Page 22 of Sin Wager
The drive to the stables passes too quickly, though Misha does stop for me to grab some different clothes. Batya is still sleeping, and I return to his car where his hand rests on my thigh, his thumb moving in lazy circles that make concentration impossible. Every touch sends heat spiraling through me, reminding me of last night.
"I have meetings all day," he says as we approach the track, "but tonight?—"
"Tonight, I really should go home. Batya will worry if I'm out two nights in a row."
His thumb stops moving. "Will he? Or are you having second thoughts?"
I look at his profile, noting the tension in his jaw. "I'm not having second thoughts. Last night was…" I search for words that don't sound inadequate. "Last night was perfect."
"But?"
"But I don't want to rush into anything. This is all new for me."
He pulls into the staff parking area and turns to face me. The darkness I glimpsed occasionally the night before is back in his eyes, more pronounced now. He's feeling possessive over me, and I like it. He was gentle and incredible when we were together. It's something I will cherish my entire life.
"You were incredible," he says, his voice low. "I can't stop thinking about the way you responded to my touch, the sounds you made. I want you again, Vera. Tonight."
Heat floods my cheeks. "Misha?—"
"I know you want it too. I can see it in your eyes right now."
He's right. Even sitting here in broad daylight, I want him. The memory of his hands, his mouth, the way he made me feel cherished and desired—it's intoxicating.
"I'll think about it," I whisper.
"Think fast. I'm not a patient man."
He leans over and kisses me, deeply and possessively, until I'm breathless and clinging to his shirt. When he pulls back, his eyes are dark with promise.
"Go to work," he says. "But remember what you're missing."
I stumble out of the car on unsteady legs, my entire body humming with want. He drives away without looking back, leaving me standing in the parking lot trying to remember how to breathe normally.
The morning passes in a blur of routine tasks. I muck stalls, fill water buckets, help exercise three of the younger horses. The physical work usually clears my head, but today, I can't stop thinking about Misha and the way he whispered my name in the darkness.
I'm grooming Storm's End when footsteps approach behind me. I know who it is before I turn around—the click of expensive heels on concrete is unmistakable.
"Good morning, Vera." Sonya Radich looks as polished as always, her blonde hair pulled back in a perfect chignon, her red lipstick bright against her pale skin.
"Sonya." I continue brushing the horse's coat, hoping she doesn't notice my hands shaking.
"You look tired today. Late night?"
The casual tone doesn't fool me. Sonya notices everything, files it away for later use. "I went to bed at a normal time."
"Hmm." She moves closer, her perfume heavy and cloying. "I have some deliveries for you today. Three envelopes, different windows. The usual arrangement."
She pulls the envelopes from her designer purse, each one thick and sealed. I take them reluctantly, noting the weight. She's given me cash instead of account numbers, which is odd, but I've stopped trying to question her.
"These are heavy," I observe.
"Big race day coming up. My friends are feeling optimistic." Her smile doesn't reach her eyes. "You remember the rules, yes? Straight to the windows I specify, no deviations, no questions."
"Of course."
"Good girl." She starts to walk away, then pauses. "Oh, and Vera? I hope you're not getting distracted by… personal matters. It would be unfortunate if your reliability suffered."
My blood turns cold. "What do you mean?"
