Ghost Dance (Tulsa Thunderbirds Book 3) (35 page)

“Hey, stranger,” London answered.

“Miss you.”

“Whatever. You’re too busy taking Sergei’s mom around town to have time to miss me.”

“You’re wrong.”

She paused for a moment, but then she said, “Okay. I’m wrong.”

“What’s wrong with you?” I demanded. London never admitted to being wrong. She never gave in. Not on anything.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Is it the baby? I’m coming over.” I was already out of my chair and halfway to the door.

“Nothing’s wrong,” London repeated. “I just… My brother made sure to point out to me that I have a bad habit of always needing to be in control of things, and I’ve been thinking about it. And I think I’ve been that way with you. Maybe too much so.”

I didn’t have the first clue where she was headed with this, but I liked it even if it left me feeling hesitant. “So baby’s fine?” I asked, just for further reassurance.

“The baby’s fine.”

“And you’re still wrong?” I asked, not attempting to hide the doubt filling my tone.

“I’m still wrong. So, you’ve been missing me?”

“So much my stomach hurts.”

“But it makes your head hurt when we’re together.”

“Only because you always poke at me.”

“I do. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” I said.

“Why not?”

“Seem to remember you saying guilt is bad.”

She laughed, and the sound warmed me up from the bottoms of my toes. “So I did.”

“So don’t be sorry. Besides, I’d rather argue with you.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because it’s how we are.”

“It is.” I could picture the smile coming over her lips. I wished I was seeing it in person.

“You look hot when you grab my beard and drag me around.”

“You don’t have a beard left for me to grab.”

“Growing it back. It’ll take a while.”

“Don’t grow it all the way back,” she pleaded. “You look hot with it how it is now. I like a little scruff. Besides, I can still grab your hair and direct you where I want you.”

“Not if you couldn’t use your hands.” As soon as I said it, I wished I hadn’t. Everything had been light and flirtatious until then, but London already couldn’t use her legs. Threatening to take away use of her hands was crossing the line. I started to apologize, but she cut me off.

“You’re right. Maybe sometime we can try that.”

“I… What?” I had to have misheard her.

“My brother pointed out that it’s always my way or the highway with me. In everything. He seems to think I try to control things, and he suggested I might need to let go of that need to have everything go my way all the time. So that’s something I’m willing to try. With you. If you want.”

My mouth went dry. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I’m trying to compromise with you, Dima. I’m trying to meet you in the middle. I want to give up some control. I want to let you be in charge sometimes. I want to let you be right and not constantly push to be the one dictating how everything between us has to be.”

I shook my head to clear it. “Why you want this?”

“Because I think maybe you want it. And maybe it’ll help me to be what you need. Who knows? Maybe it’ll be good for me to give up some control every now and then.”

“But why you want to compromise now?” I asked.

“Because I can tell you’re trying. Maybe you’re not getting into counseling. Maybe you’re not going to group sessions or whatever. But you’re talking to me even though I’m not letting you get me naked—”

“Or see you,” I cut in.

“Or even see me. You’re starting to let me in. So I need to start to let my own guard down with you.”

I could hardly catch my breath, trying to keep up with all London was throwing at me. Things between us had slowed to a glacial pace for so long, but now they were moving too fast.

“When can I see you?” I asked. Because I didn’t know how much longer I could go without touching her.

“How soon do you leave for the road trip?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

“Then maybe you should come over tonight.”

TEN MINUTES AFTER
we hung up, Dima was ringing my bell. Good grief, the man didn’t waste any time, did he? I’d been anxious to see him, too, but he had to have driven at twice the legal speed limit the whole way here.

I opened the door, and he came straight through. Hovering over me. Staring through me. He closed the door and locked the deadbolt before facing me again. I allowed myself a moment to take him in—dark, intense eyes that bored through me; scruffy jaw; chest rising and falling with his breath.

My breaths were just as ragged as his. I still couldn’t quite believe that I’d suggested letting him have control in this way. Or that I’d asked him to come over now. Let alone that he was already here. I’d barely had time to freshen up in the bathroom before he was standing in front of me.

But Gray was right. I did always try to keep my finger on everything that happened in every aspect of my life. I wanted to be the boss. I wanted things to go my way, even when my way didn’t make any sense. I had a need to be in control and for people to do what I wanted them to do, whether it was best for them or not. I seemed to think I was the only one who could figure out the right way to go about life.

That kind of thinking wasn’t just arrogant of me; it was dead wrong, and I had to learn to accept that fact.

So now I was going to give up some control to Dima. I only hoped I didn’t freak out too badly when it became clear I had almost none.

“You’re sure?” he asked, his gaze taking in every inch of me in a way that had my nipples puckering.

