“It wasn’t your fault,” I said, and reached out my hand to place it on top of his. Why was it so easy to tell other people something, but not believe it yourself?

“No, but I was the reason they were looking for a faster way to the arena. My hockey games. My hockey practices. Their lives revolved around my hockey career. And it killed them. I swore I would never play hockey again, and didn’t for a week.” He looked at our hands, twisting his so his palm was cupped toward mine. “Then I remembered that hockey was the only thing I had left.”

“I’m so sorry, Sasha. I didn’t mean to—”

“Stop apologizing, Audushka.” He lifted his eyes to mine, intensity poking through the haze. “I brought it up. I wanted you to know. For you, I’m an open book.”

I squeezed his fingers before resting our joined hands on top of his thigh. Our situations were mirror images of each other. He’d retreated into hockey to numb the pain of his parents’ death, just as I’d retreated into soccer to numb the pain of my mom’s.

“Will you stay with me tonight, Audushka?” Aleksandr asked, still staring at our joined hands.

We both knew the answer, and I didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

We drove the rest of the way to his apartment in silence. Though I was enclosed in the warmth of the car, the winds whipping outside seemed to be slicing through me, carrying away the final bricks of the wall I’d built.

—

The condo Aleksandr rented in downtown Detroit was part of the Westin Book Cadillac, a historic building which had undergone a major reconstruction a few years back. It currently housed a restaurant on the main floor, the Westin hotel, and luxury residential condos on the top eight floors. No doubt numerous other amenities were hidden between the walls of the building, but the restaurant—and the valet service that parked my car—was all I knew.

Luxury was the ideal word for the condo that Aleksandr shared with Landon Taylor. I’d expected the condo to resemble one of the hotel rooms on the floors below, but the space was huge and gorgeous, an unexpected surprise. The entryway led directly into a kitchen that would make Gordon Ramsay salivate. I could barely scramble eggs, but I was mesmerized by it.

The cabinets were a medium shade of brown, slightly darker than the hardwood floors. The appliances were stainless steel, including a gas range and double oven. A wraparound bar and countertops of glossy black granite were the exclamation point of the gorgeous kitchen. But as impressed as I was, I was practically drooling when I glanced to the left of the entrance, where the space opened to a substantial living room with three large windows along the pristine white wall.

Eager to see what Detroit looked like from the twenty-eighth floor, I rushed past the gourmet kitchen to the living room and peered out of the middle window. Instead of the city, I was rewarded with a stunning view of the illuminated Ambassador Bridge. The lights of the bridge cast a reflection onto the rippling Detroit River, which proved, if studied from the right angle, that Detroit could be beautiful.

“Take a seat.” Aleksandr nodded to the black leather couch I was leaning against. Instead of sitting, I watched him extract a small white bottle from the cabinet above the huge stainless steel sink, shake a few pills into his hand, and throw them into his mouth. He swallowed them before filling up a glass of water and guzzling it. “My head hurts already.”

“This place is amazing. It’s huge,” I said as I turned back to the view of the river. Warmth spread through me, knowing that Canada, the place Aleksandr and I had met, was directly across that body of water.

“Yeah, I guess it used to be two small condos, but someone bought them and tore down the separation walls and renovated it into one large space.”

“That person was a freaking genius,” I said mostly to myself. I tore my gaze away from the window to check out the rest of the condo. The living room was on the left side of a long, narrow room. The middle section held a four-person dining table, and the area to the far right housed a stationary bike, a weight bench, and a rack of dumbbells in various weights on the wall next to it.

“Want anything? Beer? Water?” Aleksandr asked as he filled his glass again.

“I’m good. Thanks.” Since he’d already gotten the ibuprofen himself, it looked like my job here was done, so I took a step back from the window. “I should get going so you can rest.”

“No. You said you would stay.” He moved toward me, stumbling over a pair of black dress shoes on the floor near the bar. Aleksandr stopped in front of me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body next to the draft of the window.

“Sasha, I know what I said, but you should sleep it off.” I took his hand in mine and gave it a light squeeze. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“There is no tomorrow.”

Aleksandr bent down, wrapped his arms around my thighs, and hefted me over his shoulder. Though I pounded on his back, he didn’t stop walking until we’d entered a large room with snow white carpet. Being upside down, the carpet was all I could see until he deposited me onto a king-sized bed. His king-sized bed.

“Please, Audushka, I need you here with me,” he said as he climbed on top of me, pinning me below him.

I didn’t have to ask why because the answer had slapped me in the face during our conversation in my car. He needed to be held, and I wanted to be the one to hold him.

How many times had I wanted someone to stop talking and just hold me? Hold me until I didn’t need the comfort anymore. Hold me until I was the one ready to step back, rather than being released first.

“I’ll lay with you for a few minutes,” I compromised, snuggling under the protection of his body.

We both lifted and twisted to allow Aleksandr to tug the luxurious silky fabric of his gray paisley duvet over us. Then he wrapped his arms around me and hugged me to his chest. I could feel his stomach expand and contract against my lower back, his thighs molded against my thighs.

Aleksandr’s breathing slowed and soon our chests rose and fell in unison. I rubbed one of his forearms in appreciation. He nuzzled his face into my hair, kissing the back of my head. Then he pressed his pelvis into my backside.

It was not a sleepy move.

I responded by pushing back into his groin.

“Audushka,” he whispered hoarsely, lowering his hands to my hips and grinding himself against me again.

“This isn’t gonna work,” I told him, heart racing as I wiggled out of his grasp and twisted around, so we lay chest to chest. When I lifted my eyes to his, it was immediately clear that I hadn’t chosen the safer option. The heat in his eyes was so intense, if he were to cry, his tears would burn my skin.

Aleksandr rose onto his elbow, never taking his steamy gaze away from mine. He pushed my shoulders against the bed and threw one leg over me while holding himself up on his forearms. His lips were feather light as he lowered them onto mine, but when he invaded my mouth with his expert tongue, I arched my back, and my chest slammed against his.

Goose bumps prickled my arms when his tongue flicked over my neck. He rolled his hips against mine, sliding every hard inch against the sensitive spot between my legs.

I let out a series of soft gasps, but Aleksandr didn’t relent, didn’t give me one second to catch my breath, as he continued to rub himself against me. The intensity of the friction he was creating would put me over the edge.

Though I’d had a few heavy make-out sessions in the past, no one had ever come close to bringing me to orgasm. I hadn’t felt anything but alcohol-induced lust for the guys I’d been with, so I’d definitely never felt comfortable enough to let myself go.

Being comfortable with Aleksandr wasn’t a question. The question was: Would I be able to reel myself in before we went too far?