This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are either the work of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.

Smoke Signals

Copyright © 2015 by Catherine Gayle

Cover Design by Kim Killion, The Killion Group

Published by Night Shift Publishing at Smashwords

All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any electronic or mechanical means—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without written permission.

For more information: catherinegayle.author@gmail.com

Dedication

Acknowledgments

About this Book

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Twenty-Four

Twenty-Five

Twenty-Six

Twenty-Seven

Twenty-Eight

Twenty-Nine

Thirty

Thirty-One

Thirty-Two

Epilogue

Roster

Other Catherine Gayle Titles

About the Author

This one is for all of you who begged me to give Razor a book and who were crushed when he got traded from the Storm, especially Monica and Heather. I admit it. I was wrong.

Razor is totally, one hundred percent hero material.

A special thank you to Gennifer Reiter and Heather Harrison for all your help in sorting out green cards, visas, deportation issues, and the red tape involved.

Desperation changes a person. Leads them to do things they never would have dreamed.

Thanks to his mother, Ray “Razor” Chambers knows what desperation can lead a person to do. But as a defenseman for the Tulsa Thunderbirds, those days are long in the past for both of them. His best buddy is about to get hitched in Vegas when a woman whose eyes are filled with an all-too-familiar haunted look approaches Razor. She makes him a proposition, and he knows he’s witnessing yet another act borne of desperation.

Viktoriya Dubrovskaya knows all about desperation, too. She came to America to study ballet and escape a fate no one should have to bear. She can never go home again. She’s broke and broken, not to mention in survival mode. Viktoriya turned to the only help offered, but in the end it stripped her of everything she was and all she wanted. Now she’s out of time, money, and options…until she sees Razor.

There’s no chance he’ll take her up on what she’s offering, but he suggests a counter-proposal—one involving a ring, a green card, and the chance to reclaim her body. It’s an opportunity she can’t pass up, but for Viktoriya and Razor, learning to live together as husband and wife is as foreign as interpreting Smoke Signals. And where there’s smoke, there’s usually fire.

CONTENT WARNING: contains graphic and potentially disturbing descriptions of abuse, both physical and sexual.

SMOKE SIGNALS is Book 2 in the Tulsa Thunderbirds hockey romance series, a spin-off from USA Today bestselling author Catherine Gayle’s Portland Storm.

BURY THE HATCHET

SMOKE SIGNALS

GHOST DANCE

RITES OF PASSAGE

Look for Book 3, GHOST DANCE, to release on May 19, 2016. Book 4, RITES OF PASSAGE, will release on November 10, 2016.

Want to join in the Tulsa Thunderbirds discussion? Join the Facebook reader group.

If you enjoy this book and want to try more of the same, be sure to look for the Portland Storm books.

BREAKAWAY

ON THE FLY

TAKING A SHOT

LIGHT THE LAMP

DELAY OF GAME

DOUBLE MAJOR

IN THE ZONE

HOLIDAY HAT TRICK

COMEBACK

DROPPING GLOVES

HOME ICE

MISTLETOE MISCONDUCT will release as part of a charity anthology on November 17, 2015. LOSING AN EDGE will release on February 25, 2016. GAME BREAKER will release on August 11, 2016.

Also, join Catherine Gayle’s mailing list to receive ICE BREAKER, a Portland Storm short story prequel that you can’t get anywhere else.

If you prefer to buy boxed sets, there are a couple currently available.

PORTLAND STORM: THE FIRST PERIOD

PORTLAND STORM: THE SECOND PERIOD

There is also a reader group on Facebook for the Portland Storm series.

I’D ONLY BEEN on the casino floor for ten minutes when I found him.

He stood at a high-roller craps table with three other men. All four of them were big. Good-looking, dressed in expensive clothes. Each man had a drink in his hand. They were laughing, talking, gambling…

All but him.

He was watching me. That was how I knew he was the one.

He said something to the other men occasionally, and he laughed when they did, but his eyes followed my every move as I made my way around the room. Did he recognize me? That was a definite possibility. I’d been in several high-profile films lately, so more and more men knew my face. Technically they probably knew my tits or my ass, but that was beside the point.

My growing notoriety had been the issue, actually. It was the reason I was here now. And it might very well solve my most immediate problem, if my instincts were correct.

Whether this man recognized me or not, he hadn’t taken his gaze off me at all as I’d circled the floor, debating my options. Not that there’d been much to debate. Most of the men in the room were gathered around lower-limit tables, keeping close tabs on their chips and their wallets. A few had looked up at me and winked when I’d given them seductive smiles. None but him had maintained eye contact. They’d gone back to their games, pushing me from their minds.

All except for him.

When I’d first seen him, I’d caught his gaze and licked my lips before biting the lower one. That was my signature move, the one they had asked of me in every film I’d made over the last three years. My agent had insisted upon it being one of my biggest selling points, and the directors always said it made me look innocently arousing.

Whatever I could do to make myself appear more desirable, I would do. I had to.

I was out of options.

This man had raised a brow in response, so I’d crooked a finger at him, beckoning him toward me. But then he’d shrugged apologetically, waving a hand to indicate his friends. I’d shrugged, too, before continuing my canvass of the casino.

But now I’d made my way through the whole place, and no one else had seemed a likely target. He was still watching me, very much interested, as I slid up to his side, tucking my bag securely under one arm.

The dealer sorted the chips into the appropriate places based on the previous roll of the dice.

“Hi,” my target said next to my ear. His deep voice rumbled through me, despite its quiet nature.

I flickered my gaze up to him, startled by the clear blue of his eyes. I’d never seen a blue quite like this in a human, light and clear as ice. They pierced me, a sharp contrast to his dark, sleek hair.

Up close, I could see his nose was slightly bent, like it had been broken at some point, and he had a scar on his left cheek, a faint pink jagged line. Those two imperfections kept him from being too perfect, too good-looking, but just barely. He was even bigger than I’d originally thought, now that I was right up next to him. Even his forearms bore lined muscles, and a tattoo peeked out from beneath the sleeve of his designer shirt.

My heart thumped so hard I was sure he could hear it. Nerves. I always had an attack of nerves when it was time to perform, regardless of what type of performance it might be.

I’d expected him to reek of expensive cologne, but he didn’t. He smelled clean and fresh, and good enough to eat. That was another point in his favor. Another sign that he was the one.

My mouth went dry, and goose bumps popped up all along my arms. I couldn’t lose my courage now. It was just sex. Sex was nothing. Sex was my job, more so now than ever. I wet my lips again, fully aware of his gaze following the path of my tongue. “Hello,” I murmured.

His friends passed more chips around the table, placing the bets they were bound to lose. I was betting on the fact that my quarry and I would be leaving the table before I needed to place a monetary bet, and I had every intention of winning mine.

This was all I had left.

The corners of his lips curled up in the hint of a smile. “You look familiar to me.”

“Do I?” I batted my lashes, feigning innocence.

“I’d remember your voice, though. That accent. Not a chance I’d forget you.”

The accent was proving to work in my favor, much as I’d expected. That was one of the many reasons my agent, Rick, had been so eager to work with me, the reason he’d first sought me out. A fucking Russian ballerina with legs for miles? he’d said. Keep using that pretty little mouth like that, and you’ll have all the work you can handle and then some. I wasn’t sure, at the time, if he’d been talking about my thick Russian accent or the blowjob I was giving him so he could “sample the product.” Actually, I still wasn’t certain now. Either way, he’d held up his end of the bargain for as long as I’d been able to keep working in the porn industry. I couldn’t anymore, though. Once the directors of my dance school had learned how I’d been spending my weekends, I’d been kicked out of the program—and I’d lost my student visa in the process.

No visa meant I had to leave the country if I couldn’t figure out another way to stay. I couldn’t get a green card, and without that, no more porn jobs. At first, Rick had worked out deals for the filmmakers to pay me under the table. But now that my school had reported that I wasn’t eligible for a visa anymore, the porn guys weren’t willing to take a chance on keeping up our deal. They were sticklers for following the rules in that industry. Regular STD testing. Proper record keeping. Everything was above board.

Maybe not everything, but many things. Most things. The things people outside the industry knew about. Certain other aspects of that business were kept quiet, like my under-the-table pay. I’d earned less than the other girls, but it had allowed me to stay in the country after my father had died and there had been no more money coming from Russia.

I was trying to stay on the right side of the law now, at least as much as possible. If I ended up in jail, they’d have no problem deporting me right away, and I couldn’t go back.

That was why I’d come to Las Vegas. Prostitution was legal in Nevada, and I’d already been selling sex for so long it no longer made me blanch at the thought. Selling my body wouldn’t help me get my visa reinstated, but it could at least help me earn enough money to eat and sleep somewhere while I figured out what to do.

Fifteen days, they’d told me. I only had fifteen days to find a way I could stay in the US before they’d force me to fly back to St. Petersburg.

There was nothing for me there. I couldn’t let that happen, even if it meant losing the last pieces of myself to stay here. Selling sex was far better than what would be in store for me if I ever stepped foot in that country again.

No matter how nervous I might be about what I was attempting to do, I refused to back down. There was no Plan B. I had to move forward.

“I give you better reason to remember me,” I said slowly. Deliberately. I held his gaze, stomach churning, while I waited for him to take my bait.

The craps dealer tried to get my mark’s attention, indicating he needed to place his bet.

My target held my gaze, though, his eyes narrowed, studying me. Then he faced the dealer and shook his head. “I’m done, boys. Calling it a night. Here.” He shoved a pile of chips over to the man to his left. “Finish this off for me, Babs. I’ll see you all bright and early in the morning.”

“Not too fucking early,” one of the other men said.

“Too early for you,” the third added with a smirk.

“Everything’s too early for Koz,” the one called Babs said. The other guys laughed and nodded their agreement. Then he turned to my guy, checking me out briefly before giving him a questioning look. “You know what you’re doing?”

He chuckled and said something quietly to Babs, his voice muffled so I couldn’t make it out.

“All right. Just don’t be late tomorrow. You’ve got the rings, and Katie won’t hesitate to kill you if you fuck up her wedding. She might even make me help.”

“Katie loves me. She won’t kill me.” He put an arm around my waist, drawing me to his side. I kept my bag firmly against my body, not taking any chances with it. I’d noted the muscle in his arms, but feeling them up close and in person was something else entirely. It made my stomach lurch. Maybe I hadn’t thought this through well enough, after all. Maybe there was some other way…

“Maybe she won’t, but Webs will,” the guy they called Koz said, waggling his brows.

The four men traded a few more barbs, but then my guy backed away, tugging me with him. Once we were in the hotel lobby and we could hear each other better, he dropped his voice from the jocular tone he’d used with his friends. “So what’s your name, beautiful?”

“Viktoriya,” I said. I didn’t see any need to mention my surname, Dubrovskaya. I’d never used it in my work. It had only been relevant to my future in ballet, which was now nonexistent unless I stumbled into a miracle. When I’d started stripping, they had suggested I just go by my given name since the spelling was unique enough to be memorable in the States. Then when Rick found me, he’d said I should keep it, that I could be the Cher or Prince of the porn industry. Everyone would know me by my name and my accent, not to mention my signature lip-wetting and lip-biting move, and that would be enough.

The muscled man at my side let out a humming sound. He nodded for a hotel worker to call the elevator before looking down at me. “Viktoriya, huh? Pretty name. I’m Ray Chambers. No one but my mom calls me Ray, though. Everyone calls me Razor.” The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Razor led me onto it and pressed the button for the level just under the penthouse. Once the doors closed and we were alone, he moved in front of me, his body crowding mine back into the corner.

I was used to having men in my space, though. This was nothing new. I refused to let it faze me.

His eyes bored into mine, locking on to me like laser beams, with the sort of utter confidence men like him tended to carry. “So what do you want, Viktoriya? You looking for a good, hard fuck?”

I bit down on my tongue, taking my time before answering so I could be sure I didn’t say what I was really thinking. I pasted a provocative smile on my lips, keeping my eyes flirty and playful. “You fuck me, hard as you want…for price.”

He didn’t respond, though. He just kept staring at me. Through me. One thing was for sure—this man was intense.

My heart felt as if it would pound through my skin. I was about to laugh it off and tell him to never mind, it was a joke, I didn’t mean the part about him having to pay me but he could still fuck me if he wanted, when the elevator doors opened.

Razor took my hand and led me out into the hall. We walked to the end, and he stopped before reaching the door, edging me against the wall. I jerked my bag to my side. He leaned in toward me, one hand on either side of my head so I had no choice but to focus on him and only him.

“You know prostitution is illegal in Las Vegas, don’t you, beautiful?” he finally said.

“No. Not illegal.” I shook my head. It couldn’t be. Rick had specifically told me that I could sell my body in Nevada if I wanted to, that I wouldn’t get busted by any cops for it. It would be safe for me to do here, that I’d only have to worry about STDs and pregnancy and crazy fuckers who might want something I wasn’t on board with. For the right price, I’d be on board with just about anything. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t already experienced most of it already, anyway, and that had been on camera.

“It is,” Razor said slowly. “It’s legal in the state, but not in every city in the state—and it’s illegal in Vegas.”

There was only one reason I could come up with for him telling me this. I bit down on my lip. “You’re policeman?”

“I’m not a fucking cop.”

“Then what you want?” Why was he doing this? Why wasn’t he taking me into his room and fucking me so I could take his money and go?

He didn’t answer. He just stared at me so hard I wished I could melt into the floor and disappear.

I couldn’t take this. If he wasn’t going to buy what I was selling, I needed to move on. Find someone else. I needed to make some quick money so I could buy myself some time before they deported me, and I didn’t know how long I would have. The administrators at school had told me I had fifteen days, but that wasn’t long, and three of those days had already passed. I needed money, and I needed it now, and I clearly wasn’t getting it from this Razor.

I tried to duck under his arm, but he reached down and took me by the elbow, stopping my progress.

“What you want?” I repeated, aggravated and embarrassed, and wanting nothing more than to get the hell out of there.

“I want you to come into my room and tell me why you’re doing this.”

I rolled my eyes. “No time for this. I need—”

“I’ll pay you for your time,” he interrupted. “Come on.” He dug out the key card for his room and swiped it over the lock to his door. It beeped, and he turned the handle, gently nudging me until I preceded him inside despite my better judgment.

VIKTORIYA WAS A study in contradictions.

In the casino, she’d been bold and seductive, homing in on me and not letting me out of her sight.

Here in my hotel room, she was timid and shaking, a rabbit on the verge of skittering away, never to be seen again. She tried to hide her nerves, meeting my gaze and licking her lips in invitation, but it was all bravado. Just a show she was putting on, which only made me want to know why.

Why was she so desperate to sell herself?

Why had she chosen me?

How had she ended up in Vegas, thinking she could sell her wares legally but clueless about how wrong she was?

I was just glad that she’d settled on me as her John for the night. In her naiveté, she could have ended up propositioning a cop or, worse, someone who would hurt her.

You never knew what you’d run into in that line of work. I should know. I’d seen plenty of it for myself when I was growing up. Technically, I supposed I’d heard more than I’d seen. Mom had always done her best to keep me in the dark about what she was doing, but I’d known.

Kids always know. And sometimes, they become adults who are all too aware of the darker, shadier sides of life.

Like me.

I took a seat across from Viktoriya, analyzing her body language. Her thick, dark brows drew together in confusion above eyes so dilated they jumped with my every move. I couldn’t make out the color of the irises. She sat straight-backed, prim and proper, with the sort of posture that got drilled into boarding school students. She had an oversized purse tucked up against her side. Her black hair fell in waves over tense, narrow shoulders. Her porcelain skin was flawless, not a wrinkle in sight. She was young—early twenties, I’d guess.

The slinky, cobalt material of her dress clung to her body, emphasizing how long and lean she was. Her legs went on for days before reaching her crossed ankles. Narrow wrists led to delicate hands with elegant fingers. I didn’t miss the fact that she’d bitten her fingernails down to the quick.

“What you want?” she demanded again, defensively drawing her arms across her belly and keeping that purse tight against her body. “You want to fuck me? It’s fine, fuck me. Whatever you want.” Her accent was sexy as all hell, her W’s becoming velvet-soft V sounds that were a stark contrast to the overall harshness of the way she spoke. Despite my good intentions, I couldn’t deny that her voice turned me on. It was rich and husky, and the Eastern European severity only made her seem exotic and alluring.

I hadn’t exactly had a plan in mind when I’d walked her off the casino floor—other than to find some way to prevent her from making a mistake that would land her in jail for the night—but now the need to think fast hit me hard.

What did I want? An excellent question. “I want to know how you ended up here,” I finally said.

“You brought me here.” The words came tumbling out complete with a petulant tone and an eye roll she didn’t even attempt to hide.

It took a supreme effort on my part not to laugh. Even in distress, she wasn’t immune to sarcasm. That was a huge point in her favor as far as I was concerned. In fact, so far I wasn’t coming up with many—if any—points against her. No clue what to do with that.

“How’d you end up in Vegas?” I asked.

She narrowed her eyes at me. “I took bus.”

“From?” It wouldn’t surprise me if she spouted off some city in Russia, just to goad me.

But she didn’t. Instead, she sighed. “Los Angeles.”

“When did you get here?”

“Few hours? Six o’clock.”

It was only a hair after eight now. She hadn’t wasted any time getting to the casino and scoping out her mark, which only spoke to her desperation. She probably hadn’t even bothered to find somewhere she could stay for the night. This was getting worse by the minute.

“Did your pimp send you? Because if he did, you need a new pimp. One who knows the laws and where it’s safe for you—”

“I have no pimp.”

That didn’t surprise me, either, considering how nervous she seemed. But that meant she was trying to jump into the game without having the first clue how it worked. Pimps were an unpleasant reality of the prostitution business, but the good ones at least kept their girls safe. Without one, if Viktoriya found herself in a bad situation, she wouldn’t have anyone on her side to get her out of it.

She’d be all alone.

I knew that all too well. I’d seen it happen too many times to count, even to my own mother. Mom had tried to go it on her own so she could keep more of the money she made turning tricks. For me. It was all for me, and there wasn’t any point trying to convince myself otherwise. But there had been too many Johns who’d taken a hell of a lot more than they’d paid for, too many nights I had to clean up the messes they’d made of my mother, and she’d finally given in to my pleas. That meant she’d kept a smaller piece of the pie, but if some asswipe had tried to do a number on her, she would have had more than just me and my scrawny ass to look out for her.

Without a pimp, Viktoriya had nothing. She might not have any more to her name than whatever she was carrying in that bag. No wonder she was keeping it so close.

My fists clenched at my side. I didn’t know why I was getting so worked up over this, other than the fact that I knew firsthand that no woman who prostituted herself was just some prostitute. She was someone’s daughter. Someone’s sister. Someone’s mother or aunt or friend. She mattered.

I wasn’t sure Viktoriya agreed with that assessment right now, though.

“You’ve never done this before, have you?” I asked. It was eating me alive from the inside, the same way my fears had gnawed at my stomach when I was a kid attempting to take care of my mother.

She met my gaze, her intense eyes wide and on the verge of panic. Then she was on her feet and heading for the door, purse wedged between her arm and her side.

“Wait,” I called out, following her.

She was fast, but I was faster. I reached the door before her. The urge to put my hand against it, to stop her from leaving was strong; the need to prevent her from feeling trapped was stronger.

I leaned against the patch of wall directly beside the doorway, facing her. “I want to help you.” I just didn’t have an inkling how to do it.

“I don’t want pimp.”

Her nose wrinkled on the word pimp, and her chest rose and fell rapidly, drawing my eye. Christ, she had a gorgeous body. Not a helpful thought at the moment.

“Beautiful, I’m not offering to be your pimp. That’s not even on my radar.”

“Then what?” Her lips were turned down in the most fucking kissable pout I’d ever seen. “You said no fucking. How you think you can help me?”

Another good question. “Where are you going to stay tonight?”

“With man who pays to fuck me all night.”

It was as bad as I’d initially thought. She’d only arrived hours ago, she had nowhere to stay… The picture was looking bleaker and bleaker.

“Why not stay here? I’ve got lots of space.” A hell of a lot more than I needed, actually. Being a pro hockey player came with a lot of perks. The most important one, for me, was being able to help my mom so she wouldn’t have to keep living the lifestyle she had for so many years. I’d been able to get her out of the game. Now she had a nice house in Toronto, and she still had her same day job. She didn’t need to take on any other work, though. If there was something she needed, I took care of it. I didn’t even bat an eye about it because of the hell she’d put herself through to give me a chance.

Now I wanted to give Viktoriya a hell of a lot more than simply an opportunity.

I still couldn’t put my finger on exactly why I was having this reaction to her. Would it be the same with any other woman trying to get started in this line of work? Or was it just because she hadn’t yet gone there, and I wanted to keep it from happening? I couldn’t be sure.

But she crossed her arms in front of her again, holding her purse tight to her chest, and she looked so fucking lost I wanted to wrap her up in my arms and help her find herself.

“I have to go,” she said, her voice cracking with determination. “I need money.”

“Why do you need money so badly that you’re doing this?”

“Because I lost visa! They make me go back to Russia. I can’t— I can’t go to Russia. I have to—I have to go.” She tried to push past me and open the door, but I reached out, taking her hand. She froze against my touch.

“Why can’t you go back to Russia?” I asked once she met my gaze. “Why can’t your family help you get home?”

She shook her head, huge tears welling in her eyes. “I have no home. No family. There’s no one to help.”

No visa. No home. No family. No one to help. My brain was racing a mile a minute, my heart pounding just as hard to keep up. Whatever had caused her to lose her visa, she only had a limited amount of time to act before she was deported. She didn’t have anything here, but it sounded as if she had even less there.

This was a huge mess, and I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “There is someone to help. Me.” I reached up with my other hand and brushed away the tear that had fallen down her cheek. “Marry me. Then you won’t have to sell yourself. You won’t have to go back to Russia. I can take care of you. You’ll be fine. What do you think?”

I knew what I thought. I thought I’d lost my fucking mind. But as insane as the idea was, I wasn’t itching to take back the words. There was something about my suggestion that felt good, as if I was doing the right thing. Maybe I could keep one woman from falling into the same kinds of problems my mother had faced. Maybe I could rescue her from that fate. She was only one woman, so it wasn’t like I was changing the world. But maybe I could change Viktoriya’s world.

Maybe that would be enough.

Her tears stopped, and she looked up at me with an impenetrable expression. “I think you’re crazy.”

THERE WAS NO doubt about it. Razor had lost his mind.

But the instant he learned the truth of how I’d been making ends meet for the last few years, his sanity would return. Just like that, in a snap of the fingers. No chance he’d ever want to marry a porn star. He’d realize his mistake, he’d take back his words, and then maybe he’d let me leave so I could find some other mark for the night—someone who would pay to fuck me.

Not that he was forcing me to stay. The door wasn’t locked, and he wasn’t blocking my path. In fact, even though his hand was on me, the way he was touching me was too light to keep me where I was. It was more the thought behind why he’d reached for me that kept my feet rooted in place.

It was like he cared.

Like I mattered.

Maybe even like I mattered to him.

There wasn’t any good reason for me to hold any sway over him. I hadn’t mattered to anyone but myself in so long that I wasn’t sure what to do with the fleeting thought other than kick it out of my head as fast as possible. It was dangerous to let myself fall into a trap like letting myself believe anyone cared about me as more than a vessel for slaking their sexual needs or fantasies.

Staying here and listening to the wild things coming out of his mouth might be even more dangerous, because despite the fact that I knew there was no chance he would follow through and marry me like he’d suggested, now I was thinking about it.

Desperately.

Desperation changes a person.

Leads them to do things they never would have dreamed of before.

I knew that as well as anyone.

I pressed my eyes closed so I wouldn’t make the mistake of looking into his, and I reached for the doorknob. “I should go,” I said for what must have been the thousandth time since I’d made the enormous mistake of targeting him.

“Don’t go. I’m serious,” he said, and my feet felt heavier than before, like heavy-duty magnets clamped tight to a steel floor. He gave me a smile, but not the cocky one from before. “I know it’s crazy. I know I’m crazy for suggesting it. But I mean it. Marry me.”

“I don’t understand. Why you do this?” I asked, refusing to open my eyes again. The only thing I would see if I did would be those sparkling blue eyes imploring me to take his hand and jump over the edge of insanity with him. I was doing well enough on my own in terms of making senseless decisions.

“I have my reasons,” he said. A non-answer. “The same as you have your reasons for hitting me up like you did.”

“You don’t know me. You don’t know…” There were so many things he didn’t know. Too many to get started with now, if all I intended to do was walk out that door, take the elevator down to the casino, and find some other man to be my John for the night.

But I didn’t open the door. I didn’t even budge.

“You’re right. I don’t know you. So tell me.” He still had my hand in his, and he tugged, drawing me a step closer to him. No force to it, though. Just persuasion. It was too easy to fall into the trap of trusting him. I’d trusted Rick, and where had that gotten me? But Razor was different. It was too easy to pretend that his touch might mean more than every other man who’d ever put his hands on me before, and that was a terrifying thought. His finger brushed under my chin, tipping it up. “Look at me, Viktoriya,” he said, and for some stupid reason, my eyelids fluttered open.

And for an even more idiotic reason, I opened my mouth and started talking. “I have sold sex. Many times. Just not like this.”

He didn’t even bat an eye at my confession. “Then how?”

“Porn.” No point in beating around the bush. If I was going to tell him, I might as well rip off the Band-Aid and get it over with. “I made more than hundred porn movies.”

“Okay, I’m confused. Why can’t you do another shoot to get the money you need? And if you’ve been working, I don’t understand why you can’t just get a green card.”

I shook my head. “No green card. It’s too hard to get green card. I had visa. I was dance student. Ballerina. When my father died, there was nothing left for me in Russia. No money coming for food. Place to live. Visa was for school, but I have to work. I danced at strip clubs. Made money, but not enough. And too risky. Too close to school. Someone might see.”

Then it all came flooding out of me. Once I’d started talking, I couldn’t seem to make the verbal onslaught stop, and my tears started again as soon as the words left my lips. I tried to back away from Razor, but he kept a firm, soothing grip on my hand.

“Then man saw me and said I could make lots of money if I do porn. So I did. Every weekend, flew to Los Angeles, and make lots of films, then go back to school. But someone found out and told provost. It was big no-no. Provost said I violated terms of student visa. Kicked me out of program. Have to go back to Russia. Agent says no more porn. Can’t get me work without documents, even though I worked all along without green card. Said go to Nevada. Be hooker to get money. Then go back to Russia.” But I couldn’t go back to Russia. Not ever.

“Prostitution can’t be your only option,” Razor said.

So naïve. He’d never had to sell himself to survive. He couldn’t possibly understand.

“I have sex for money,” I said emphatically, making it as clear as I could. “That’s what I do. I fuck, you pay. Got it? So you don’t want marry me. You’re nice man, you try help, but no one can help. I should go.”

“You should stay,” he said, which only made me cry harder. His voice was gruff, and his eyes were intense.

“I’m porn star,” I repeated. “I fuck men on camera. Oral, anal, DP, three at once, gangbang, tied up, beat up, toys, machines, flogged, whatever they want, over and over again. That’s what I do. It’s my job. So you want to fuck me, fine. Fuck me and pay. Want to film? Pay more. But you don’t marry me. You marry nice girl.”

“What if I don’t want to marry a nice girl?” He gave me a dark look, his clear eyes fogging to match the midnight sky. “Or what if I think you’re a nice girl who’s had some ugly shit done to you, and I want to give you the chance to be the nice girl you are? What if you’re a nice girl by day and a dirty girl by night, and that’s exactly what I’m looking for?”

He wasn’t going to give up.

I realized my jaw had dropped, and I slowly closed my mouth. “I don’t understand.”

“Hell, beautiful,” Razor said. “I don’t understand, either. But here’s what I do know. You need another visa or a green card, or else you’ve got to go back to Russia. Not only do I get the sense you can’t afford to do that, but you don’t have anywhere to go once you get there and no family to help you out. You don’t have the kind of job that will qualify you for a green card. Getting another visa of some sort will take a lot of time and red tape, and you might not even qualify for one—and they’ll make you go back to Russia while you wait for it. The option that’s left to you to stay in the country is to marry an American. And I just so happen to be an American who’s offering to marry you. I’m half-Canadian, too, but that doesn’t matter for this. I play professional hockey, so money won’t be an issue. I can support you. You can come live with me in Tulsa, and you can work on your ballet there, or do whatever else you decide you want to do. We’re in Vegas, so we can get it done right now. That’s what I know.”

“But…” None of it was clicking in my head. My thoughts were swarming with his words—green cards, visas, hockey, Tulsa, Canada, marriage—it was too much. I didn’t even know where or what Tulsa was, and Canada wasn’t close. I couldn’t go there, either. The Tambovs had ties in Montreal. I remembered that much from what my father had told me. I shook my head.

“But what?” He stepped closer to me, closing the distance so much that the heat pouring off his body wrapped around me, intoxicating and terrifying.

“Why would you do for me?”

For a painfully long moment, he didn’t say anything. He simply stared into my eyes, as though trying to see through the front I kept up when I worked. I’d let them look at me all they wanted, but they could only see what I wanted them to—my body, all the external parts of me. Not the inside. Not my heart, my worries, my pain. I kept that all to myself, a massive well of loss and fear that left me hollow and empty. And alone. All alone.

If I let him in, there would be nothing left of me. I wasn’t even sure there was anything left for him to take right now, but if there was, I couldn’t let him have it. I’d already allowed myself to be too vulnerable in front of him, and it had to end. Now.

I willed my tears to stop, and I reinforced my efforts at distancing myself from him, emotionally if not physically.

The corner of his lips twitched down as soon as I’d gotten my mask back in place, only on one side. He sighed. “I want to do it because I can. And because I should. And because maybe—just maybe—it’ll help me repay my mother for all she’s done for me, in some twisted way.” He shook his head, his eyes searching mine, even though I knew he wouldn’t find anything within them. “Let me help you, Viktoriya.”

Everything inside me was a roiling, clenching, confused, petrified mess.

I needed the help he was offering. There was no doubt about it. But could I afford to accept his help when it was clear how much he was trying to get behind my protective walls? If I went along with what he had suggested and somehow he got in, if I couldn’t find a way to guard against his kindness… What would be left of me?

In the end, I knew I didn’t have any other options.

“Okay,” I forced through my teeth, the word tasting metallic, like blood. “I marry you.”

VIKTORIYA INSISTED ON stopping to get blood tests before we made our way to the chapel. It wasn’t a requirement in Vegas, and I wasn’t going to push her for it. Yeah, I wanted to get her in my bed, but considering the way she’d been earning her living for the last few years, I didn’t think she was going to be too keen to go along with it.

Maybe I should have expected it. After all, she had been trying to get me to fuck her—and to pay her for it—ever since she’d first made eye contact in the casino. Still, it wouldn’t surprise me at all if she changed her mind, and married or not, there wasn’t a chance in hell I was going to do anything she wasn’t fully on board with.

The bloodwork came back clean for both of us, so we made our way to the marriage bureau to get our license. I knew where it was since I’d gone with Babs and Katie earlier in the day to get theirs for tomorrow. Amazingly, this place was open until midnight every day of the year—a fact that had tickled my funny bone when I’d been there earlier—so I knew we had plenty of time. Once we had procured our license, Viktoriya and I were off to find the closest quickie wedding chapel.

We ended up at a hole-in-the-wall place with a huge, lit sign out front that screamed “24-Hour Wedding Chapel” into the night sky in bright colors. I chuckled as we walked beneath a bough lit up in neon purples, pinks, and greens that made Viktoriya’s porcelain skin look a garish yellow. No chance my wedding was going to be anything close to Babs and Katie’s tomorrow.

“What’s funny?” she asked.

I shook my head. “Just thinking about the wedding tomorrow. Comparing it to this.”

“Your friend? He gets married tomorrow?”

An Elvis in full regalia thrust a clipboard and pen into my hands and pointed us toward a waiting room. “Fill this out and bring it back with your license and identification. We’ll have you married in ten minutes or less once you’re done with that.”

I nodded my understanding and took a seat. Viktoriya sat next to me but not close enough that we were touching. She placed her bag on her lap and held it close to her body, wrapping both hands around it.

“Yeah. Babs and Katie.”

Jamie Babcock and I had been rookies together back when I’d played for the Portland Storm. He’d been my best friend since then, even after I’d been traded away and been claimed by yet another team in an expansion draft last summer. And he’d been disgustingly in love with Katie Weber for as long as I could remember. It was high time she finally made an honest man of him. Their wedding was the sole reason I was in Vegas to begin with. Otherwise, I’d be spending my summer at home with Mom and my buddies up in the Toronto area, getting ready for the new season.

Instead I was here. And now, I was getting married, myself.

I was tempted to reach for Viktoriya’s hand and draw her closer to me, but I held back. Baby steps. If I pushed too hard, she would run. I knew that much about her, even if I’d only known her for an hour or two at this point. I picked up the pen and started filling in the blanks. “I’m the best man,” I explained to her. “I hope you don’t mind coming to another wedding when we’ll have only been married a few hours.”

“I can’t go to friend’s wedding.” She sounded serious as a heart attack.

“Why not? You’ll be my wife. You’ll be with me. We won’t stay too long if you don’t want…”

She shook her head adamantly. “No. I can’t. Someone might rec…” She trailed off for a moment, pressing her eyes closed. Then she opened them again and stared straight through me with fierce resolve. “I have no clothes for wedding.”

There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that it had very little to do with clothes and a hell of a lot to do with her former occupation. Someone might recognize me. That was surely what she’d been about to say.

“It doesn’t matter to me who sees you with me or what they think. You’re going to be my wife. People are going to see us together.”

“But I—”

“I mean it,” I said. “I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks. I have to go, and I want you to be with me.”

“What if your friend—”

“Let me worry about my friends, okay?” I reached up and brushed the pad of my thumb over her cheek. She didn’t flinch or pull away, but she didn’t lean into me, either.

I wished there was a way I could ease her mind. But I knew there wasn’t. Mom still worried that one of her former clients would see her at her job and cause a problem for her. That anxiety would probably never fully go away, and since Viktoriya had been in the porn business, there were a lot more people who might recognize her. Thousands. Hundreds of thousands. Maybe millions.

“Maybe this is bad idea,” she said, getting to her feet.

“It’s not.” I took her hand before she could run away. It felt like ice. “It’s not a bad idea.”

She had tears in her eyes again, but I could see her effort to keep them from falling in the way she was pressing her lips together and grinding her jaw. She was so fucking scared of letting anyone see her vulnerability, and it killed me.

“My mother was a prostitute,” I said, hoping it would convince her to stay if she knew more about me and where I’d come from. I’d never told anyone before. Not even Babs. It was a piece of me that I’d always kept locked in a corner of my mind. I’d never said the words out loud. It felt like eating shards of glass, but I told her anyway. “She had sex for money, so she could pay for the things I needed. So she could send me to hockey camps and pay for all the gear. She did it because she thought she had to. She did it because she didn’t think there was any other way, and she didn’t want me to end up poor and struggling like she was. She wanted me to have a way out. At first, she thought she could keep it from me, that I wouldn’t realize what she was doing. But I knew. I knew why she did it, and I knew what it did to her. And I love her. I love her, and I don’t ever want her to have to do anything like that again, so I make sure she doesn’t. I don’t want you to have to do it, either. So, no, it’s not a bad idea, you marrying me. It’s the only idea that makes sense.”

The whole time I was talking, she stared at me, blinking those wide eyes at me in an effort to prevent herself from crying. She didn’t sit down again, but her hand relaxed in mine. She wasn’t going to dart. At least not right this second.

I could finally make out the color of her eyes, though: they were the gray-blue of the Tulsa sky when an afternoon thunderstorm was rolling in. Dark. Tumultuous. Ominous.

“Your mother, she still sells sex?” she asked.

“Not since I signed my first pro contract. She won’t ever have to do that again.” And you won’t, either.

“You’re good son, Razor.”

I’m going to be a good husband, too. The thought sprang to mind, but I didn’t want to push. This conversation was the most she’d talked since consenting to marry me, and I didn’t want to spoil it.

After she’d agreed earlier, she’d clammed up, speaking only when necessary and giving the bare minimum to answer every question she’d been asked. There had been a moment just before she’d accepted my proposal when I’d thought she was going to let me in, at least a bit. It had only been fleeting, though. She’d put an end to her tears, and the self-protective blankness had come back over her features, and that had been that.

I got it. Holy fuck, did I get it. Viktoriya had very good reasons to be wary, to think she needed to keep everything locked up inside her. I just hoped she would eventually allow me to see who she really was, not think she had to protect herself against me. I wasn’t going to hurt her, but why should she believe that? Even with knowledge of what my mother had done, there wasn’t any good reason for Viktoriya to trust me, so I knew I was going to have to tread carefully with her.

I went back to filling out the form, asking her questions that only she could answer. Eventually, she sat next to me again, keeping that bag tight against her body. When I finished, I reached for her hand. Surprisingly, she took it and walked with me to return the paperwork to the Elvis who’d greeted us when we first came in.

He scanned the forms, comparing what I’d filled in with the marriage license. The next thing I knew, we were walking up to the altar and standing before an officiant. A little person in matching Elvis gear took up a spot next to the larger version.

We said our I dos, I gave her a chaste kiss on the lips, and we were on our way back to the hotel as a married couple, all before midnight. Shocker of all shockers, somehow I ended up married before Babs. I doubted anyone who knew us would have seen that one coming, me included.

The crazy thing was, the actual getting married part had been easy. Whatever was still to come, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that it was going to keep us both on our toes.

Too bad I didn’t have a ballerina’s balance. I got the sense I might well end up falling on my ass a time or two.

ALL THE WAY back to the hotel, Razor kept his hand on the small of my back—unobtrusive but ever present, making it impossible for me to forget, even for a moment, what we’d just done.

I was married. To a man I’d only met hours ago. I must be as crazy as he was.

If not for the fact that I had no earthly idea what else I could have done, I would be a shambles, falling apart because of the absurdity of it all. What would Papa have thought? After all he’d done to keep me safe… If he could see what I had become, he would likely roll in his grave. Maybe it was good he wasn’t alive to understand how far I’d fallen. I was not the woman he had sacrificed everything to see me become. I’d squandered it all, and now I was selling myself in every way imaginable.

