“Yes, but touching you in your sleep was not discussed.”
“I think…um, well, I think touching is inevitable. Considering we’re living together and sharing a bed.”
“I did not pay two million dollars for sex,” he says firmly, green eyes boring into mine.
I aim for levity. “Technically, you’ve only paid one million so far, so no, you didn’t.”
“Holly. I am serious. Sex is not part of deal.” He pauses. “I do not want you to feel pressure for this. That would be…inappro—” He cuts off, wrinkling his nose.
“Inappropriate,” I finish for him. “And I appreciate you saying that. But I don’t mind when you touch me. Honestly, it’s starting to feel natural. Holding your hand, sitting next to you—I feel safe with you, and it’s been a long time since anyone made me feel safe.”
“And this is why we should not do anything to interfere with that. I want you to be safe. Happy. Relaxed. If there are expectations, it changes everything.”
“I think lines are going to blur no matter what we say,” I admit.
“Trust me—it is better if we do not blur the lines. It will make the end of our contract more difficult.”
Ugh.
I know he’s right but I hate it.
Because I want him to touch me.
So much so it’s almost painful when he doesn’t.
But he just set a boundary.
And I don’t know what the hell to do about it.
Chapter Fourteen
Viktor
Game one. The semi-finals. Four wins away from competing for the championship. It’s what we all dream of, and this is the closest I’ve come to getting there as a starting goalie. I’ve won a championship with the Blizzard, but I was the backup, so it was different. This is literally what we play for every single season.
And yet, I’m not thinking about hockey. Not as we share the pre-game meal. Not as I change into my gear. Not even as Coach comes in to give us a pep talk.
All I can think about is my beautiful wife.
Who told me I make her feel safe.
Who told me she doesn’t think it’s inappropriate for me to touch her.
Who all but threw herself at me last night.
And I turned her down.
Gently. Pragmatically.
But it was still rejection.
When we skate out for the warm-up, I search the crowds gathered along the glass. I see Serena, then my parents. Aunt Irina. Olga.
But no Holly.
Dammit.
I ignore my parents because I’m incredibly annoyed about what my mother pulled last night. I promised Holly I would let her handle it but that doesn’t mean I like it. And now she’s not down at the glass with the rest of the wives who flew out for the game.
