Page 68 of Dice & Dekes

I’m hard in an instant. No build-up, just pure, feral need. She grinds against me like she’s trying to climb me, her hands dragging my shirt up to touch bare skin. I slide one palm beneath the waistband of her leggings, and she lets out a choked gasp when my fingers dip lower, lower—

“Fuck, Viktor,” she pants. “Yes. Just like that—”

She pops the button on my jeans and slips her hand down. Her fingers brush my cock, and I twitch in her hand. “Christ,” I hiss. “Keep doing that, and I’m going to embarrass myself.”

“Do it,” she dares. “I want to feel you lose control.”

I kiss her again, messy and breathless, while she strokes me, her palm hot and possessive. I push two fingers into her panties and find her slick and pulsing. “You’re soaked,” I rasp. “You wanted this all night, didn’t you?”

“You protected me,” she says, nipping at my jaw. “That’s practically foreplay.”

I drop to my knees right as she gasps—and not for a sexy reason.

Barking.

Shit.

A miniature schnauzer barrels around the corner and starts going nuts. It throws its whole thirteen pounds into its job as guardian of community decency. Behind the hedge, a woman in yoga pants gasps and fumbles with the leash.

“Oh my God! Milo! Stop! Bad dog!”

Knova yanks her hand out of my pants, slaps my chest, and we both bolt down the path like guilty teenagers.

We don’t stop until we’re a full block away, doubled over, laughing so hard I think I see stars.

She clutches her side. “That yappy dog cock-blocked us.”

“I feel so judged,” I wheeze. “He looked directly into my soul.”

“Your soul was about to come on my fingers,” she fires back.

I pull her into a kiss, quick and dirty, right there on the sidewalk. “You’re lucky I didn’t.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t finish the job.”

Hand in hand, we walk the rest of the way to the condo, giggling like criminals, her hair a mess and my zipper barely re-fastened.

And I’ve never wanted her more.

As the laughter fades and our steps fall into an easier rhythm, something shifts between us—like the tension burned itself out with the adrenaline. We’re still grinning, still buzzing, but beneath the chaos and hormones, there’s something steadier. A thread pulling us back to the reason we came home together tonight. We almost lost each other. Again. And not to some bar brawl or a cocky schnauzer—but to miscommunication, to unspoken fears, to all the shit we’ve carried without sharing. I want to change that. I need her to know she’s not alone in this. Not anymore.

I can’t wait to get Knova home so I can finally explain the whole situation with the Special Olympics, and Ella, and whatever else we need to dredge up to put our fight to rest.

As soon as we step into the condo, I turn to my wife.

“Listen,” I blurt, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

“Right. Actually, there’s something I should tell y—” Knova’s hand goes to her chest to clutch her dog tags, like she always does when she’s nervous. Her eyes widen and then her face blanches like I just told her someone died. “Oh my God. Where is it?”

“What?”

“My dog tags. Where are they?” Knova yanks her jersey over her head, and for once, I don’t make a smartass comment about how good she looks in that bra. She pats her bare skin as if the tags will magically reappear. “I had them on earlier. I never take them off, but—”

I reach out to take her shoulders in my hands. “Hey. Breathe. We’ll figure this out. When did you last have them?”

“At the Puck Drop, I think.” Her eyes are wild. I haven’t seen her like this, since after her flight with LifeSource. My unshakeable Knova is on the edge of a panic attack. “Or maybe the arena? No, I remember touching them during Grady’s speech.”

“Then they’re probably still at the Puck Drop.” I release her and reach for my phone. “Don’t worry, I’m calling right now. They probably fell off when we were making our great escape.”

---