Even marrying Razor was, in a way, selling myself. I hadn’t had much choice, short of ending up in jail for prostitution and being deported to a country that had nothing left for me but worse than anything I’d faced in America. So now I was his wife. He would take care of me, he said. But it would come at a cost. He hadn’t spelled it out, but there’d been no need. All men expected sex. So now, I was once again mentally preparing myself to give up my body in exchange for what I required to survive.

Only sex, I reminded myself. It was only sex. Nothing more. Just my body. I can get through this.

He closed the door behind us, and I clutched my purse tighter to my side. It was a habit. A safety reflex, I supposed. It wasn’t likely he would steal the few things I had inside it, and there was no one else here.

“There’s another room in here,” Razor said, guiding me to a bedroom to the left of the main living area. It was opposite the master suite, where he’d clearly been spending his nights, if the strewn clothes and the open, half-empty suitcase on the floor were any indication. “If you want to sleep in here…” He left the words hanging in the air between us.

He was giving me a way out.

No, not a way out. A reprieve. He was granting me time to adjust to being married to him before he made use of my body.

That wouldn’t help anything. All it would accomplish would be to put off the inevitable. No, it would be better to get it over and done with, let him fuck me now. Not that I thought he would be happy with fucking me for only tonight, but going through with it now would give me a better idea of what to expect from him in the future. Rip off the Band-Aid.

I stopped before we reached the second bedroom and spun around to face him. Then I wished I hadn’t, because we were chest to chest, nose to nose—or really more nose to Adam’s apple—and he didn’t back up. Not even a half a step. Like so many other men before him, he didn’t appear to have any qualms about being in my space. He might as well belong there.

I swallowed hard and took a small step back, trying to regain my focus. “No. I sleep with you tonight. We took tests. Both clean. I will sleep with you.” That was why I’d insisted on getting that part done now, after all.

Razor didn’t answer immediately. He stared at me instead, the same way he had earlier. Like he was trying to see inside me. Like he wanted to know what I was thinking.

I couldn’t let that happen. Not for him or anyone.

“All right,” he finally said. “I’m not going to lie and say I don’t want you in my bed, but I’m not going to force you to be there. So if you’re really sure—”

“I’m sure. I want you to fuck me.” And, to prove my point, I slowly licked my lips before biting down on the lower one, fluttering my eyelids at him. Never mind the fact that it was an outright lie. I didn’t want Razor to fuck me. I didn’t want anyone to fuck me. But what I wanted didn’t matter. I’d learned that lesson a long time ago, and there wasn’t a chance in hell I would forget it any time soon. That wasn’t the way the world worked.

His eyes followed the path of my tongue and settled on my lower lip, darkening with lust the way men’s eyes always did.

But he didn’t touch me. He didn’t push me against the wall. He didn’t rip my clothes off me or put his mouth all over me or do any of the things I had come to expect. Granted, he was a real man, not a porn star, and this was a real sexual encounter and not something performed to a script. Maybe my expectations weren’t fully in line with reality.

“In Russia,” he said after a moment, his head cocked to the side, “what’s the nickname for Viktoriya? What would someone call you if they cared about you?”

There wasn’t anyone left who cared about me, but I brushed that aside. It would be better to stick to what he’d asked, try to play by his rules even though I didn’t know what they were.

“Vichka,” I replied, giving him the name Papa had used for so long.

“Vichka,” he repeated, letting the diminutive roll off his tongue. He brought one hand forward and touched mine, only a couple of his fingers brushing my knuckles and sending shivers racing up my spine. “Hmm. I’m not sure if that’ll work for me, beautiful.”

“Call me what you want. It’s fine.”

His lips curled up a bit. “Vicky?” He raised a brow, his nose wrinkling as he shook his head. “Nah. You’re not a Vicky. How about Tori? Do you like Tori?”

I didn’t understand why he was spending so much time trying to come up with a name to call me instead of fucking me. Most men called me slut or whore, maybe bitch. They didn’t call me names anyone would want to be called.

But the longer he waited to make a move, the longer I had to dread what was to come. I decided to take matters into my own hands, dropping my bag on the floor and stretching up on my toes to kiss him. He let out a groan and opened his mouth, letting me take the lead and allowing my tongue entry. I put both hands on his hard chest and pushed him against the wall, hoping to speed things along. He caught hold of my hips and dragged me against him, his hot cock pressing into my belly.

As hard as he already was, I knew I could have him ready in no time. I tugged his shirt free from his pants and slipped one hand underneath to explore the planes of his abdomen. Almost there. With practiced fingers, I undid the button and fly of his pants and reached in to take hold of him.

Then he laughed against my mouth. “Slow down, beautiful. We have all night. I guess you like me calling you Tori all right, then, huh?”

It didn’t have a damned thing to do with him calling me Tori or beautiful or anything else, and the last thing in the world I wanted to do was slow down. I wanted to push him past the point of no return. I wanted to have him hard and hot and so ready he might blow his load the second he got inside me. I couldn’t handle all night, and I intended to do everything in my power to make sure it was over as soon as possible, leaving him sated and me still as intact as I could possibly be.

So I dropped to my knees and yanked his pants and boxer briefs down to his ankles. Then I took him in my mouth, swirling my tongue around the head to lick up the pre-come before taking him deep.

He let out a shaky sigh and leaned against the wall as I worked him over with all the skills I’d learned in the porn business. I used my pointed tongue to glide along the ridged underside of his dick, and he swelled in my mouth. I massaged his balls, sucked and licked, and made heated, sexy sounds like I was into it, knowing all of those things would bring him closer to completion. When I felt his hands settle on the back of my head, giving gentle pressure and a hint of guidance, I took him all the way inside me, swallowing the head of his cock past my gag reflex.

“Holy shit,” he ground out.

Holding my breath for as long as I could, I bobbed my head over him, fucking him with my throat. When I came up for air, a stream of saliva dribbled down my chin. I flashed my eyes up to him, expecting to find his eyes closed in bliss, a man on the verge of losing control. Instead, I found him glaring down at me.

“You don’t like?” I asked. If this wasn’t his thing, it was fine. I could figure out what he did like. It wouldn’t be that hard. Based on the way his cock had hardened and grown from my efforts, he’d liked it to some extent. But maybe he wasn’t a blow job kind of guy. Maybe he liked—

“We’re not filming a fucking porno,” he forced through a clenched jaw. “I don’t want you to fuck me like a porn star.”

Then what did he want? I didn’t know how to fuck any other way. If I had at one point in time, I’d forgotten it a long time ago.

My confusion must have shown on my face.

“Come here,” he said. He reached down and took my hand, and he helped ease me to my feet. Then he placed his hands on my face, one on either cheek, and kissed me.

Only it was different this time. Very different. It was slow and languorous and erotic, and completely unlike the way any man had kissed me before. It was meant to arouse and entice. His tongue slipped alongside mine, gliding and teasing. His lips were gentle, playful. He splayed his big hands over my ribs and slid them up and down my body. There was no sense of hurry to any of his movements. He wasn’t touching me hard or possessively. It didn’t feel as if he owned me and was taking what belonged to him. Instead, every touch was tender, almost reverent.

This was not what I’d planned. Not at all. I didn’t know what to do, what to think, how to feel. His sensual assault was taking over, and I felt as though I were flying. Or falling. I couldn’t be sure which, but either way my feet no longer seemed to be on solid earth.

I grabbed hold of his shirt, hoping to ground myself in some way as he licked a line from my jaw to my ear.

“I want to fuck you, Tori,” he said softly, his lips brushing against my lobe. “Not the porn star. Not the actress. You.”

But that was exactly what I couldn’t let him do. It was never me. Not since the very early days when I’d let one of my co-stars past my protective walls. I’d allowed myself to care for him, and I’d convinced myself that he really cared for me and would look after me in this strange new world I was in. So when he’d fucked me for the cameras, it had really been me. My heart. My soul. All wrapped up in him.

Which meant it had been me when he’d tied me up and forced the baseball bat inside me and rammed it home over and over again despite my pleas for him to stop. It had been me when he’d used the cane on me so hard it left welts that were still visible a week later—on my breasts, since my contracts always stated I couldn’t have noticeable marks anywhere that anyone could see when I wore my leotards for dance. It had been me when he’d straddled my head and fucked my throat until I’d vomited all over his dick and myself, all the while forcing me to come with the baseball bat still deep inside my cunt and the magic wand bearing down on my clit until he burned up the motor. It had been me when he’d put a ball gag in my mouth and fucked me, ignoring the fact that I was screaming in pain from the acids leeching into the fresh welts on my breasts after he’d rubbed my bile all over my chest. It had been me he’d winked at and smacked on the ass after the shoot, while they were still undoing my bonds, saying, You’re one tough bitch to take all that. And it had been me when, a week later, I’d had to let him and three other men gangbang me while they held my head under water, listening to him tell me I was one hot slut every time they brought me up for air.

Shoots like those two paid better than others, and since I could only shoot on the weekends, I’d often agreed to go along with unimaginable things. After that first traumatic experience, I’d learned to separate myself. I’d let them use my body, but I’d learned to shut away my mind. It was the only way I could survive it, the only way I could keep going back for more. And I did go back, too many times to count. Those shoots were far from the worst I went through from a physical standpoint, but I’d found a way to keep my head and my heart out of it.

But now, Razor wanted to fuck me, not just my body. It didn’t matter that he was now my husband. It didn’t matter that he might have some inkling of what I’d been through since his mother had sold her body for money, or that he seemed like a good man. None of it mattered. I could never allow it to be me again.

Not ever.

But the way Razor was touching me would make it next to impossible for me to maintain my distance, to protect the few frayed threads of myself that remained from whatever was to come.

“Come on,” he said. He kicked off his pants and took my hand.

I had to find a way to manage it. It’s just sex. Only my body. I can do this. I have to. I let him lead me into his bedroom.

He flipped on the lights and reached behind his head to tug his shirt up and over from the back. The fabric hit the floor in a gentle swoosh, but my eyes were on him. Without his clothes, he looked even bigger and stronger than I’d already known him to be. The tattoo on his arm was of a kneeling angel, but he had more ink I hadn’t realized—something tribal along his side that spanned his rib cage, words in a language I couldn’t read on his ribs, and it looked like there might be something on his back and coming across his shoulder, too.

“You like tattoos,” I said, trying to calm my pounding heart and put the focus back on him. Anything I could do to move this along.

He smiled, the expression landing squarely between cocky and sultry. “A bit. Do you?”

“I’m ballerina. Can’t have tattoos.”

Closing the distance between us, Razor reached for my hand. He flattened my palm over his chest. The steady thump, thump, thump of his heart was strong beneath my fingertips. Almost electric.

“I didn’t ask if you had any. I asked if you liked them.”

“I like yours.” I licked my lips again. But no matter how hard I tried to seduce him, to hurry him along, he kept moving at the same deliberate pace.

With hands that had clearly done this many times before, he inched the material of my dress up my thighs until it gathered at my waist. Then he eased his hands under the fabric, gliding them over my skin as he pushed the dress up and over my head. I reached behind my back to release my bra, but he stopped me with one hand enveloping both of mine. He shook his head.

Frustration mounting, my breathing grew shallow.

Then he dropped his head so his lips could press kisses along my collarbone.

I fought the urge to pull away. “What are you doing?”

“It’s called foreplay, sugar.”

I let out a huff of air. “I know that. Why you do this?” I tried to tug my hands free, but he didn’t release them, instead tightening his grip and using gentle pressure to draw me closer to him. He dipped his tongue into the hollow at the base of my neck, and I squirmed. “I need no foreplay.”

“Everybody needs foreplay.” He teased the top of my bra with a finger from his free hand, and I shivered.

“I don’t want foreplay. I want you to fuck me.”

“I’m getting there.” Hooking that same finger under the top of the cup, he dragged it down and freed my breast. His hot mouth came down over it, and I fidgeted to get out of his grasp. He brought his head up and gave me a heated look. “How long has it been since you had sex with a man just because you wanted to, not for money?”

I could only blink at him in response.

“That long, huh?”

I shrugged. I couldn’t imagine ever wanting sex the way he talked about it. I might have wanted it once upon a time, but those days were far in the past. These days I just wanted to survive it.

Razor steered me backward toward the bed. When my knees hit the mattress, I sat, instinct guiding my movements. Releasing my hands, he nudged me onto my back and came up over me, his big thighs on either side of my waist as he hovered above me, bracing himself on his elbows.

Finally, he was going to get to it.

“Let’s get one thing straight, Tori,” he said, looking down in my eyes. Through me, almost. “When I fuck you, it’s not just about me getting off. It’s not about what I want and what feels good to me. It’s about you, too. I have no intention of taking from you without giving in return. If you don’t come, I don’t. Got it?”

I gave him a curt nod, but in my mind, I thought, Good luck with that. I’d spent too much time and effort building up my walls to let him or anyone else get through them so easily.

He bent his head down to kiss the side of my neck, and I found a spot on the ceiling to focus on until he was done, hoping it would be enough to keep my tears locked up inside along with my heart.

THERE WAS NO way of knowing how long it had been since Tori had been with a man who’d focused on her pleasure as much as his own. She didn’t seem inclined to talk about it. I understood her need for secrets. Understanding didn’t stop me from wanting to convince her to open up to me, though. It’d been a hell of a long time, at the very least. Maybe she hadn’t ever had a good, positive sexual experience.

I didn’t know much, but I knew this: her view of sex was skewed, distorted, and I’d be an ass if I didn’t do anything and everything I could to change it.

Granted, I was an ass, something Babs was all too keen to remind me of every chance he got. It was one of my calling cards, something that guys had come to expect of me. I’d developed a tough, sarcastic exterior, borne of so many years spent with the kinds of knowledge kids should never have. But that didn’t mean I had to be that way with Tori. I’d always been different with my mom than I was with the rest of the world. There wasn’t any good reason I couldn’t be different with Tori, too.

Her skin smelled like vanilla and tasted like a slice of heaven.

I kissed the spot right behind her ear before flicking my tongue against it. No reaction. This spot wasn’t one of her erogenous zones, then.

She lay flat as a board, hardly moving other than the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.

That meant I needed to work harder.

I slipped my hands beneath her to unclasp her bra. She lifted herself up on her elbows to help, not that I needed it. She hardly weighed a thing. Her ballerina’s body was slim and lithe. Her breasts were one of the few areas on her body with much cushion, actually. Every part of her was toned and in perfect shape.

She collapsed back against the mattress as I tugged her bra free.

I traced a circle around one of those perfect mounds, trailing the tip of my finger in a soft caress. No reaction. “Tori?”

“Yes?” Her eyes were focused overhead. She didn’t even blink when I said her name.

“Tell me what you like. What feels good.”

“I like to make you feel good.”

Hmm. Not getting anywhere.

“What makes you come?”

This time, her gaze flickered to meet mine, and she shook her head. “It’s too hard,” she said, point blank. Like it was a fact. Like there couldn’t possibly be another way. “You come. Don’t worry about make me come. You’re big, strong man. Let me make it good for you.”

That was just it. I was worried about her. And if I couldn’t make it good for her, there wasn’t a damn thing she’d be able to do to make it good for me.

“Let me try,” I said. “Give me some hints.”

She shook her head. “I give you good blow job. Let you do what you want. Anal? Doggy style? Tie me up do pile-driver? Whatever you want. It’s fine. I make you feel good.”

Even as she said the words, one of her hands was heading south to take hold of my cock. I couldn’t deny it felt amazing when she took hold of me and started pumping, much as it had been pure bliss when she’d taken me into her mouth earlier. But she was missing the point, or maybe she was deliberately trying to avoid the point. In fact, based on the furrow of her brow, I was almost positive it was avoidance.

I took hold of her arm and lifted it away from my dick, raising it up over her head. Then I pinned it down and looked straight in her eyes. “It’s not hard to make me come. You don’t have to do a damn thing for that to happen, Tori. I’m trying to get you there with me.”

“No good. Don’t bother.”

I wasn’t even close to giving up. “When’s the last time you had an orgasm?”

“Few months? I don’t know.”

Too fucking long. “How did you get there?”

The look she gave me was pure exasperation. “Bondage porn. Public exhibition. Tied up, spread-eagle. Fucking machine in pussy and ass, vibe on clit, deep throating big cock, and hot wax on tits. That was after lots of flogging and spanking. Oh, and cane. Cane on soles of my feet. You want to do that? You can do it.”

“I’m not ever going to do anything like that to you.”

“Then I not come. But you? You can come.”

The fact that she was so convinced that she couldn’t—shouldn’t?—get pleasure from sex pissed me off to no end. Good thing that, asshole that I knew I was, I was also one stubborn son of a bitch.

I kissed her, deep and hard, letting my weight drop down to cover her. She spread her legs, opening herself to me. But was it instinct or desire? Probably still instinct. Fucking asswipes had screwed with her head.

So I touched her. Everywhere. I molded her plump tits to my palms. I kneaded her firm ass, grinding her up against me. I kissed and licked and nibbled on every available inch of skin, determined to arouse her the way she aroused me. Her breathing picked up, and a light sheen of sweat broke out all over her body.

“Fuck me. I’m ready.”

“Not yet, baby. Soon.” I was desperate to believe her, but no way was I going to put my needs before hers.

My cock pulsed against her panties. I was so close, but so fucking far from where I wanted to be. Even through that thin barrier of cloth, her pussy felt like an inferno, a raging heat I was desperate to feel all around me.

But her eyes were still vacant. Empty. Staring at the ceiling again.

“I’m ready, Razor. No more foreplay. Fuck me.” Over and over again, she told me the same thing.

And maybe now she was. Maybe I was reading too much into the lack of expression, the vacant stare.

Stretching my hand down between our bodies, I edged her panties to the side and found her lower lips slick and swollen. Hell yes. I’d affected her, despite all her claims, and I was damned well going to make her come whether she thought I could or not.

I rolled off her and tugged her panties down her legs. Her pussy was totally bare. Not surprising since that was a staple of the porn industry, but it still threw me for a loop. Most women I’d been with had at least a landing strip. One woman I’d dated last season was constantly going to get herself Vajazzled. I’d thought it was ridiculous, but whatever. It was her body, her decision.

I grabbed the box of condoms we’d brought back to the hotel with us and took one out before ripping it open and suiting up. When I came back to the bed, Tori spread her legs wide, giving me a full view. She stroked a finger through the slick folds of her sex before bringing that finger up to her mouth and sucking it clean. She licked her lips, lowering her lids to half-mast, before biting down on her bottom lip.

That was absolutely a porn star move. Every bit of it was meant for the nonexistent cameras, for the assholes who’d be jacking off at home while they watched on their computer screens. Damn if it didn’t turn me on, even though I knew exactly what it was.

I’d barely settled myself between her legs before she was drawing her knees up. I positioned my cock at her opening and thrust. She gasped and took me balls deep in a single stroke, even though she was the tightest fit I’d ever experienced.

I wasn’t so sure about that gasp, though. It was somewhere between pleasure and pain, and I couldn’t make out which end of the equation it was closer to. “You all right?” I asked, levering myself up on my elbows so I could see her face.

She wouldn’t look at me. Whatever the hell was up on the ceiling had to be the most fascinating thing ever, since she couldn’t seem to look away from it even with me filling her. “Fine. Fuck me, Razor.”

I still couldn’t read a damn thing in her face. It was a mask, conveying nothing at all. Before I could make up my mind about what to do, she circled her hips and hooked her ankles behind my back, locking us together as she continued to move.

“God, beautiful. You feel so good.” Too fucking good. I dropped my head to the mattress, burying my nose in her hair as we started to move together. It didn’t take long before I was lost. In the moment. In her. I didn’t want to be found again, either…at least not any time soon.

I rocked my hips against hers, using my hands to explore her body. I might not know her well on a personal level, but before the night was over I’d know her intimately on a physical level.

Her hands were on me, too. She kept grabbing my ass, bringing me closer to her. She sucked in a breath, the sound sharp and hiss-like next to my ear. I didn’t have the opportunity to worry about what that meant, because she kept exploring my ass, one finger on the verge of going into no-man’s land.

I let out a groan, shocked at the sensation.

Her breathing was erratic, and she bucked her hips up toward me. “Fuck me hard. Fast. I need…”

At the moment, I’d do anything she asked of me. I increased my pace, elated that she was finally asking for what she wanted. “Tell me what you need, beautiful.”

She sucked another breath in through her teeth. “I need you to come.”

This time, I noticed the shaking in her voice. Like she was struggling. Like she was in pain.

I stilled and lifted my head so I could see her. She still had that fucking mask in place, her eyes not betraying a goddamned thing.

Except for her tears.

They were huge, filling her eyes and pouring down her cheeks as though they were in a race to the finish.

“Am I hurting you?” I demanded, not waiting for an answer. “I am. Why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t you stop me?” Not only had she not done a damn thing to get me to stop, but she’d been egging me on. Trying to get me to fuck her faster and harder. Hell, even now, she was reaching for me, clenching her thighs to hold me in place. I rolled off her. No chance was I going to keep at it while she was lying there crying, no matter how hard she tried to pretend everything was all right.

Nothing was all right. Everything about this was fucked up beyond belief.

She shook her head, her jaw clenched tight as her tears continued to roll. “Just finish. Let me help you come.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Christ, Tori.” I sat up and brushed the hair back from her forehead, trying to figure out what the hell was going on inside her head.

Why wouldn’t she tell me I was hurting her? Instead of trying to hurry me along, why hadn’t she told me to go fuck myself and get off her? But there was nothing in her eyes that could explain any of it. Only pain and tears.

“It’s okay,” she insisted. “It’s always— It’s okay. It’s fine.” The tears didn’t stop, though, no matter how much she tried to make her argument.

The more she cried, the angrier I got. At her, for not telling me to go to hell. At myself, for not paying better attention and realizing there was a problem sooner. At every fucking bastard who’d played a part in leading her into the life she’d been living for the last few years. I was angry at the whole fucking world.

I bent over and kissed her on the forehead, then got out of the bed and went to the bathroom to wet a cloth. While I was in there, I ripped off the condom and tossed it in the trash. Wouldn’t be needing that any longer. I carried the cloth back into the bedroom and handed it to her.

“Why don’t you clean yourself up and we’ll get some sleep, huh? Tomorrow’s a new day.” A busy new day, with Babs’s wedding. There wouldn’t be a hell of a lot of time for me to get to the bottom of whatever was going on with Tori. I didn’t even have the first clue as to where I should start.

She sniffled, but she sat up slowly—gingerly—and used the cloth to clean herself. Her tears were slowing down by the time she faced me again and passed the cloth back. She looked down at my cock, nodding. “I can help—”

“No, you can’t,” I interrupted, a lot more harshly than I’d intended.

I tossed the washcloth onto the bathroom floor, then washed my hands before returning to the bedroom to find her sitting on the edge of the bed, her arms wrapped tight around her knees and her head resting on them. She looked so damn vulnerable, and I didn’t know what to do about it. I didn’t know how to help her. I felt more helpless than I had when I’d been a kid who couldn’t do anything to protect my mom.

I sat next to her and put an arm around her shoulders, drawing her to my side. She was stiff as a board.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m sorry I hurt you, and I’m sorry I was short with you just now. You didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

She sniffled again. And she pulled away from me. “Why won’t you let me help you finish? I make you come.”

I did my best not to lose my temper, but it wasn’t easy. Not when every bone in my body was aching to wrap her up in my arms and hold her until she believed she had some value. “I told you. You don’t come, I don’t come. That’s how this is going to work between us. Got it? You’re not just a set of holes for me to fuck. Not me or any man.”

She blinked at me a few times. “You’re wrong, Razor. You’re good man, but you’re wrong.” Then she got up and headed for the doorway.

“Where are you going?” There was only a mild sense of panic edging my tone. Not anywhere near as much as I felt.

She stopped, one hand on the door frame, and looked back over her shoulder. “Other bedroom. I can sleep there?”

“You can sleep anywhere you want to.” But I wanted her to stay with me. So I could watch over her. So I could make sure she didn’t get up and take off in the middle of the night. So I could study her and try to solve her mysteries. So I could make sure no one else ever hurt her again in any of the ways she’d so clearly been hurt.

But I couldn’t protect her if she wouldn’t let me.

Tori gave me a solemn nod. “You’re good man, Razor.” Then she sniffled once more, walked out, and closed the door behind her.

I lay in bed thinking for hours. I replayed everything that had happened between us since we’d walked off the casino floor. I pondered every possibility I could come up with for what might have been causing her physical pain. I debated how I could help her overcome all that she’d been through.

The longer I thought, the more questions I had…and the fewer answers. It was enough to overwhelm me, and I wasn’t even the one who’d lived through all that she had.

In the end, there was only one thing I could think to do—talk to my mother. That would have to wait, though. It was the middle of the night, and not a time I could call her.

And tomorrow, I had to make sure Babs got hitched.

“HOLY SHITBALLS,” KOZ said—loudly—when Tori and I walked into Red Rocks for the wedding. Every head in the outdoor space spun toward him. He was staring right at Tori, and the only way I could describe his expression was less than polite. Actually, way less than polite. He was staring at her like he’d seen her with her clothes off.

Maybe he had.

Then all those eyes landed on me and Tori. Fuck. I’d hoped to be able to slide her in under the radar until after the ceremony before having to explain things, but apparently that wasn’t going to happen. I glanced at her to see if she was uncomfortable with the attention, but that didn’t get me anywhere. She’d been uncomfortable since I’d first met her. She was more wary than anything, her eyes darting from face to face.

I turned back to the guys up front. 501 elbowed Koz in the side, which saved him from my fist finding its way through his nose. For now. I wasn’t making any promises about what I might do to him later, especially if he kept this shit up.

I wasn’t embarrassed to be seen with Tori—everything I’d said last night about not giving a shit what anyone thought, I’d meant—but I didn’t want her to feel out of place in my life. Assholes like Koz could cause us problems, and I intended to do everything I could to minimize it.

I found Tori a seat on the groom’s side of the aisle, not so close to the front to make her conspicuous but close enough I’d be able to see her from the altar. I hated that I had to leave her on her own during the ceremony, but I was Babs’s best man. I couldn’t sit with her, however much I might want to. Not even during the reception. I would have to be at the bride and groom’s table until all my best-man duties were finished. I might be able to toss some of them 501’s way, but not the speech and a few other things.

“I shouldn’t be here,” she said again, tucking her purse under her arm and pinching it close to her side. Her eyes nervously flitted from one face to another as the chairs around us started to fill in. She’d hardly let the bag out of her sight since I’d first met her. She’d even taken it into the other bedroom in my suite and slept with her arms wrapped around it all night. That was how I found her when I got up this morning, curled in a ball with the purse tight in her grasp.

It was the only thing in her life she had left to hold on to, as far as I could tell. In the same situation, I’d probably hold on even tighter than she was.

But maybe I could help her find some other things worth keeping so close. Even if it wasn’t me, she needed something else. Or someone.

Finding her like that had shattered a part of me, the same way finding Mom bruised and bloodied in her bed after a particularly rough John had done a number on her had broken off pieces of me. I didn’t realize it back then, but breaking off those pieces had been necessary. They couldn’t stay part of me, because I’d needed them to help heal Mom. Tori must need a part of me, too.

“You should be here,” I reiterated.

“He knows who I am.” Tori nodded toward Koz and tugged on the hem of her skirt, as if she could make it long enough to reach her knees. That wasn’t going to happen. It was a different dress than she’d worn last night—hot pink instead of bright blue—but it was still better suited for her previously intended profession than for a wedding. “I can tell. He looks at me like…” She shook her head and stared me dead in the eye. “I shouldn’t be here.”

That intensity in her gaze was enough to chip at me, a chisel taking one shard at a time. I reached for her hand to reassure her, but she wouldn’t let go of her bag, so I ended up patting her on the shoulder. “I’m not worried about Koz recognizing you. I’m not going to hide you and pretend you’re not in my life. I’m not ashamed of you.” I only wished she didn’t feel so much shame. It was eating her alive.

Her eyes were filled with the same pain I’d seen in them last night. In the sparkling late-morning sunlight surrounding us, the stormy color of her eyes seemed so out of place. At least there weren’t any tears, though. She nodded, curt and resolute. Resigned.

I kissed her on the forehead and headed up front to join Koz and 501, wishing I could do more to help her feel comfortable here.

But now I had another job to do. “Did you two get Babs to bed for his beauty sleep last night?” I asked.

“Got him to his room,” 501 said. “I don’t think he could sleep long enough to be pretty. Only in Katie’s drug-induced dreams.”

“Hell, besides Katie, I’m going to be the prettiest one up here,” I shot back with a grin, trying to shake off the anxiety and fear that had been plaguing Tori—and me—since last night. That was between the two of us. Here, in front of Babs and his guests, I had to be the same version of myself everyone expected—a cocky asshole without a care in the world. I waggled my brows. “Is it bad form to outshine the groom?”

“If it is, we’re all in trouble.”

501 was Babs’s brother…and he was the guy who’d replaced me on the Portland Storm back in the day. The Storm’s general manager had made a trade on draft day, sending me to the Sabres before using the pick on 501. I tried not to let it get to my head that, even though I’d been playing on shitty teams ever since, I was a better defenseman than the kid had turned out to be, at least so far. Served them right for giving up on me after only two seasons.

Still, I couldn’t hate the guy. It wasn’t his fault that I’d been traded, and besides that, he was Babs’s brother.

I wasn’t so sure about his taste in friends, though, since he was constantly hanging out with Koz, who was such an ass he put me to shame.

The asshole in question let out a low whistle when I stepped up beside him on the dais before the sea of white chairs. He was still staring at Tori.

I clenched my fists but kept them tight to my side. Bad idea to break a guy’s nose at Babs’s wedding. Really fucking bad idea, however tempting it might be.

“Do you have any idea who she is?” he asked. “Holy hell, Razor. She’s not the kind of girl you let stay until morning, let alone bring her along for whatever you’re doing next. She’s definitely not the type of girl you bring to someone’s wedding. She’s the girl you fuck and send on her way so you can get tested.”

I bit down on the inside of my cheek until I tasted the tang of my blood. Babs was about to get married here. Not the time or place. I started going through my mental calendar of the upcoming season, trying to figure out the first time my team, the Tulsa Thunderbirds, would play the Storm. Pretty sure it was in November. I could bloody the son of a bitch then, and I wouldn’t have to worry about ruining Babs’s wedding. Much better plan.

When I thought I had my temper under wraps, I met his laughing eyes with a glare that would leave nothing in doubt. “Bite your fucking tongue before I cut it off for you, eh? She’s my wife.”

“Wife?” 501 repeated. He raised a brow, taking another skeptical look at Tori.

Koz wasn’t so even-keeled about it. He snort-laughed, and he didn’t even bother trying to cover it up. “You are so fucked.”

That was when Babs came around the corner and joined us, tugging on the lapels of his tux so he could button it. Katie’s father, David “Webs” Weber, was at his side.

“Who’s fucked?” Babs asked. Without waiting for an answer, he looked at me. “You’ve got the rings?”

“I’ve got the rings.” I patted my hand over the pocket I’d stowed them in. “Everything’s fine.”

“Good,” Webs said. “Give them to me.”

I handed them over. He took them, grumbling something about giving them to “the little foul-mouthed child” as he headed away.

“So who’s fucked?” Babs asked, not paying his soon-to-be father-in-law any mind.

“Razor,” Koz said, still laughing. “He married a fucking porn star.”

“Razor didn’t marry anyone,” Babs said. But then he raised a brow, turning to me again. “You didn’t marry anyone, did you? Please tell me you’re not that much of an idiot. I knew I shouldn’t have let you—”

“I did.”

“—leave with her.” His jaw dropped. “Shit. The girl you left with last night? I should have listened to my gut. I knew you were going to do something stupid. Please tell me you didn’t do something stupid.”

“You’re not my father, Babs.” Not that my father had ever done a fucking thing for me other than provide me with American citizenship, which I’d made use of whenever the opportunity presented itself, like with marrying Tori, and Babs had done a hell of a lot. But still. That was beside the point. “You don’t have to look out for me.”

Between the two of us, he’d always been the one on the straight-and-narrow. He’d never seen a naked woman until I took him to a strip club to celebrate when we found out we’d made the team in our rookie season with the Storm. He’d fallen for Katie Weber right around the same time, but she’d only been sixteen at the time. Not to mention, she was the daughter of one of our teammates. Totally off-limits, but he’d held out for her. Saved himself or some shit like that. I was one of the few people who knew he’d been a virgin, but at least now Katie was finally making an honest man of him. The point was, though, that he’d always been kind of sheltered. And while I’d done a bit of introducing him to the real world, I’d been careful about which parts of it I’d shown him.

But it had been me looking out for him, not the other way around—even if he hadn’t seen it that way. I knew the truth. I’d seen enough of the real world for the both of us.

“Clearly someone needs to look out for you,” Koz said. “You walk out of the fucking casino last night, single as ever, and you come back a little over twelve hours later married to a fucking porn star.”

I was clenching my fists so hard my fingernails nearly cut through the skin of my palms. “I swear to God, if you fucking—”

Before I could finish, 501 put a hand on Koz’s chest and pushed him away, not stopping until they were halfway down the aisle—well past where I’d seated Tori. The rest of the seats were quickly filling in around her, with Babs’s side full of current and former teammates and their families and Katie’s side glittering because of all the Hollywood A-listers.

“It’s almost time,” I said, grinding my jaw in an effort to lower my blood pressure. “You ready?”

“You’re just going to brush it off like that, huh? Like it’s nothing?”

It wasn’t nothing. Not even close. I faced him again. “Not brushing it off, but I’ve got a job to do right now, and that’s to get you hitched.”

“You really don’t think you made a huge mistake?” He scowled. “Did you at least think about a prenup?”

The officiant cleared his throat, saving me from having to answer for now. A quick look around revealed that the string quartet was in place and ready to go, almost every seat was taken, and 501 was on his way to rejoin us. Thankfully, he was coming without Koz. I didn’t know where that asshole was sitting, and I didn’t care. He wasn’t next to Tori, and he wasn’t within arm’s reach of me. For now, that would have to do.

“Are we all set?” the officiant asked.

I raised a brow at Babs. Not that I thought he’d have cold feet. There was no chance. Babs and Katie were made for each other, something I’d known for years. It might have taken them a while to get here, but he wasn’t looking back. Only forward.

He took a deep breath, giving me a wonky look that told me he wasn’t ready to let my newfound situation drop. But then he nodded and turned toward the altar. “All set.”

With a signal to the string quartet, everything was set in motion. Babs took up his position. I stood next to him, and 501 filed in next to me.

Katie’s mother and brother came down the aisle first, with Luke depositing his mom in the front row before taking his seat beside her. Then came Katie’s sister, Dani, followed by one of her former co-stars. Sidney and Peyton Campbell—twin redheaded toddlers and daughters of a teammate—served as dual flower girls. Walking between them with the rings on a pillow was another teammate’s son, Connor Johnson, who was presumably the foul-mouthed child Webs had mentioned earlier. None of the three wanted to come at the same pace. Halfway down the aisle one of the twins stopped right next to Tori and plopped down on the floor, tossing the petals over her head and watching them rain down on her while she giggled.

“Oh, shit,” Connor said—loudly—turning and trying to get the little girl up to come with him. A few people gasped, but most of them laughed. In the process of trying to herd the twins, Connor dropped his pillow on the floor and the rings got free.

One of the rings apparently stopped at Tori’s feet. She bent at the waist and picked it up as the two fathers hurried out to deal with their wayward children. She passed the ring to Cam Johnson—Connor’s father, and better known to the guys as Jonny—who gave her a look that most people would have missed. I wasn’t most people, though. He quickly masked his shock and hurried his squirming son up to the altar with the rings, and I doubted Tori would have realized there was anything amiss with him. While that was going on, Brenden “Soupy” Campbell picked up one daughter with each arm and carried them like footballs, but the one who’d been in the aisle next to Tori was pitching an absolute fit over it.

Soupy delivered one of his girls to each of the bridesmaids and wished them good luck in keeping things under control. Jonny handed Connor over to me, telling him, “Remember, we don’t use Mommy’s words in public,” before heading back down the steps. Connor giggled, and Jonny stopped at the main aisle and turned to me. “You watch your mouth, too.” Then he rejoined his wife and daughter in the second row.

The strings switched over to the wedding march. One of the twins—the aisle sitter—twisted herself free from Dani’s grip and darted down the stairs. I expected her to run to Soupy or her mother, or maybe to one of her older siblings. She streaked past them and stopped at Tori’s side.

Tori looked up at me with panicked eyes.

The little girl brushed her hand over Tori’s hot pink dress. “Pretty.” The next thing I knew, she climbed into my dazed and confused wife’s lap and made herself at home.

Soupy shrugged. “At least she’ll be still and quiet now,” he mouthed at me.

He was taking it far better than Tori, who hadn’t taken her wide eyes off me.

I nodded encouragement, but that was all I could do…because the double doors opened, and Webs walked Katie down the aisle toward us.

She was beaming, her brown hair in a short pixie cut, a shimmering tiara resting on her head. Her dress looked like it belonged to a princess, which seemed fitting. Lord knew Babs thought she was one.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her. He was blushing like a fucking stoplight, and his dimples were going haywire, but he wasn’t looking anywhere other than at Katie.

For a moment, I couldn’t look away from her, either. It was only right. She was the bride, and it was her day. Everyone was watching her.

But then my eyes strayed to Tori. Webs and Katie had just slipped past her.

I was just in time to see her bolt up from her seat, deposit the toddler on her chair, and take off like the frightened rabbit I knew her to be.

“Fucking hell,” I muttered.

“Fucking hell,” Connor repeated so loud it echoed all around us.

Everyone burst out laughing again, including Katie. Everyone except Jonny, who gave me the look he always gave a guy right before he busted a few teeth loose. And except for Babs. Babs wasn’t laughing. He took a long look at me while everyone else was in stitches.

Then he said, “Go.”

So I went.

“WHO IS SHE? Why is Soupy letting his daughter stay with her? Why on earth would she wear something like that to a wedding? What’s she doing here?” Those questions and a thousand others were whispered all around me. Maybe they thought I couldn’t hear, but I did. I heard it all, as loud as fireworks going off beside me, ricocheting and reverberating inside my mind.