I bit down on my lower lip, reveling in the fact that his gaze followed the slight movement. I wasn’t sure at all. If anything, I was terrified. If Dima didn’t get on with it, I might chicken out. “Positive,” I said, though.

“You’re not drunk?”

I felt drunk from the way he was looking at me, but I hadn’t had a drop of wine since that night when I’d had entirely too much. “I’m completely sober. I’m pregnant, Dima. I’m not going to get drunk now that I know.”

“Was a joke,” he said. “Maybe not funny.”

I laughed, because he was completely serious about thinking it was a joke. Some things definitely got lost in translation.

“Not going to change your mind? Say it was a mistake?”

“It’s not a mistake. I want this.” And it killed me that he had to question my motives so much. That only proved that I was making the right call this time. I hadn’t been fair to Dima. Not at all. “I want
you
,” I added, since he was still just standing there and passing his eyes over me in a caress, when I wanted it to be his hands caressing my skin.

But still, he just stood there. Staring. Raking over my body with eyes that appeared to see everything. I’d never felt more self-conscious, more exposed, than I did in that moment. I wished he still had that damned beard, because then I could grab him by it and drag him down to me so we could get on with things.

Except, that would defeat the purpose of what we were doing.

So I sat and waited, barely breathing from the anticipation.

Finally, Dima closed the distance between us. In a single move, he picked me up and wrapped my legs around his waist, holding me by my thighs so I had to put both arms on his shoulders for balance.

I couldn’t stop myself. I had to kiss him. He let out an animalistic growl when our lips touched, his tongue immediately pressing against my seam and demanding entrance. He tasted as dark and needy as I felt.

“Should spank you for keeping me away so long,” he said, his mouth mere inches from mine.

My voice caught in my throat, a hard lump that made it impossible to swallow. I licked my lips to wet them, watching his eyes take in my every movement. “You should,” I said.

“You’d like it too much.”

I couldn’t stop myself from grinning. “I probably would.”

He winked and gave me one sound smack on my bottom, heading toward my bedroom. “Maybe some other time.” He didn’t bother to turn on the lights once we reached my room, leaving nothing but the moonlight to guide his movements as he carried me to the bed, setting me on top of the comforter.

I trailed my fingers down his chest, itching to fumble with the buttons of his shirt as he backed away, but he brushed my hands to the side and shook his head.

“Doing this my way,” he said.

My pulse kicked into another gear, but I nodded.

Reaching into the pockets of his pants, Dima emptied their contents onto the mattress beside me: several condoms, almost as many dental dams, a bottle of lube, and two neckties.

I couldn’t catch my breath, like I’d just run a marathon. “You really are going to tie me up,” I forced out, equally exhilarated and petrified.

He kept his eyes locked on mine. “I’ve got you,” he said.

Somehow, it was enough.

He selected one of the ties, a silky sky-blue one, and unfolded it to its full length before kneeling behind me on the mattress. His weight caused the bed to sink, and I fell back into him, too shocked that I was going along with this to keep myself upright. I held up my hands for him, but he slipped the fabric in front of my eyes and tied it behind my head.

“Oh,” I murmured, more breath than speech.

Once the tie was secure, he slid his hands down my upper arms, teasing the sides of my breasts with his knuckles.

I gasped, shocked by how tender I was there, not to mention my massive response to such a simple touch.

“If you need me to stop, say
alyy
.”

“Ally?”

“
Alyy
, yes. Means red, so I’ll stop.”

“Will I need you to stop?” I croaked out as he tugged the hem of my shirt free from the waistband of my jeans and flattened the palm of his hand over my belly. His mouth hovered over the space between my neck and shoulder, not quite kissing me but close enough I could feel every aspect of his breath.

“Don’t know.” He undid the button and fly of my jeans with his free hand, then slid both his hands down under the band of my panties, stopping when he could cup my lower abdomen. “
Moyà
,” he whispered in my ear.

I really needed to learn some Russian. “What does that mean?” I asked.

“Means mine.” He nipped the lobe of my ear, drawing my back against his chest. “All mine.”

I wasn’t sure if he meant me, the baby, or all of the above. All I knew was the possessive tone in his voice stole my ability to think clearly. I pressed my hands over the backs of his and urged him closer, but he growled at me.

“
Nyet
.” One at a time, he peeled my hands away. “Doing this my way.”

Sliding his fingers up my ribs, he inched my shirt up and away from my body while I did my best to be patient and allow him to have his way with me. He tugged the shirt free from my arms before going back to squeeze my breasts through the thin barrier of my bra. My nipples peaked, tightening to hard nubs within seconds, but he kept kneading them, teasing them, tugging them until I cried out.