Page 43 of Dice & Dekes

“If that would help, you’re more than welcome to do so.” He finishes off his tea. “I’m going back to bed. I think you should, too.”

If he keeps this up, I’m going to get whiplash. “Yeah. Good idea.” I finish my tea, too, and follow him back to the bedroom, still wrapped in the blanket he brought for me.

I don’t want to change again, but I also don’t want to wake up in these clothes. Without really thinking, I toss the blanket onto the bed and strip out of my pants, so that I’m wearing only the shirt and panties I pulled on in the dark. And, of course, the dog tags. Viktor holds the blankets open for me as I crawl in beside him. I turn off the lights and nestle into the bed that he’s already warmed with his body heat.

I need to be close to someone, and after that kiss before we fell asleep, I don’t think Viktor minds my proximity. I snuggle closer and rest my head on his shoulder.

“Is this okay?” My voice is so small in the darkness.

“Of course.” He twists so that he can kiss my forehead without dislodging me. “I like it when you’re here.”

My stupid bottom lip wobbles. “Thank you for coming to get me tonight. I’m sorry that I—”

“Knova.” Viktor takes one of my hands in his. “I promise you that whenever you need me, I’ll come for you. Okay? You do all the heroic shit, and when that’s over, I’ll come rescueyou.I don’t know how to do half the things you do, but I can drive the car and make the tea and make sure you have what you need.”

I squeeze my eyes closed. I don’t know how to explain what’s going through my mind, because half the time it makes no sense to me. I’m thinking about Mick and that family tonight and all the ways I’ve let people down.

“What do you need right now?” he asks.

“I just don’t want tothinkanymore.”

“Okay. I’ve got some melatonin in the bedside drawer. Would that help?”

“I need…”

I know what I need. Or at least, I know what I want, and I’m telling myself it will help.

“Sex would help,” I blurt.

I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I shouldn’t ask him for anything else. I’m emotionally wrecked. I’m not thinking clearly. I shouldn’t want this—him—like this.

But I’m spiraling and raw, and all I want is to feel something that isn’t pain.

Viktor’s chest stills beneath my head. I don’t think the poor guy’s breathing. I don’t know why he’s so surprised. He’s the one going on about “the wife experience” and rubbing his dick on my leg. He’s clearly interested. Although maybe now that he’s been around to witness one of my low points, he’s decided I’m too much to deal with.

Too much has always been my problem when in my soul, I feel like I’m not nearly enough.

“We don’t have to—” I begin.

“No! No, yeah, we can do that. If you want.” He swallows. “Although I’m not sure how to ask if you’re going to regret this tomorrow without sounding patronizing. You had a rough night, emotionally.”

“Right.” I snuggle closer to his side. “And if you could fuck all those bad feelings away, that would begreat.”

“Wow, that’s direct.” Viktor rolls to face me. But he says it like he’s been waiting years to hear it. Like maybe he wants this as badly as I do. “Is that what you’re into?”

“Being pinned to the mattress while you choke me a little and fuck me until I beg you to stop?” I pretend to think about it. “Not sure, but there’s one way to find out.”

Ever since Dante’s screw-up, I’ve been on the wrong foot with Viktor. It’s nice to know that I still have it in me to leave him speechless.

“Be careful what you wish for,” he says at last. His voice is low and ragged, laced with an undertone of dominance.

“You think I don’t know what I want?” I retort. “Please. Have you met me? I’m telling you what I want. Kissing is nice and all, but I need to be anchored right now. Sensory input helps ground me. Usually, I’d go to the gym and go to town on a punching bag, or lift weights until my arms give out, or ride the stationary bike until I’m too tired to think. Actually, maybe that’s a good idea. There’s a gym down the street, right…?”

I gasp as Viktor rolls on top of me, one arm braced against the mattress. His other hand presses against my neck. It’s gentle. He’s been so gentle all night. “Like this?” he asks.

Yes. Like that. Like I’m not breakable.Like he can see the cracks and still wants to touch me. I’m so used to holding everything in—to being too much, too loud, too hard. But right now? I want him to take all that and devour it.

I scoff, even though my heart is racing. Are we really doing this? I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted this. “Is that all you’ve got?”

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