That only proved I’d been right, and Razor had been wrong.

And I had to get out of there.

Now.

I didn’t belong at this wedding, no matter how much Razor might try to convince me otherwise. I didn’t belong in his life. I would never fit with those people—Hollywood stars, professional athletes, and their glamorous wives. The couple who’d sat next to me had been proof enough of that. He’d been big and strong, like Razor, with long hair and a scruffy jaw. But the woman with him? A tall brunette who was flawless in every way. She looked like a model from a fashion magazine, if not for her enormous baby bump.

“Y’all, quit being ugly and hush your mouths,” she’d hissed as the bride and her father had gone past us. So she’d heard it all, too. Telling them to stop talking about me only magnified the fact that I shouldn’t be there, at least to me.

The little girl in my lap had kept petting the satiny fabric of my dress and chattering about how pretty and soft it was, which only made me more uncomfortable. I had no business touching that child. None.

And then it was all too much for me.

I lifted her off my lap, got up, placed her on the chair, pried her fingers free from my dress, and ran back inside the hotel as fast as I could.

“Aw, honey, come back,” the pregnant woman said as I scurried up the aisle as fast as I could go. “You just need to ignore them. It doesn’t matter. Hunter, go stop her and bring her back. Why’d everyone have to be so ugly to her? Come here, sugar.” The last must have been directed at the little girl. She wouldn’t be calling me sugar.

The sound of her voice trailed off as the glass doors slid closed behind me.

Clutching my purse to my side, I walked as fast as my heels would allow toward the bar. Briefly, I thought about leaving the hotel and finding somewhere else to search for my John, but I quickly dismissed the thought. Razor was busy with the wedding. He wouldn’t be able to come looking for me for hours, and by then I had every intention of being holed up with someone who would pay me for my time. The quicker I could find someone, the better, and that meant sticking close. The bar seemed like as good a place as any to start my search. Not that I could afford to buy a drink, but maybe I could talk someone into buying me one…and taking me upstairs to earn some cash. Whatever money I had, I needed to hold on to and find a way to get more. Surely the marriage could be annulled once Razor realized I wasn’t coming back. Or if not, he could get divorced due to abandonment or something like that.

He’d be fine. Yes, he’d tried to help me, but I was well beyond his help. That much must be clear by now.

No matter what, there was no time for me to waste. I’d already lost last night. I couldn’t afford to spend another moment doing anything other than finding a way to get myself out of my current mess.

The second I stepped foot in the hotel bar, I scanned the faces present. It was early in the day for people to be drinking, but this was Las Vegas. Everything was different here.

One man in the far corner met my eyes. I forced myself not to break his gaze, letting him assess me as much as I was doing the same to him. But he wasn’t my mark. No chance. There was something cold and dangerous in the depths of his eyes. He angled his head toward an empty seat next to him. I shook my head, hoping he’d take that to mean I was looking for someone.

Which I was. I just didn’t know who.

On the opposite side of the bar, a group of men sat huddled together. Young. Well-groomed. They were talking and laughing, sipping from their beers. Maybe one of them, if I could get one by himself. I could handle more than one, but that didn’t mean I wanted to.

I was just about to make my way closer to the group of men when Razor put his hand on my arm from behind. I knew it was him without turning to see. In our time together last night, I’d gotten to know the feel of his hands. Big. Strong. Long fingers with a few calluses.

But gentle. Heartbreakingly gentle.

That was the bit I recognized now. It was the only reason I didn’t immediately panic. Yes, I was trying to leave him, but he was a good man. He wouldn’t hurt me. Not intentionally. But if I stayed, I’d end up hurting him. I might have already done so last night.

“You should be at wedding,” I said, the certainty that I couldn’t stay with him making my voice harsher than usual. “Go back. Your friend needs you.”

“I think you need me,” he said. So calm. So patient. All the more reason I couldn’t stay with him. He deserved so much more than I could ever be.

My blood turned electric, surging through me and leaving jolts and shocks in its wake. Every nerve ending in my body was painfully alive and aware of him.

“Come talk to me,” he said, sliding his hand down to my hand. He wrapped his fingers around mine and tugged, a mild pressure, insistent yet unflappable.

“I can’t.” I nearly choked on the words.

“Why can’t you?”

“It was mistake. All big mistake. You don’t under—” I stopped and shook my head. “I don’t—I don’t belong—”

“You do,” he cut in. “You belong with me.” Another tug, stronger this time. He tucked my hand against my ribs, holding it between his body and his hand. Like it was precious. “Come on. Let’s go talk.”

“No time to talk. I need—”

“You need to tell me why you ran away. And why you’re in here trying to find a John.” He didn’t sound mad. Just…confused.

“I’m not—”

“Don’t lie to me, Tori. Please don’t.”

He slipped in front of me, sliding my hand up to cover his heart. The thumping of it was steady but fast. I stared at his Adam’s apple, unable to meet his gaze. There was no telling what I’d find there. But he wouldn’t let me get away with that. He touched two fingers to my chin and lifted until I had no choice but to look deep into eyes that would undoubtedly see too much. He spent a moment staring through me while I tried to keep my mask in place. No use. His thumb brushed my cheek. His touch was tender, but he might as well have clawed through layers of skin and exposed raw nerve.

“I watched you walk in here,” he said. “I saw you scan the room, debating your options. I could tell when you made your choice. I just don’t understand why doing what it’s clear you intended to do would be better than letting me help you.”

A weary sigh, one that had been building for years, poured through my lips, leaving me deflated and defeated.

His brow creased. “Come on.” This time when he tugged, he meant business, drawing me up alongside him and leading me from the bar.

“I can’t go back to wedding,” I argued.

“We’re not going back to the wedding. It’s going on without us.”

My legs were long but not as long as his, so I had to hurry to keep up with him. And I wasn’t sure where we were going. We’d stayed in a different hotel last night and had taken a cab here this morning. It looked as if he was leading me toward the front entrance, though, like maybe we were leaving. “But your friend—”

“Babs is perfectly capable of getting married without me holding his hand.” As he said it, he resituated his grip on me, threading our fingers together in the sort of familiarity I’d always craved. But it felt uncomfortable now that I had it. Too close. Too at ease. Too much as if he were trying to prove we belonged together, even though we both knew that couldn’t be further from the truth.

The summer sun blasted into us the moment we stepped out onto the circular drive.

“We need a cab,” Razor said to the waiting doorman, who nodded and spoke into a walkie-talkie.

A cab. Meaning we were leaving the hotel with the wedding. Why would he drop everything? He’d known me for all of half a day—not enough time to turn his life upside down in order to chase after me. I wasn’t worth all that.

Moments later, a taxi came around the corner and stopped in the drive, and Razor ushered me into the backseat. He slid in next to me, his body taking up so much of the space it was almost stifling.

The driver turned into traffic, and Razor took my hand again, his thumb tracing figure eights over my knuckles. The bit of contact acted as a magnetic pull. Only it wasn’t a physical draw. It was as though he’d locked on to the private parts of me and was attempting to suck them out through the cracks in my walls.

“Why did you leave?” he asked quietly.

“I told you.” My voice kept cracking with emotion, no matter how hard I tried to force it down. “I shouldn’t be there. I don’t belong. Your world is no place for me.”

“What if I want to make a place for you?”

“It’s not so easy. You think you want something, snap fingers make it happen. That’s not how my life works.”

“How does your life work?”

I shook my head. I’d never be able to explain, and even if I could, it wasn’t something a man like Razor would understand. No matter what his mother might have done in the past, Razor hadn’t ever been in my shoes. “Doesn’t matter,” I said.

“It matters to me.” He reached for his wallet and took out some bills as the driver came to a stop in front of the hotel we’d been in last night. He reached for the door handle after paying.

“You should go back to wedding.”

“I don’t think so. I think I should be with you.”

Stubborn man. He was trying too hard at a lost cause. If I wasn’t careful, he might get through all the layers I’d built up, but what he might find when he succeeded... It wasn’t worth thinking about now. There were far more pressing matters I needed to sort through. I tried to climb out the door on my side of the car, but he wouldn’t let go of my hand, easing me across the seat to follow him.

Every bone in my body wanted to run. I wanted to get back in the taxi and use some of the meager money I had to leave. I could disappear. Papa taught me how to do that, and it had worked once before. I could make it work again. Once I got on a bus, I could go somewhere it was legal to sell my body, and I could earn enough money to get myself back to Russia. Not that I knew what I’d do once I got there, other than find a way to hide. That wasn’t the point for now. If I did that, Razor would never be able to find me. It would be better for him. Safer. There was no reason for him to get tied up in the mess that was my life.

But something about him compelled me forward, one step at a time. I stayed by his side traversing the hotel lobby, waiting in the elevator, all the way until we got off at his floor and he let me into his room.

The way he compelled me wasn’t like with other men, the ones I’d filmed scenes with. They forced me to do whatever they wanted, whatever the script called for. There wasn’t any hint of force with Razor. It was more like getting caught in a whirlwind, and he was the only thing solid to hold on to.

He closed the door behind us, and he led me to the couch. He sat and urged me to sit beside him. When I did, he eased an arm around my shoulders, as if he could protect me.

I wanted to believe it was possible. A knot of ache filled my belly. I wished there were truly men who were as good and kind as he seemed. But I’d seen too much of the real world to fall for such a trap. I wasn’t so naïve. Not anymore.

My insides twisted in knots as I waited on the interrogation to begin anew. Razor wanted answers. He wanted to understand why I’d left the wedding. Why I couldn’t sit still while surrounded by Hollywood stars and professional athletes. By families. Children. He wanted to understand me, and there was some small part of me that wanted to try to explain it all.

But he didn’t demand I explain. He sat with his arm draped across my shoulders, and he lifted his hand to smooth it over my hair.

It was such a simple thing, his compassion, but profound at the same time. I tried to swallow hard enough to keep my tears at bay. No use. They spilled down my cheeks, hot and fast, turning the pink satin on my breasts a vibrant red everywhere they landed.

I could feel his eyes burning through me. I could sense the gears turning in his head as he attempted to sort out my secrets. But it was his gentleness that would undo me, a thought that only brought on a fresh torrent of tears.

Razor would break through all my defenses—that much was clear—but he would do it with a deliberate tenderness and determined care I’d never before experienced.

That realization further drove home the fact that no matter what, I would never be free. All that Papa had done to get me away from the Tambovs, away from Russia, to keep me safe…it had been in vain. In this world, a woman like me could never be her own master.

TRYING TO PRY answers out of Tori hadn’t worked once yet, so I had no doubt any such endeavor would be fruitless as all hell. Instead, I decided to wait her out. Let her cry until she was done, and then we could talk.

But I damn sure intended to get her to talk to me. She didn’t have to tell me everything down to who her best friend was when she was seven, but she was my wife. I needed to know more than the bare-bones minimum she’d fed me so far. I intended to do whatever it took to understand her. At the moment, I was clueless beyond realizing she’d been through a lifetime of shit, probably before her fifteenth birthday, not to mention everything that must have happened since. That much was clear in the haunted look in her eyes and the way she was fighting so hard to keep her crying under wraps, despite the fact that there was no point in it at all. Whatever was behind this was going to force its way out, whether she was on board with it or not.

I stroked a hand over her long, dark hair again. It was soft and still smelled like the hotel shampoo she’d used this morning, a fresh combination of orange and ginger that tickled my nostrils. The temptation to bury my nose in her hair and breathe deeply was strong, but that was going to have to wait. This wasn’t about me.

At first, there’d only been a few tears streaming, but it had turned into full-blown sobs before much time had passed, her shoulders heaving from the force of whatever was going on in her head. So I waited, trailing my fingers through the silky tendrils of her hair, for her to make the next move…whatever that move might be.

She kept her spine straight, her neck rigid. She refused to lean in toward me or to seek more comfort. Pride? Maybe. I doubted it. Fear seemed more likely. Or shame. She was carrying around a shit-ton of that.

“You followed me,” she said after a long while, her voice raspy from the effort of crying so hard. “I don’t understand.”

“What’s there to understand? I married you. I promised I would take care of you.”

Even though I tried to brush it off and make it sound simple, I knew it was anything but. I couldn’t explain my reaction to her any more than she could tell me all that she’d been through.

She shook her head, staring down at her knees. “Why? Why leave friends for me?”

“Has no one ever put you first, beautiful?” More and more, it seemed as if she’d never had anyone in her corner. No one fighting for her. She’d had to do it all on her own.

She shrugged, which was no answer.

“What about your parents? Did they look out for you?” I didn’t know how much to push and when to back off with her. Her do-not-cross line was so grayed out and scrubbed over that I couldn’t make out where it fell. I’d gotten her talking, at least for now, but she could close off and run again at any moment.

“Yes. As much as they could.”

That was cryptic. She’d used could, not can. Had they disowned her? Were they dead?

She wasn’t offering up much for free.

“And what about when they couldn’t? Who else did you have?”

“I have me.”

She had me, too, whether she was ready to accept that or not.

“How long has it been just you?”

“Since I came to America. Papa helped me.” She inched closer, just enough to allow me to breathe easier. Because it meant she was letting down her guard a bit. And maybe starting to feel comfortable with me.

I switched from gently brushing my hand over her hair to massaging her scalp with my fingertips. “When’s the last time you saw him?”

She let out the tiniest sound, which might have been a sigh. “Three years. When I got on plane in St. Petersburg.”

“And your mother? Is that the last time you saw her, too?”

Tori shook her head. “Mama was already gone.”

Time to push harder? I wasn’t sure. It was a risk, but one I knew I had to take. “Gone where? Did she leave?” Or was she dead? I didn’t want to give voice to that particular question.

“No, not leave.” Tori didn’t pull away from me, but she went stiff as a board. “I don’t know where she is.”

Didn’t leave but was gone? How did she not know where? I kept tracing circles on her head, hoping she would loosen up for me a bit. “You don’t know?”

Silence. Painful, debilitating, seemingly interminable silence.

But she didn’t run.

“I don’t know,” she finally repeated, a tiny sound. “They took her.”

“They took her?” I didn’t have a clue what else to say. “Who?” And why? The more she told me, the more questions I had.

For the first time in far too long, she moved. She turned her head so she could look straight in my eyes, and she shook her head. “In Russia, sometimes they take people. They almost took me, but Papa saved me. They took Mama. And then…” She shrugged. “I don’t know where she is. I don’t know if she’s alive. Papa tried to find her, get her back, but no good. He sent me away. Tried to save me. Said go to America, be ballerina. Be safe from Tambovs. Said if I stay in Russia, they keep trying to take me. Ballerinas bring lots of money, sell for sex slave. Not safe for me.”

She’d gone from not telling me a damn thing to filling me in on so much my head might explode. “Sex slave? You’re talking about the Russian Mafia? That’s who took your mother?”

“Yes. Mafia. Tambovs took Mama. They wanted me, too. Papa said go to America, be safe.” She blinked back a few tears, never looking away. “There’s Tambov group in Montreal, in Toronto, but not in America.”

Toronto. Exactly where I’d been planning to take her after Babs’s wedding so we could talk to Mom. There wasn’t a chance in hell I would take her there now if there was even a shred of truth to what she was saying. And to be honest, I believed her wholeheartedly. I hadn’t led such a sheltered existence that I could pretend things like human trafficking and sexual slavery didn’t exist.

“And you don’t think they’ll come after you here?” I asked.

She shook her head. “They found me. They will always find me. But didn’t come for me. Killed Papa. Sent pictures. If I ever go back...” She stopped there and shook her head again.

It just kept getting worse. Not that I had a clue how that was even possible. She’d been through too damn much, and it pissed me off.

“Then why the hell are you trying to sell yourself for money to go back?” I practically shouted. She flinched away from me, and I wished I’d kept my temper better in check. “Sorry,” I said. “But it was bad enough that you were going to sell yourself to me when you didn’t think you had any other options. You do now, though. You’re my wife. We’re going to deal with your green card, and you won’t ever have to go back to Russia.” Or to Toronto, or Montreal, or anywhere else that the fucking Russian Mafia had a presence. We could go to Tulsa, and I could arrange for Mom to come for a visit.

“But, Razor…” Tori pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes in thought. “You’re good man.” She said that last part so adamantly it was as if she thought that was enough to explain everything. It didn’t explain a single thing.

“Not that fucking good,” I groused. I was getting really sick and tired of her telling me just how good and nice and kind I was. Because I wasn’t any of those things. Not really. She didn’t need to go around thinking I was some goddamned knight in shining armor racing in to save the day. I just wanted to give her a fair shake, and I had the means to do it.

“You are,” she insisted. “And my life, it’s big mess. You don’t need—”

“How about you let me worry about what I need, all right?” And what I needed right now? I needed to assure myself that Tori was going to be safe.

Which meant she couldn’t go out there and try to sell herself.

And it meant she couldn’t go back to Russia.

Plain and simple.

She let out a sigh, and her whole body deflated.

I wished she’d deflated into me.

“You’re too stubborn,” she said.

“You haven’t even seen my stubborn side yet.” I winked, trying to lighten the mood. “Let me worry about what I need, and let me worry about giving you what you need, too. At least for now. It’s not like you have someone else looking after you. And if it doesn’t work out, if you decide you’re better off on your own after we’ve given this a good go, then we’ll talk to an immigration lawyer and find some other solution. Something that doesn’t end up with you either selling yourself or getting caught up in human trafficking. Okay?”

I could practically see the war being waged in her head, and it felt like an eternity passed before she finally said, “All right. You win.”

You win. Like it was a game. A struggle for power. I didn’t want any kind of power over her, but it was becoming increasingly clear that she didn’t see the difference between someone wanting to help her and someone wanting to control her.

I didn’t know what I’d gotten myself into, but now I had a much better idea of what I needed to get her out of.

STUBBORN, STUBBORN MAN. Why couldn’t Razor accept that there was only bad, nothing good, I could bring into his life? Even after I’d told him about the Tambovs, he was still determined that he could somehow save me. I was trying to save him from getting involved in a world he would do much better to steer clear of. If anyone should know that, it was me.

But he would have none of it.

And, despite myself, I appreciated his determination, even if it was misplaced.

Razor might not think he was a good man, but he was wrong about that. Maybe now that he and I were married, and he was insisting that we remain so, I could help him to see the truth about himself.

If I stayed.

I still wasn’t convinced I should. Yes, it would be better for me…but not for him.

After I finished crying my eyes out on his shoulder and cleaned up to hide the evidence of my misery, he convinced me we should return to the wedding, promising it would be all right for me to be there. After all the time we’d been gone, technically we returned to the reception. His friends had already finished saying their vows, and the whole crowd had moved inside to a big ballroom filled with so much glitz and glam—and I didn’t mean just the guests—it was blinding.

By the time we came through the door, everyone was seated for lunch, with the bride and groom at a big table up front. Razor waved at his friends before taking me to a table off to the side. The pregnant woman I’d been next to before running out of the wedding smiled reassuringly at me when I took the seat next to her.

“Tori, this is one of my teammates, Hunter Fielding, and his wife, Tallie,” Razor said softly by my ear. Then he looked at the man. “I thought maybe it’d be okay to leave Tori with you two while I go deal with best man stuff. All right?”

“Sure,” Hunter said warily.

His wife had no such qualms. She took my hand and squeezed, either oblivious or choosing to ignore my uneasiness at her touch. I had to fight the urge to snap my hand back to my own lap.

“I’m glad you came back,” she said quietly, her Southern accent thick and oddly comforting. “Any friend of Razor’s is a friend of ours, whether those bitches”—she nodded toward a group of blondes seated a few tables away, who were giving me the evil eye—“treat you right or not.”

“Tori’s not my friend, exactly,” Razor said before I could stop him. “She’s my wife.”

Hunter nearly spit out a sip of water at the revelation, which was a better reaction than I’d hoped for. But Tallie didn’t seem fazed by the news. She squeezed my hand again before patting the back of it.

“We’ll take good care of her. You go do what you need to do.” She gave him a meaningful glance. When he didn’t immediately leave, she waved her hand at him. “Go on. Shoo. We’ve got this. Those girls ain’t gonna get near her as long as I have anything to say about it. And trust me, they don’t want to get walloped with a dose of Southern sass on a good day, but they really don’t want to mess with me while my hormones are going wild.”

“That’s true,” her husband murmured once he’d stopped choking on his water.

Tallie gave an emphatic nod.

I couldn’t decide if staying with them was the best idea, even if she was bound and determined to defend me.

But Razor nudged my chin until I tilted my face upward and met his gaze. “I’ll be back with you as soon as possible. I just have to go do this. You’ll be fine with Hunter and Tallie.”

He was sure, but I wasn’t. Still, I nodded. I’d kept him from his duties long enough already. He kissed the tip of my nose, which sent a line of shivers racing through my body, and then he walked away. I was torn between following him so I could hide myself at his side and attempting to slip out the side door again. The only thing I absolutely did not want to do—stay put—was exactly what I had to do, though.

I was still watching Razor make his way up to the bride and groom’s table when Tallie insisted on getting my attention.

“So you two are married?” She didn’t sound shocked or intrusive. Just curious. Like it was the most natural thing in the world for the two of us to be sitting where we were—her in a sparkling teal dress that flattered her pregnant belly, me in a garish hot pink dress that didn’t belong anywhere but on some dark street corner—making small talk. “When did y’all do that? Hunter and I, we haven’t seen Razor since the end of the season, really, but we sure didn’t know he’d gotten hitched.” She passed a quizzical glance in her husband’s direction. “Did you know? You would have told me, wouldn’t you?”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Didn’t know a thing.”

A waiter came around and set plated dishes in front of us, never batting an eye at my appearance. Whatever it was, it smelled delicious but looked too pretty to eat.

“Mmm,” Tallie murmured, taking a deep whiff. “Chicken cordon bleu.”

“Looks a lot better than yours,” he said and then ducked to avoid getting hit by the napkin she flung at him.

She turned to me. “Did you hear that? See if I cook for him again, the ingrate.”

“Is that all it’ll take?” He winked at me. “I’ve been trying to get her to stop cooking for me for months.”

“It’s not like I’m going to poison you.”

“That remains to be seen.”

Their banter was adorable. This was a couple who absolutely belonged together. They couldn’t be more different than me and Razor.

I was content to let them keep at it as long as they wanted, as the more they teased each other, the less they expected me to say. In fact, I wasn’t sure they realized I hadn’t said a single word since I’d sat down with them.

They talked and laughed some more, digging into their meal. I decided to follow suit, hoping they would just forget that I was there. It wasn’t long, however, before Tallie steered the conversation back to me.

“So when did you say you and Razor tied the knot?”

Should I tell the truth? Hunter was one of Razor’s teammates, so if I made something up, it would likely get back to him, and then he might have to cover my tracks. Not the best plan. I supposed I would just have to come out with it.

“Last night,” I said between bites, preparing myself for the shock and derision.

“Last night?” she squealed. “Really? So you two got married here in Vegas? Did you know him long? How did you meet? I haven’t seen you around Tulsa. Oh! Did you do it at one of those drive-thru chapels? That would be so cool. I wish he’d told us about it. We could have come with you. I told Hunter before we got on the plane, I told him that if there was anything at all I wanted to do while we were in Las Vegas, it was that I wanted to see someone get married in one of those drive-thru places. With an Elvis. That would be the best. Did you have an Elvis at your wedding? Sorry. Pregnancy hormones do two things to me. They make me babble nonstop, and they make me horny as hell.”

Hunter winked at me. “I appreciate that last part.”

“Probably TMI. Sorry. But tell us all about you and Razor!”

All her questions left me feeling dizzy. I couldn’t keep up with her. I shook my head, taking my time before answering. “Met yesterday.”

“Wait a minute,” Hunter said. “You two just met yesterday, and you’re already married?”

I’d barely nodded before Tallie was squealing in delight again.

“We got married almost as soon as we met, too. Well, it was a few days after we met, but less than a week. Everyone thought we were crazy, but it was the best thing ever. Wasn’t it, Hunter? I’m sure it’s going to work out great for you and Razor, too.”

“Yes.” I nodded, despite everything inside me screaming how wrong she was. There was nothing even all right about us right now, let alone great.

But then Razor stood up at the front table, and he hit the tines of his fork against his wineglass to get everyone’s attention, saving me from having to carry on this conversation for a bit. Gradually, the talk in the ballroom died off as everyone focused on him.

“The kind of speech most people would typically expect me to make wouldn’t be fit for polite company,” he said to a chorus of laughs, his voice filling the massive space thanks to the microphone. “I have a feeling a few people in this room have been cringing as they waited to hear what might come out of my mouth. I promise you, Webs, I’ll be on my best behavior.”

The bride’s father gave him a surly look. “Too bad for you I know what your best behavior really is.” He didn’t attempt to keep his voice down, and more laughter rang through the ballroom.

“Fair enough,” Razor said. “But I owe it to your daughter to surprise even you with my ability to keep a civil tongue in my mouth. And I have to apologize to both of you.” Now he turned to the bride and groom. “I was supposed to be by your side for the biggest moment in your life, and something came up. I had to leave for a bit to straighten it out. And you know what?” he asked, turning to the audience. “Babs didn’t even bat an eye. He just told me to go. To do what I needed to do. This guy kills me because he just gets it. He recognizes what’s important in life, which is something I think will serve him really well for the next eternity he’s going to spend with Katie. He’s not messing around. He’s not wasting time, because he knows there’s no time to waste. He’s making their time together count.”

Now, instead of laughter, the room was filled with sniffles, as people reached for the tissues strategically placed near the centerpieces on each table. Wordlessly, the waiters returned to remove the plates. I ducked out of their way as they reached over me.

“From the very first moment Babs met Katie, I think anyone who could see the two of them together knew they were something special. We could all tell they were meant to be together. Now, don’t get me wrong. I did my best to corrupt Babs over the years. He was always a bit too perfect and maybe a little too sheltered, or so I thought. I was probably wrong about that. I’m man enough to admit when I’m wrong.”

A few masculine chuckles rumbled through the crowd, but Katie laughed so hard that she nearly knocked her tiara free.

“Watch it,” Razor said, winking at her. “There might be a few people out there who don’t know the truth about me. Don’t want to spoil it.”

I would count myself among those few. I had to. One night together wasn’t anywhere near enough, particularly when he seemed so different when he was around his friends than he did when it was just the two of us. With me, he was quiet and determined, caring to a fault, but as single-minded a man as I’d ever come across. Here? He was laughing and gregarious, carrying himself with such a swagger I almost didn’t recognize him. Not that he wasn’t confident when it was just the two of us. If anything, he might be too confident. But here, it came off as being sociable and cocky. I was struggling to make sense of how he could be one way with me and something entirely different here.

“Anyway,” Razor said. “I was wrong. One hundred percent wrong. Because if he hadn’t been that same blushing, dimpled, too-fucking-perfect—”

“He said fuck!” the little ring-bearer shouted from somewhere in the crowd.

“Sorry, Jonny!” Razor called out, looking in the direction of the boy’s voice and holding up a hand as though to ward off the child’s father. “My fault. I’ll try to do better. Remember what your daddy said, Connor. We don’t use Mommy’s words in public.”

Eventually, the chuckles died off…but it took a while.

“Here’s the thing. If Babs hadn’t been that same blushing, dimpled, too-perfect, slightly sheltered guy he was, he would never have won Katie over. I swear, it was the dimples. Those dimples and blushes kill me, still to this day. See? He’s doing it now. I think it’s safe to say they’re working for him, though, because now he’s married to his princess. You know, there was a point a few years back when we were together at another wedding. I was all wrapped up in myself that day because I found out I got traded. I was a shi—I mean bad.” The emphasis was directed toward the toddler’s father again. “I was a bad friend that day because I was all woe-is-me about something that wasn’t anywhere close to the end of the world, when Babs’s world might as well have been ending. Because Katie told him that day that she was going off to Hollywood to become the star we all knew she could be. I was so trapped in my own self-pity that I didn’t see how everything was crashing in on my best bud. He was a much better friend than me. He listened to all my griping and moaning, and he tried to help me see the positives. Because that’s what he does. If I’d been a better friend, I probably would have told him not to worry about it, because she would definitely come back. I mean, who could walk away from those dimples?”

“I could,” the bride’s father called out, and his wife elbowed him in the ribs.

“Time and again, Babs has proven himself to be just about the most perfect human alive. I don’t know why he puts up with me, but thank goodness he does. And thanks to Katie, maybe now he’s not quite as sheltered as before.” Razor winked at her. “We’re all working together to corrupt him, still—me, 501, Katie, and probably another dozen people in this room or more—but at least his parents can rest assured that there’s not a damn thing we can do about the dimples. He’s stuck with those, which means the rest of us are screwed.”

Everyone laughed again, and he held up his glass. Once the crowd did the same, he said, “To Babs and Katie. May your days be filled with blushes, dimples, and more love than you can handle. I’ll do my best not to cut out on the next most important moment of your life.”

He drank, and everyone followed suit. I took a sip from my own glass as he shook hands and hugged Babs while they slapped each other on the back. He kissed Katie on the cheek. Then he made his way back over to me.

“Making speeches is not my thing,” he said, plopping down in the chair next to me. He kissed my cheek, much as he’d just done to Katie’s. I bit down on my tongue as a reminder not to react. Because he was acting like more than just my husband…he was acting like a man in love, when we both knew that wasn’t possible.

“Better you than me,” Hunter replied.

“You would’ve done just fine,” Tallie said to him, patting the back of his hand.

“Nope. You’re not going to find me anywhere near something like that.” He waved toward the area where Razor had just been. “I think we all know by now, mics and I don’t get along. That’s how you and I ended up together, you might recall.”

“Which worked out perfectly.” Tallie grinned at me. “You’d do it for your brother when the time comes, wouldn’t you?”

“Hmm,” was his only response.

“Listen,” Razor cut in before they could get going again. He reached for my hand and threaded our fingers together, making my stomach churn with nerves. “You two are headed back to Tulsa after this, aren’t you?”

Hunter nodded. “Tallie wants to be near her father when the baby comes. Plus, Kade is still there. It makes sense.”

Maybe it made sense to them, but not to me.

Razor made a grunting sound. “I think that’s where we’re going, too.”

“You’re not going back to Toronto? I thought you wanted to spend some more time with your mom or something.”

My stomach nearly revolted at the mention of Toronto, and prickles of terror raced up my spine. I couldn’t go to Toronto. Why hadn’t Razor mentioned that his mother lived there? Or that he had a reason to want to go there?

He looked at me briefly before turning his attention to Tallie. “Plans changed. Anyway, I wondered if maybe you could help Tori get settled. If you’re up to it, that is.”

“If I’m up to it?” she practically gushed. “I am dying to find something cute, even if I can’t wear it. Everything that fits me right now looks like a boat.” She took my other hand, practically bouncing with enthusiasm. “But we can fix you right up. Let’s go shopping.”

I met Razor’s gaze, panic rising inside me like bile. He squeezed my hand and nodded, a tiny movement of his head that I doubted anyone else noticed. Then I swallowed and faced Tallie.

“We can shop.” The one good thing that came to mind about the situation was, at least I shouldn’t have to say much. She did more than enough talking for the both of us.

THE FIRST COUPLE of days in Tulsa, it was just me and Tori. Hunter and Tallie had decided to spend a few days in Vegas before flying back, apparently so Tallie could visit every drive-thru chapel she could find to watch people get married. Even without the two of them, there were a few other people involved with the team around—the general manager and some of his staff and, of course, the team’s owners, Mr. and Mrs. Jernigan. Frankly, I wasn’t ready to deal with Mrs. J yet in terms of letting her know I’d married a porn star, so I decided a low profile was best, as well as keeping Tori well away from Tulsa Thunderbirds headquarters.

Tom Jernigan was the minister of a massive church—one of those that had outgrown their arena-sized building and now had their services aired on national television. He’d decided to invest some of his enormous fortune in bringing a hockey team to Tulsa.

I still hadn’t figured out his reasoning, but last year had been the Tulsa Thunderbirds’ inaugural season. I’d been claimed in the expansion draft that took place. As a team, we were awful, and I didn’t expect much to have changed about that for this coming season. Historically speaking, expansion teams needed at least a decade or more before they found their footing within the National Hockey League. It hadn’t taken me long to come to terms with the fact that, for however long I was a member of the T-Birds, I couldn’t expect us to do much. Maybe before the end of my career, I’d get a chance to play for a team with a realistic expectation to win the Cup. That was my hope. In the meanwhile, I was playing the part of the good soldier: keep my head down and do my job, and try not to let the constant losing get to me. Easier said than done.

Anyway, I didn’t mind Mr. J so much, but his wife, Sharon, was a real piece of work. She’d made it her mission last season to act as a room mother or some shit in our locker room. She’d instituted a swear jar and was always hovering, trying to make sure all the guys were on our best behavior, since we were now somehow representatives of their church. Or something like that. I didn’t expect to ever understand it. My job was to play hockey, not preach to lost souls. And hockey players tended to swear a lot. I was ninety-nine point nine percent positive it was built into our DNA.

Anyway, the second she found out about Tori’s past, I knew one of two things would happen. Mrs. J would either proselytize in an effort to save Tori’s sinful soul or she’d have such a conniption fit about being forced to be associated with such a loose woman that she might have a heart attack. Neither of which was what Tori needed right now. I wasn’t entirely sure what she did need, but it wasn’t that.

So Tori and I spent those days hanging around my house, for the most part. I wanted to try to get her comfortable with me and see if she could relax. I kept a guest room ready for my mom, in case she got the chance to come down for a visit, so I offered that to Tori. There wasn’t a chance in hell I was going to push myself on her, and until we got to the bottom of whatever was going on with her physically—because it damn well shouldn’t have hurt her that night—I didn’t think it was a good idea to take her to my bed.

She’d been both confused and grateful to have her own space, it seemed. Thank you for room. But don’t you want…? With the last part, she’d made some crude gestures with her hands that had more than done the job of getting her meaning across.

I’d reassured her at least a dozen times over those first couple of days of our marriage that no, I didn’t expect her to suck me off or give me a hand job, and I had no intention of fucking her pussy or her ass simply because she was my wife. I needed her to want it—want me—and not offer herself up like a piece of meat just because she thought it was expected.

She’d been sleeping in that guest room every night, but she wasn’t shying away from my casual touches quite so much anymore. If I came up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder when she wasn’t expecting it, she still jumped. I made it a point to make my presence known, and that seemed to help. Tori wasn’t making any effort to touch me, though. Not unless it was something sexual.

With any other woman in my life, I would have been fine with jumping straight to sex and forgetting all about the hand-holding, cuddling, and shoulder rubbing. But Tori was different.

After about a day, she’d finally let go of her purse and left it in the bedroom while she was in another room. I hoped it was a sign that she was starting to trust me more. I knew we were making progress. The fact was, she’d opened up to me about her parents and the Mafia without all that much prodding on my part. I got the sense that there were cracks in her dam, and a flood was on its way. There was just no way of knowing exactly when the final chink would happen or how I would stop the influx from drowning us both when it came. Something I'd have to figure out when it happened, I supposed.

I’d been telling her as much as I could think of about myself—stories of growing up playing hockey, filling her in on the relationship I had with Babs and Katie so she would understand that part of my life better, telling her about some of my teammates here in Tulsa so she would have a clue what that part of my life would be like once the season started up—but she hadn’t yet decided to tell me much about herself. The only thing I could get her to talk about with regularity was ballet. In fact, she lit up when the topic turned to dance. Soon, I intended to look into what dance schools and companies were around. If I could get her involved in something, I had no doubt it would help her feel more comfortable here.

Today, Tallie and Hunter were supposed to be back, and Tallie was planning to pick up Tori so they could go shopping. Tori was in the shower, getting ready, so it was as good a time as any to call my agent, Greg. He was a lawyer, so I thought he would be a good place to start with getting Tori a green card now that she was my wife.

“I’m not an immigration lawyer,” was his initial, grumbling response.

“No, but you work with teams to handle immigration issues all the time for your clients,” I reminded him.

He represented Swedes, Finns, a German, more Canadians and Americans than I could count, and at least a few Russians, and we all had to be cleared for working in the US and Canada. Any time there was a trade or some guy signed with a new team, the visas and whatnot had to be pushed through ASAP. He took part in all of that, as well as arranging for whatever documentation a guy’s wife and children might need in order to be with him. There was no reason he couldn’t help me out with Tori’s situation. At least not the way I saw it.

“Your situation is different,” he said. “She was in the US on a student visa. She’s lost that, so legally, she has to return to her home count—”

“She’s not going back to Russia,” I cut in. No chance in hell was I letting that happen.

“It’s not me who’s going to make her go back. I’m just trying to tell—”

“I know perfectly well what you’re trying to tell me. I’m telling you that it’s not going to happen. Period.”

He let out a beleaguered sigh. “Razor, I’m trying to help you out here, but with the little I know about immigration law, it doesn’t look good.”

“But she married me. I’m a dual-citizen. That should be all it takes to get a green card.”

“But it looks like she married you just to get a green card. This happened too fast.”

It looked that way because that was the truth. “And that’s a problem?” I asked warily.

“It’s a big problem.”

“How big?”

“I need to talk to some people to find out for sure. But it’s big. Really big. That’s one of the few requirements I actually know off the top of my head.”

“Shit.”

“Shit doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

I drummed my fingers on my knee. Every cell in my body was bursting to punch something, but that wouldn’t help a fucking thing. I couldn’t just sit still, though. Before I went crazy, I got up and paced to the kitchen. “So now what? What do I do?”

“For the time being, sit tight. Be sure she doesn’t run. Let me see what I can sort out.”

“You’ve got to fix this, Greg.” I didn’t even attempt to hide the hint of panic in my voice. “You’ve got to find a way to make this work out. Because she’s not going back to Russia. Not now. Not ever.”

“Got it. I’ll see what I can do.”

“That’s not fucking good enough—seeing what you can do.”

“It’s going to have to be enough for now. I’m not a damn magician. I can’t change the law. All I can do is advise you on it.”

