with awareness of her as she stands up in front of the couch, grabbing the bottom of the long-sleeve T-shirt she’s wearing and pulling it up over her head.

  Her rounded breasts are visible through the white lace cups of her bra, the nipples dark and—as promised—large. The real Mia is so much more perfect than I ever could have fantasized, I can hardly breathe.

  She goes to toss the shirt on the ground, but then holds on to it at the last second, saying, “I should have waited until after our food gets here.”

  “Just give me five seconds,” I say, grabbing my phone and typing out a frantic text to the delivery service I called. “And…okay, done. I just paid the guy extra to leave it outside the door.”

  “You must not be very hungry,” Mia says, biting her lower lip as she drops her shirt to the floor.

  “Oh, I’m fucking starving. Just not for Chinese. Please don’t stop.”

  Her eyes don’t leave mine as she unfastens and lowers her jeans, revealing tiny, lacy panties that match the bra. My dick strains against my jeans as my gaze roams over her body. I’m overwhelmed with conflicting urges—to keep looking, to touch her bare skin, to kiss her in places that will make her moan.

  Instead, I stand up and pull my own shirt up and off. Mia’s gaze turns sultry as I step closer, putting my hands back around her waist. This time, though, I feel the soft lace of her panties and the smooth warmth of her skin beneath my fingertips.

  She puts a palm on my chest, running her fingers across the dark blond hair on my chest and down to my abs. A shiver passes through me. It’s been so long since I’ve been touched this way. And for the dry spell to be broken by Mia is fucking incredible.

  “Bedroom,” I murmur.

  She leads the way to a tiny room, my gaze locked on her round, perfect ass the entire way. I take off my pants in two seconds flat and kiss her, putting a knee on the bed and a hand on her back as she lies down on the mattress.

  I unclasp her bra, releasing her firm, flawless breasts. The little noises she makes as I run my fingertips and the tip of my tongue over her nipples threaten to unravel my control.

  It’s so fucking good. My mind and body are at war, though—my mind wanting to go slow and savor every second, and my body fucking desperate for more, more, more.

  She slides her nails over my scalp, her fingers raking through my hair, and when she tugs, I give in to my body. I ease her panties off, and just her scent makes my cock throb with desire.

  But she’s not ready for sex, so tonight my mouth gets to have all the fun. I kiss her stomach and thighs, making her whimper and spread her legs wider.

  She’s a goddess. Her long, caramel legs are sculpted and smooth, her stomach soft and feminine. Her pussy is bare, with nothing but wetness on it. I run my tongue along her seam and she lets out a strangled cry of pleasure.

  I should toy with her for a little bit, but I’ve waited too fucking lon
g for this. So instead, I feast. She’s soaked and writhing, and begging for more.

  I’m pretty sure I’ve died and gone to pussy heaven. I could spend hours bringing her to the edge and back if she keeps moaning and bucking her hips like that.

  But then I’m shocked when she wriggles away and presses my chest until I fall back on the bed. She tears my underwear off in no time and then turns around and climbs on top of me, her pussy now just inches from my mouth.

  Sixty-nine. Thank Sweet Baby Jesus, I’m with a woman who’s initiating the sixty-nine position. Mia is sexy as fuck, and as she teases the tip of my cock and then deep throats me, I groan hard, already feeling like my dick’s about to shoot into her throat with the force of a fire hose.

  Focus. Fucking focus, Petrov. I return my attention to her clit, licking and sucking as she bobs up and down on my cock like she’s lost in a desert and there’s water in the base.

  Thank fuck, I get her off first. Her legs shudder and there’s a gush of her juices into my mouth as she practically screams, the vibrations setting me off and making me come, too.

  It’s the longest, hardest orgasm I’ve ever had. It just goes on and on, Mia sucking me dry until we both collapse onto the bed.

  “Holy shit,” I say breathlessly.

  She turns around and curls up next to me and I pull her close.

  “Wow,” she says softly. “So we’re definitely compatible in bed.”