“I know.” I dragged a hand down my face. I did know. But now everything I had promised Tori about her future was in question, and I was feeling like a complete and total failure, all because I’d been impetuous. Not anything new for me. I had always tended to act before I thought, but this was different. This was bigger and a thousand times more important. I didn’t care what I had to do to keep my promises to her, but I would keep them. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be putting this all on you,” I finally said. “I just need for this to all work out. Whatever we have to do, we can’t let them send her back to Russia.”

“I know you’re sorry. Let me go see what I can find out. I’ll call you back by the end of the week with an update. In the meantime, you two need to be sure you’re acting like a happily married couple in every way possible. Everyone you know has to believe you’re in love with each other. In other cases like this…”

“What?” I demanded. “Tell me.”

“They could interview everyone you know. You’ve got to be incredibly convincing. Both of you. If you can’t convince the people in your lives that you married her because you love her, and vice versa, it won’t look good.”

Fucking hell. I hung up the phone and tossed it on the countertop. Still itching to hit something, I pounded my fists on the refrigerator door and spun around to bang my head back against it.

Then I saw her. Wide eyed. Lips parted. Ready to bolt.

Tori had on one of my Thunderbirds T-shirts, long legs stretching out from the hem that ended mid-thigh, and her dark hair was still sleek and wet from the shower. She held a towel in one hand, clutching it to her chest as she had so often clung to her purse.

“You said I’d get green card. You said marry you, and I won’t go back to Russia.” The fear and pain in her voice was going to kill me.

“Tori—”

“No. You said—”

“I know what I said.” Fuck, I just wanted to reach for her, wrap her up in my arms, and hold her until she listened. That wasn’t an option. Not with Tori. The instant she sensed I wanted to touch her, she would retreat. I was going to have to do this with words—not good, since words tended to land me in trouble. “I’ve got my agent working on it. He’s going to figure it out.”

“They want me go to Russia. Don’t they? No more visa. Now no green card. Have to go back.” Tears filled her eyes, on the verge of spilling over. She took a step back even though I hadn’t made a move toward her. “Marrying you, it’s not enough. Is it?”

I didn’t know what to say, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to lie to her. “There might be some problems I didn’t know about. My agent is looking into it.”

“What problems?”

“Apparently, you can’t marry for the sole purpose of obtaining a green card.”

“What… What does it mean?”

I shook my head, letting out a sigh. “I wish I knew.”

The doorbell rang. Bad timing. Really fucking bad timing.

“That’s probably Tallie,” I said, my jaw grinding over the words. “You should go put some clothes on. She’s probably going to run you ragged with shopping.”

The tears finally won out, racing down her cheeks. “But…”

I smiled, trying to ease her worries, even though I knew it wasn’t close to enough. “Go on. There’s nothing we can do until my agent calls me back, anyway. No point in changing our plans or acting like anything’s wrong. For all we know, we’ll be able to make this all work out the way we initially planned.”

Tori pursed her lips and dried her tears with the towel. I pushed away from the fridge and headed for the door. Before I opened it, I turned to see Tori scurrying down the hall. Too bad I couldn’t tell from her body language if she was hurrying away to get dressed, like I’d suggested, or if she just wanted to hide.

After she was gone, I realized I should have filled her in about the potential for immigration officials to question people in our lives, so we were going to have to put on a hell of a show around everyone we came into contact with. That had to start now. It had to start with convincing Tallie. I needed to get that across to her before she left, but without letting Tallie in on the ruse.

Tori and I might both be speaking English, but I felt as if we were constantly on different pages. I’d give my left nut to really understand her. Something told me I might have to do it, too.

I WAS STILL trying to tug my skirt down, subconsciously glancing at Tallie to gauge her reaction to my clothes, when Razor drew me into his arms and kissed me in a way that stole my breath. It was sweet and tender, his lips gliding softly over mine. My knees almost buckled beneath me, and I had to cling to his shirt to prevent myself from going down.

What game was he playing? I’d just found out that everything he’d told me about being safe after we married was a lie—whether intentional or not—and now he wanted to kiss me like no man had ever done before? I allowed his sensual assault, because even if I couldn’t get a green card through marrying him, he was at least buying me some time before deportation. And frankly, I owed him for that in a big way, and the only means I had of returning the favor was through the use of my body. He hadn’t tried to get me to pay up since we’d come back from Las Vegas. In fact, he’d rejected all my efforts to level things out between us. Until now. Maybe now, we could begin to even the score.

One of his hands lay firm against the small of my back, arching me toward him. The other rested against my cheek, a caress so tender it might crush me. With gentle pressure, he tilted my head to the side and moved his lips toward my ear.

“You have to make Tallie think we got married because we love each other,” he whispered, the words so quiet I could barely make them out. “Understand? If there’s an investigation, they’ll question people we know. No one can think we did it just to get you a green card.”

This was getting worse and worse. I nodded my understanding. After another brief kiss, Razor backed away from me. He reached in his wallet and took out a credit card, passing it over to me. I tucked it in a zippered pocket of my purse where it would be safe. When I looked up again, Razor winked at me.

“Y’all are just too cute together,” Tallie gushed, bouncing up on her toes.

“You know how it is,” Razor said. “You meet someone and you just know. Like with you and Hunter.”

Tallie nodded. “You know, sometimes I think it’s better when you jump in without looking. No time for second-guessing. No questioning if you should or you shouldn’t. You just do it, and then find a way to make it work. That’s not to say it’s easy, but I think it’s worth it in the end.”

Razor chuckled. “What’s Hunter up to today while you two have girl time?”

“Putting together the nursery with his brother. He and Kade said it was the perfect time to deal with painting and constructing the crib and all—because I’ll be out of their hair for hours.”

“Hours?” I repeated, trying not to cringe.

Tallie gave me a you-can’t-be-serious look. “Of course! Oh, I made an appointment for us to get manis and pedis this afternoon, too. I hope you don’t mind. But if we’re going to shop the way I haven’t done in months, my feet are gonna need it.”

I shot a look in Razor’s direction, pleading with my eyes. “You could come with?”

“Oh, that’d be perfect!” Tallie said. “You could carry all our bags, and—”

“I can’t,” Razor interrupted. He gave me an apologetic shrug. “There are a few things I need to take care of while you’re gone. Besides, I’m sure you two could both use a little girl time.”

I didn’t want girl time. Being around Tallie for too long was sure to leave me feeling overwhelmed, and I was stressed enough as it was. Everything was shifting all around me, and my feet couldn’t find solid purchase.

But Tallie said, “Aw, that’s too bad. But we’d probably drive you up the wall in no time anyway.” She pouted a bit, but she hooked her arm through mine and tugged.

I trudged beside her, glancing over my shoulder at Razor for reassurance. He gave me a smile, but it didn’t do much to ease the panic that had a death-grip on my heart. All I wanted was to go home. But where was that? I wasn’t sure I knew anymore. For now, I supposed it was here, at Razor’s house. But for how long?

I got into Tallie’s car with the utter certainty that sooner, rather than later, I would be deported turning my stomach to stone. Because I knew exactly what awaited me when I returned to Russia. And it was worse than all that I’d been through since I’d left.

“OH MY GOD, that’s so good.” Tallie’s words came out in a half moan, half sigh. She leaned back in the pedicure chair with her feet in the bubbling water, letting her head fall back in pure bliss. She peeked at me through a single slitted eye. “Don’t get me wrong. I love shopping like nobody’s business, and I am tickled pink with all the adorable stuff we got you, but I needed this. My feet are killing me.”

I was still in awe of her shopping prowess. We’d been gone for six hours. In that time, we’d been to two malls and a shopping strip, bought clothing and shoes from at least eight separate stores—I’d honestly lost count—spent more money than I could have made in a month of porn shoots, eaten lunch at an expensive restaurant, and now we were getting manicures and pedicures together.

I took off my shoes, hoping to get my feet in the water as quickly as possible. As a ballerina, I was always self-conscious about my feet. All those years in pointe shoes had left so many calluses and cuts that my feet were nothing short of hideous to look at.

“You’re a dancer?” Tallie said, her eyes popping open wide as she struggled to sit upright.

Embarrassed, I dunked my feet into the water before I’d properly rolled up the hem of my new jeans, drenching them. I’d worn them and some of my other new clothes out of the store because I didn’t want Tallie to feel embarrassed about being seen with me. When I’d left school with the intention of becoming a prostitute, I’d sold all of my normal clothes to a resale shop. I knew I’d need every penny I could get, and my new profession had certain wardrobe requirements that they just wouldn’t suit.

“You have to be,” Tallie said. “One of my girlfriends—a sorority sister—she had feet that looked just like yours. Ballet? I would have loved to take ballet. Mama pushed me into jazz. Said it was better for the pageant world.” She rolled her eyes.

“I’m ballerina,” I forced out as two women rolled over on tiny stools and started working on us.

“Why didn’t you say something? Do you still dance? Even if you haven’t in a while, you should take it up again. It’ll give you something to do while Razor’s busy. There’s a lot of time to fill when the guys go on the road. We should go get you what you need for that before I take you home. Some of the other guys and their families will start coming back to Tulsa soon, too, so I can introduce you around. Granted, some of them, you’re better off not knowing at all, but I’ll be sure to point them out to you. Oh, do you like frozen yogurt? There’s this place we can stop by on our way home, and I’ve been having these serious cravings, but Hunter’s trying to keep in shape for the season so I don’t like having it around the house to tempt him…”

She kept prattling, apparently content for me to occasionally nod or make a humming sound. I didn’t pay much attention. My mind was going a hundred miles an hour, trying to figure out how much time my marriage to Razor might buy me before the immigration people wanted to send me back to Russia. And then there were all the implications involved with trying to fool people into believing that we married for love. Not only would we have to get to know each other well enough to put on a convincing show, but we would have to display the same kinds of physical intimacy that Tallie and Hunter did. I’d watched them during the wedding reception. They truly belonged together, and it was clear from more than just the way they’d teased each other, more than their playful banter. They’d touched often, in small, seemingly inconsequential ways. He’d kissed her on the cheek, on the forehead, on her knuckles. She’d rested her hand on his thigh. He’d draped an arm around the back of her chair. When her baby had kicked, she’d reached for his hand and pressed it to her belly. And through it all, it had seemed both natural and wanted on both their parts.

I wasn’t sure I could behave like that around Razor. He was already trying to do his part to pull off this scheme. The way he’d kissed me in the hall before Tallie and I left was proof enough of that.

But that small amount of contact had made everything inside me go haywire.

Sex, I could do. It might not be what I wanted. I might not enjoy it. It would likely even be painful. But it was what I knew. Sex was the way I communicated. Tender touches and loving kisses were not part of my vocabulary.

The women finished our pedicures and cleared all their supplies out of the way, leaving us in the chairs while our toenails dried.

Tallie wiggled her toes and grinned at me. “Do you think that coral shade is good on me? I worry that it’s too orange with my skin.”

I shook my head. “Not too orange. It’s good.” It was bright and vibrant, much like her personality.

“That grayish-blue is almost an exact match of your eyes,” she said. “Too bad it’s so far away from them. I bet Razor’ll like that.”

I let out a hum. The distance wouldn’t matter. I had no intention of letting anyone see my feet any more than absolutely necessary.

She waggled her brows at me, much like she’d done with her toes a moment before. “You don’t think he’ll notice? I’d bet he notices everything about you.”

I couldn’t think of a thing to say to that.

Wordlessly, Tallie stared at me so long I thought I would melt under her assessment. She sighed. “You should tell me to hush up sometimes, you know. It’s all right. I know I talk too much, and I’m not letting you get a word in edgewise.”

“Not much for me to say.”

The hint of a smile curled up the corners of her lips, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I don’t believe that for a second. You’ve got a lot to say. Maybe you’re just not ready to say it. That’s all right. But when you’re ready, you just let me know I need to hush up and listen. I can do that. It won’t hurt my feelings any. Lord knows Hunter tells me to shut my yap all the time.”

I smiled and nodded, wishing our toenails would hurry up and dry so we could leave. With just the two of us, and nothing else going on but for us to talk, she was focusing in on me like a laser beam. I felt stripped bare under her attention, much as I was starting to feel with Razor every time he pried away one of my layers.

“Look, Tori,” Tallie said after a long silence. “I don’t know what’s happened to you. But I do know it looks like you could use a friend. I could use a few friends around here, too. When you’re ready, I hope you’ll let me be one.”

“But you don’t know—”

“I don’t know much of anything because I’ve talked over you almost nonstop since we first met. I do know you’ve got a lot going on in your head. I can see it in your eyes and in the hunch of your shoulders. It’s in the way you wrap your arms around that purse and hold it all tight to your chest. There’s a lot of hurt in there. I’m not going to lie to you and pretend I understand, because I don’t. I don’t have a clue what all you’ve been through. I’m just saying, if you want to talk, I’ll listen. And even if you don’t want to talk, we can still get together to go shopping and have frozen yogurt and get our nails done. There’s nothing worse than feeling alone, and I don’t want you to feel alone. Okay?”

I was on the verge of tears, but I knew that if I let one drop, I’d never be able to make them stop. Today had been too much. This whole week had been too much. So I nodded, because it was all I could do.

“Good.” She bent her knee and tried to touch one of her toenails to check for dryness, but with the size of her belly, there was no chance that would happen. “Okay. Help me out here. Check to see if yours are dry.”

I lifted my knee to my chest and touched the pad of my thumb to one of my toenails. “Dry.” The single word sounded as harsh and pained as my heart felt.

She grinned. “Then let’s get out of here and go to Black and Pink. We’ll get you everything you need to start dancing again.”

“But where will I dance?”

“Oh, honey.” Tallie spun her feet to the side of her chair and slipped into her flip-flops. “Don’t you worry about that. There’re lots of dance studios and whatnot around here.”

Ever since they’d informed me I’d been kicked out of my dance program, ballet had been the furthest thing from my mind. I’d been focused on finding a way to live, but dance might just be exactly what I needed. I nodded, and I actually smiled. I knew it was a real smile, too, because it caused an ache in facial muscles unaccustomed to being used in that way. How long had it been since I’d smiled? Or laughed? Too long.

Without a word, I toed on my flats and lowered the still-wet denim over my legs before grabbing my purse.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Ready.” For what, I couldn’t be sure. Change? The hope of something better, even if it was only for a brief moment in time?

I followed her out of the spa, ever so slightly lighter on my feet than I’d been when we entered.

“WHY IS IT that my only son gets married, and instead of hearing about it from his own mouth, I find out through the local hockey grapevine?” Mom asked. At least she was laughing, not hurt or mad.

“I’m calling to tell you now,” I said sheepishly into the phone. It wasn’t that I’d wanted to keep my mother in the dark. There were things I needed to talk over with Mom while Tori wasn’t sitting there listening in, and almost every moment since we’d gotten married had been spent together, just the two of us. I could have called Mom earlier this morning, as soon as Tallie whisked Tori away to go shopping, but I’d spent that time on the Internet, trying to figure out as much as I could about immigration laws and what sort of uphill battle we would be facing.

It didn’t look good. At all.

At the moment, Tori was still out with Tallie, and it seemed like as good a time as any to fill Mom in on the latest developments, not to mention to get her take on what to do to help Tori through her sexual issues. Not that I had a good plan for how to broach that subject, but I figured it would come to me. Mom had always been easy to talk to about almost anything. She was an open book. We’d had some very serious and frank birds-and-the-bees types of conversations when I was still very young, and throughout my teens she had constantly checked to be sure I had an adequate supply of non-expired condoms available to me. Mom was no-holds-barred when it came to any discussion of sex. She told it how it was, and she didn’t have a filter.

She let out a snort-laugh, which I knew was from trying to keep her voice down at work. She had her own office, but the walls were thin and people might overhear. No one at her job would give her a hard time about taking a few minutes to talk to me on company time, but that didn’t mean they needed to know what we were discussing.

“A week later?” she asked. There was a definite eye roll included in that tone.

“Not quite a week yet.”

She chuckled. “I see how important I am to you.”

“Mom, you know you’re the most important person in the world to me.”

“Except maybe for your new wife…”

I started to contradict her but stopped before the words were fully formed. Would I put Tori before my mother? It was a thought that shook my foundation.

Because I wasn’t sure, but I was leaning toward Mom being right. Not surprising. Mom was always right. I hadn’t thought so for a few years in my teens, but as I’d gotten older, it was a truth I’d simply come to accept.

“It’s all right, Ray. I’ve always known that someday, someone else was going to step in line ahead of me. If and when you have kids of your own, there will probably be several someones in front of me. That’s how it works.”

“No matter what, you’re always going to be my one and only mom.”

There wasn’t a doubt in my mind she was smiling. It was almost audible. “You’d better believe it. So, tell me about her. How’d you meet? What’s she like? When are you bringing her to meet me?”

Probably better to ease her into it. “Well, her name’s Tori. She’s a ballerina.” All true.

“A ballerina? Like, a professional ballerina?”

“Not exactly.” Yet. That could change, though. Only now, I realized I had no idea if she was any good or not. I didn’t know the first thing about dance, and I hardly knew anything about my wife. “We met in Vegas while I was there for Babs’s wedding.”

“You just met her?” Her laugh was full this time, a big, familiar belly laugh that warmed me all the way to my toes. “Why doesn’t it surprise me that you got married on a whim? That’s my boy. Puts on blinders and jumps in without looking. For years, you’ve been dating all these girls, a new girl every time I talked to you, but you’d hardly ever let me meet any of them.”

“They weren’t the one, so why bother with having them meet you? All it would have accomplished is getting you to tell me how wrong for me they were, and then I’d feel like I was letting you down.” I couldn’t stand letting Mom down. Not after all she’d done to help me get ahead in life. I might as well stomp on her if that was how I went about repaying her for everything she’d sacrificed.

“You never could,” she said. “But Tori is really the one? And you knew it the instant you met?”

We have to be convincing. If I took Greg’s words at face value, chances were high that there would be a lot of interviews of people in our lives, and that meant they would talk to Mom almost undoubtedly. So I bit down on the inside of my cheek and prepared to lie to my mother, even though it killed me to do so.

“Yeah. She’s the one. And I knew it right away.”

The first lie. Only, it didn’t exactly feel like I was lying. Was Tori the woman I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with? I honestly hadn’t thought about our relationship in those terms before now, which seemed insane considering the two of us had made the relatively permanent decision to get married. Even if I didn’t know the full extent of the law as far as getting Tori a green card through marriage, there was definitely a part of me that realized our union wouldn’t be a temporary situation. We couldn’t just marry for six months, wait for the paperwork to go through, and then get a quick divorce. Tori needed someone to stick around in her life. She needed me. Was that enough for her to be the one?

“How’d you know?” Mom demanded.

Well, hell. Without thinking, I spit out the first thing that came to mind. “I recognized a piece of you in her.”

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you that you’re not supposed to marry your mother? Someone should have mentioned that.”

“I think that would have been your job, Mom.”

“True. One more way I’ve failed you.”

“Stop that. You’ve never failed me.”

“I’m teasing you.”

“I know that.” Sarcasm ran in the family. “But she’s not you. There’re just some things about her that make me think of you.”

“Like what? Because I’m sure not a ballerina.”

It was now or never. “You ready for this?”

“Now you’re making me nervous. What, is she my age? Got saggy tits like mine? She’s a minor or something? You’re scaring me, Ray.”

“No saggy tits or underage brides,” I said, chortling.

“Then what? It can’t be so bad you’ve gotta warn me.”

“We met when she propositioned me.”

Silence.

“Mom?”

“She wanted you to be her John?”

“Yes.”

“She pegged you as a trick? And you married her?”

“Yes.”

“I think you need to tell me more, because I don’t care what kinds of things I’ve done in the past and what you were exposed to because of my choices, this isn’t making any kind of sense. You’re talking crazy talk, Ray, and I’m going to have to come down there and knock some sense into you.”

“I actually think it’d be a good idea for you to come down. Not to talk sense into me.”

“I said knock, not talk.”

“No need for that, either. I just…I need help with her.”

“Because she’s trying to milk you for every freaking dime you’ve got! How the hell did you end up this naïve? You don’t marry a hooker. You just let her turn her trick—”

“Mom…”

She sighed. “Explain it. Please, for the love of God, explain it. And you’d better make it a good explanation, because my head is starting to pound.”

“I was going to be her first trick. She’d never done it before.”

“And why was she going to turn to that?” There wasn’t any judgment in her tone. Only curiosity. Maybe some concern.

“She didn’t have any other options left. She’s Russian—”

“Hold up. Tori is not a Russian name.”

“Viktoriya. I just call her Tori.”

“All right. Go on.”

“Her parents got messed up with the Russian Mafia.”

“Oh, good. It gets better.”

“Do you want me to tell you or not?”

“Sorry. I’m all ears.” The sounds of her pounding the keyboard of her computer reverberated through the phone. She was either working through my explanation or she was posting something to Facebook before hearing the full story. Either seemed plausible.

“Anyway, her dad sent her to a ballet school in the US on a student visa to get her away from them. Then they killed him and kidnapped her mother, and so she didn’t have anyone else. And that was when she got into porn.”

“Porn? Holy shit, Ray. I mean, I feel for her, but girls who get into porn…”

“You don’t have to tell me. I know.” Girls who got into porn didn’t come out unscathed. Did I ever know. “So that went okay for a while—as okay as working in porn could go, I suppose—but it was a violation of the school’s policy. They kicked her out of the program, which meant she lost her visa—”

“And you decided to play the hero. You know she can’t get a green card if the only reason you two got married is for that purpose, don’t you?”

“It’s not the only reason.” And this time when I said the words, I actually believed them. Maybe I was trying so hard to convince everyone else of that fact that I was starting to think it was the truth.

“Please, enlighten me,” she said drolly.

The only problem was I didn’t know how to put all I felt into words. Ever since Tori had come into my life, everything was far more complex and complicated than I knew how to handle.

“She needs me,” I finally forced out. And I knew it to be the truth.

Tori didn’t just need someone, she needed me.

Because I understood what she’d been through, at least better than most men. Because I could see her for who she was underneath all the layers of protection she’d built up around herself. Because I could help her find a way to come out on the other side.

If she’d let me.

“You’re sure she isn’t just after your money?” Mom asked after a lengthy silence, following it up with a sigh.

“Positive.”

“You said you need help with her? What kind of help? I mean, if she’s got an STD—”

“She’s clean. We both got tested before we tied the knot. Actually, Tori is the one who insisted on that part.”

“Then what? I already explained about the birds and the bees a long time ago, Ray.”

“You did. And you did a good job of it. That’s why I know something’s not right.”

“What kind of something?”

“The kind of something where she’s in a lot of pain during sex.” Most guys I knew would run the other direction rather than talk about something like this with their mothers. But most guys I knew didn’t have mothers who were as open and blunt about all things sexual as my mom. It should have been weird, but between the two of us, it was normal.

“Just because she’s been doing porn, that doesn’t mean you can just skip over foreplay. You’ve got to get her read—”

“Mom,” I said, cutting her off. “I promise you, we spent plenty of time on foreplay. You explained all of that very well to me, and I can assure you, I’ve had a fair amount of experience to know for myself. In fact, she tried to get me to move on with it and forget about all that, but I knew better.”

“Well, maybe she needed some more lube?”

“She was plenty wet. But this was pain, Mom, not just discomfort. If you could’ve seen her eyes…” I still couldn’t get the look I’d found in them out of my head. That was the main reason I’d hardly done anything more than kiss her on the cheek or hold her hand since that night. I couldn’t bear to be the cause of Tori’s pain.

“Well, that’s not good,” Mom said.

“No, it’s not.”

“I could understand pain if she was a virgin, and there’s often some discomfort if you stick it in before she’s swollen and wet enough, but beyond that? Something’s definitely not right.”

“That’s what I thought. So what do I do about it?”

“I think you need to take her to a doctor. A gyno, not just a family practitioner or something like that. And not one who mainly focuses on obstetrics. Tori’s not trying to have a baby. You need a gyno who deals with things like menstrual issues. I don’t know what this is, but I doubt it has anything to do with the baby-making parts of her plumbing. Maybe one of the guys’ wives can give you a good recommendation. And you might need to go with her, because some girls who’ve worked in the business don’t really want to talk about things like that. They’ll just bite down and bear it.”

Which was exactly what Tori had done with me. The question was, how long had she been doing that? “Okay. And then what?”

“Make sure she does whatever the doctor tells her to do. Maybe get her into some counselling, if you can. Coming out of the business and trying to live a normal life is hard.”

“And?”

“And be patient with her.”

I was already doing that to the best of my ability. If only I believed that was enough. “Any chance you can come down for a visit? I can’t bring her to Toronto. Until the immigration stuff gets sorted out, they aren’t going to let her leave the country. And even if she could, there are reasons Toronto isn’t an option.”

“Reasons?”

The front door opened, and Tallie’s laughter bubbled into the house. She and Tori came in, carrying at least a dozen bags.

“Oh, sorry,” Tallie said when she saw me. “Didn’t know you were on the phone.”

Tori looked embarrassed but maybe a bit more relaxed than she had when they’d left this morning. That was a good sign.

I nodded to acknowledge what Tallie said, then decided to wrap it up with Mom. “Yeah. Reasons. I’ve got to go now, though.”

“Okay, you can fill me in later. And yes, I’ll look at the vacation calendar and see when I can come down. Maybe for the beginning of the season?”

“That’d be great.” Even if it was months away, and I wished she would come down to help me now, instead.

“All right. Call you soon. Love you, Ray.”

“Love you, too, Mom.” I pressed the button to end the call and set the phone on the counter. “Looks like you two had a busy day.”

“This ain’t even the half of it. I told Tori you would be a sweetie and do the heavy lifting for us. I’ve got to get off my feet.”

I took the bags she handed to me and waved her into the living room. When I took the bags Tori had, I bent to kiss her on the cheek. “Everything all right?” I whispered in her ear.

She didn’t flinch at my touch—a good sign—and she shrugged.

But there might have been a hint of a smile pushing at the corners of her lips.

WITH TALLIE’S HELP, I’d spent so much of Razor’s money in a single day that I couldn’t even begin to fathom how I would pay him back. Particularly since he didn’t seem inclined to take me up on the only mode of payment I knew. I’d tried on multiple occasions over the past few days to initiate sex, only to have him suggest we talk or cuddle instead. Talking was bad enough, but cuddling? I hadn’t been prepared to go there. And now, if we were going to have any hope of convincing the world that we’d married for love, I was going to have to allow that very sort of intimacy.

After our shopping excursion, Tallie hung around with us for about an hour, resting with her feet up on the ottoman. After I took my purse to the guest room and Razor finished bringing in the rest of the bags, she regaled us with stories of the adventures she’d had at Babies “R” Us with her husband and his brother last week. They’d gone to purchase furnishings for the nursery and set up her baby registry. Apparently while they were there, Kade had tried to figure out how to use a breast pump, and Hunter had gotten lost in an aisle covered in pink and couldn’t seem to tear himself away, even though they’d settled on yellow and green for the baby’s room.

“We want to be surprised, so we’re making everything gender neutral.”

“Sounds like Hunter knows exactly what he wants the baby to be,” Razor said.

Tallie laughed. “He swears he’s fine with a boy or a girl, but I’m not sure I believe it.”

Razor eased closer to me on the sofa and draped his arm over my shoulders. I fought down the urge to slip away from him, willing my pulse to slow.

“Hey, Tallie, you’ve lived here a long time, right?” he asked, sparking my curiosity.

“Only my whole life.”

“Any chance you could recommend some good doctors for Tori? A general practitioner, maybe your OB-GYN…”

What was he trying to do? I scowled up at him. “I don’t need doctor.”

“Well, maybe you don’t right away, but it’d be a good idea to go ahead and get set up with someone,” he insisted.

“I love Dr. Rodriguez,” she gushed. “She’s my baby doctor. I’ve been seeing her since my teens, and she’s the best thing ever. And I see Dr. Oliver for everyday stuff. Oh, and if you ever need a good counselor, there’s a fantastic center on Harvard Avenue. We found them when I was trying to get some help for Hunter’s brother with his addiction and depression issues, and we liked them so much I started seeing a therapist there, too. You know, all my Mama issues,” she added at the end, looking at Razor and giving a wave of her hand. “It’s helped me tons. Not saying you need counseling, of course…”

Except she really was. And maybe I did need it, but the thought of talking to some stranger about all the fucked up things in my life was somehow even worse than the thought of telling Razor.

“Thanks,” he said. “We’ll check into them.”

Not if I had anything to say about it.

After that, Tallie pushed herself to her feet and said she needed to get home and make sure they hadn’t killed each other while she was gone…and to verify that her nursery was coming along the way they’d promised. Razor and I both got up to see her out.

“Oh, but you should come to the baby shower next week,” she said to me as she gathered her purse and phone.

I shook my head. “Baby shower?” I pretended I didn’t know what she was talking about, that maybe there was a cultural issue standing between me and comprehension. It was just an act, though…one I hoped would get me out of going to any sort of party she might be putting together, particularly one involving a bunch of other women. Buying new clothes and getting a pedicure wasn’t anywhere near enough to make me into the sort of woman who belonged at something like that. There was no makeover in the world that could change the fact that I’d spent the past few years having sex on film for money.

Tallie didn’t seem fazed by my ploy. “It’s a party. And you don’t even need to bring a gift or anything. I don’t care. I just want you to be there.” She smiled. “You could bring Razor, too. I’m sure Hunter could use some moral support, and even though I’ve begged and pleaded with Kade to be there, I don’t think it’s working.”

Razor squinted and scratched his head. “What day?”

“Thursday afternoon. At two. We’re having it at the house, keeping everything nice and easy.”

He shook his head. “I’ve got a meeting with… Um…”

“Mm-hmm.” Tallie rolled her eyes and turned back to me. “But you can come. It’ll be good for you. Some of my sorority sisters will be there, and a few of the other girls I used to do pageants with, and I think a handful of the other players’ wives are going to fly in even though it’s still summer. So you can make some more friends. It’ll be great.”

Great wasn’t a word I would associate with the kind of torture it sounded like.

But Razor nodded in encouragement, and I couldn’t come up with a good excuse to give for not going. “I’ll come,” I forced out.

She bounced up on her toes, grinning a mile wide. “Oh, good. And I’ll come steal you from Razor again soon. We can go to the mall even if we don’t buy anything. I just need to get out of the house and walk around some, you know?”

I nodded, and she headed out the front door, still talking a mile a minute. I waved as she climbed into her car and drove off.

Razor closed the door, brushing his arm against mine as he slipped into the empty space behind me. I shivered. Not from cold. From the electricity surging between us, despite the simplicity of his touch. With one finger hooking mine and the slightest hint of pressure, he compelled me to turn and face him.

I swallowed, fighting to regain control over my response to him.

There wasn’t enough distance between us. Not nearly enough. The heat of his body wrapped around me as surely as if he’d taken me into his arms, softening my bones and churning my muscles into butter.

“It’s nice to see you smile,” he said, lifting my hand by nothing more than my pinky finger up to his lips. He kissed my knuckles, then raised my hand higher and kissed the tender skin on the inside of my wrist.

My belly rippled with the gnawing ache of longing.

His eyes met mine. They held, steady and sure, trapping me. Uncovering me. I’d never felt more naked and vulnerable than I did right in that instant. Every raw, exposed nerve in my body was screaming for me to back away. To run. To find a way of breaking free from his clear blue gaze so I could protect what little remained of myself before he claimed it as his own.

But I couldn’t move a muscle.

And then he kissed me, and it was too late.

His lips glided across mine, the faint trace of his tongue a velvet-soft request for entry. I opened and almost sighed when his tongue met mine, stroking and tangling in an unhurried exploration.

The ache in my belly only grew, and the ripples turned to supercharged jolts that shot out to my limbs in devastating surges. He was making me want things I could never have. My fingers itched to sink into his back and draw him closer, to knot in his hair and drag him down to me. I burned to feel his hands on me, molding my breasts to fit his palms or digging his big hands into my ass cheeks and grinding into me.

If he would just take me, manhandle me, hard and fast and rough, then I could find a way to drift off. I could brace myself against the pain and, at the same time, make him think I was into it.

But as long as he kept up this slow seduction, I couldn’t escape to a safe space in my mind. Razor intended to undo me.

And with every day that passed, I grew more and more afraid that I would let him.

He broke away but didn’t move back, his lips hovering millimeters over my skin but not quite touching as he moved along the curve of my jaw.

“What are you doing?” I demanded when I could form words.

“Kissing my wife.”

My chest rose and fell like I’d just danced a pas de deux. “Why?” No one was around to see us. Putting on a display like this wouldn’t make any difference in whether I would be granted a green card if there weren’t witnesses. All it was doing was ripping away layer after layer of my defenses.

Razor let out a sigh and backed away, looking at me with the sort of expression my dance teachers had given me when I failed to properly perform the same move for what must be the thousandth time. “Because if we’re ever going to be able to convince the people around us that we’re desperately in love with each other, then we’re going to have to act like it all the time. Besides, would it be the end of the world if maybe we started to believe it ourselves?”

Yes. Because if I loved him, he could hurt me. Not just physically but deep down on the inside. If I loved him, the Tambovs could use him against me. They could take him from me, the same as they’d taken everyone and everything else from me. I couldn’t afford to love anyone, not ever again.

And there was no one left in this world who loved me. At least no one I would ever see again. Mama might still be alive, but only a fool would hold out hope for a reunion.

I said nothing. He didn’t want to hear the truth.

He backed up a step. I wanted to follow. I wanted to take what he’d started and push him toward its inevitable conclusion. Because if I couldn’t get him to fuck me—to really, truly fuck me and forget about his slow come-on—he would maintain the upper hand, and I’d never get any semblance of control over my life.

But then he said, “I asked Tallie about her doctors because I think we need to go to one. For you,” he added when I merely blinked at him.

“I don’t need doctor.”

“You do.”

I shook my head and made my way back toward the living room. No doctor could help me. All they would want to do is test for STDs and pregnancy, and stick things up in my pussy that would hurt as much as fucking only without the benefits of fucking. They’d pry into my past, and they’d tell me I just needed to relax. That I was clenching from stress. Maybe that I needed more lubrication. Like any of that had ever done a damn thing to stop the stinging, biting pain of having something ripping me to shreds over and over again.

I didn’t need a doctor telling me I was crazy and it was all in my head, or at best that it was simply a bit of discomfort and I was exaggerating, and those were the only things they would tell me. I knew. I’d already seen a doctor about it when the pain had first started.

I just had to cope with the pain. Frankly, that was something I’d already been doing for years, so there was no reason I couldn’t keep doing it now, with Razor.

“Tori—”

“No doctor. I’m fine.” I plopped down on the chair that Tallie had vacated, bypassing the sofa because I couldn’t handle him sitting next to me right now. If he touched me, I’d lose it.

He sat on the arm of the chair and tipped my chin up toward him. “You’re not fine. I want to help you. You were in pain when I was inside you, and that’s not normal. It’s not okay. And I refuse to put you through that, so until you can handle sex without being in pain, we’re just not going to have sex.”

I blinked back my tears in frustration. “But you’re husband.”

“I am your husband. And I’m not denying that I’m an asshole, but I’m not that much of an asshole. I’m not going to cause you pain if I can help it. But there’s no reason we shouldn’t go to a doctor to find out what’s behind it and see what we can do about it.”

“Doctor says it’s in my head. Make it up. Just uncomfortable.”

“Then we’ll keep seeing different doctors until we find one who’ll believe us and help you. Because you and I both know it’s not just in your head. Or are you going to try lying to me about that?”

He looked like he might kiss me again. Could I take advantage of the situation and redirect him? And maybe then I could get him to forget about it long enough to just fuck me. Get it over with. I could mask my pain better this time. I’d done it countless times on camera, and they’d never had to reshoot because I wasn’t convincing enough.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I reached for his cock, rubbing him over his pants. His dick was already big and hard, and it jerked to life at my touch. Razor groaned, and I fumbled to open his fly. I almost had it undone, but then—in a single move—he picked me up, took my seat, and settled me sideways on his lap with his cock pulsing against the outside of my thigh and my knees draped over the arm of the chair.

“I don’t understand,” I said in a huff. “You’re hard. Cock is ready. You want to fuck. So fuck me. It’s fine.”

He shook his head, slowly. Deliberately. “It’s not fine, beautiful.” Then he pressed a kiss to my forehead that made me want to scream in frustration. “I am hard. I do want to fuck you. But I can’t do it. I can’t be inside you and know I’m hurting you. I can’t take pleasure and know it’s torture for you. I won’t. Someday you’ll understand. Someday I’ll get through to you, and you’ll know you’re a thousand times more valuable than the sum of your parts. You’ll believe that your worth isn’t directly related to how wide you spread your legs. Someday, you’ll take control over your body again, and you’ll own it. And maybe then, you’ll see how beautiful you are to me. Maybe then, you’ll be beautiful to yourself.”

“I’m not…” I started to shake my head, without a clue what I intended to say, but he put a hand on the side of my face, cupping my ear. He brushed the pad of his thumb over my cheekbone, his touch barely there, and buried his fingers in my hair.

I couldn’t breathe because of the vise squeezing my chest, stopping my heart as surely as it stopped time.

“Don’t,” he said. His voice had become deep and harsh, and the blue of his eyes matched. “Please, stop telling me you’re not beautiful. It’ll never be true, and it kills a piece of me every time.”

I didn’t trust my voice, so I gave him a reluctant nod. I doubted I could manage to do what he’d asked of me, but he hadn’t insisted on my promise.

He kissed the end of my nose. “Good. Now, will you let me take you to the doctor? They might not be able to help, but it’s worth a shot.”

I nodded again. Maybe the doctor could convince him that it wasn’t as bad as he thought.

“Okay. One more thing.”

I flickered my eyes up to meet his. At this point, I couldn’t imagine what else he intended to throw my way.

“I think you need to move into my bedroom. Tallie saw you go down the other hall to put away your purse. If people believe we aren’t sharing a bed…”

He didn’t need to finish that statement.

But if I was in his bed, the likelihood that we might fuck would only increase. Maybe I could change his mind about the doctor, and then I could start to repay all his kindnesses. And if we were fucking, it wouldn’t be as difficult to convince anyone that we had married for love.

“I’ll sleep with you,” I said as decisively as I could. I added a firm nod for good measure.

He studied me, his eyes roving over my face, taking in every feature. Then his lips touched mine again.

The tenderness of his kiss shattered me. I might never be whole again, no matter what Razor thought.

THE FIRST COUPLE of nights Tori spent in my bed, I woke up several times to find her fingers surreptitiously attempting to free my cock from my boxer briefs. There was no point in pretending my cock wouldn’t have been more than happy to play along. There was also no point in denying that she definitely knew how to use her hands.

But none of that mattered. I had no intention of taking our physical relationship beyond the point of kisses and cuddles until she’d seen a doctor and we could find a solution to her pain. Not only that, but I still meant what I’d told her on our first night together—if she didn’t come, I didn’t get to come, either. No hand jobs or blow jobs just because she had it all fucked up in her head that sex was the only thing she was good for.

Still, the combination of her warm body beside me as we slept and waking up to her determined efforts was doing a number on me. I was horny as hell all the time, and no matter how many times I dragged her hands away from my cock, she kept going back when I least expected it.

I’d taken to rolling over her, holding her hands still at her sides, and kissing her senseless every time she did it. Yes, it made me harder and more desperate to be inside her, especially when she wiggled underneath me and tried to grind herself up against me and said things like, “Fuck me, Razor. Please, fuck me,” all the while sounding like she meant it. But I couldn’t do that, so I kissed her until I couldn’t take it anymore and then begged her to go back to sleep.

The day after she’d gone shopping with Tallie, I’d made an appointment for Tori to see Dr. Rodriguez next week, but that was the soonest the OB-GYN had been able to get us in. In the meantime, Tori and I were both doing our best to keep busy.

We’d gone together to check out a few ballet studios in town, and we’d found one she liked. She was set to start classes next week, and the studio owner said Tori might be invited to take part in some local performances. Until we got her green card sorted out, she couldn’t do professional work, but nothing would prevent her from participating in community productions.

She was also spending more time with Tallie while Hunter and I went up to the Thunderbirds’ facilities to work out.

Hunter was in Tulsa since Tallie was about to pop at any moment and she wanted to be near her father. I was here because of Tori. But it wasn’t just the two of us around this summer. Most days while we were in the gym, Dmitri Nazarenko was also in the gym, working with some of the team’s trainers. Dima’s hip surgery had taken place a few months ago after a nagging injury had slowed him down all of last year, and now he was in the process of rehabbing it to get ready for the start of the new season. I wasn’t exactly close to either of them—hell, I didn’t think anyone on this team was close to anyone else—but it was nice to have some company for the monotonous reps of bench presses, box jumps, and other shit we all had to do.

“Why you marry Russian girl?” Dima grumbled at me on Friday afternoon. “Leave Russian girls for Russians. You don’t know how to treat them. Should’ve married an American. Puck bunnies always chase after you. Take one of them home instead.”

They were always chasing him, too. There was apparently something about surly, bearded guys with bad attitudes and heavy accents that attracted women. Who knew?

I rolled my eyes despite the anger churning in my gut at his suggestion that a Russian would better know how to treat a woman than I did. I wasn’t the one trying to kidnap her and force her into sexual slavery, like the freaking Russian Mafia had wanted to do. “I think if she’d wanted to marry a Russian son of a bitch like you or Petro, she would’ve done that before leaving Russia.”

Petro was another of our teammates, Alexei Petrov. He was the prototypical enigmatic Russian that the North American hockey media was constantly talking about. The kid had mad skills, but he wasn’t much of a team player. He partied too hard and didn’t put forth much effort most of the time. He had the potential to be so good that no one could touch him. He just didn’t care enough to play like that all the time. If he actually worked as hard as the rest of us did, it was scary to think how good he could be. Instead, he was playing third-line center on the shittiest team in the league.

Dima, however, wasn’t anything like most people expected Russians to be in this league. He had been a skill guy once. But that was before he’d had a car wreck that had nearly killed him and his best friend. After a bunch of surgeries and PT, he’d come back to the league, but now he was more of a grinder. He didn’t have the same speed he once had, and his shot had never been the same. But he was as surly and determined as they came. He’d worked hard to turn himself into a hard-nosed defensive forward, a penalty-kill specialist, and a guy who got sent out to take on the toughest situations.

On this team, he was still on the top line, somehow. Just went to show how bad we were. It was like the Island of Misfit Toys around here, with guys plugging holes in the lineup out of necessity more than them being the right fit.

The ways Dima was atypical in terms of Russian hockey players didn’t end with the way he played the game, either. Most Russian guys I’d ever played with were confident, maybe cocky, sometimes goofy, and always the life of the party. In fact, maybe they were a lot like me. But Dima was sullen and kept to himself, other than going out with a different woman at every turn, almost never hanging out with the guys, and he rarely had more than three words to say on a given subject.

Considering that, what he’d just said to me might have been the longest string of words I’d ever heard him utter. I always felt bad for the media guys when Dima got sent out for interviews. They’d be lucky to get enough out of him to fill half their column.

He glared at me and grunted, and then he bumped up the speed on his treadmill. “She’s ballerina?” Beads of sweat trickled down into the wild mass of his beard, making it glisten like it was filled with glitter.

I was almost positive he was only talking to me because Tori was Russian. He’d never been this talkative before. Granted, the fact that there were only three of us around might have played into it, too.

“Yeah,” I said. I added some weights to my barbell. “She’s a ballerina.”

“Why she leave Russia?”

“Same reason as you,” I hedged, lying down on the bench press. “She came to the US to dance. You came to play hockey.”

Hunter came over to spot me.

“Good ballet in Russia. Better than America. Make no sense.” Dima scowled. Not that anyone could tell from his mouth. His beard prevented that. The crease between his eyebrows was what made his expression clear. “She lying to you. Try to take your money. See dumb American hockey player, trick him into marry her, run back to Russia and be richest girl around.”

Hunter snorted and took the bar off the rack, placing it in my hands.

“Something funny?” I ground out, lowering the bar to just above my chest.

“Not funny. Just agreeing that you’re a dumb American.”

“I’m as Canadian as you are,” I grumbled.

“Then why are you always playing for the Americans in international competitions?” he shot back.

I pressed it up until my elbows locked, then I exhaled, glaring at Hunter. Guys always knew just where to poke. He was right—I did play for Team USA in international competition. I was good enough to get a spot on that team, usually. The chances of me ever making the Canadian team were slim to none, so I’d hedged my bets early on and I hadn’t looked back. But I didn’t want to get into that now. “She’s not after my money,” I said, redirecting the conversation.

“She’s lying,” Dima huffed. “Russian women all after something. Maybe she’s not ballerina. Maybe she wants sugar daddy. Better sign bigger contract next time, keep her in diamonds.”

“If you believe Koz, she’s a porn star,” Hunter said. “I might believe him, based on how she was dressed at Babs’s wedding.”

I did another rep, glaring at him. “She is. Or she was. Now she’s my wife, and she’s still dancing.”

“She’s porn star?” Dima laughed, a deep, gut-busting sort of laugh that I’d never have guessed was coming from him if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. “She’s after money. You’re fucked, Razor. So fucked.”

I kept doing my reps and ignored him.

“I don’t think she’s after money,” Hunter said. “Tallie’s been hanging out with her. She likes Tori. I think Tallie’s going to adopt her as her next project.”

“Project?” I ground out.

“Like she did with my brother. Tallie’ll hound her until they’re essentially BFFs, and then she’ll hound her some more until Tori spills her guts and agrees to do seven thousand things to improve herself. Maybe it won’t be so intense for Tori, though, since the baby’s coming soon.”

I couldn’t make up my mind about if I liked the idea of anyone else doing the same thing I was doing with Tori. The last thing she needed was people coming at her from all sides. It had been hard enough to convince her she needed to see a doctor. Getting her to talk about her life, her past, was like pulling teeth. Every time I made some headway, she dug in her heels and refused to go any further. I didn’t mind the idea that Tallie was insisting on being Tori’s friend, but I hoped she wouldn’t push.

Too much.

A bit of a nudge here and there wouldn’t be too bad. Like when she’d offered up the suggestion of a counseling center without prompting. That was good. I hoped that Dr. Rodriguez would make a similar suggestion when we visited her next week.

“Russian ballerina porn star,” Dima said, bumping his speed up again, still laughing. “Fuck, Razor. How you do this? How you marry her?”

I finished my reps and handed the bar off to Hunter, who returned it to the rack. I sat up and reached for a towel to dry the sweat off my face. “Luck, I guess.” I winked at him as I traded places with Hunter. “And give it a rest about Tori doing porn, eh? She did it. It’s in the past. That’s that.”

Dima could think it was just about sex all he wanted. Not that sex was the same thing as love, but letting him believe that would be a hell of a lot better than letting him think it was all about getting Tori a green card and nothing else.

GREG CALLED ME back later that afternoon, while I was driving home from the gym.

“It’s not good,” he said first thing after I answered.

“Well? What?”

“I’ll get the paperwork started right away. You need to overnight me copies of absolutely everything you can get your hands on. Her passport and student visa. The official marriage certificate. I’ve got copies of your documents here already, but anything and everything related to Tori, you need to send me. Anything the school gave her when they kicked her out of the program. Whatever she’s got about her parents. Names and phone numbers for people she knew while she was going to school—preferably not people in the porn business. We’re going to have to be upfront about that, but I’m thinking more friends she might have had, classmates, other dancers…”

“Okay, so it’s going to be a lot of paperwork and red tape,” I said.

“That’s just the beginning. Once I’ve got the process in motion, it’s going to be a huge ordeal. They’ll interview you both, plus other people in your lives. There may be a few hearings you’ll have to take part in. Even if I get the Thunderbirds involved in this, it’s likely not going to be finalized for at least a couple of years. And throughout the entire process, she can’t leave the country. Not for any reason. I’m not sure if she can work or not. There might be a special dispensation we can arrange for. I’ll have to check on that. But the two of you are going to have to put on the act of your lives if you’re going to pull this off. The fact that you got married within hours of meeting each other is going to make this next to impossible to manage.”

That was one of the very few things I’d spent much time thinking about for almost a week now. “We’re already working on making sure it’s believable to everyone. They can ask questions, but they’re not going to unearth anything other than the fact that we’re crazy about each other.”

“For your sake, I hope you’re right.”

We talked about my preparation for the upcoming season for a few minutes, but then I turned onto my street and got off that call. When I came through the garage door into the kitchen, it was to find Tallie and Tori together in front of the stove, both wearing aprons. They spun toward me when I came in, Tori holding a bowl against her belly and a whisk in the other hand.

Tallie’s apron read, “Remember, as far as anyone knows, we’re a nice, normal family,” and it barely covered the huge swell of her belly. But the one Tori was wearing stopped me short: “Finger Lickin’ Good.” It made me want to lick her fingers to discover for myself how good it was.

“What are you two up to?” I asked.

“Bakin’ cupcakes,” Tallie said. “I was thinking about red velvet, because I love them, but I wasn’t sure that was appropriate for the baby shower, you know? So we’re doing plain vanilla, and we’ll spruce them up with colorful frosting.”

“You’re already making cupcakes now?”

“Practice,” Tori explained. Just a single word. I doubted she’d ever be one to overshare.

“You’re planning to bake cupcakes for your own shower? Shouldn’t someone else be doing that?”

“They probably are, but that doesn’t mean I can’t, too. And I want to. Because I’ve got a major sweet tooth right now. So I am.”

I had to laugh. “Is it any good?”

“You should come take a taste,” Tallie said. Then she gave a wink-wink-nudge-nudge sort of look to my wife.

The next thing I knew, Tori let go of the whisk, letting it settle against the edge of her bowl, dipped a finger in the batter, and held it up for me.

There wasn’t a chance in hell I wasn’t going to take her up on that offer. I crossed over and sucked her finger into my mouth, never taking my eyes off hers. I took my time, making sure I cleaned off every drop of batter before releasing her. Then I licked my lips, almost mimicking the way she’d so often licked hers for me. “Yum,” I said. “I think your practice is going well.”

“Oh, would you look at the time?” Tallie said, overselling her shock. “I bet Hunter’s at home wondering where I am. I need to get back so I can start his dinner.”

“Don’t want to keep him waiting,” I replied with a wink.

“Should I take that with me? I should,” she said before either Tori or I could answer. She reached for the bowl and covered it with some plastic wrap. “I’ll get these baked off tonight, and tomorrow we can play around with icing them. If you two aren’t too busy, of course.”

“Not busy,” Tori said. Half smiling again, I noticed. All my worries about her time spent with Tallie were for naught. This was something Tori needed. “We can make cupcakes.”

“Good,” Tallie said. “And then we can eat them, which is even better.”

Within a couple of minutes, she’d gathered up all her things and headed out the door, leaving me and Tori alone.

“I like your apron,” I said.

She gave me a shy look and reached behind her back to undo the ties.

“Let me.” I moved behind her and tugged the strings loose. While I was back there, I slipped my hands beneath the material covering her belly and hugged her back to my front. I kissed the spot on her neck just beneath her ear, and she shivered. Her familiar vanilla scent tickled my nostrils, and I buried my nose in her hair.

“You could take more off,” she said, her voice rich and husky. She rocked her hips back, her ass grinding against my cock. “You’re hard.”

“I’m always hard around you. But that doesn’t change anything.”

With every day that passed, it was becoming more and more difficult to hold to my convictions. But Tori deserved to be handled with care, whether she agreed with that or not.

TORI AND I spent most of Saturday over at Hunter and Tallie’s house. Hunter’s brother, Kade, and Dima both spent a few hours there, too. It was weird to have Dima hanging out with us and not chasing after some girl or another, but maybe he was having a hard time connecting with the ladies since it wasn’t hockey season. That seemed as good an explanation as any. The guys and I spent our time painting the walls of the nursery and doing other things that Tallie had no business doing right now. The two women spent their time in the kitchen frosting cupcakes and doing God only knew what else. They made a huge mess, but they were both smiling when they brought us the fruits of their labor.

I drew Tori in for a kiss when she tried to pass me a cupcake and move on.

“I like seeing you smile,” I murmured against her lips.

She looked down and her eyelids fluttered with her embarrassment. “I like Tallie.”

“I’m glad.” And it was the truth. Anything that would make her smile was a good thing, in my opinion. I only wished I was able to bring the same smiles to her lips that Tallie could. Maybe someday.

Hunter broke up our tender moment by smooshing an entire cupcake—covered in bright green frosting—all over Tallie’s face. She squealed and retaliated by plunking one down on the top of his head and smearing the yellow icing all through his hair. Kade got in on the act, too, and Tori looked at me with a mix of terror and curiosity widening her eyes.

“You want to get out of here?” I asked.

She nodded, so I took her hand and my cupcake on my way out of the nursery. Dima was hot on our heels. Apparently not a fan of food fights. I wouldn’t have minded getting involved in it, myself, but it would have been much more fun doing that naked and alone with Tori.

And I really needed to stop thinking about getting her naked, at least until after her appointment with Dr. Rodriguez.

The three of us sat in the living room, listening to the barks of male laughter mixed with Tallie’s feminine giggles coming from down the hall while we ate our cupcakes. It wasn’t long before Dima and Tori started talking…in Russian. Considering the only Russian word I knew was blyad, or the equivalent of fuck, I knew I was in over my head trying to figure out what they were saying. No point in wasting my energy on it. I glanced at Tori to be sure she was comfortable with the situation.

She nodded and said, “It’s fine.”

That was good enough for me. I got up and decided to work on cleaning up the mess she and Tallie had made of the kitchen. By the time Hunter and Tallie came out, both grinning like loons and covered from head to toe in pastel-colored frosting, I’d made a decent dent in the mess, and Tori and Dima were still talking up a storm. Considering neither of them were known for being very talkative, it was a shocking development.

Tallie stumbled to a stop when they arrived in the kitchen. “Well, aren’t you a sweetie,” she said, still trying to catch her breath. “We were just going to go shower to clean all this off, but—”

“Go,” I cut in. “Shower. Don’t touch anything in here or you’ll mess up all I’ve already done.”

“But it’s our mess—”

“Come on.” Hunter was the one to cut her off this time. “He’s right.”

“And don’t think I’m doing anything crazy like touching the disaster zone you created in that nursery. That’s all on you.”

With another tug, Hunter got Tallie to follow him toward their master. I assumed Kade was following suit in the guest bathroom. Not my concern, any way I looked at it.

After rinsing off a few more utensils, I put them in the dishwasher and found a canister of cleaning wipes to tackle the mess on the counters. The rumble of Dima’s voice combined with the rich sound of Tori’s coming from the living room was almost soothing, even though I couldn’t understand a word.

After a few more minutes, Tori showed up at my side. I glanced up to see that Dima was gone. She stood behind the sink and turned on the faucet to rinse a few more dishes. “Dmitri went to nursery. Cleaning. Said you—” She shook her head, a shy blush staining her porcelain cheeks. “Never mind.”

“He said I what?”

“Called you mudak.”

“And what does that mean?” I asked, more out of curiosity than anything. No doubt it was some sort of curse word or another. I was sure Dima had called me hundreds of awful things in the time we’d known each other, just as I’d called him things I’d never say to his mother. It was just how it went. In a locker room, if you weren’t being cursed at and picked on, that was a good sign that no one liked you. And considering how much money he’d contributed to Mrs. J’s curse jar last season…more than a few of those had to have been directed my way.

She glanced up sheepishly. “It means asshole.”

I laughed. “Well, he’s right about that one.”

Her mouth dropped open. “You’re not asshole. You’re good man.” She sounded offended on my behalf.

I wondered if she’d ever come to accept the fact that I wasn’t anywhere near as nice and good as she seemed to think I was. Maybe not, and I didn’t know what to do with that.

“Did you have a good talk? I bet it’s nice to know someone here who speaks Russian.”

At first, she just nodded and kept washing dishes. But then she shut off the water and faced me, eyes shining. “He has uncle in Moscow. Policeman. He said maybe can find Mama. Or find out if”—she bit down hard on her lower lip, as if she needed the pain in order to stop her tears from pouring down her cheeks, not in the seductive way she’d always done it before—“if she’s alive.”

There weren’t any words that could possibly be adequate for news like that, so I did the only thing that made sense. I dropped everything, wrapped my arms around her, and hugged her tight.

To my surprise, after a moment, she hugged me back.

I could definitely get used to the feeling of having her in my arms. I only hoped the feeling was mutual.

SATURDAY NIGHT FOLLOWED our typical pattern, with me waking on a few occasions to Tori’s hand going on a quest to free my cock. I wasn’t sure how much more I could take before I cracked. The Monday afternoon appointment with Dr. Rodriguez couldn’t come soon enough.

On Sunday, I surprised her by taking her to a ballet put on by a small professional dance company that toured the Southwest. I’d honestly never been to a ballet performance before, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. In my ignorance, I’d been sure it would be full of women in pink tutus leaping around and twirling on their toes.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

The entire production was set to rock music. There wasn’t a tutu in sight, with the dancers wearing any number of modern costumes, and their movements were smooth and sleek, showing off crazy amounts of strength and control over their bodies. These men and women were athletes in every sense of the word, as much as I was. There wasn’t a chance in hell I could do half of what they were doing. Watching them, I was enthralled.

Not nearly as much as Tori, though.

She couldn’t seem to sit back in her seat, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees and her chin propped on her hands. She might as well have been dancing with them, because her back kept rising and falling far more than made sense after sitting still for as long as we had been. Out of curiosity, I stretched my arm over to rest on her shoulder. She barely reacted to my touch, nothing more than a brief glance at me and the tiniest of smiles before returning her attention to the stage. I dropped my fingers down to her upper back. Her heart was pounding like it was trying to break free from her chest.

After that, I spent the rest of the performance watching Tori. Studying her. Analyzing her. Trying to figure out how to bring her this kind of excitement and engagement on a more regular basis. Because, for the first time since we’d met, she seemed alive. Engaged. Enraptured.

And it was enough to steal my breath.

She spent so much of her time timid, the frightened rabbit waiting for the right moment to make her escape, always wary and watchful.

Getting her back into dance might help, so it was a good thing that was on the agenda for this week. And if Dima’s connections in Moscow could help her get any news of her mother—even bad news—she could possibly find closure for that part of her life, which had to be like an open wound.

When the production came to an end, Tori was the first person in the auditorium on her feet, clapping like a madwoman. I stood and did the same, and soon the rest of the audience followed suit. She was the last to stop, too, continuing for several seconds after the applause had otherwise died off.

Gradually, the seats around us emptied as everyone made their way out of the dance hall. Tori turned to me with bright eyes. “It was wonderful.” And before I could prepare myself for it, she launched herself into my arms, locking hers tight around my neck.

“So I guess you liked it?” I murmured into a mass of her hair. Vanilla. Always vanilla. I slid my hands up and down her back, reveling in the moment because I had no way of knowing how long it would last.

“I loved it,” she said, her voice muffled against my shoulder. “Thank you.” There was no missing the fact that her nipples were hard peaks, pressing into my ribs. She lifted her head, her eyes blazing like blue fire instead of their usual gray turbulence.

This was what she was meant to do. This was who she was meant to be.

If simply watching other people dance was enough to bring out this side of her, I couldn’t wait to see what being the one dancing might do.

But now I knew what she needed. She’d given me a glimpse into what brought her to life.

Time to rev up the engine.

I WOKE UP, head still fuzzy with sleep, thinking I must still be dreaming.

A fucking wet dream, like I’d had when I was going through puberty, only a thousand times better. No, a million times better.

Because I could have sworn I was getting the best blow job of my life.

Warm, wet lips surrounded my cock.

A pointed tongue traced the sensitive underside.

Fingers massaged my balls, squeezing just enough but not too much.

Then a single digit slipped inside my ass, just far enough to drive me wild.

I bucked my hips out of instinct.

That was when I came fully awake.

Tori bobbed down again, taking my full length into her mouth, past her gag reflex.

“Fuck,” I ground out. It felt so damn good. Too good. So good I didn’t want it to end, but it had to. This wasn’t even close to fair to her, and I couldn’t let it happen. I pushed against her shoulders, trying to dislodge her, but she was determined.

She licked and sucked, working me over with her hands as well as her mouth, and my balls tightened up in preparation.

I rolled away from her and stumbled to my feet. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I practically shouted.

She sat up on her knees. Naked. Her fucking perfect body was lit up in the moonlight streaming in through the windows. It made shadows on her face, emphasizing her hurt even more than the daylight would.

“Trying to fuck you,” she shot back, sniffling. “Trying to thank you for ballet today.”

God, I was such an ass. I shouldn’t have shouted at her. And I knew what she’d been doing without having to ask. There wasn’t any reason I’d needed her to tell me. It was as clear as every other time she’d made similar attempts. “I’m sorry,” I said, trying to calm down. “But you didn’t need to do anything more to thank me than you already did. You didn’t even need to say the words. Just seeing you enjoy yourself was enough.”

Her jaw and lower lip quivered. “I don’t understand.”

“I know you don’t, beautiful. And it’s killing me, because I don’t know how to make you understand. Sometimes, I want to do things for you just because I want to make you happy.”

“But you won’t let me make you happy.”

“Fucking you isn’t going to make me happy.”

“But you want it. You want me.”

I sat down on the edge of the bed. She glanced up, and I stroked her cheek. Her skin was as soft as silk and pale as the moon.

“I’m a man, Tori. I’m a man, you’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever known, and I’d have to be blind and asexual to not want you. But I don’t just want you for sex. It’s not about what you can do for me. Fucking you, and having you want me as much as I want you, knowing that you’re into it and it feels good…that would be amazing. But sex alone isn’t going to make me happy, even if I’d enjoy it.” Especially since I wasn’t sure it was even a possibility. Would she ever really want my touch? Was there a way for her to experience sex without pain? I didn’t know.

“Then what?” She drew her knees up, wrapped her arms around them, and rested her chin in the hollow between them. “What makes you happy?”

“Seeing you smile. Hearing you laugh. Knowing you don’t have anything to be scared of. Watching you dance.” I tucked some stray hairs behind her ear. “That would be a good start.”

“You are strange man, Razor.”

I was all right with her thinking I was strange. I understood it. I didn’t fit the mold of men in her life.

I kissed her on the forehead. “Yeah. I’m a strange man. And apparently, you think I’m a good man, too.” I chuckled, baffled by the fact that she thought that of me when everyone else in my life was constantly telling me what an asshole I was. “Go to sleep, Tori.”

Maybe tomorrow we would get some answers.

“VIKTORIYA CHAMBERS?” THE nurse called out, standing in the open doorway with a clipboard in her hands. She looked up and scanned the room.

It took me a moment to recognize that she meant me. I wasn’t used to having Razor’s surname as my own. Nerves might have played into it, too. I’d come to hate going to the doctor in America. They always treated me…well, like I was a porn star. Which I was. It was demoralizing, to say the least, to have my line of work thrown back in my face when I just wanted to get tested for STDs and get a shot for birth control, though. Now I would have to go through it all over again. I doubted this time would be any different, despite the fact that I was now a married woman and no longer working in that industry.

The stigma remained, whether I was actively engaged in that field or if it was well in the past.

Razor reached for my hand and got to his feet. I took it, slinging the strap of my purse over my shoulder and tucking it tight against my body.

“It’s all right if I come in with her?” he asked when we reached the nurse.

She met my eyes. “As long as it’s okay with you?”

I nodded. Maybe, if he was with me, they wouldn’t pry as much. Maybe they’d treat me as if I were any other woman, not a piece of filth. I doubted it, but allowing myself to hope, even if only for a brief slip of time, calmed me somewhat.

“Right this way,” she said, waving an arm down a long hallway. She led us into a corner examination room and had me sit on a table that had stirrups on the end. I tried not to panic with the stirrups right there. This was a doctor’s office. They would only use them for an exam. It wouldn’t be like what I’d been through in the porn world. Even though my rational mind knew that if they put me in them, it was only for medical reasons and not to torture me just for the hell of it, there was something inside me that couldn’t get on board with that. My pulse was pounding so hard it was like a lion’s roar in my head. I could barely hear the questions she was asking, let alone figure out how to answer them. Maybe it was for the best that Razor was in here with me, after all.

“Viktoriya?” the nurse said, and the way she said it made it clear I’d completely missed her most recent question.

Too lost in my own thoughts. Trapped in my head. I swallowed hard and sent a panicked look in Razor’s direction.

He took my hand and squeezed before looking at the nurse. “We’re here because Tori’s having pain during intercourse.”

She flashed her eyes over to me. “What kind of pain?”

I shrugged and shook my head, unable to find words. No doctor or nurse had ever bothered to ask that before. They’d always just made snarky comments like, “Maybe you should stop letting them use baseball bats inside you,” or, “I’d be uncomfortable, too, if I had a roomful of people watching and cameras capturing everything.” They seemed to think if I would just get out of the business, it would all go away. Like it was my fault.

But since no one had ever asked, I didn’t know how to answer.

“Stinging or burning?” she asked. “Or is it more like a cramp? Stabbing, clenching, throbbing? And how bad is it, on a scale of one to ten?”

I glanced at Razor, and he nodded while rubbing his thumb over the same spot in a soothing manner.

“Burning?” I paused to think. “Usually burns. And I get too tight, like stretch too much.”

She scribbled some notes on the chart. “How bad is it?”

“Different every time. Maybe five. Maybe nine or ten.”

“How often does it get up to a nine or ten?”

Almost every time. But I said, “Sometimes.”

“It’s like her muscles down there are trying to keep me out,” Razor added.

The nurse kept scribbling, not looking up. “All right. Let’s talk about your sexual history.”

This was when she would start judging me. This was when everything would change. My chest suddenly felt too small to contain both my heart and my lungs.

“How old were you when you first had intercourse?”

“Sixteen? No, fifteen.” Probably too young.

No reaction, but that wasn’t the question that would cause her to raise her eyebrows. “And how many partners have you had?”

Now for the shock. Razor kept up smoothing circles over my hand with his thumb.

“No idea,” I said, my voice thick. “Hundreds. Maybe more.”

She didn’t look up, just kept jotting down notes. “Unprotected?”

“No condom usually. I was porn star.”

She nodded, as if it was something she heard every day. “So you were tested regularly, then? I think that industry insists on monthly testing, right? And you’re on birth control?”

“I’m clean. Get shots for birth control.”

“Depo-Provera?”

“Yes.”

For several more minutes, she continued asking her questions, never once making me feel as though I were a freak or an idiot for having lived the life I’d lived. The whole time, Razor never released my hand.

“All right,” the nurse said. She stood up and handed me a paper gown. “I’ll go over all of this with Dr. Rodriguez before she comes in to examine you. She’s going to want to do a full exam, so I need you to undress completely and cover yourself with this. And I’m guessing that even though you’ve had STD testing done recently, she’ll want to do some more blood work just to be sure it’s not something like that at the root of your issues. I’ll leave you for a few minutes and then we’ll be back.” She ducked out of the room and closed the door.

“Want me to give you a few minutes to change?” Razor asked.

I shook my head. I didn’t want him to go. I didn’t want to be alone in this cold, sterile room. Not with those stirrups. “Stay,” I said. “Help me tie it.”

“Okay.”

I got up and made quick work of stripping off my clothes. Once I had the gown unfolded and in place, I turned so he could secure it in place for me. His fingers fumbled with the strings, but after a moment, he finished and rested his hands on my shoulders.

“What’s got you so scared?” he asked.

I shrugged and shook my head.

“I can feel your heart trying to jump out of your chest, Tori, and you’ve been near panic since we came into this room.”

I leaned back into him, not wanting to let him see my face. There was no chance I’d ever convince him I wasn’t scared out of my mind if he could look in my eyes. He immediately put his arms around my waist and held me close.

He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “Tell me. Let me know so I can help you.”

“Fear makes no sense.”

“No one ever said it did. Doesn’t stop us from getting scared.”

“You’re not scared.”

He chuckled. “I’m not scared of anything in this room, no. But there are plenty of things I’m scared of.”

“What?”

“Motorcycles. Driving over bridges. Clowns. Spiders. Failure. Letting my mom down.”

“Normal things,” I pointed out. Well, most of them were. Motorcycles? I’d never heard of anyone being afraid of that. Anyway, my fears weren’t normal.

“Maybe so. Still, for the most part, they’re irrational.” He tightened his grip on me, and somehow that helped slow my pulse. “So what is it?” he asked.

I shook my head, but I said, “Stirrups.” A shiver raced up my spine even as the word left my lips.

“Stirrups?” he repeated. I felt his head turn toward the examination table. “Mm-hmm. Well, I’ll be right here with you. I’ll hold your hand through the whole thing.”

I couldn’t say that his reassurances made me feel all that much better about what was to come, but there wasn’t time for my panic to fully ensnare me. A knock sounded at the door, and the nurse poked her head in.

“All ready?” she asked.

“All ready,” Razor repeated.

She and the doctor came into the room.

“Okay, Viktoriya,” Dr. Rodriguez said. “Let’s see if we can figure out what’s going on with you, shall we?”

They instructed me to lie down on the table, inching my ass toward the end of it as they settled my legs into the stirrups. My heart thundered. Only shallow, shaking breaths made their way into my lungs.

Razor took my hand and held on tight enough I could feel it over the electrical jolts of terror pinging my body.

I pressed my eyes closed. Only my body. It was only my body, and she was only a doctor, and this was only an exam. The words bounced around in my head, and I tried desperately to cling to them the way I was clinging to Razor.

No use.

She widened the angle of the stirrups, and the icy touch of the speculum met my flesh.

Breathe. Breathe. In and out. I found a spot on the ceiling and focused all my attention there. Nothing helped.

My pussy clenched and clamped down, just like it always did, and the sharp sting followed. I blinked back tears of pain and frustration.

Razor said something in my ear, his deep voice somehow getting through the fog. I couldn’t make out his words, but the sound of his voice helped bring me down. He smoothed my hair and kept talking, and somehow the breaths kept flowing through my lungs—shallow and shaky, yes, but at least there was movement.

Finally, the doctor removed the speculum, and the pain began to ebb.

“Get her out of the stirrups,” Razor barked at them.

“She can—”

“Just do it. Get her out of them.” He kissed the center of my forehead, just above the bridge of my nose. “It’s okay. It’s over now.”

It might be over, but it was far from okay.

Once I was free of the stirrups, they draped a blanket over my legs, and Razor helped me to sit. I expected he would go back to his seat near the exam table, but he didn’t. He squeezed onto the table behind me and ran his hands up and down my arms, allowing me to lean back against him.

“Well,” Dr. Rodriguez said, looking from me to Razor and back. “It appears you have vaginismus.”

Still in a daze from what had just happened, I asked. “What is vaginismus?”

She took off her gloves and tossed them in a bin and then washed her hands. “It’s where your PC muscles—the ones at the opening of your vagina—have an involuntary physical reaction when something attempts entry. In some cases, it’s so severe that nothing can get through. In other cases, like yours, there’s more tightness than there should be, and it’s accompanied by a lot of pain. The good news is it’s treatable, and most women are able to go on to have a normal sex life after treatment. The bad news is there’s no way of knowing how long it might take for you to get to that point, and we might have to try a few different therapies before we find the right one for your situation.”

“So where do we get started?” Razor asked. He sounded so eager.

I wasn’t eager. I was dreading whatever it might be, because I was sure it would hurt. Everything that had to do with my pussy hurt, and it had for years now. Whatever she was going to suggest, I didn’t want to do it.

The doctor smiled. “It’s really nice to see you have such a supportive partner in all of this. That’s going to help, along with a lot of patience on both of your parts.” She sat down across from us and jotted down a few notes on my chart. “All right, I think—based on your past—we need to start with a two-pronged approach. The first is physical therapy. There’s a therapist in town who specializes in these kinds of cases, so I want you to see her.”

“And other part?” I asked, already trying to come up with excuses to avoid the first piece of her treatment plan. Would I like to be able to have sex pain free again? Of course. But did I believe for even one second that it was possible? No. Not at all.

“The other part of the plan is that you need counseling. We don’t know exactly what causes vaginismus, but we often find that a traumatic event is involved. Given your past, I think it’s highly likely that you’ve experienced any number of traumas, and quite possibly a number of them have been sexual experiences. I think it’s going to be a necessary part of your treatment plan.”

I didn’t want to see a counselor. I didn’t want to talk about the things I’d been through. It was difficult enough to tell Razor even the small bits and pieces I’d told him, but to tell a stranger? I didn’t think I could do it.

“You could try a family counselor,” she said, oblivious to the panic rising within me, “but I think a sex therapist would actually be a better choice. And I think it would be best if you two go together, actually. It’s going to be important for your husband to truly understand everything you’ve been through and all the ways it’s still affecting you. And I’m not just talking about physical stuff. I’ve worked with several sex workers over the years—enough of them to know that no one comes out of that business unscathed.”

This was just getting worse. “I don’t want counseling,” I insisted. “No therapy. None of it. I don’t need—”

“No one’s going to make you do any of it,” Dr. Rodriguez cut in. “But if you want to be able to have a normal sex life, you’re going to have to do something. This isn’t likely to clear up on its own. Some women live with it for decades without realizing they can get help.”

This wasn’t a kind of help I could handle, though. I shook my head. “No therapy.”

She gave me a sad look before glancing over at Razor. “All right. I’ll go ahead and write down the information for those services in case you change your mind.”

“Yes, thanks,” he said.

He still wanted me to go through with it. He didn’t get it, and I had no idea how to help him with that. We were from two entirely different worlds, and I doubted we would ever truly understand each other.

A FEW WEEKS passed, and I still couldn’t convince Tori to go through with the therapies Dr. Rodriguez had recommended. She’d been going to the studio for some ballet classes, and I’d been working out with Hunter and Dima to get ready for the season, but otherwise nothing had changed. She was still trying to convince me that her pain didn’t matter and I should fuck her in spite of it, and I was still bound and determined that I couldn’t do any such thing.

The one improvement, at least in my opinion, was that Tori had stopped attempting to get things started while I was sleeping. She’d taken to trying to jump me while we were both fully awake, instead.

I didn’t mind that she was throwing herself into it wholeheartedly. In fact, she’d started doing it while Hunter, Tallie, and Dima were around us sometimes, so that was only going to aid our cause in terms of convincing whoever needed to be convinced that we were in this for more than just a green card. The problem was that I was horny as hell all the time, now, and couldn’t do anything about it. I didn’t care how okay she told me it was—I would not be the one to cause her physical pain.

It was the middle of August now, and a few of the guys with school-aged kids were starting to show up and get settled. School would be starting next week. With them in town, it meant there were a few more showing up at the gym…and getting on the ice with us. So far, we weren’t skating too hard. Mainly we just wanted to get our skating legs back, which was never easy after a summer off the ice. Ours had been a long summer, too, since we’d finished last season in the basement of the league and hadn’t even had a whiff at the play-offs.

Anyway, now we’d added a couple guys to the mix. Jason Stewart, better known as Stewie, and his wife had three kids in elementary school. Mike Oslow’s oldest daughter was starting kindergarten this year. Ox was a guy I knew from my rookie season with the Storm, but he was new to the Thunderbirds this season.

Andrew Nash showed up a lot earlier than the rest of the guys, too, even though he didn’t have any kids in school or any other solid reason to be in Tulsa in August…only he came without his wife. “The divorce just went through last week,” he explained. “Didn’t want to stick around Oshawa right now.” Drew was one of the team’s alternate captains. He’d been distracted as hell through all of last season, though. I supposed going through a divorce was a good reason to be distracted.

“You never said a word all of last season,” I pointed out over a meal. “Had no fucking clue your marriage was on the rocks.”

He shrugged it off, like it was no big deal. That was how things tended to go with the T-Birds. Everyone minded his own business. We had meals together and other things like that, but generally we all kept to ourselves. I was probably closer to Hunter and the team captain, Eric “Zee” Zellinger, than I was to any of the other guys, and that was only because we’d all played together in Portland for a while, and that team had always been more like a family. Everyone was all up in everybody else’s business. Constantly. A guy could hardly take a dump without someone else coming along to critique it. It was ridiculous…but I also kind of missed it.

With all of them joining us, things were starting to feel more like they would once the season got underway. Regular workouts. Ice time every day. Meals together afterward. We were getting into a routine. As much as we might complain about the grind, there was no denying that we all liked having everything we needed to do laid out for us.