  I kiss the top of her head. “Fuck yeah, we are. I hope you don’t actually want to eat that Chinese food, ‘cause we’re gonna be here for a while.”

  “Perfect. I’ve waited a long time for this.”

  “Me too, babe.”

  More than three years, to be exact. That’s how long it’s been since I felt myself falling hard for my teammate’s wife. But back then, I never thought anything would ever happen between us.

  Mia was well worth the waiting and wondering, though. I’d do it all over again, ten times if I had to, for her.

  I can’t wait very long before my hands start exploring her body again. Tonight I plan to show her that I was worth the wait, too.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Mia

  * * *

  I keep my head down on the walk from a bakery back to Anton’s apartment. The photographer following me isn’t as stealthy as he seems to think.

  These are the photos they like best—me coming in or out of his building, or the two of us out together. The reporter stopped approaching me after I declined to comment four days in a row, but the photographer is still hanging around.

  Anton’s fired up about the rumors and stories posted about us online. He thinks the reporters have unfairly characterized me. They’re accusing me of “trading up” to a Blaze player with a higher salary and better standing on the team.

  But me? I don’t give a shit what they say. I’m happier than I’ve been in a very long time—maybe ever—and that’s all that really matters. Anton and I have had several dates now, and the closer we get, the more I want to be with him. In two weeks, I have school finals, and then I’m looking forward to a summer spent with Anton.

  When I walk past the security guard and into the apartment, the scent of cooking veggies and eggs fill the air. Anton’s making omelets.

  “Hey,” he says, giving me a quick kiss as I walk into the kitchen.

  “Cranberry muffins,” I tell him as I set the bag from the bakery on the counter. “Dix’s favorite.”

  “He actually wanted to lie back down after he got up this morning.”

  I pour myself a cup of coffee and give him a concerned look. “Is he feeling okay?”

  “He said he’s okay, that he’s just tired.”

  “I’ll heat his food up later.”

  Anton slides three perfect omelets from their pans onto plates, and the two of us sit down to eat.

  “I might have to stay an extra day in New York,” he says. “My agent emailed me this morning and said he’s trying to book a meeting for Thursday.”

  “We’ll be good here.”

  He looks at me across the table, his blue eyes bright in the morning light and his hair still damp from the shower. I love these moments, when our eyes meet for a few seconds and I can feel his warmth seeping into me.

  “Lindsey and Alexei said they’ll both come for four days next month to hang with Dix so we can go on a trip,” he says.

  “A trip?”

  He nods. “Is there anywhere you’d like to go?”

  “Maybe somewhere with a beach.” I bite into a cranberry muffin, which is admittedly much better than the muffins I make.

  “Done. I’ll call my travel agent later today.”

  He’s leaving after breakfast for New York City, where he has a few days of business meetings scheduled. I know I’ll miss him, though I’m planning to keep busy with Dix. I found a restored movie theater in the city that plays old westerns. That’s my plan for today, plus dinner at a pub he likes.

  Anton kisses me several times before leaving, his roaming hands making me wish we could sneak off to the bedroom for a few minutes.

  He groans with disappointment as he finally pulls away.

  “Don’t wanna miss your flight,” I say, my fingertips skimming over the bulge in his pants.

  “I do, though,” he says, his gaze dark with desire. “I really do want to miss my fucking flight.”

  “Go.” I smile and kiss him one more time. “I need to check on Dix, anyway.”

  Anton leaves, and I find Dix sleeping soundly when I peek into his room. I sit down at the kitchen table to order groceries on a tablet, and then pay some bills on my phone. I start some laundry and it’s almost done drying by the time I see that Dix is awake when I look in on him.

  “Good morning, sleepyhead,” I say, coming into the room.

  He just looks at me silently. I walk across the dark wood floor and open the blinds, letting the morning sunlight pour into the room.

  Dix still hasn’t responded, so I approach his bedside.

  “You feeling okay?” I ask him.