After those three had been around for a few days, Dima came over to me as we were cleaning up in the locker room.

“Can I come to your house? Is Viktoriya home?”

He never asked to hang out. Not with anyone. Sometimes last season, he’d gone out with a couple of the other Russian players to do things, but otherwise we’d had to drag him along with us. Dima was not a joiner by nature.

He had news about Tori’s mother. There wasn’t any other explanation.

“What did you find out?” I needed to know before he told her. I needed to prepare myself for her reaction, at least as well as I could.

He shook his head. “It’s bad.”

“Bad as in she’s being mistreated somewhere? Or bad, as in she’s dead?”

“Uncle says she’s dead. Killed over a year ago.”

I nodded, keeping myself calm and cool on the outside, even though inside my heart was breaking for her. Tori was damaged enough already. This news was liable to shatter what remained.

“Do I want to know how it happened?”

He shook his head. “Better to not know. Better dead than living through what she did.”

I’d been afraid of that.

The other guys were all heading out to have lunch at a nearby sub and salad place. We explained that we had something else that needed to be done and left them to it.

When we got to my house, Tori was already wearing her leotard for her dance class that afternoon, with a pair of yoga pants pulled on over it. She’d gotten up from the sofa when she heard me come through the door, but as soon as she saw that Dima was with me—and only Dima, not several of the other guys, as well—she collapsed back onto it. Like she knew he’d brought bad news.

“Pogovori so mnoy,” he said.

She nodded and stayed where she was. I headed to the kitchen to fix lunch for all three of us, leaving them to their conversation. I wouldn’t understand a word of it, anyway, something I needed to fix. I made a mental note to ask Dima to help me learn Russian. More to have another means of communicating with Tori than to listen in on the two of them. In the last few weeks, Dima had taken to looking after Tori, in a sense. He was acting almost big-brotherly toward her, adopting her kind of like Tallie had been. And now that I knew Tori didn’t have any blood family left… The more people who wanted to be part of her life, the better.

It didn’t take me long to roast some fresh veg and pan-fry a few fish fillets, one of Tori’s favorite meals, at least out of the ones in my repertoire. When everything was ready, I looked up to find Dima and Tori already heading for the dining room table. Tori’s head was down, her long hair hiding her face from my view. Dima joined me, taking a few of the dishes.

“You told her everything?” I asked quietly.

“Everything I know.”

I nodded, and the two of us carried everything in to join my wife.

She hardly ate a bite, using her fork to shove food around on her plate. Worse than that, she didn’t say a word. Her head stayed down, her shoulders hunched forward. All I wanted to do was wrap her up in my arms and hold her, but I wasn’t sure she would let me. Not right now.

Dima and I tried to draw her into conversation, talking about the upcoming season. He mentioned a charity sledge hockey event he wanted to put together sometime in the winter. Our efforts were no use. When we finished eating, Dima helped me clear away the dishes.

“Did she say anything when you told her?” I asked with the running water masking the sounds of our voices. I hadn’t heard her speak during their conversation, but I hadn’t been listening that closely since I wouldn’t understand it to begin with.

“No. She sat like block of ice whole time. Once I told all I knew, she thanked me for telling her. That was all. Not a word since.”

I thanked him, too, and he left after giving Tori a kiss on the cheek. I followed him out and closed the door behind him. When I turned around, Tori was so close I nearly ran her over. She looked up at me with red-rimmed eyes. The second I opened my arms, she fell into them.

Exactly where I wanted her to be.

RAZOR’S STRONG ARMS came around me. Steady. Sure. Present. He was the only thing constant in my life right now, the only person left I could count on. And I could. I knew it as well as I knew Mama was dead.

There was a part of me that had assumed she was dead for a long time, but now I knew. There was no more room for assumptions. There was no more point in holding on to even that tiny shred of hope that had been eating me alive all the years I’d been in America, not looking for her or trying to save her from whatever fate she’d suffered. In truth, there was nothing I could have done, and I knew it. But there had always been that nagging voice inside me, urging me to think harder, try something.

But she was gone.

Mama was dead. Papa was dead. If I ever stepped foot back in my home country, I might as well be dead, too.

So now all I had was Razor…him and the fading thought that he could ever save me from the fate awaiting me once the government decided to deport me.

At least for the time being, I had him.

He rested his chin on the top of my head, a reassuring weight keeping me grounded. But it wasn’t enough. I needed more. I needed to lose myself for a while. I needed to escape from the hell that was going on inside my head, and I didn’t know how to do that. Only that I needed Razor.

With both arms around his waist, I hugged him to me.

“Want to talk about it?” he asked, his voice rumbling through his chest and soaking into me.

I shook my head and tightened my grip on him.

“Want to go to the studio for your class?”

Dance wouldn’t help right now. It would remind me of Mama and all I couldn’t have.

“No ballet,” I said. “Not now.”

“Then what do you need?” He wasn’t irritated. There was far more concern in his voice than annoyance. “Tell me how to help you.”

“I need you.”

“I’m right here. Not going anywhere.”

“No, I…” That wasn’t what I meant. I wasn’t sure what, specifically, I wanted. Not until the words came out of my mouth. “Touch me. I need you to touch me.”

“Tori.” My name was a groan on his lips. “Baby, I can’t hurt you. Please—”

“Not hurt. Just…touch me. I need—” I’d never be able to explain to him in words what I needed, so I decided to show him instead. I backed away, grabbed one of his hands, and pressed it to my breast. “Touch me,” I repeated, blinking to ward off the tears threatening to fill my eyes.

His gaze never leaving mine, he closed his hand over me, molding my flesh to his palm. “Like this?”

“Yes.” I rolled forward on the balls of my feet, closing my eyes.

He placed his other hand on my ribs, gradually sliding down toward my hip before settling in the curve of my waist.

My breaths caught in my throat.

Razor brushed his lips over my eyelids. “Tell me what you want, Tori.”

“Harder,” I forced out. Just one word was all I could manage. The way he was touching me felt good, but I needed more.

He shifted his hand, and my nipple beaded into a hard, sensitive bud. Through the material of my leotard, he gently pinched my tit between thumb and forefinger, and rolled.

I gasped.

“Too much?”

“No. It’s good.” It was better than good. His grip was just enough to cause the slightest bite of pain—not too much, not too little—that washed away my ability to think and left a delicious yearning sensation in its wake.

He did it again, and this time he caught my gasp in a kiss, his tongue sweeping inside my open mouth to play with mine.

Dizziness had me making fists in his shirt, drawing him closer, and holding on for all I was worth. He backed me up against the wall and dragged both hands up and down my sides, teasing along my rib cage.

“I want to make you come,” he said between kisses.

I shook my head. “It’s too hard. No point. Just touch me. Hold me.”

“Let me try. I won’t— I won’t do anything to hurt you. Just let me…” His words trailed away as he nibbled a line along my jaw and down my neck, ending at my clavicle. “Let me give this to you.”

Even though I knew it was pointless, even though I knew he’d never do the sorts of things necessary to bring me to climax, I nodded. “Yes. Fine. Try.” Because even if I was right and he was wrong, at least he was touching me. His hands were on me. His lips. And that was what I needed. To escape. To pretend, for just this moment, that there was someone left in this world who loved me. Whether it would be enough to make me orgasm wasn’t really a concern, because sometimes, even for me, being touched by a man felt good.

Razor took my hand and led me down the hall to his bedroom. He stripped off his shirt and tossed it on the floor before moving in behind me. In a practiced move, he nudged my yoga pants over my hips. They slipped to the floor, pooling at my ankles. I waited, restless, breathless, for him to touch me again.

And I waited some more.

The heat of his body scalded my butt, my thighs, even though we weren’t touching. I wanted to ease back toward him, to press myself against him. I craved the sensation of my curves making way to fit with his hard body.

But still I waited.

I held my hands in front of me, anxiously picking at my fingernails.

He finally touched me, with nothing more than the tips of his fingers grazing my hip. His other hand came around my waist and took hold of one of mine, putting a halt to my nervous habit. Then his lips were on the back of my neck, light as a feather, but it made my stomach flip.

The ocean-like scent of the soap he’d used after working out with the guys flowed around me, crashing into me like a wave. I wanted it to take me under.

He nudged the backs of my knees, and I dropped back against him. His arm flitted around my waist, holding me up. “I want you in my bed,” he said, his breath tickling my ear. “I want you in my bed, naked and writhing because you’re so close, so fucking close, because I’m driving you wild.”

Still holding my hand, he stretched my arm up over his shoulder and let it go, trailing his fingers down the underside of my limb, teasing the sensitive flesh. I couldn’t decide whether to laugh or suck in a breath.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t seen Dirty Dancing. I’m stealing Swayze’s move, and you don’t even recognize it. You’re killing me.”

“It’s good move.”

“Mm-hmm. This one’ll be even better.” He tipped my chin up and back until he could kiss me from behind.

My knees turned to jelly, but it didn’t matter because Razor picked me up and carried me to his bed. He laid me on my back and came over me, settling himself between my thighs. His cock was hard, pulsing against me through his jeans. He held himself above me with much of his weight on his elbows. I wanted more of his weight on me. I wanted the feel of him crushing me to the mattress.

I hooked my ankles together behind his back and dug my fingers into his biceps, trying to drag him down to me. But no matter how strong I was, he was stronger. He wouldn’t budge.

In fact, he grinned down at me. “What do you want?”

“You.”

“I got that. What else? What do you want me to do? How do you like being touched? What’s it going to take to make you come?”

He wasn’t going to like my answer.

“Need to be rough.”

Sure enough, he was already shaking his head.

“Not to hurt,” I said. “Just… No sensitivity left. It’s gone.” I shrugged. They’d gone so far so many times when I’d been filming porn that I wasn’t sure I’d ever regain normal sensation. “Have to be rough or I don’t feel. Like pinching tit. Light touch won’t work.”

He shook his head, but he slipped the straps of my leotard off my shoulders and lowered it enough to free my breasts. At first, the kisses he placed along the line of my clavicle were tender and sweet. But then he moved lower, using his tongue and teeth to nibble down my breastbone to my abs.

I sucked in a sharp breath when he circled my belly button with his tongue before dipping it inside, his hands scraping up and down my ribs. Gradually, he made his way to my breasts and pussy, removing my leotard completely and flinging it overhead to land somewhere in the room. And everything he was doing felt good, I couldn’t lie about that. He kneaded my breasts; he pinched and twisted my tits; he licked my pussy and nibbled on my lower lips before sucking my clit into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it over and over and over again.

It felt…nice. But nothing more. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how much effort he put in to push me over the edge into ecstasy, it just wasn’t going to happen. True, I wasn’t staring at a spot on the ceiling and praying for it to end, but things weren’t so easy for me. I doubted they ever would be again.

He’d been at it so long it had to end. And soon. While I appreciated his attempt, it was a lost cause. But I could tell he had no intention of giving up until he succeeded. Something told me Razor wasn’t used to failing.

So after he changed his rhythm again, I writhed against him, and I made soft, whimpering sounds, and I increased my breathing as if his endeavor were affecting me far more than it was. He licked and sucked with even greater intensity, and I bucked my hips into him and cried out, forcing my legs to tremor and my whole body to tense and release.

Razor kept it up for a few more moments before crawling up the length of my body to collapse on top of me. The weight of him pressing me down into the mattress felt as good as everything else he’d done. I sighed, savoring this moment. This—this was what I’d wanted more than anything. He kissed my cheek and whispered nonsensical words in my ear, using his hands to stroke my arms and hair.

His cock—as hard as ever—pushed against my belly. Maybe now he’d finally let me do what I could for him. We both knew he wanted me, and we both knew I could get him off. Now that his silly requirement had supposedly been met, it should be time.

He rolled us over so I was straddling him, and he kissed me lazy and deep. Excellent. He was playing right into my plans. In this position, I had a much better chance of freeing his cock to return the favor, so I started my efforts by letting my hands roam over every inch of his chest and abs.

He made deep sounds into my mouth when my fingertips teased his belly button, like he’d done with his tongue to mine. With one hand still toying with him that way, I worked to undo his belt.

Razor broke off the kiss and grabbed for that hand, stopping me before I’d done anything but release the catch on his buckle. “No, baby.”

“But—”

“Maybe you can fool a camera into thinking you had an orgasm, but you’re not fooling me.” He rolled us over again, pinning me down. “You don’t come, I don’t come. That’s the deal. That’s not changing.”

“I did—”

He put a finger over my lips and shook his head. “Please do us both a favor and don’t lie. Not about this. Not about something so important.”

If the necessity of me having a real orgasm was one of the more important parts of our relationship, we were doomed to failure. I pouted, so frustrated I was on the verge of screaming. “But if I can’t? If I never come again, how can you wait? It’s not fair to you.”

“How the hell is me getting my rocks off while you can’t enjoy sex fair to you?”

“I did enjoy, though. Just didn’t come. Sometimes it’s okay to not come. It’s still good.”

“Beautiful, if someone got me that close all the time and then left me hanging…” He shook his head. “That’s not good. That’s not okay.”

“But women are different.” He opened his mouth to argue with me again, so I kept going before he could get a word out. “I’m different. Porn changed me. My body, it’s not same like other women. Not anymore.” It didn’t look like I was getting anywhere, so I decided to try a different tack. “We compromise?”

He scowled so deep I wanted to rub the line between his eyebrows until it went away. “What kind of compromise?”

“You keep try to make me come, but agree sometimes it not happen, still okay. I give you blow job or hand job. Trade off. It’s fair.”

“It’s not fair.”

“You get blue balls. You need to come. Bad for hockey.”

He stared at me, his brow still furrowed in thought for so long it left me antsy. But then he said, “I have one more condition.”

“Condition?” I raised a brow.

“You have to agree to the therapy that Dr. Rodriguez suggested.”

“I don’t need—”

“I need you to try the therapy. Because as much as I love the thought of feeling your sweet mouth on me, it’s not enough. I need more. I need to be with you, and I need for you to be okay when it happens.”

He wasn’t going to budge on that. I could see it in the set of his jaw.

“Fine,” I agreed, but I wasn’t happy about it. Not at all. “I go to physical therapy.”

“And counseling,” he added.

I opened my mouth to argue.

“Tori,” he said on a sigh. “I’ll come with you, but I need you to go. Especially now that you know about your mother.”

Mama. I’d done my best ever since Dmitri had left to forget about all that he’d told me, but now it came rushing back in a flood of tears.

Razor kissed my cheek, the salty tears covering his lips. “See?” he said. “Because of this. I can’t handle much more without knowing you’re getting help. It rips me into shreds to see you hurting like this, baby.”

He rolled off me and tugged me to his side, tucking my head onto his shoulder.

He held me until the tears stopped, brushing his fingers through my hair and stroking my arm and back all the while. When I was done, he said one word. Just one, no more and no less.

“Please?”

“Yes,” I said, my throat raw and my eyes scratchy. “I’ll go.”

ALMOST EVERY DAY of late, Greg was calling me with something else Tori and I needed to do in order to prove our marriage was real. It was already almost September. The other guys were starting to show up in Tulsa, and we’d been married for more than a month and a half.

In the last few weeks, I’d added her to my health insurance policy and updated my life insurance and everything else of that nature to include her as my beneficiary.

Once I’d done that, he’d told me I needed to somehow get her name onto my mortgage, she needed a phone of her own, a car with her name on both the title and insurance policy, and we needed joint bank accounts and credit cards.

For the last few weeks, any time I wasn’t busy working out for the upcoming season and she wasn’t at some dance class or hanging out with Tallie, we were working toward proving that we were truly sharing a life in every sense.

That included starting Tori’s therapy. She’d been to two PT sessions so far and was working on some exercises at home, and just two days ago we’d gone to her first counseling session. Every moment of my life right now that wasn’t directly related to getting ready for the hockey season was spent focused on her.

Greg’s latest edict really took the cake, though.

“How the hell am I supposed to take her on a honeymoon when you’ve told me she can’t leave the country?” I demanded, tossing my bag of gear in the trunk of my car.

“No one ever said that you have to take her out of the country, but you two need to get away somewhere. And be sure you take pictures together, wherever it is you end up going.” The sounds of tapping keys rattled in my ear through the phone. The man was constantly on his computer. “And her birthday is next month. You need to throw her a party and have friends over. And take more pictures.”

“She’s not much for parties.” I supposed I could invite Hunter, Tallie, and Dima. Maybe a few of the other guys, if it came down to that. But it would make her uncomfortable.

“Well, she’s going to have to suffer through it. You don’t have to make it a huge blowout. Just something to show that you’re celebrating things together. But however you look at it, you two need to be selfie central for a while. Everywhere you go, everything you do, take pictures of the two of you together. And be sure you’re both smiling,” he added, almost as an afterthought. “Maybe even try to get some where you’re kissing her.”

I filed it all away as a mental note as I tried to figure out where to take her for a honeymoon and calculated just how many people—and who—to invite for a birthday party. “Got it. What else do we need to be doing?”

I hoped this time he’d go ahead and tell me enough that I wouldn’t have to talk to him again any time soon. I liked my agent, and I was thrilled that he was helping me out with Tori’s immigration status because I sure as hell didn’t have the first clue how to go about it on my own, but I didn’t like him enough that I wanted to hear his voice every single day. There were better things to do with my time. Instead, it seemed as though we were having conversations almost exactly like this one at least several days a week, if not every day. Yes, I’d opened this can of worms myself, but I wanted to have it all settled.

I got behind the wheel, fastened my seat belt, and started heading for home.

“Just keep getting to know each other as well as possible,” Greg said. “Your first interview with USCIS isn’t likely to happen for another month or more, but you need to be sure you’re both on the same page about everything. It’s probably best to be as honest as possible when they do interview you. Don’t try to convince them that you met months before you tied the knot and were having a secret affair. That’s impossible to prove, easy to disprove, and it’ll make everything look even more suspicious than it already is. Just tell them that you met in Vegas, got a crazy hair, got hitched right away, and haven’t looked back. Don’t even lie about the fact that she was doing porn. They’ll be able to find that much if they do any digging at all. However much you decide to tell them, though, make sure you’re both in complete agreement about all the details.”

“We’ll have everything straight,” I grumbled.

“And it’s not just about how you met. They might ask what size your bed is, what color your sheets are, what type of curtains are hanging in the bedroom…”

“Those details won’t be a problem.” At least I didn’t think they would be. Was Tori the sort of person who would notice those things? I wasn’t positive. One more thing to go on the mental to-do list.

Greg and I spent a few more minutes talking about the upcoming season and my preparation—things I was far more on board with talking about. But while we shot the shit, an idea hit me.

As soon as I disconnected the call with my agent, I called Babs.

“Hey, asshole,” he said when he answered, laughing.

“Hey yourself, fuckwad.”

“I haven’t heard a word from you since you took off with your bride after my wedding.”

“Figured you’d be too busy honeymooning,” I hedged. The truth was, I’d been so busy trying to get to know Tori and make sure we could get her green card that I hadn’t thought much about him since then. Further proof that I was a crappy friend.

“You ever going to tell me what that was all about?”

“Just needed to beat you at something,” I said, trying to make a joke of it. That was what he’d expect of me, anyway. I was never very serious around Babs or any of the guys. They wouldn’t know what to do with me if I were. “I got married first by a half day.”

“For some reason, I’m not buying what you’re selling.”

I never thought he would. “I’ll explain it as well as I can next time I see you. Actually, speaking of that…I’ve got a favor to ask,” I said. I felt like shit for even asking. The guy was constantly doing things for me, and I never seemed to pay him back for it.

“What’s that?”

“Any chance I can bring Tori up to Portland for a visit with you and Katie sometime before the season starts? I could fill you in. You could get to know her…”

“You want to bring her to Portland,” he repeated, sounding confused.

I was almost as confused as he was, but I didn’t know what else to do. “Yeah. If it’s all right.”

“Of all the places you could take her, why the hell would you choose Portland? I mean, don’t get me wrong. I love it here. But…Portland? Not exactly at the top of the list of romantic hot spots to take your new bride for a getaway.”

“I need to take her on a honeymoon.”

“To Portland.” I could picture the dumbfounded look on his face based on the way he said it.

“Yes, to Portland. I know it doesn’t make much sense, but I can’t take her out of the fucking country until her green card issues are sorted out, can I?”

“So why not take her to New York? Or at least somewhere more exciting than Portland?”

“Because my best bud’s not in New York.” And the Russian Mafia might be. Tori had mentioned they had bases in Montreal and Toronto, but it’d be stupid to think they didn’t have groups stationed in various places in the States, too. Any way I looked at it, telling him the visit had something to do with him was the best excuse I could come up with. Getting into everything to do with Tori’s family and the reasons she was here to begin with would probably best be done in person. “So can we come, or what?”

“Yeah. Let me run it by Katie, but I don’t see why not.”

“Thanks.”

“Is she really a porn star?” he asked.

“She was.” Full emphasis on it being fully in the past. The more people asked me about her former profession, the more it set my teeth on edge.

“Fuck. Don’t let Webs know. He’ll shit himself if he thinks you really brought a porn star to his daughter’s wedding like Koz has been telling everyone.”

“Got it. Keep Webs in the dark.” Not that I had any intention of flaunting her history to Katie’s father or anyone else. “And be sure Koz isn’t around, okay? And tell him to mind his own fucking business while you’re at it,” I added. I still wanted to bust his nose in, but doing it off the ice might lead to criminal charges. Better to wait and pick my spot.

“Yeah, sure,” Babs said.

We hung up as I turned into my driveway, with him promising to run everything past Katie and get back to me within a day or two. With training camp right around the corner, I needed to figure something else out if we weren’t going to Portland for whatever reason.

When I walked through the garage door, it was to find Tori and Tallie in the kitchen, each wearing an apron. Not surprising. But Tallie was holding her stomach with a panicked look in her eyes, and Tori was rubbing her friend’s back.

“Razor,” Tori said, sounding relieved. “Need help.”

It stroked my ego to no end to discover Tori was relieved to see me, that she would turn to me for help. So far, we’d only been to a single counseling session, and it had been more of the get-to-know-you variety than anything, but I’d been worried she might try to shut me out emotionally after I’d given her my conditions for taking our relationship to the physical level she wanted. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Contractions,” Tallie ground out.

That was the only word I needed to hear. “Tori, get her purse. And yours, too. We’ve got to get her to the hospital. Where’s Hunter?” I shook my head, as if that would clear it. I knew where Hunter was, since I’d just been with him before leaving the gym. He’d said he was going to meet up with his brother for some outpatient thing at the loony bin Kade had spent some time in last year. I hadn’t paid too much attention at the time because it wasn’t any of my business. Tori nodded and took off to get their purses, so I put a hand on Tallie’s back, where Tori’s had been, and guided her out to my car. At the same time, I pulled up Hunter’s number on my phone with my other hand.

“What?” he said in lieu of a normal greeting.

“Tallie’s at my house. She’s in labor. I’m taking her to the hospital.”

“Shit.”

“Remind him to get my overnight bag,” Tallie said, panting. “It’s in the hall closet.”

“Get her bag and meet us there,” I barked into the phone, closing Tallie’s door once she had all her limbs inside.

“Shit.”

Hunter was a fucking mess. I couldn’t blame him. I would be, too, if it were Tori in labor—a thought that both freaked me out and made a strange warmth spread from my belly to my limbs. Tori raced out with both of their purses when I made it around to the driver’s side. She got in the back and I started the car.

Tallie hissed in pain, biting her lip.

“Hunter, did you fucking hear me?” I practically shouted.

“She’s not due for a few more weeks.”

“Well, apparently your little bundle of joy had other plans. Get your ass up to the hospital.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. I heard you the first time.”

“Shit.”

I spun my head over to Tallie, since this time she was the one to have said it. She was looking down at her legs…where a wet spot was darkening her pants.

“My water just broke.”

“So I noticed,” I muttered. I put the car in reverse and started backing out of the garage. “Hunter, did you hear that? Your wife’s water just broke.”

“But we’re…” The guy sounded completely lost.

“She’s having contractions,” I said. “Whether it’s good timing or not, this kid is coming. Now. I’m taking her to the fucking hospital so she doesn’t give birth in my car, so you’d better fucking meet us there.” Then I hung up so I could focus on driving.

He pulled in at Labor and Delivery about two seconds after I stopped in the circle drive. I’d barely put the car in park before he was ripping my passenger door open and trying to lift Tallie out without even bothering to release her seat belt.

I pressed the button to release her and attempted to avoid glaring at Hunter while I helped untangle the belt from around the pair of them.

“Hunter, you’re actin’ nuttier than a five-pound fruitcake,” Tallie said. “I’m having a baby, not dying.”

She had a point, as far as I was concerned. But he lifted her out of the car and carried her to a waiting wheelchair without response.

Kade was with him, which was probably for the best, even if he maybe should have been at whatever thing was going on at the mental hospital. Someone needed to keep Hunter calm, and Tallie was likely to be too busy for that responsibility. Kade was a better option than me, in my opinion. He took Hunter’s keys and moved their car to an actual parking spot. I should probably do the same, unless we were going to leave. And since we were already here, I supposed maybe we should stick around for a while.

I looked back at Tori. Her eyes were wide and alert, and she had both her purse and Tallie’s clutched to her chest.

“You should probably take her purse to her,” I said. “She might need something from it. I’ll go park the car and then I’ll come in, too.”

“She’s all right?” Tori asked. “And baby is all right?”

“Most likely, they’ll both be fine. And even if something goes wrong, they’re in the right place for it. The doctors will take good care of them.”

She nodded and climbed out of the car, draping the straps of each purse across either shoulder. It was only then that I could make out what her apron said: My Milkshake Brings My Hubby to the Yard. I stifled a laugh. No doubt Tallie had brought it over for Tori to wear, and I doubted Tori even understood the reference.

“What’s funny?” she asked.

I shook my head. “I’ll tell you later. Let me go park the car. I’ll be right in.”

And I got the feeling that we’d be staying until the baby was born, however long that might take. Tori didn’t have many friends in this world, and there was no chance I was going to ask her to walk away from the best one she had at a time like this.

I checked the battery life on my phone. Decent, considering how much I’d been using it today. That was good, since it was about to be selfie central. This was exactly the sort of event Greg had been talking about.

TORI AND I ended up staying at the hospital all night, waiting for the baby’s arrival. She was exhausted and kept falling asleep with her head resting on my shoulders in the waiting room, but every time I suggested going home to bed, she dug in her heels and insisted she was perfectly fine.

Tallie’s father had joined us. He and Kade spent some of their time in the room with Hunter and Tallie and some of it out in the waiting room with us. Every now and then, Tallie would kick all the guys out and ask for Tori to come and sit with her. I was the only one not going into the room, other than to deliver food or coffee to Hunter. It didn’t seem like something I needed to be part of, and I doubted I’d be welcome. Apparently, Hunter’s parents were planning to take the first flight out in the morning. They’d intended to come down in a couple of weeks so they’d be here in time for the big day, but then the baby had moved the schedule up.

I went out a couple of times for food and coffee to keep the troops operational and in peak form. Every time I came back with something for Hunter, Tallie glared at us until he left the room to partake of whatever I’d brought him. Once he finished, he headed right back in, though, and then I returned to the waiting room to stay with Tori.

When I came back from a three a.m. run to the nearest twenty-four-hour Starbucks, Kade met me at the entry on his way out.

“Is the baby here, then?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I just can’t stay all night without something to do. Going crazy in there. I don’t want to fuck up and do something stupid.”

I didn’t know the guy well, but I did know he had drug issues. I hoped this meant he was being smart and going home to bed instead of trying to find someone to hook him up. He’d been doing well lately, and he seemed to be aware of the choices he was making at the moment, so I decided not to worry. He wasn’t my problem, no matter how I looked at it, and I had my hands full enough already with Tori.

“Get some sleep,” I said. “We’ll let you know when the baby comes.” Then he headed out to his car, and I took the coffee in.

“Took you long enough,” Hunter grumbled. He was a grumpy ass in the best of circumstances, but lack of sleep and worry about his wife and baby wasn’t helping.

“Do you realize how busy Starbucks is at three in the morning?” I passed him his coffee—black with a single packet of sugar. “Apparently it’s the place to be around here. Any change?”

He shook his head and sipped. “Not really. Her contractions are strong and steady, but she’s still not fully dilated. And the longer it goes on, the more talkative she gets. And I don’t understand a lot of it. We’ve been married for over a year now, but I have no clue what half the things she says mean. What the fuck does squalling like a mashed cat mean?”

I chuckled. “No idea, but I feel your pain. Tori and I have a few communication issues of our own.”

“Yeah, but at least you have an actual language barrier as an excuse. English is supposedly Tallie’s first language.”

“Pretty sure Southern is an entirely different language than Canadian, eh? I think one year playing in this state is enough to realize just how much we all still have to learn about people down here.”

“True.” He laughed and finished off his coffee, then tossed the cup in a garbage can across the hall. “I guess I’d better get back in there, or she’ll be screaming something about pitching a fit.”

I took the rest of the coffee back to the waiting room, passing Tallie’s father on the way and handing a cup over to him.

Tori took one as I sat next to her. “Still no baby?”

“Still no baby.”

“It’s long time.”

“The guys tell me the first baby usually takes the longest.” Unless I was confusing myself, which was entirely possible.

She nodded and sipped.

I put my arm around her shoulders, and she rested her head on my shoulder again. It’d be a good selfie opportunity, but that would mean digging my phone out and disrupting the moment. Even though I knew I should probably take a pic anyway, I decided to ignore Greg’s advice for the time being.

“Tallie’s not scared of stirrups,” Tori said after a long, comfortable silence.

I looked down at her, questioning with my eyes since I had no earthly idea where she was heading with this line of conversation.

“I asked her. Bed has stirrups. I almost panicked, but Tallie said nothing to be scared of. Said it’s just a tool for Dr. Rodriguez.”

“But it’s not just a tool for you?” There was a part of me that knew as much, even if I didn’t understand exactly what caused her fear.

She shook her head.

“What are those stirrups to you?”

“Nightmare. Used them in porn. They tied me down. Couldn’t move.”

“When Dr. Rodriguez uses them, you’re not tied down,” I said. “You can get out of them.”

“I know. Still nightmare, though.”

I kissed her because there wasn’t anything I could possibly say to that. It made sense. No amount of reasoning could combat fears like hers.

But it made me wonder just what kinds of shit she’d been put through in the couple of years she’d worked in that industry. A bit at a time, she was revealing things to me. I hoped that I’d learn more through the counseling she’d started, but I wasn’t sure how much she’d ever tell me. And I needed to know. What if she encountered something else that, for most people, was nothing to worry about, and she went into a full-blown freak out? It could happen. It nearly had during that doctor’s visit.

As much as the thought of it left me nauseated, I knew I needed to see for myself the kinds of things she’d been forced to endure.

I held her closer to me, and she let her head drop down on my shoulder again. She started nodding off, so I took her unfinished coffee and set it on the table next to me so it wouldn’t spill. In no time, she was out cold again.

I couldn’t sleep. Not with thoughts of what I might find once I started digging into her history racing through my head. Since she was still sleeping, I finished off her cup once my own was gone. Hours passed. Hunter and Tallie’s father came and went from the waiting room. Kade came back, looking rested and not strung out, bearing more coffee and some pastries for those of us who weren’t trying to expel a tiny human from our bodies.

Finally, Harper Paisley Fielding made her first arrival, at once both unexpectedly early and fashionably late—or maybe more than fashionably late, considering she’d put her mother through more than seventeen hours of labor. The little girl had all her fingers and toes and a shockingly full head of dark brown hair, not to mention a set of lungs that should do her Southern mama proud.

Even though I hadn’t slept a wink, I waited until little Harper was in the nursery getting cleaned up and having a few tests run so Tori and I could take a look at her through the window. Once we were there, I realized it was a perfect opportunity to get a selfie, like Greg had commanded.

“Turn around so we can get a picture with the babies in the background,” I said to Tori.

She yawned. “Why picture?”

“Because it’s a big moment.”

“Oh. Oh.” Realization dawned in her eyes. She turned and sidled up alongside me.

We put our arms around one another’s waists, and I raised my phone.

A nurse knocked on the window before I could snap it.

I turned around.

“Which baby?” she mouthed through the glass.

Even better. I pointed toward Harper’s bassinette. The nurse picked her up and carried her to the window, holding her up so the two of us could pose with the baby in the background. I pecked a kiss on Tori’s cheek as I snapped the shot.

She gave me a goofy expression. “Crazy man. You need sleep.”

“You have no idea how badly.”

We thanked the nurse and waved good-bye, and then we headed home. I collapsed on the bed almost the second we walked through the door, still fully clothed. I didn’t even bother to take off my shoes. Tori crawled up beside me and lay down in my arms, using my chest as her pillow. In no time, we were both out cold, despite the fact that the sun was warming us as it shined down through the window.

NOW THAT THE baby was here, Tori wasn’t spending anywhere near as much time with Tallie as she had been before. That meant I hadn’t had much time to research her porn films, because I had no intention of doing it while she was sitting in the same room. The last thing she needed was for me to pull one of those up and have it send her into a panic. I might have been putting it off because of the nauseating factor, too, in the several days since Harper’s birth.

But now Tori and I were set to fly to Portland tomorrow to spend a week with Babs and Katie, and as soon as we came back, training camp was due to start. I would only have so many opportunities to do this, and at the moment, Tori was gone to the ballet studio to dance during some open hours when it wasn’t being used for some class or another. She’d been spending more and more time there, getting back into the swing of things. I figured she wanted to get in as many hours in front of the barre as she could before we left for Portland.

So I took out my laptop and pulled up a free streaming porn site. In the search bar at the top, I typed in Viktoriya. Sure enough, dozens of hits filled my screen.

The top video had been viewed more than twenty-one million times. The video’s description read Russian slave bondage fucked with baseball bat. It was tagged with more than a dozen search terms, all of which made me want to beat someone bloody. But I forced myself to click Play.

It was only a short clip from what was sure to be a much longer scene, but in the two minutes it was on my screen, everything inside me knotted up.

Instead of giving into the urge and puking, I forced myself to click on the next clip.

And the next.

And the one after that.

For over an hour, I watched as Tori was strangled, whipped, gangbanged, deep throated, caned, bound, gagged, and violently fucked in every way imaginable.

And worse. So much worse.

Watching it was so painful and debilitating it left me numb.

I turned off my computer.

Thought about tossing the whole thing in the trash.

I’d felt the need to understand what Tori had been through. Now I knew.

What I didn’t know was what to do about it.

RAZOR WAS ACTING unusual.

I wasn’t sure if it was due to the hockey season getting ready to start or if it was more because of all the things we were having to do to prepare for our interview with the immigration people. For all I knew, it could be something else entirely.

All I was sure of was that he wasn’t himself.

Usually, he was good-natured and laughing. Now that we were in Portland to visit his friends and have our honeymoon, such as it was, he was grumbling and surly. It had started yesterday, actually. Maybe it was the stress of taking this trip right before his training camp was set to start. Or it might come down to the fact that he was tired of being my husband and wished he’d never made the offer to begin with. Our new sexual arrangement was better than what we’d been doing before, but it could hardly be satisfying to him, and as of yet, I’d made very little progress at all with the treatments the physical therapist had prescribed.

Any way I looked at it, however, I was typically the one in our relationship who was grumbling and surly, or at least more so than Razor was. I didn’t know what to think of this change in him, or if there was something I ought to do to help him get back to normal.

As we came around the corner to the baggage claim area, Razor tightened his grip on my hand.

“You’re not nervous about hanging out with Babs and Katie this week, are you?”

I shrugged, hoping he wouldn’t notice how anxious I truly was. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine. I keep thrusting you into different parts of my life even though you’re not prepared for them.”

Before I could reassure him that I understood and tell him not to worry about me, he saw his friend and waved.

Babs came over to us, grinning.

Razor released my hand, and the two of them hugged in the way men do, complete with a lot of back slapping, laughing, and shoving each other around. I did my best to be invisible. The last thing I wanted was to end up in the middle of a hug like that.

But when they separated, Babs smiled at me and held out a hand to shake. I took it—tentatively, in case he intended to leverage that grip and drag me into a big hug. He merely shook it, though. “We didn’t get the chance to properly meet at the wedding. I’m Jamie.”

I reminded myself to breathe. “Tori.”

“Glad you two could come.”

The next thing I knew, the three of us went to the baggage carousel with the two of them talking and laughing as if they saw each other every day. They picked up our luggage, and Razor reached for my hand again.

“Katie’s making dinner,” Jamie said as we walked out to his car. “And Levi’s coming over. No Koz, though,” he added, giving Razor a sideways look. “I hope you brought your skates.”

“Wouldn’t go anywhere without them this time of year.”

“I don’t know if you brought anything with you to dance in,” Jamie said to me. “But if you want to, Katie’s got plans to take you to a friend’s house. Brie’s got a dance studio in the basement. She might even be able to convince Devin Shreeve to stop by...”

I nodded, even though I’d stopped breathing for a moment. That seemed to be enough, as the two of them kept talking, leaving me to my thoughts as we loaded everything into Jamie’s car and climbed in. I knew who Devin Shreeve was. He’d come to my school one semester and choreographed an entire production. He’d cast me as the lead, and I’d worked side by side with him for months. But then the day of the performance, he’d said something that had caused my insides to freeze.

If you do well enough with this, you won’t need to do your other work anymore.

That was all he’d said, nothing more and nothing less. But it had been enough for me to realize he knew what I did with my weekends.

Somehow, I’d gotten through the production without falling apart, but the whole time I’d been on the stage, I’d wondered who else out in the audience knew. Were they thinking of the films they’d seen me in? Were they imagining me with my clothes off, thinking of all the things they’d like to do to me? Was Devin?

He’d brought flowers to my dressing room afterwards, as is tradition in the ballet. You were fantastic tonight. You brought down the house. I meant what I said, you know. I’m sure I can get you some work if you’re interested. But I’d pushed past him and hurried home, and I’d done my best to forget about him.

Not that anything he’d done or said was wrong. It was the simple fact that he’d recognized me, and he’d been in a position to tell the directors of my school if he’d wanted to. For all I knew, he was the one who had informed them of my extracurricular activities.

He probably wasn’t. I was almost positive that it had been Jason Hirschmann, who’d been my most frequent partner at school. There had been too many Mondays when I’d come back to the studio too sore from the weekend’s shoots to get through a rehearsal without him realizing something was wrong. I was good at hiding my pain from a distance but less skilled at disguising it from someone who was up close and personal. Jason had been as close as anyone other than the men who’d starred opposite me in the shoots. I was fairly certain he’d known for more than a year before he’d finally said something. But the end of my schooling had likely come about thanks to Jason and not Devin.

I was still in the process of mulling over the idea of having some form of contact with Devin while Razor and I were in Portland when Jamie turned into a driveway and pulled into the garage.

I got out in a daze while Razor and Jamie unloaded our bags, and I followed them inside. I’d barely made it through the door before Katie was launching herself at me and wrapping me up in a hug.

“I can’t even tell you how glad I am you two came to visit,” she gushed. “I have to be honest. I never thought Razor was the marrying sort, so I’ve been absolutely dying to get to know you.”

She took my hand and led me into the living room. I looked over my shoulder at Razor as we went. He winked and nodded encouragement.

I could do this. I’d spent plenty of time with Tallie, and I actually liked her.

Yet somehow, the thought of getting to know more of Razor’s friends terrified me as much as trying to talk to the counselor.

So far, none of those things had killed me.

AFTER DINNER AND an evening spent with lots of talk and laughter—in which I’d only felt moderately out of place, surprisingly, and laughed more than I could remember laughing in a very long time—Jamie’s brother, Levi, was ready to drive Razor and me to the hotel we would be staying in this week.

“You really can stay here,” Katie said as we were on our way out the front door with Levi. “I know I already told you that. But it wouldn’t be an inconvenience at all.”

Razor shook his head. “You two are newlyweds. So are we. I think we all know it’s better for us to go to a hotel.”

“Truth,” Jamie agreed, and Levi snorted in laughter yet again. They all had the sort of relationship that led to a lot of teasing and good-natured laughing at each other. I’d never really had anything like that before.

Part of me had been jealous of it all night. Another part of me had been trying to fly under the radar so they wouldn’t poke at me.

It hadn’t worked. Before long, I had been on the receiving end of any number of jokes.

What surprised me about it most of all was that I’d enjoyed it. I still wasn’t comfortable enough with them to retaliate. Maybe someday. Still, they’d made me feel part of things, a piece of the puzzle that fell into place instead of one being forced into the wrong position.

Katie pouted. “Fine. Be that way.” She turned to me, then, and took my hand to stop me. “But I’ll come pick you up when the guys go to the rink, okay? We’ll do something fun together.”

I nodded and let Razor hold the door open while I got into the car. Ten minutes later, Levi dropped us off at the hotel. Razor got us checked in, and a bellhop helped us transport our bags up to the room.

Once we were alone, Razor collapsed on his back on the king-sized bed. “I like Portland. Always did. But I sure as fuck didn’t miss all the damn bridges in this city.”

I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting him to say, but that definitely wasn’t it. I laughed—couldn’t help it. The laughter bubbled up inside me and boiled over before I could put a lid on it, much as it had been doing all night. My stomach ached from all the laughter, but it was the most delicious kind of ache.

“You are so damn beautiful when you laugh,” he said. “You have no idea how good it is to hear it. To see it.”

He had no idea how tingly it made me feel to hear those words from his mouth while he was looking at me like he’d never seen anything he wanted more. The tingles spread from my aching abs out to my fingers and toes, and everywhere in between. He kept watching me with a sense of wonder in his eyes, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t make the smile go away.

“Come here,” he said, and he held out a hand for me.

I crossed over and let him tug me down beside him on the bed. He didn’t waste any time in kissing me once he had me where he wanted me, doing it slowly, taking it deep enough that it made my head swim and my toes curl.

“Was today awful for you?” he asked, teasing his fingers through my hair.

“Not awful. I like Katie.” And it wasn’t even a lie to say so. It’d been a long time since I’d had female friends. Now I had Tallie and maybe Katie, too.

“Yeah. But this isn’t your kind of thing. I know that.”

“Not awful,” I repeated. Especially because Razor’s mood seemed to have improved dramatically since we’d been around his friends. He was acting more like himself, which left me feeling less self-conscious. Maybe his mood earlier hadn’t had anything to do with me, after all.

“Was it maybe okay?” He pecked me on the lips. “Or even good? I know you laughed, but were you just playing along, or did you really enjoy yourself?”

I wasn’t satisfied with just a quick kiss. “More than okay,” I said, lifting a hand to cup the back of his head and drag him back down to me. “Fun.”

Fun. It was the truth. I’d had fun.

His smile came through in the way his lips pressed against mine, but in no time, it turned from a sweet, laughing kiss to something needier. He slid his tongue along the seam of my lips and swept it inside my mouth as soon as I opened for him.

I hooked one leg around his, tangling our limbs to match our tongues.

He nibbled on my lower lip. “I want another chance to try to make you come.”

I was still convinced it was a lost cause, but he hadn’t given up in his efforts. Not in the least. Although, I did have another idea that might kill two birds.

“I need to practice with dilator,” I said. “You can help.”

His clear eyes turned a deep midnight blue. “You’re sure?”

I nodded. “Positive.”

“Where’d you pack them?” He was already up and heading for my suitcase.

“In blue drawstring bag.”

While he rummaged around for the dilator set, I got up and went into the bathroom to wash up. By the time I came out again, naked, he’d located the bag in question and the tube of lube I’d packed next to it. His eyes roamed over me, taking in every inch of my body. It shouldn’t have affected me. Not like this. Millions of men around the world had seen every tiny pore of my skin. They’d gotten off while watching me. But even though I should have been immune to the sensation of being looked at, this was different. He wasn’t acting like he owned me. He wasn’t trying to use me for his own purposes.

I swallowed past the butterflies that were stealing my ability to speak and crossed over to him. When I reached for the drawstring bag, he handed it to me, his fingers brushing mine in the exchange.

“Tell me what to do,” he said, stripping his shirt over his head and tossing it behind him. “Tell me what you need.”

“Touch me, first,” I said. “Before dilator.”

My therapist had encouraged me to spend a good amount of time getting in the right mood before attempting insertion. That part would definitely be easier with Razor’s help and some foreplay. Yes, it was true that I’d once told him I didn’t need foreplay, and now I was asking him for it. The fact was, for a long time now, foreplay hadn’t done anything to eliminate the pain I felt, but now I was starting to believe there could be a solution.

Even though I’d had some difficulty with achieving arousal when practicing on my own, I’d still managed to move up to the second dilator in my set. That said, I was supposed to be the one inserting the dilators at this point so I could control the depth and angle, stopping if it grew too painful.

But Razor had given me no reason to believe he wouldn’t stop if I needed him to. He’d given me every reason to think he would treat my body with more care than I often did, myself.

It felt right to ask him for help at this juncture, and there was no doubt he was eager to do what he could.

“Touch you?” he repeated.

I nodded, my eyes on the broad expanse of his chest. Some men looked better with their clothes on. While there was no denying he cleaned up really well and filled out a suit better than most men I’d ever seen, he was a man who improved without a stitch of clothing on his body.

He was halfway there. I tossed the bag and lube on the bed, then reached up and splayed my hands over his ribs. His abs jumped to life under my touch, rippling before finally settling. I slid lower, inching toward his waistband. “I want you naked.”

A cocky smile spread across his lips. I was starting to love that smile.

“You want me naked?”

“Yes.”

“Never let it be said I wouldn’t give you what you wanted,” he said, undoing his fly and slipping his jeans down his hips.

My thumbs stopped at the band of his briefs, and I flickered my eyes up to meet his.

He stepped out of his jeans and kicked them out of the way. “Do you want to do the honors, or should I?”

In answer, I hooked my thumbs under the elastic and tugged him closer to me. We were chest to chest, his chin bumping into my forehead. I flattened my palms against him, under the fabric at his hips, gliding my hands behind his back until I hand two handfuls of his firm, toned ass.

He flexed his cheeks and waggled his brows, and I laughed.

“You like?” he asked.

I kneaded him for a moment before edging his briefs past his hips. His cock sprang free and bobbed between us, hard as ever.

“Yes, I like.” I traced the lines of muscles over his hips and up the six-pack of his abdomen.

It struck me that in all the sexual encounters I’d experienced, I’d never had free reign to touch the men I was with beyond sucking their dicks and massaging their balls. Any other time or way I’d touched them had been all about positioning, holding on so they could keep me in the right angle for the cameras. It was all about them touching me. Groping me. Using me.

That wasn’t how Razor touched me, though, and he was giving me as much time to explore his body as he took to explore mine. Even now, he was waiting for me to take the lead. To do with him as I would, and to tell him what I wanted.

The reversal of roles left me lightheaded.

I let my eyes roam over every inch of him. They settled on the words tattooed on his side. I slid my hand down to trace over them. “What does it say?”

“En emprutant un Ange, vous remboursez le Diable. By borrowing an angel, you repay the devil,” he explained.

“Why did you put it here?”

“Just a reminder.”

“Reminder of what?”

“Of everything my mother did for me. She’s my angel,” he said, putting a finger under my chin and raising my gaze until I looked at the kneeling angel on his shoulder. “Or one of them, at least.”

“You have more angels?” I wasn’t sure I believed in them. Angels were supposed to look out for you. To protect you. I certainly didn’t have any angels in my life. They were all gone.

All except for Razor. But calling him an angel didn’t seem to do him justice after all that he’d done for me. All he was continuing to do. He was so much more than simply an angel. He was real.

“Maybe one more,” he said. He took my hand and pressed it to his chest, over his heart.

He meant me. But I wasn’t anyone’s angel.

“What do you think?” he asked. “Are you my angel?”

I shook my head.

“I think you’re wrong.” He raised my hand and pressed a kiss to my knuckles.

Dizzy. My knees gave out. Razor caught my wrists and eased my backward fall onto the bed. All too soon, he released me. I took hold of his hands and guided him down beside me, then pushed him onto his back so I could climb up and straddle his waist.

His hands dropped to the bend of my knees. He kept them there, not moving, his eyes on mine. Waiting.

I placed my hand on his and slid it up my thigh. “Touch me. I need you to touch me.”

He kept moving it upward until he reached my hip.

I traced the line down the center of his abs until I got to his belly button.

“Your skin is so soft,” he murmured. “Like silk.” He put his other palm flat on my belly, his fingers splaying up toward my breasts. “But so much strength underneath.”

“I’m not strong.” I eased my hands along the length of his arms, marveling at the corded muscles of his biceps beneath my touch. “You’re strong. Big muscles everywhere.” I pinched a spot on his side to prove my point. “No fat anywhere. All muscle. All strength.”

He inched higher to cup my breast, my nipple hardening into a taut bud immediately upon contact. “You’re all muscle, too. Except here. Here, you’re all softness and sweetness.” He rolled up until he could take the other breast in his mouth, and I arched my back, driving farther into him. His tongue circled my areola and flicked my tit, and when he suckled me, I felt the pull all the way down in my pussy. Not to mention the wetness. He repeated the process with my other breast before backing away and looking deep in my eyes. “That’s not the kind of strength I was talking about, though. I meant in here.” He pressed his hand over the left side of my chest, directly over my frantically beating heart.

I shook my head, but he stopped me with a kiss that stifled any argument I might have had. Wrapping both arms around his neck, I allowed myself to get lost in him. At least for now. At least for this moment.

Without a thought in my head, I ground my hips down into him, relishing the sensation of his cock gliding through my folds.

“Christ, you’re so fucking wet,” he murmured against my lips. He kissed me again before flipping us so I was on my back and he was hovering over me, supporting his weight on his elbows. “Do you think you’re ready to try the dilator now?”

In a haze of need, I’d completely pushed all thought of the dilator from my mind. I’d just wanted Razor. I still wanted him, but he picked up the drawstring bag and opened it, emptying the set of dilators onto the bed beside us.

He was right. As much as I wanted to forget all about using the silly things and just have sex like any normal man and woman would do, I knew he was right.

“We should try,” I agreed, albeit reluctantly.

“Tell me what to do.”

I fumbled through the set until I found the second smallest piece, one that was about the same size as one of my fingers. “This goes on handle. Then put on lube, try to relax, put inside, and do Kegels.”

“No moving it while it’s inside you?” He was already screwing the handle into the base.

I shook my head. “Maybe later. Kegels first, see if it hurts.”

“And what should I do while you’re doing that?” He took the lube in one hand.

“I…” I shook my head. How could I ask for what I wanted when I didn’t know what I wanted? He was the only man who’d ever given me the option before. In the past, I’d usually only reached an orgasm when I’d been completely immobilized and had intense, direct contact on my clit. The problem was, they’d done that so many times for so long that I’d lost my sensitivity. After a while, if they weren’t doing something like that, my only option had been to fake my orgasms, something I’d done more often than not.

Razor wasn’t going to go for that.

But he smiled and spread some lube on the dilator. “How about this? How about I try some things, and you tell me if you like them or not. Tell me what you want more of. We’ll go from there.”

I bit down on my lower lip and nodded.

“Do you want to put it in?” he asked.

“No. You.” I wanted him to be as much a part of this as I was. I needed to learn to trust him with my body. Or maybe I needed to learn to trust my body with him. Either way, it had to be him.

I bent my knees, placing my feet on the edge of the mattress.

I expected Razor to place the dilator at the entrance of my pussy, but he didn’t. He pressed a kiss to the inside of first one thigh, then the other, gradually working his way closer to the center of my heat. He squeezed a bit more of the lube onto his fingers and spread it over my inner labia, almost but not quite inserting the tip of a finger.

“Still breathing?” he asked.

Good point. I inhaled, long and deep, focusing on relaxing my muscles.

His mouth came down on my clit. He circled it with his tongue a few times and then sucked it gently between his lips.

And I felt it. Really, truly felt every bit of what he was doing.

He flicked his tongue over my nub a few times. When I rolled my hips, he set the dilator at my entrance and slowly—painstakingly slowly—slipped it inside me.

I’d been bracing myself for the pain, the sharp stinging and the clamping down of my muscles at the invasion into my body. But there was none of that. Oh, I felt the presence of the dilator, sure, but it wasn’t the pain I’d come to believe would always be part of me.

“More?” Razor asked after a moment. “Or should I stop there?”

“More,” I replied in awe.

He pressed it in farther and then glanced up to meet my eyes. He winked. “Do your Kegels, beautiful.”

I contracted my muscles, squeezing them tight around the dilator for several seconds before releasing and resting them. The second time I tensed, he lowered his head again and used his tongue on me. Each time I strained with the effort of my exercises, he went to work on my clit. Each time I released and relaxed, he stopped.

With every effort I made, he drove me higher, closer to the edge. Within a few minutes, I was fisting my hands in the sheets and squeezing my eyes closed, a desperate attempt to hold on to whatever remained of my sanity.

But I squeezed again. And he swirled his tongue.

And I shattered into millions of tiny pieces.

And it wasn’t just my body.

It wasn’t just sex. It wasn’t merely an orgasm, one to go along with many before it and many more to come.

It wasn’t an instance in which I could separate myself and look down on it from above.

It was me. All of me. Every piece of myself that I’d tried to hold back, to protect, was now in shards no bigger than specks of dust.

It was too late now. I loved Razor, and that scared me more than anything else in my life ever had.

Because everyone I loved was taken from me. That was how my life worked.

He was still between my legs, guiding me through the first real orgasm I’d had in months and months. The waves of my climax kept crashing, but they dragged me down, down, under the depths until I couldn’t see the light above me anymore. All I could see was fear and its icy fingers, which were digging tracks into my skin like a tattoo.

Mine might be invisible, but it felt far more permanent than the ink on his skin.

OUR HONEYMOON IN Portland had brought us closer to experiencing sex the way I wanted to, but I still wasn’t about to delude myself into thinking it wasn’t a long way off. Don’t get me wrong…Tori was always willing to help me out with her mouth or her hands, and I couldn’t complain about her skill. I just wanted more. I wanted to be inside her and still be able to kiss her, to look into her eyes while we made love. Call me a romantic. I wanted a more powerful connection with her, one that was on par with the way things were between us when we kissed lately.

Because that bond was definitely intense, and becoming more so every day.

Something had changed between us since we’d left Tulsa. It wasn’t just because Tori had finally been able to orgasm, either.

She smiled more. Laughed more. Instead of me being the only one to reach for her hand or put my arm around her waist and draw her to my side, now she was starting to seek out those small touches.

And I craved them as much as I craved her smiles.

Tori was no longer waking me up in the night to lure me into fucking her. She was kissing me out of nowhere, resting her head on my shoulder, and wrapping her arms around my waist to hug me from behind. It wasn’t just about using her body as a mode of currency for her anymore. It had never been just about sex for me, but now she seemed to be on the same page.

Except for the fact that now, during moments she thought I wasn’t looking, her panicked eyes had returned full force. She always brought them under control again as soon as she realized my attention was on her, but her scared-rabbit routine was becoming far more common, making me worry she might try to run.

And now she had the means to do so, too. I’d bought her a car, and she had gone to get her Oklahoma driver’s license. She had access to my bank accounts, my credit cards… She could go, if she thought that was for the best. She could pack up and be gone, never to be seen or heard from again, in a flash. I could blink and she’d be out of my life for good.

But where would she run? And who would she run to? I thought—hoped might be more appropriate—that I was the person she’d seek out. But she definitely wasn’t planning to run to me if she was thinking about running away.

We were back in Tulsa now. Training camp had started three days ago, so all the time I’d been spending with Tori over the last few months was going to be cut significantly. I had practices, team meetings, film sessions, and workouts every single day, not to mention games. And road trips were right around the corner. I was going to be gone as often as I would be at home for the next seven months or more, a thought that made my gut churn. If she did decide to leave, would she wait and do it while I was gone and couldn’t do a damn thing to stop her? I honestly wasn’t certain.

The one thing I was sure of? If she left, I wouldn’t report the car as having been stolen. I wouldn’t cancel the credit cards or close the bank accounts. I damn sure wouldn’t shut off her cell phone. Maybe I was crazy for thinking like that, but I couldn’t help it. The thought of Tori being alone in this world with nothing—the way she’d been when I’d first found her—was too much to bear.

I cared too fucking much. Every time she gave me another glimpse into her life or took down another brick from her wall, I fell harder than before. Maybe we’d initially married just to get her a green card, but it was more than that now. At least for me. I thought it was for her, too.

I thought about her all the time. I missed her when we were apart. I craved her touch night and day, asleep or awake. The idea that she might run off left me in a cold sweat. I was a fucking mess over her.

Today, I’d spent the entire day up at Thunderbirds headquarters with the guys. Now, all I wanted was to get home to Tori, but Hunter cornered me on my way out to show me the latest pictures of Harper on his phone. Even though all I wanted at the moment was to see my wife, I didn’t have it in me to brush him off. Not after spending all those hours at the hospital with him.

“She’s smiling at me in this one,” he said, flipping to the next image. “Would you look at that grin?”

Looked like she had gas to me. Still, I hoped I might one day be the proud new father. Maybe. Did Tori want to have children? And would she stick around with me long enough for that? Not a good line of thought right now… Better to play along with Hunter and not think about what might happen someday.

I clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Before you know it, you’ll be fighting off the toddler boys at day care with a smile like that.”

“Fuck.” He laughed. “Don’t even go there. Let’s wait until she can walk and talk first before we start worrying about boys.”

“Sure, whatever you say,” I agreed, winking in Dima’s direction as he strolled past us. He only glowered more than he already had been. I shook my head. “Anyway, I’d better be getting home.”

Hunter snorted. “Yeah, because your honeymoon wasn’t long enough alone with Tori. I get it. By the way, let Tori know Tallie needs to get out of the house sometime soon. They should go get pedicures together or something. Maybe take Dana or some other girls along. They could do it while we’re home, so I can stay with the baby…”

I grabbed my duffel bag and slung it over my shoulder. “I’ll let her know.” In fact, I’d flat-out encourage Tori to call her friend. Anything I could do to convince her she belonged in my life, I’d do.

“Later,” Hunter called as I headed for the exit.

I waved without bothering to turn and look.

Tori wasn’t home when I got there, which only increased my anxiety. True, she’d been staying at the studio more since we’d returned from Portland. But she’d always gotten home before I had, and today I’d been gone longer than usual.

I dug my phone out of my pocket and sent her a text message to see what she was up to. Even after I’d unloaded all my gear into the garage and started a load of laundry so my sweaty gear wouldn’t stink up the place, she still hadn’t responded.

Jumping to conclusions would be the wrong thing to do. I knew it. Every bone in my body knew it. But I still leaped straight past thinking she was still dancing and landed squarely in the realm of paranoia.

I went to our bedroom and looked in the closet. Nothing seemed to be missing. I opened drawers in the dresser and checked in the bathroom to see if all her undergarments and toiletries were present and accounted for. Nothing out of place. Even the drawstring bag where she kept her dilators was still on the bathroom counter next to her deodorant and the vanilla-scented body spray she always used. If she’d left, she hadn’t taken a damn thing with her other than those things that were constantly in her purse and the clothes on her back. I was probably flipping out for nothing.

My phone rang, and I answered without looking at the screen.

“Tori?”

“Not unless it’s Freaky Friday with a Twilight Zone twist,” Mom said.

That was enough to get a chuckle out of me. “Hi, Mom.”

“Why did you sound so upset?”

“It’s just…” Too much to explain, and most likely a sign of my insanity. “Nothing. No need to worry.”

“I think I know you better than that by now, Ray.”

“Well, I think you also know me well enough to know I’ll figure things out on my own.”

“Yeah. Except for those instances you end up with duct tape on your ass and can’t get it off without my help,” she said dryly.

“I was just a kid.” And that was a memory we would both do better to forget.

“It’s not like you were five, Ray. You were thirteen, and it left me scarred for life.”

“It was my ass hair that got ripped out.” I shuddered, remembering the pain of it. Never in a million years would I understand women getting waxed, or at least doing so in such sensitive places. The ones who did had to be masochists.

“And it was me who had to see that my little boy wasn’t a little boy anymore, but might as well be a man. At least in some ways. The ways a mother should never have to see with her own two eyes.”

“It’s not like my dick was the first you ever saw.”

“And thank God for that.”

“You sure do know how to stroke my ego.”

“That’s what a mother’s for. That and coming to the rescue when you get in over your head with a woman. Which is why I called.”

How did she know I was in over my head with Tori? I hadn’t said a word to my mother about anything to do with my marriage since asking for advice about Tori’s pain during intercourse, and that had been a good while. “I’m not following.”

“You don’t remember you asked me to come for a visit? Hmm. I guess you forgot all about that right around the same time you forgot to tell me you got married.”

“You’re coming?” Just like that, I started to breathe easier. Whatever was going on with Tori, whatever had her fight-or-flight instinct turned all the way to flight, I knew Mom could help me figure it out.

“Flying in next Friday. I checked the team’s schedule. Figured I could come in for the season opener on Sunday and stick around for a week or so, until you head out on the road. Can you pick me up at the airport, or will you forget all about that, too?”

“I’m not going to forget about you.”

“Mm-hmm. So how’s the whole painful sex thing going? Did you get her to a doctor?”

“We’re working on it. We’re getting it sorted out.”

She made a sound that I couldn’t quite interpret. This was one of those times I really wished I could see her face so I could have a clue what was going on in her head.

“What?” I asked when she didn’t expound.

“I’m just proud of you, Ray.”

Proud of me? I married a porn star, and my mother was telling me she was proud of me. How many sons had a relationship like this with their mothers? Probably not many. I couldn’t stop the grin from forming. My mom was one of a kind, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you said we. We’re working on it. We’re sorting it out. You’re not leaving it all to her. You’re acting like it’s your problem, your responsibility, as much as it’s hers.”

“Well, that’s because it is.” Tori was my wife, for fuck’s sake. If she couldn’t handle sex…

“Times like this,” Mom said, “you make me think I did all right with you.”

“You did more than all right with me. You were the best mom a guy could ever hope to have.”

“A lot of people wouldn’t agree with that, you know.”

“Well, a lot of people can go take a fucking leap off a cliff, then. They don’t know. They don’t get it.”

“I’m really glad Tori has you, Ray. And I can’t wait to meet her.”

I couldn’t wait for them to meet, either.

The garage door opened, which meant Tori was home and all my worries had been for naught. At least this time.

“I’ve gotta go, Mom. Text me your flight details, okay?”

“Got it. And Ray?”

“Yeah?”

“Should I bring condoms for you to keep in your wallet? I mean, I know you’re married and all…”

“Oh my God, Mom. I’m a grown man. I’m perfectly capable of wrapping my shit up when it needs to be wrapped up.”

“Just checking. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

I disconnected the call and headed out to the living room. Tori glanced over when she heard me, smiling from ear to ear. She had too many grocery bags in her hands, so I hurried over to help her with them.

“Did you have a good day?” I asked, taking a few of the bags.

“Best day,” she said. “Blisters on my feet, and toes hurt like crazy, but doesn’t matter.”

The smile that had started when I was talking to Mom only grew. I’d only seen Tori this excited about anything once before. When we’d been at the ballet. “Why doesn’t it matter?” I asked.

“Because Devin Shreeve came to studio. Came to Tulsa just to see me dance. Katie sent him after Portland. He asked me to be in his production. Video for band.” She dropped everything—purse, groceries, and gym bag—on the counter and turned to me, her eyes glowing with exhilaration. “Can I? Is it all right?”

“Of course it’s all right.”

The second the words left my lips, she flung herself into my arms.

If she was this excited about dancing with Devin Shreeve, whoever the hell he was, then at least I shouldn’t have to worry about her trying to run off any time soon. Maybe it would buy us enough time to get to the root of her fears.

I’D BEEN THROUGH a lot in my life, but I could honestly say I’d never felt as much internal turmoil as I was experiencing now.

When Papa had insisted I leave Russia and go to America, yes, there had been a great deal of conflict and confusion in both my head and my heart. I didn’t want to leave him. I was scared to go somewhere alone, especially when I had never been there before and my knowledge of the language was as bare-bones as possible. But I’d gone, because staying in Russia was no longer an option. If I had stayed, I would have been taken by the Tambovs, the same as Mama was, and I would likely now either be dead or held in some form of slavery.

Leaving him, leaving my home, had been necessary for survival. This was something I’d understood, even if it had ripped out my heart to go through with it.

When I’d found out Papa was dead, there had been even more confusion. I knew I couldn’t go back to Russia, but I also knew I couldn’t stay in America and keep going to school without the money he would have sent. Did I want to strip for money? Of course not. Did I want to sell my body for sex, to make porn movies? Absolutely not.

But again, it had been a question of survival. I’d told myself that I would only have to do it until I finished school, and then I would be able to get work with a ballet company in the States, and everything would be all right.

Things hadn’t worked out that way in the end, but nothing I’d experienced in my life had come close to preparing me for what I was feeling in the present.

I’d screwed up when I’d let myself fall in love with Razor. Everyone I loved was taken from me. This was simply how my life worked. So now, I was waiting for the moment when he was taken from me. Or perhaps, more accurately, when I would be taken from him.

Tonight was the Thunderbirds’ final preseason home game. I hadn’t come to any of the others, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to come to this one. As it was, I hardly knew any of the other players’ wives besides Tallie, and some of them might have been the women at Jamie and Katie’s wedding who’d made their feelings about me clear. But Tallie talked me into going with her.

“Screw those bitches,” she’d said while we got our pedicures a few days before the game. “Half of them think they’re better than me because I used to compete in beauty pageants. I don’t care. If they can’t look past what I’ve done in the past to see who I am in the present, I don’t need them. So what if they don’t like you? That just means you don’t need to waste your time on trying to get to know them. They aren’t worth it. But a few are…and besides, you can play with Harper.”

The lure of getting baby time was what convinced me to go along with her in the end. I’d never been around babies much, but every time I was around Harper, she latched on to my fingers and blinked her big eyes at me, and she absolutely won me over. Between that and Razor’s reminder that we needed to prove to the immigration people that we were both integrating ourselves into one another’s lives, I knew I had to go.

So here I was, sitting with Tallie and Harper in the wives’ room before the game while other women and children came and went. We would go down to seats in the arena during the game, but before and after, the women all gathered here to socialize and make plans for charity events.

Tallie introduced me to Dana Zellinger, who was the team captain’s wife and who had her hands full with three children. I recognized her from the wedding over the summer. Dana only talked with us for a few minutes before she had to get up and chase after her toddlers. She seemed nice enough, and she didn’t look down her nose at me with disgust. I chose to take that as a good sign.

Then Arianne Duclair came and sat with us for a few minutes, claiming a turn with the baby. “Patrice and I keep trying,” she said, “but no luck yet.” She rubbed noses with Harper, and both of them smiled.

Tallie grinned. “Any time you want to babysit, or just come over and get a snuggle in, you just say the word. And changing a few diapers might cure you. It’s worth a try.” She winked.

I was having a difficult time focusing on the conversation with these two. My attention kept being claimed by a group of women in the opposite corner of the room, who had their heads together and kept tossing nasty looks in my direction.

I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be sitting with Tallie and her baby, because now those other women would associate Tallie with their assumptions about me.

I was just about to say as much when an older woman stopped to speak with them for a few minutes before she turned and stared at me. She nodded in my direction and said something to them. They said something in response, and then she came over to sit with us.

She was in her mid-fifties, by my guess. Her blond hair and conservative gray dress suit and baby-pink satin shell made her look like she’d stepped straight out of the eighties. She nodded at Tallie and Arianne but held out a hand for me to shake. The most unnatural looking smile I’d ever seen was plastered on her face.

“I haven’t met you yet,” she said as I took her hand warily. She had a really heavy accent, much like Tallie’s, only her voice was so sugary sweet that it made me feel sick. This couldn’t bode well. “The girls over there said you’re married to our Mr. Chambers?”

I tried to pry my hand free, but she wouldn’t let it go. My eyes strayed down to an ornate gold cross hanging from a chain around her neck. It was big enough to draw notice but not big enough to be gaudy.

Immediately, I felt uncomfortable. Anytime someone religious found out about my work in porn, it was never good. What had those women told her about me? And what was she planning to do with that information?

Tallie put a hand on my shoulder, as though she could sense my discomfort. “Mrs. Jernigan, this is Razor’s wife, Tori. Tori, Mrs. J is the team owner’s wife. Mr. J is the pastor at New Hope Fellowship Church, and they’re the ones who brought the NHL to Tulsa.”

A preacher’s wife. She was either going to try to save my soul or tell me exactly what she thought I needed to do with my sinful self. I tried harder to take my hand back. No use. She only held on tighter.

“Tori, is it?” Mrs. Jernigan said, almost too sweetly. “Not Viktoriya?”

“My name is Viktoriya, yes,” I replied guardedly.

“I wondered if maybe you and I could have a few minutes alone together?” She sent a pointed expression in Tallie and Arianne’s direction and tugged on my hand so I’d follow.

I gave Tallie a panicked look.

“Oh, but Mrs. J,” Tallie said, and somehow her Southern accent got even thicker than normal. “Tori’s English isn’t always so good. Sometimes she needs me to interpret for her.”

It took a Herculean effort not to snort in laughter at the lie she’d come up with, but I appreciated the effort even if my friend couldn’t speak a word of my language.

“You speak Russian, Tallie?” the woman asked. “How did I not know that?”

Tallie waved a hand, like it was no big deal. “I took a couple of semesters at OU. Anyway, I think you two should just stay here, in case Tori needs some help.”

“What we need to discuss is really something that ought to be kept private,” the minister’s wife insisted.

I shook my head. “It’s fine. Tallie can hear.” At this point, I knew what the woman was going on about. Tallie would surely learn about my past one way or another. She might as well hear about it now. “Arianne, too.” Why bother trying to hide it from anyone? For that matter, we might as well wave everyone else over to listen in.

The older woman scowled, but Tallie just gave her a determined nod, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Viktoriya,” Mrs. Jernigan finally said, her voice stern, holding tight to my hand and sitting back in her seat, “it appears some of the other players’ wives are under the assumption that you’ve been working in…well, in the pornography industry.”

“Yes. I did porn.”

As a credit to both Tallie and Arianne, neither gave any outward reaction to the news.

Mrs. Jernigan blinked at me a few times, as though she’d been expecting me to deny it. “So they were correct?” she sputtered.

“Yes. I did porn before—”

“I’m sure you’ll understand, then, that my husband and I are going to have to ask you to avoid any and all team functions. Tom is a minister, you see, and a very prominent one, at that. We can’t be associated—”

“Pardon me, Mrs. J,” Tallie cut in with an edge to her tone that I’d never heard before. “But Tori said she did porn in the past. She’s not doing it now. I can attest to that, since I’ve spent a lot of time with her over the last few months. And even if she still was, I can’t see how it matters since she’s Razor’s wife. She’s married to a member of this team, so she should be just as involved as any of the rest of us.”

“But it’s all about the association,” the minister’s wife said, as if that was explanation enough. And honestly, I got the impression that she truly thought it was the only justification required for kicking me out of this aspect of Razor’s life.

What would the immigration people think if I never stepped into this part of his world? It would be one more knock against me, one more bit of proof that our marriage wasn’t a true marriage. Panic clawed at my lungs. I had to get out of there.

But Tallie kept her hand on my shoulder, forcing me to stay put. “Aren’t Christians supposed to love everyone? Judge not, that you not be judged.”

“Now, Tallie, you know me better than to think I’m judging—”

“Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone,” she cut in. “Have you lived a perfectly sin-free life, Mrs. J? Have you never made a mistake? Aren’t we supposed to welcome everyone with open arms and love them all the same, no matter what they’ve been through or what they’ve done, as Jesus did for us? Mrs. J, you know I love you and respect you. You and Mr. J have been in my life for as long as I can remember, but you shouldn’t go shooting your mouth off before you load your brain.” Tallie pried my hand free from the minister’s wife, then took her baby back from Arianne and stood up. “Come on, Tori. We’re heading down to our seats to watch the game.”

I gathered up my purse and her diaper bag and followed her in a daze. When we got to our seats in the arena, she gave me a look full of irritation, rolling her eyes.

“That woman! Good gravy, the nerve of her.”

“Why did you say that to her?” I asked.

“Because she had no business saying what she did to you. I’m sorry she treated you like that, and I wish I could say that was the last of the hypocrisy you’ll encounter living here, but I’m sure it’s not. This ain’t my first rodeo as far as that’s concerned. We’re deep in the Bible belt, and some people are just opinionated, bigoted jerks.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Thank you.” It was an odd sensation to have a friend who would defend me like that.

“I don’t care what she says about you staying away. Don’t listen to her on that. If you want to come, then come. Lord knows Razor wants you here.”

Did he? Did he really want me to be part of his life in this way, or was he just inviting me along so that we could satisfy the interviewer about how we were intertwining our lives? I wasn’t positive. I knew where I stood on the matter, but Razor and I hadn’t really talked about it. I gave Tallie a humming sound as a response, letting her interpret it as she would.

She gave me a look, one eyebrow raised. Not a judging sort of look. Just curious. “So it’s true? You really did porn?”

“I really did porn. You want…” I stopped and shook my head, stomach churning.

“What?” she demanded.

“You want to stop being my friend?”

“Not a chance,” she said, as serious as I’d ever heard her. “You’re more scandalous than I am. All the drama with me and Hunter finally blew over, but still. You never know when someone’s gonna come along and raise another stink about things from the past. I’m latching on to you and not letting go.”

The lights went down and war drums started, so loud it startled me. I jumped in my seat, and Harper started crying as two giant totem poles lowered to the ice from somewhere up in the rafters, lit up by spotlights.

“Sorry,” Tallie said. “I forgot to warn you about that. It’ll happen any time the T-Birds score, too, only minus the totem poles and fog and shit.” She bounced the baby in her arms. “Hopefully tonight, they won’t score much. I don’t fancy the thought of them waking Harper up from a nap, you know? But don’t tell them I said that.”

“Won’t tell,” I promised, my mind racing.

Razor and I needed to talk, to truly talk about exactly what we both felt and wanted out of our relationship. And we needed to do it before the interview.

I needed to know where he stood. Because if he didn’t want what I did—if he was still only doing this in order to help me out with my residency status—maybe it would be best to let them deport me. If they were going to send me away, I needed it to happen before he claimed more of my heart than he already owned. I just didn’t know how to convince him of that.

The guys took the ice, skating out between the poles amid a bunch of fog. Apparently there were fog machines inside the two enormous poles. Most of the players headed to the bench, but a few stayed out at center ice for all the pre-game rituals. Razor was one of them. He turned to scan the crowd until he found me. He waved, and I thought I caught a smile, but it was difficult to tell with his helmet and visor blocking his face. The PA announcer instructed us to rise and remove our caps for the national anthem.

The whole time, I focused on my husband. As much as I wished it were different, my stomach had fluttered when I first caught sight of him out there, and the flutters had only intensified when he’d sought me out. I was an absolute mess.

I should have tried harder to keep my distance from Razor, even though we’d married. I shouldn’t have allowed him to see my pain, and not just the physical pain. Once he’d recognized my weaknesses, he’d used them to work his way into my heart, and now I was more vulnerable than ever before.

Because I loved him.

And I was terrified I would lose him.

The immigration interview was scheduled for a week after Razor’s mother left. She was due to arrive in a few days. That meant I had less than three weeks to decide what to do and how to go about answering the interviewer’s questions.

I didn’t know if I could handle being forced to leave Razor behind. Somehow, I’d kept myself together with glue and duct tape over the years, but I didn’t think my usual tricks would be enough this time.

The puck dropped, and the game began, but it couldn’t compete with the game playing out in my mind.

“MAYBE I SHOULD wait in car,” Tori said, her nerves shining through in the way she was clutching her purse to her chest and nibbling on her lower lip. She didn’t do the purse-clutching thing as much anymore. It usually only came out when she was scared about something, like meeting my mother. The lip nibbling was something I doubted she would ever stop doing. I didn’t mind that part, other than it being a sign of her discomfort. It made me think of nibbling on her lip…or on another set of her lips.

Not something I needed to be thinking about when we were moments away from having my mother with us. “There’s no telling how long it’ll take for her luggage to come. I don’t want you waiting out here. Besides, she’s going to want to meet you right away.”