  “I…dunno.”

  Something’s not right. His words are much more slurred than usual. My heart beats rapid fire with worry as I get his wheelchair from the corner it’s sitting in and push it to his bedside.

  “Let’s get you in here,” I say, pulling down his covers.

  He’s looking at me like my grandpa sometimes does—with no awareness at all of who I am. I need to get him to his doctor as soon as possible, but I’m afraid to drive him in the van Anton keeps in the parking garage to transport him and his wheelchair. I don’t want to leave his side.

  I rush to the kitchen and grab my phone, texting Anton. When he doesn’t respond right away, I check the time and realize his plane is already in the air.

  Dix’s condition is unchanged when I return to the bedroom. He lets me get him into his wheelchair, but I sense it’s because he couldn’t object even if he wanted to. I hope I’m not overreacting as I dial 911. I can tell by the blank look in Dix’s eyes that he’s in bad shape.

  As we wait for the paramedics to arrive, I crouch down next to Dix’s chair and talk to him.

  “We’re going to watch some western movies today. And I got you those cranberry muffins you like. When you feel better you can have one.”

  It’s just nervous chatter, getting more nervous with each passing minute. Dix is starting to slump down in his wheelchair. I try to hold him up, a tear sliding from the corner of my eye.

  “Hang in there, please. Help is on the way.”

  When a knock sounds at the door, which I already unlocked, I yell for the paramedics to come in. I weaken with relief when a woman and two men walk in with a stretcher. They start assessing him and I tell them what little I know about his medical history, before remembering that Anton left me a card with his history written on it in case of emergency.

  As I pass over the card, they’re putting Dix on the stretcher. One side of his face is drooping now and there’s a pan
icked look in his eyes.

  “It’s okay,” I say, sounding stronger than I feel. “I’m here. We’re going to the hospital to get you some help.”

  The medics let me ride in the ambulance, even though I can’t be right next to Dix like I want to. I type out a quick, frantic text to Anton about what’s going on and where we’re headed.

  I cry silently as the ambulance siren wails. I’ve grown attached to Dix, and it’s hard to see him suffering. But it’s the same as my grandpa’s situation—all I can do is look on, helpless.

  By the time Anton bursts through the door to Dix’s hospital room, my eyes are swollen and my head is pounding from hours of crying.

  “Sorry babe, I couldn’t get a quick flight out,” he says, wrapping me in his arms as he looks at Dix. “Shit. How is he?”

  “Not very good,” I murmur.

  “Martin and Laura are on their way. Alexei, too.”

  He rubs my upper arms and then walks to his uncle’s bedside.

  “Hey, Uncle Dix. I’m gonna make sure they take good care of you, okay?”

  A sound comes out of Dix’s mouth, but he can’t seem to form words and we can’t understand him. It hurts my heart to see him this way. I go to the other side of his bed and smooth a hand over his forehead.

  “We’re both staying here,” I say softly. “We won’t leave you, Dix.”

  He keeps trying to talk. I take his soft, fragile hand in mine.

  “I’ll get the nurse,” I tell him. “We’ll find a way to communicate with you and see what you need. And Dix, you have a catheter in, so you don’t need to get up to use the bathroom.”

  His eyes are forlorn. We don’t know how much of his mind is still intact yet, but his body is in bad shape. The doctors know he had another stroke, and we’re waiting on test results to find out more.

  Over the course of the day, Martin, Laura, Alexei and Lindsey come, and though it’s nice to see them, the worry on their faces underscores how serious things are. When I look into Dix’s eyes, sometimes I feel like he sees me, and other times, not so much.

  Dix and Anton have quickly come to feel like family to me. I spend more time with Dix than anyone. And even though I knew his body was broken, I’ve been able to help him do what he wants since the day I met him. Some days I’m his legs, or his arms. I support his frail body as he gets in and out of the shower. I keep him safe and comfortable. But as I see him lying in the hospital bed, unable to talk or move, sadness grips me.