We were still about five minutes away from the airport, but with every minute that passed, the anxiety eating Tori alive from the inside became more pronounced, clogging the air in my car.

“But she wants to see you first. Alone is better.”

“Better for who?” I almost laughed when I asked, but I wasn’t sure she’d see the humor in the situation. “If you don’t come with me, she’ll think I’m hiding you away. Like I’m ashamed of you or something. I’m not ashamed of you.”

In the last few days, I’d been making a greater effort to be sure everyone in my life knew it, too. Tori hadn’t said a word to me about the move Mrs. Jernigan had tried to pull on her before the game the other night, but Hunter had filled me in. Tallie had been so upset by it that she hadn’t let him get a wink of sleep that night, railing about not only Mrs. J’s hypocrisy but the cattiness of some of the other WAGs. It made my blood boil, too, but I couldn’t lay into the team owner’s wife. All I could do right now was damage control.

I reached for Tori’s hand across the center console. She let me take it, but the rest of her body shied away from me. More and more since that night when I’d first helped her to orgasm, she was distancing herself. Shutting me out.

She was killing me.

All I wanted was to get closer, but she was actively rebuilding her walls. Maybe I’d pushed too hard. Maybe I’d gone too fast, not giving her the time and space she needed to keep up.

I watched the world go by as I drove, since Tori didn’t seem inclined to talk. Even though I’d lived in Tulsa for a year now, I still wasn’t used to the differences in the weather and seasons. By now—early October—anywhere else I’d ever lived, the trees would be turning colors, and temperatures would be feeling cool and crisp. Here, everything was still green—or actually, closer to brown due to the drought we’d been in—and it was hot enough out most days that we needed to run the air conditioner. I wasn’t sure I’d ever get used to it. The reds, oranges, and yellows in autumn had always helped me to feel like hockey season was truly upon us. It was starting already, but nothing looked right to me.

I turned into the parking lot at the airport and pulled into the first open space I found. Once I’d put the car in park and shut off the engine, I turned to Tori again. “Come on.” I gave her a smile, hoping it would help put her mind at ease. “It’ll be fine. Mom’s not going to give you a hard time or anything. She’s cool. And I’ll be with you.”

Big, gray eyes looked up at me, pleading, but Tori sighed and unfastened her belt.

Once I got around the car, I put an arm around her waist, drawing her to my side to reassure her. She did the same, actually hugging me to her side as we entered the baggage claim area. Her signs of affection had gotten to be more common in recent weeks, but for her to do something like that in public took me by surprise.

We found the carousel for Mom’s flight and searched out a spot where she’d be able to find us. I brought Tori around in front of me and held her close, resting my chin on the top of her head.

“Razor?” she said tentatively.

“Hmm?”

“What will you do if they deport me?”

I stiffened, immediately tense and on guard. “They’re not going to deport you.”

“But if they do. You find nice American girl and get married? Have babies with her? Someone like Katie.”

“I don’t want someone like Katie. I want you.”

“If they deport me—”

“Hold up,” I said, setting her back from me so I could see her eyes. “They’re not going to deport you. We’re doing everything right. We’re going to do this interview, and they’re going to see that this is a real marriage, not a sham, and then we’re going to go on and live our lives like normal.”

“Even if interview goes well, Greg said won’t be over then. Have to stay married for years.”

Then understanding hit me like a cheap shot. “So what are you saying? You don’t want to be married to me for years?”

“No, I—” Tori turned and started to walk away, but I took her hand to stop her.

“What? You what?” I tipped her chin so she’d look at me, but her eyes were lidded. “Talk to me, Tori. Don’t run away.”

“I’m not running away.”

True to her word, she stayed put. But she didn’t start talking.

I kneaded her shoulders, trying to wipe away whatever had her so tense. I had to get her to talk to me, even though this wasn’t the most ideal place for a conversation of this nature. “What’s going on in your head, baby?” I murmured.

“You’re good man, Razor,” she said.

But then Mom walked up before I could get her to tell me anything else.

“There’s my boy,” Mom said. I turned to hug her, but she stretched up on her toes and planted a smacking kiss on my cheek. She backed up a step, both hands on the sides of my face like she’d always done, patting me affectionately. Then she turned to Tori, immediately wrapping my shocked wife up in a hug. “Good to finally meet you. Ray’s told me all about you.”

Tori went stiff as a board, but she let Mom fawn over her for a few moments before working herself free. I should have warned her that my mother was the touchy-feely sort. She didn’t have many boundaries, and she’d never had a filter. The two of them couldn’t be more opposite, beyond the fact that they’d both worked in the sex trade.

Still, whatever it was that had Tori worked up would have to wait. I needed to give her time to acclimatize herself to Mom, and that wasn’t going to be easy.

For either of us.

AFTER DINNER, I went into the kitchen to clean up since Mom had cooked. She’d insisted on it, saying it had been ages since she’d been able to cook a meal for her little boy, and it would be good for her. Despite the fact that she still thought of me as her little boy, I could appreciate the fact that she would likely always want take care of me. Plus, I loved her spaghetti and meatballs like nobody’s business.

But while I was busy with the dishes, Mom cornered Tori in the living room. I turned down the faucet so I could listen in. After all, if she’d meant for it to be a private conversation, she would have taken Tori to another room.

“So I’m going to be completely up front with you,” Mom said. “When Ray told me he’d married you and what your history was, I felt the need to look you up and find out how much shit you’ve been through.”

“You watched my porn?”

“Enough of it. Enough to know that you’ve probably got some really skewed ideas about sex because of it.”

Tori shrugged. “Sex is sex. Not important.”

I banged a couple of skillets around so they wouldn’t realize how closely I was listening. And maybe because sex was a hell of a lot more than just important, and I didn’t think she really believed what she’d said for a minute. Not with the way she’d been throwing herself at me for the last several months. Not with sex being one of the areas we’d compromised.

“Bullshit,” Mom said, and I wanted to cheer her on. “Sex is important, especially when you’re in a relationship with a man who loves you.”

“Razor doesn’t love me.” She said it in such a matter-of-fact manner, albeit one filled with heartache, that it ripped me in two.

“Honey, I can promise you, you’re wrong about that one,” Mom said.

I froze, the water still flowing over my empty hands.

Not only did Tori not believe I loved her, but she was so sure of it that she couldn’t see any other possibility. Mom was positive of the opposite. But that begged the question: which one of them was right?

I knew I was crazy about Tori. I thought about her all the time, and I sure as hell cared about her enough that I was willing to be patient in helping her through all her issues. Not only that, but it scared the ever living fuck out of me that she might not want to remain married to me long enough to see the immigration process through, and my fear wasn’t solely related to what would happen to her when she got back to Russia. The thought of losing her was enough to rip me a new asshole.

As far as I could tell, that meant I loved her.

Which meant Mom was right. Of course she was. Mom was always right.

Tori didn’t respond. She sat there staring at my mother like she’d lost her mind.

Mom sat up straighter and tucked one leg under the other beneath her. That was her getting-down-to-business pose, so I picked up another pot and started scrubbing.

“Ray tells me you’re seeing a physical therapist about your vaginismus?”

I’d never seen Tori blush until now. Usually, her face lost all color and she went deathly pale. Leave it to my mother to be the one to bring out this side of her. She nodded. “Going to therapy and practicing at home.”

“And is it helping?”

Nothing more than a quick jerk of her head.

“Well, that helps with the physical part of things. He said you were also supposed to be going to a counselor. A sex therapist?”

“We went,” Tori said, her voice quavering.

“Both of you?”

“Razor came, too.”

“And is that helping?”

“Went twice. I don’t want to go back.”

“Why don’t you want to go back?”

Tori’s head turned toward me.

I busied myself with vigorously scrubbing an already perfectly clean pan. The truth was, I wanted to hear her answer.

We’d gone to the counselor twice, like she’d said. The first session had hardly been more than a getting-to-know-you appointment. She hadn’t made any progress that time. The second time, the counselor had focused on Tori’s parents and all the losses she’d experienced. She hadn’t been inclined to talk about them much with the woman, who was still a stranger, and she didn’t want to go back. So far, other than telling the counselor that Tori had worked in the porn industry, nothing had been said about her sexual issues at all, which wasn’t likely to do her much good.

Apparently, Tori got the clue that I wasn’t going to help her answer my mother. She sighed. “Counselor won’t help. She wants to talk about dead parents, not about sex. And my only problem with sex is pain. Physical therapy is helping that.”

“Honey, let’s get real. Pain is only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to your problems with sex. In fact, the pain may very well have come about because of your other problems. That’s why you have to go to the counselor.”

“I just… I can’t.”

“Maybe it’d help if you went alone. Without Ray. Then it’d just be you and the counselor, and you wouldn’t have to worry about Ray hearing whatever you have to say. And then, if it’s something he needs to hear, you can tell him on your own, when you’re ready.”

Tori hemmed and hawed for a minute, but she finally gave in. I had a feeling Mom was giving her one of her trademarked looks that had always made me squirm until I agreed to go along with her. She’d had twenty-eight years to perfect her Mom Looks, and she’d made excellent use of the time.

Once she’d gotten Tori to see things her way, Mom changed the subject to safer territory—what we’d be having for breakfast tomorrow, since it was a game day and I had to make sure I ate properly.

I finished up the dishes and headed out to join them. Tori was still sitting sideways on the couch, facing Mom, so I sat behind her and drew her back against me. She glanced over her shoulder at me, tense for only a moment, but then she settled in and let me hold her.

A couple of hours later, we were still exactly like that when Mom got up and stretched.

“I’m going to bed. Traveling takes it out of me.” She winked. “You two be good. Remember, Ray, you’ve got a game tomorrow.”

Not that I could forget. And I didn’t miss her veiled warning, either. Personally, I’d always thought that a good orgasm or two the night before a game helped me perform better, though, so I had no intention of paying it much heed.

“Night, Mom,” I said, laughing.

She disappeared down the hall, waving as she went.

Now was my chance to have a conversation with Tori, and based on the events of the day, there were a lot of things we needed to talk about. I waited until Mom’s door closed.

Then I braced myself, because Tori was sure to dig in her heels. This time, though, I couldn’t let her out-stubborn me. I needed answers. And she needed the truth.

AS SOON AS the soft snick of the door closing reached us, Razor’s posture changed. Up until then, I’d been leaning against him while his arms draped loosely around my waist in a deceptively casual position. Not anymore. Now, he sat up straighter and rubbed his hands up and down my upper arms, and my mind instantly raced to determine his intentions.

This definitely wasn’t him preparing for either sex or romance. It felt more like he was readying for a father-son sort of talk, like the ones you’d see in American sitcoms.

I wasn’t in any kind of mood for that after the discussion I’d already had with his mother tonight. That had been more than enough to last me for the next decade or two. I sat upright and slid out of his grasp.

“Tori.” His voice was soft, despite the edge of authority held in his tone.

He might be my husband, but he wasn’t my owner. The entire time we’d been married, he’d been reminding me that I was the one in control of myself, my life. Not him or anyone else. It was about time I listened to that.

I got up, shrugging off his hands. “Tired, too. I’m going to bed.”

“We need to talk.”

“Not now. Later. Tomorrow.” Too much had happened already. Mental and emotional exhaustion had completely taken over my life lately, and today had pushed me to the brink of what I could handle.

“Mom’s right,” he said when I was halfway down the hall.

I stopped. Turned slightly, mainly just my head, until I could see him. He’d gotten up and started to follow me. Right about what? She’d said a lot of things, none of which I’d been in any mood to hear. I shook my head in confusion.

“She’s right that I love you.”

Razor didn’t love me.

I shook my head, unable to allow myself to believe his words.

Because if he loved me, it would only magnify the pain when I was eventually sent away. My own heart breaking was something I could find a way to handle. I’d experienced that more than enough to get through it again. At first, it would be overpowering. Debilitating. All consuming. But with time, the sharp, piercing ache would dull to a steady throb. It wouldn’t ever truly go away, but I could learn to live with it. It would simply become part of me, like the calluses on my feet from my dancing in toe shoes.

But the thought that he would hurt just as deeply… That was too much.

“I do love you,” he said, and the first of my tears fell.

He closed some of the distance between us, but I backed away. I was too fragile. One touch would be all it took to shatter me. I’d burst into billions of pieces the size of a speck of sand.

“Tori,” he said. Just my name. Pleading.

A vise inside my chest squeezed out all my air. “Don’t.” It was all I could get out, a harsh, jagged, broken word, but it was everything. Don’t come closer. Don’t touch me, because I’ll only love you more. Don’t let yourself love me. Don’t believe in fairy tales, because they’ll never come true. Don’t let them send me away.

But he didn’t listen to me.

In three determined strides, he was there. In front of me. Touching me.

He cradled my face between both his hands, tipping it up so our lips met. Soft. Tender. Reverent. He kissed me in a way no man ever had before. Like I was worth the effort of holding himself back, taking his time. Like I ought to be handled with care.

Despite myself, I grabbed hold of his shirt and tugged him closer to me, holding on as though my life depended on it. At the moment, that assessment might not be too far from the truth.

All too soon, he broke off the kiss and backed up a step, still caressing my cheeks.

“Why don’t you want me to love you?”

I tried to shake my head, but he kept a firm hold on me.

“Tell me, Tori. Talk to me. Baby, I need to understand.” The blue of his eyes had turned almost black as he searched me for answers.

“Please don’t,” I said through my tears.

“You’ve got to give me a fighting chance. Let me in on whatever it is that’s going on in your head so I can find a way to combat it.”

There was nothing he could do to change the inevitable, though. I wasn’t sure talking about it would help anything. It would only force me to face everything I was scared of head on. Even though I knew he’d follow, I wiggled out of his grasp and headed into his bedroom.

He closed the door behind us as soon as he came through. He took a few strides toward me, dragging a hand through his hair, but then he stopped. His eyes were wild and full of hurt when they landed on me.

But there would be much more hurt soon if he let himself love me. It had to end.

“You keep walking away. Shutting me out. Closing down.” He sounded like a wounded animal, and he had a wild look in his eyes like he’d been cornered on top of being hurt.

This couldn’t be good.

I sat on the edge of the bed and folded my hands in my lap, buying a moment to think before speaking. It didn’t do me any good. I still didn’t know what to say and what not to say. If I didn’t figure it out fast, he was going to… Well, I didn’t know what he’d do. Snap, most likely. Whatever that would mean.

He sat next to me, and I fought the urge to put some more distance between us. But he didn’t touch me, so I managed to stay still, almost touching him but not quite.

“You shouldn’t love me,” I forced out. More tears fell, darkening my blouse where they hit. I watched the spots spread.

“Why not? And how the hell do you think I should go about stopping it from happening, anyway? We can’t control who we love. It just happens.”

“It’s not love,” I insisted. “You’re good man—”

“I swear, Tori, if you tell me one more time what a good man I am—” He slammed himself back against the mattress, his legs dangling over the edge of the bed. “This isn’t me being noble or some shit like that. I’m not confusing the fact that I want to help you with being in love with you. I’m a fucking grown-ass man. I know the difference. I love you.”

“You should try to stop.”

“Why? You said you aren’t running away.”

“Not running.”

“Earlier, at the airport… You said something about how we’d have to still be married in a few years, even after this immigration interview.”

I sniffled, every bone in my body aching to either throw myself in his arms or run to the corner and curl up in a ball. I didn’t do either. I stayed where I was, even though his thigh bumped against mine. “Yes.”

“So you don’t want to still be my wife in a few years? You don’t love me, not even enough to stay when it will give you what you need?”

“That’s not it.” Not at all.

“Then what? I’m trying, Tori. I’m trying really hard to understand, but that’s the only thing that’s making any sense.”

“Because they’ll send me away!”

He went silent. Razor was never silent. He was always talking or laughing. His deep, big voice always filled the room and my heart, but now there was nothing.

I felt empty without the sound of his voice filtering through me. Empty and alone, and even more terrified than I’d been the night I first sought him out. I pressed my eyes closed, trying to come to terms with the newest hole in my heart, because there was more of this to come. So much more. I was going to have to learn to breathe again without him filling me up.

Swallowing hard, I stood. I needed space. But he reached for my hand and stopped me.

“I’m not going to let them send you away,” he said, so quietly I thought I’d imagined it at first.

“You can’t stop them. They’ll make me go back—”

“No one’s sending you back to Russia,” he said with a lot more heat this time. “It’s not going to happen. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Help me, then. Explain it.” With gentle but insistent pressure, he tugged me back down next to him.

“It always happens.” Sobs clogged my throat, threatening to halt my words before they formed, but I somehow powered through. “If I l— If I care about someone, they get taken from me. This time, they’ll take me from you. Send me back to Russia. And then…” I shook my head. “It’s easier to go now. Before.”

“Before what?” He put an arm around me, drawing my head down to his shoulder.

“Before I love you more. It already hurts too much. I can’t—”

“Nobody’s taking you away from me. You got that?” He squeezed me tighter. “If you choose to leave on your own, that’s one thing. But I’m not going to just roll over and let them deport you. If they give us problems, we’ll appeal. We’ll tie it up in the courts for as long as it takes. And if we somehow lose that, then we’ll put in an application for refugee status—”

“Can’t be a refugee,” I cut in. Not the way I understood it, at least.

“If you can’t be a refugee after what the fucking Mafia has done to your family, then this country’s refugee laws are seriously fucked up. There’s got to be some kind of visa for trafficking victims. Something.”

“There’s visa, yes. But you have to help the police. You have to give them information. Help them track down Mafia guys. I— I can’t. I don’t have information to give.” I’d looked into it after Papa died. Even if I qualified in other ways, I didn’t have any information to give them. I couldn’t help them end human trafficking. There was no chance I’d be granted that sort of visa, the same as they wouldn’t consider me a refugee because I wasn’t being persecuted for my race or religion, or anything like that.

Razor scowled. “It isn’t going to matter, because it’s never going to get that far. Because even if we didn’t know each other and didn’t love each other when we got married, we do now. So we’re going to go to that goddamned immigration interview, and they’re going to see that this is a real fucking marriage, whether it started out that way or not, and that’s going to be the end of it. We might have to prove we’re still happily married in a few years, but it’s not going to be a big deal. No one’s taking you away from me.”

I wanted to believe Razor. He spoke like he believed what he was saying, and there was no doubt he was full of conviction as far as making sure I wouldn’t be deported. But things were never that easy, at least not in my life.

“You’re awfully quiet,” he said, tipping my chin up toward him. “Still processing?”

I nodded. Thoughts were swirling through my head, making me feel like I was in a never-ending pirouette. Dizzy didn’t scratch the surface of how I felt.

Razor kissed my forehead and hugged me tighter. “Let’s get some sleep.”

We changed clothes and crawled under the covers. There wasn’t a chance I’d fall asleep any time soon with the way my thoughts were all jumbled. I rolled onto my side, facing away from him, and curled up around my pillow.

“Tori? I really do love you. I need you to believe that.” He smoothed a hand down my arm, and I shivered.

“Try to stop,” I said, my voice cracking. “Please. Try not to love me.”

“Not possible.”

Another tear tracked down my cheek and wet my pillow as he slid into the space behind me. He wrapped an arm around my waist and tucked his knees into the bend of mine, fitting with me like spoons in a drawer.

“I’m scared,” I whispered into the dark. “I don’t want you to hurt when I’m gone. Can’t stand it.”

His lips pressed to the back of my head. “Of all the things for you to worry about… You’re killing me here. Let me worry about my own heart, beautiful. And maybe let me worry about yours for a while, too. Think you could do that?”

It was a nice thought, but… “No.”

He chuckled. “Didn’t think so. I had to try, anyway. Get some sleep, Tori. Nothing’s going to change for a couple of weeks, at the soonest.”

Which meant I had a couple of weeks to make up my mind as to what was best. For me and for Razor. Even if he wouldn’t agree.

CONSIDERING THE FACT that this season, we likely wouldn’t do much better than last season, I was in a hell of a good mood for the Thunderbirds’ home opener. Something about realizing I was in love with Tori and she was in love with me—even if she wasn’t happy about it—must have had something to do with it. Having Mom in town helped, too. No matter what the other contributing factors might be, there was no wiping the grin off my face the whole fucking day.

“Why you so fucking happy?” Slava Zherdev demanded when I walked into the locker room at the BOK Center before the game. Slava was my defensive partner on the top pairing, and he was the surliest son of a bitch I’d ever come across. “Put on fucking game face.”

I took off my suit jacket and loosened my tie, winking at him as I took a seat in the stall next to him. He glowered in response, which only made my smile wider. I loved getting under his skin, and he made it way too easy. Off the ice, the two of us were oil and water. On the ice, we weren’t a hell of a lot better. That was how the whole team was, actually. We were just a bunch of spare parts tossed into the mix, but none of us really fitting the roles we were being asked to fill.

Well, that wasn’t entirely fair. Hunter was a true top-tier goaltender, and Drew could play right wing on any team’s top line. The rest of us were a hodgepodge, though. Almost every guy on this team was being asked to play above his level, and the results were disastrous.

I changed into my gear, other than taping up my socks, and took a seat at my stall to finish getting ready for the game. I taped up a few sticks to have them ready for use, in case I broke one. Then I tied and retied my laces—an old habit that I doubted I’d ever break. Maybe it was a bit of superstition. All I knew was that the last time I’d played a game without doing that, my laces had broken while I was on the ice, and I could barely skate off for a line change. Finally, once everything else was done, I set to work taping my socks in the same way I always did—taping, removing it, and then taping them again.

“Fucking superstitions,” Slava muttered.

“Fucking surly Russians,” I replied.

“Not all surly,” Dima called from across the room.

I busted up laughing. “I hope you’re not trying to say you aren’t a crabby douche canoe, because you’re the grumpiest son of a bitch I’ve ever come across.”

He winked at me—the first time I’d ever seen him do something of the sort, which made me wonder if his eyelid would get a cramp—and he almost cracked a grin. “Grumpy son of bitch with proposition.”

“The last Russian who propositioned me ended up being my wife. Not sure you can beat that deal.”

“Not marrying your ugly ass.”

“Thank God for small blessings.”

“Need help for raising money for paraplegic athletes,” he said. “In December. Sledge hockey game for charity I told you about before.”

That one took me by surprise. I’d known he was thinking about doing something, but the fact that he was actually recruiting people now meant it was going to happen. It wasn’t just a possibility for some time in the future that might not actually come to pass.

“What do you want me to do? Be one of the coaches?” I hadn’t ever done anything like coaching before, but it couldn’t be too hard. I mean, Katie’s dad Webs was a coach, for fuck’s sake. And this was for some charity event, so it wasn’t going to be like real coaching. I’d just stand behind the bench, talking with whoever was sitting there.

He muttered something in Russian that had Slava snorting in laughter beside me. Using words he hadn’t yet taught me, no less. “You’re not coach,” Dima said. “Need you to play.”

“On a sled?”

“I’m doing it, too. I need at least a few other NHL guys so people will pay to watch. Rest will be experienced sledge players.”

“Right.” I fought to avoid rolling my eyes. Why the hell did he think he needed to rope me into something like this? I had enough on my plate sorting out Tori’s issues, which Dima knew better than any of the other guys, since he and Tori talked some. “So why me? And how is this supposed to be good for me?”

“You can do it as thank you. For helping Viktoriya and teaching you to speak Russian.”

“Seriously?”

“Better than marrying me, right?”

It was a hell of a lot better than marrying his grouchy ass. Still, I laughed.

I still had a smile on my face when the puck dropped.

We were playing the Stars tonight, a divisional rival loaded with high-end, top-tier forwards. They’d started their top line of Seguin, Benn, and Nichushkin, and all three of them were already bearing down on me with the puck.

Benn flew down the wing on my side, carrying the puck on his stick. Our forwards were still in the neutral zone, so it was just me and Slava against three of the most potent offensive threats in the league.

I churned my legs, staying with my guy and keeping an inside lane on him.

He passed the puck to Seguin, keeping it just beyond the reach of my outstretched stick. Nichushkin barreled in on our goal, banging his stick on the ice and shouting for the puck, but Slava had that lane closed off. Seguin could either shoot himself—the most likely scenario—or pass it back to Benn.

Split-second decision time.

He made his move, and I dropped to the ice to block the pass, trusting Hunter to make the save if Seguin chose to shoot.

The puck hit me in the ribs, and I managed to brush it out from under me with my glove and get my stick on it to send it out of the zone toward Drew, whose stick was on the ice waiting for it.

Slava joined the rush while I tried to get my ass off the ice and back in the play. By the time I was on my skates again, the red light was flashing and war drums reverberated through the arena.

Holy shit.

We scored within the first minute of play in the season. I never saw that one coming.

Things were looking up.

SOMEHOW, WE ACTUALLY won the game. I still wasn’t sure how we’d managed it almost an hour after the final horn had sounded, followed by the cacophony of war drums.

I would put my money on it having a hell of a lot more to do with the Stars imploding for the night than with us having our shit together, as three of our four goals had come as a result of their defensive miscues, and their offense had been so potent that they should have scored at least ten goals if not for Hunter standing on his head.

Any way we looked at it, though, we were all happy to walk away with the win. The big question now was whether we’d be able to do it again in a few days against a different opponent.

I wasn’t going to hold my breath.

That was the trick with this whole hockey thing. One game didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. We had eighty-one more to go before the season was over, and luck wasn’t going to be enough to make us look like a good team. Professional hockey wasn’t for the faint of heart.

Most of the rest of the guys had already left for the night, but I was still in the locker room talking with Dima about his sledge game and sorting out details for that. Apparently, he didn’t just want me to play—he wanted me to help him plan the whole shebang. “You’re better at talking to people than me,” he said.

And that was a good enough reason to drag me into it? I couldn’t wrap my head around his decision-making on this one. But Tori was waiting, so I convinced Dima we could hammer out the rest of it later…and maybe I could convince him to have someone else plan it with him. I’d never organized any sort of event before—not even Tori’s birthday party, yet, and that was right around the corner. I wasn’t sure I was the right guy for him to peg for this task.

He came with me up to the wives’ room so he could keep yammering in my ear, his words a half-Russian, half-English combination that was oddly starting to sound normal to me. I nodded as we went along, storing away details about what he wanted to do in case I couldn’t weasel my way out of it.

I’d expected the room to be virtually empty when we got there, but half a dozen guys and their wives were still around, and even a slew of kids. Not only that, but everyone was huddled in a big circle, the kids on the outskirts with wide eyes, and people were shouting to make themselves heard. Not at all what I’d been expecting. Worried about the possibility of Tori being caught up in that, I pushed my way in with Dima right behind me.

Mrs. Jernigan and Tori were right in the middle. Mrs. J had a hand on Tori’s upper arm. Tori was in tears.

In shock, I stopped short at first. What the fuck was she doing with her hands on my wife? Everyone was shouting so much that I couldn’t make out what was happening. But I couldn’t just stand by. Tori needed me. I forced my way to the center.

Tori’s eyes landed on me. Pain filled them, and not just the physical sort of pain.

Rage billowed up through my gut, and I took another step, not sure what I intended to do. Before I could do anything, Tallie stepped into my path, passed her baby into my arms, and said, “Take Harper over there, and act like you’ve got some sense. Let me deal with that bitch.” She pointed to a corner well away from the mass of bodies. Then she spun around and pried Mrs. Jernigan’s fingers free from Tori’s arm.

I couldn’t move, though. If I did, I’d be handing the baby off to someone else and doing something I probably shouldn’t do to the team owner’s wife. Probably why Tallie had given me the kid in the first place—to stop me from being an idiot.

Harper started fussing. I didn’t know what to do about a fussy baby, but no one else was paying any attention to the little girl in my arms. I settled on bouncing her up and down, since I’d seen Tallie do that a few times. It didn’t seem to help, but I didn’t know what else to do so I kept going with it while I tried to figure out what the fuck I’d just walked into.

“I told her she needed to stay away from team events,” Mrs. Jernigan shouted. She waved her cell phone around. “Look at this! Just look. The church is never going to recover from the scandal. My email is overflowing with concerned messages from our members, wondering how I could allow a porn star to be involved with the team in any way. And the phone calls! My phone’s been ringing off the hook. It’s bad enough all these players can’t seem to watch their mouths, but—”

“You’d think they’d have something better to do with their time,” Tallie cut in before Mrs. J could build up a head of steam. “And it’s not like Tori’s getting naked and doing the deed on top of the Zamboni during intermission while everyone watches.”

“Why, I never!”

“It’s not such a big deal,” Tallie said. “It’s over. It’s in the past. She’s not doing anything wrong. She and Razor are a perfectly respectable couple. Besides, Hunter and I recovered from far worse. Actually, you were one of the people who helped us get past what people were saying about us. How about you try doing something like that again? Or better yet, get your nose out of other people’s business. I’m sure there are plenty of other things you could be spending your time doing, other than getting involved with the team members’ private lives.”

The preacher’s wife recovered enough to cross her arms in front of her, snapping her head to look at Hunter before turning back to Tallie. “Honey child, I wouldn’t say you two recovered from it. You should hear what the ladies’ group is saying about you when you’re not there.”

Tallie snorted. “Well, I’m not worried about what they think of me, but maybe you and Mr. J shouldn’t have bought a hockey team. Because I can promise you, Jesus couldn’t care less how many goals these boys score. He just wants you to preach the gospel to the people who need to hear it. I don’t know how owning a hockey team is helping you do that. Besides, all the guys want to do is play hockey, not make your church look good. They didn’t sign contracts stating they’d spread the good news. They signed contracts to play hockey.”

“They’re representatives of our church now, whether they want to be or not.”

“I think maybe you should’ve thought of that before. It’s too late now. And you know what? They’re just men. They’re regular, everyday, ordinary men, and they have real lives. They cuss, and they say stupid things in front of reporters when they shouldn’t, and every now and then one of them marries a porn star.”

I struggled not to laugh over that part. She made it sound like it was something that was likely to happen again. And who knew? Maybe it would. Maybe I wouldn’t be the only one.

Tallie looked like she was just getting started. “You’re just going to have to deal with it. And it could always be worse. Tori and Razor could be showing up at your church and passing out videos or something.” Tallie paused for a moment, bouncing up on her heels. She turned and winked at me before facing Mrs. J again. “Actually, that’s a great idea. I’m going to see if I can help them out with that.”

Mrs. Jernigan’s eyes went wide. I doubted anyone had ever given her an earful like that before, and certainly not someone who had grown up in their church like Tallie had. And she might even be taking Tallie’s suggestion about the video seriously. But then she pinched her lips together and made another grab for my wife’s arm.

Even though I still had the baby in my arms, I stepped forward to put an end to that. Mom beat me to it. She stepped in, making sure no one laid another finger on Tori. I hadn’t even thought about the fact that my mother was there until I saw her physically move between Tori and the preacher’s wife, right beside Tallie.

Tori backed away, but she bumped into Dima. He steadied her and gave me a nod, a silent means of letting me know he wasn’t going to let a fucking thing happen to her. Which was good, since I had a baby in my arms, who was currently drooling all over my jacket, and I wasn’t in any position to do more than I already was. At least the baby wasn’t crying anymore, and Tori felt safe enough with Dima.

“Now you listen to me,” Mom said, pushing a finger toward Mrs. J like she was going to stab her with it. “I don’t know you. I don’t care to know you. I don’t give a flying fuck who you are, but you’ve got to get one thing straight.”

Mrs. J’s eyes nearly bulged out of her head with that last bit from my mother. I silently cheered Mom on.

“Here’s what you need to get your brain wrapped around. You might own this team, but you do not own the men who play for you. They are contracted to do a job, and as long as they do those jobs and comport themselves in a professional manner, that’s the end of it. You don’t get to tell them who they can and can’t marry. You can’t tell them how to spend their free time. You definitely don’t get to tell their wives and girlfriends what to do, because those women aren’t bound to you in any way. You’re not God, and thank God for that because if you were, I’d worry for us all. Because holy fucking shit, lady, you’re a judgmental piece of work. So you just step back from my daughter-in-law, and you keep your damn hands to yourself before I take matters into my own hands or get the cops involved. I’m sure that would go over really well with all your uppity church members who think they’re better than her just because they’ve never had to make a choice out of desperation.”

This just proved, yet again, that my mom was the best mom in the world. Hands down. There wasn’t even any competition.

But then Mr. Jernigan stepped into the room, and things got really quiet. He pushed his way to the center and put an arm around his wife’s back. “Sharon? Is there a problem?” he asked her.

Mom answered him first, before his wife could get a word in. “There is a problem. Your wife seems to think she can manhandle my daughter-in-law and kick her out because of things in her past.”

“That’s not—” Mrs. J clammed up after one intense look from my mother.

“I think we should go,” Mr. J said. When his wife didn’t immediately start moving with him, he tugged on her arm until she complied. He caught my eye as they went, but I couldn’t decide what sort of look he was giving me. Did he blame me for all of this? Or maybe he thought I should have stepped in and done something.

Maybe I should have. If I were really the good man Tori was always claiming I was, shouldn’t I have acted and done something—anything—to protect her from that crazy woman’s antics? I needed to step up and figure it out.

I waited until they were fully out of the room before going over to plant a kiss on Mom’s cheek. “You’re awesome. You know that, right?”

She gave me a thorough once-over, focusing on the baby in my arms. “Mm-hmm,” she murmured, but there was a gleam in her eyes that I couldn’t miss.

“Weren’t you just lecturing me about condoms a week ago?” I said, laughing. She’d better not be starting in on me about giving her a grandbaby. At the moment, I was way more concerned with making sure I could keep my wife.

Tallie grabbed my mom’s arm and dragged her into a hug, and I took that moment to escape. I made my way to Tori and Dima. He still had both hands on her upper arms, holding her steady. I passed the baby over to him. Harper immediately jerked on his beard and made happy, gurgling sounds. He held the baby out well away from him—once he’d pried her fingers free from his facial hair, at least—looking at me like I’d lost my mind.

“What I do with fucking baby?” he asked.

I ignored him and wrapped Tori up in my arms. She melted into me. I could practically feel the tension draining out of her.

“You okay?” I asked, my mouth right by her ear so she could hear me through all the commotion in the room.

“Fine,” she said. She didn’t sound fine, though. I was learning to interpret the differences in her tones, learning to pick up on the tightness in her posture. She was as far from fine as she could be.

I took her hand and caught Mom’s eye so she’d know we were ready to go. We headed out of the room, with Dima calling out after us, “What I do with baby? Mudak.”

He could call me an asshole all he wanted. In any language, for that matter. I didn’t care, because I needed to get Tori out of there and do damage control, stat.

WITH EACH DAY that passed, Tori retreated further into herself, particularly after the most recent confrontation with Mrs. Jernigan.

“I shouldn’t go to games,” Tori kept telling me. “Better for everyone.”

“It’s not better for me,” I pointed out. “And it’s not better for us, either. We need to be able to show the immigration officials that we’re living a normal life together.”

“But we aren’t normal. I’m not normal. I’m porn star.”

Every time she said something like that, I reminded her that she wasn’t doing porn anymore, and that every single person in the room that night other than Mrs. Jernigan had been on her side. Tallie more than anyone.

Tori didn’t want to hear it, though, which left me nervous about what would come of the interview. She wouldn’t intentionally try to throw the interview even though that would lead to the worst possible outcome for her, would she?

I wasn’t sure anymore, because of how emotionally withdrawn she’d become. We were almost right back at square one, with her trying to make our relationship nothing more than physical.

Mom took it upon herself to spend every moment she could with Tori, which I appreciated since I was getting busier with the team now that the season was fully underway.

One day, they spent hours hanging out with Tallie and the baby. When they came home, Mom made sure to send me the dozens of new pictures of Tori hanging out with her friend—something to prove she was integrating into this part of my life—not to mention countless shots with both of them taking turns holding the baby.

I didn’t miss the excitement in Mom’s eyes in those images. Nor did I miss the softness that came over Tori when she had a baby in her arms.

Maybe someday… It was a nice thought.

Other times, the pair of them spent hours together in the kitchen, with Mom teaching Tori how she makes spaghetti and meatballs, and Tori teaching Mom how to make traditional stroganoff. Dima conveniently invited himself over for dinner whenever Tori was making Russian dishes, so he was around more and more often. It was odd that he was choosing to hang out with us instead of whatever blonde or brunette was his latest conquest, but I figured I might as well go with it. He and Tori had a bond, and that was something she didn’t have with many people. He kept acting big-brotherly toward Tori, and he’d dragged me into being his right-hand man in planning for his sledge game, so I didn’t mind too much, even if he was still a sulky bastard around me.

“What do you mean, you don’t put noodles in stroganoff?” Mom demanded.

Tori shook her head. “No noodles. Nyet. That’s American, not Russian.” The look of disgust on her face left me grinning and wishing I could drag her off to the bedroom so we could have more practice time with her dilators. The last time we’d practiced, she’d easily handled one that was almost twice as big around as one of my fingers.

Dima snorted, which seemed to be his way of agreeing with Tori’s comment.

She looked up and winked at him. That was definitely progress, too, although of a different sort than what she’d managed with her dilators.

Progress of any sort was excellent, but I wasn’t sure how much more patience I possessed.

Every morning, Mom went with Tori to the studio for ballet rehearsals with this choreographer while I was busy with team functions. Dima and I stopped by there one afternoon in the middle of the week, following a grueling practice and a tedious film session. The studio owner allowed us to sneak in and sit with Mom to watch.

The song playing was one I’d never heard before, but I would know the band anywhere. It was The End of All Things, a rock group based out of Portland that was currently at the top of all the charts. When they toured these days, they sold out stadiums all around the world. This piece had a hard driving beat but a haunting saxophone melody playing over the top of it, full of anguish but still beautiful at the same time. The lyrics were evocative of a phoenix rising from the ashes, and it was clear that Tori was portraying the phoenix.

All around her, the dancers moved low to the ground, their stomping, staccato movements reinforcing the beat of the bass and drums. But Tori’s long limbs seemed to go on forever. Her arms gracefully arced through the air. Her legs might as well go straight through the floor, her toe shoes only emphasizing their length. Every movement she made matched the aching cry of the sax.

The other dancers converged on her at one point, and it appeared she would be dragged down beneath them in the middle. Instead, they lifted her up, high above them, like a weightless cloud floating through an otherwise clear sky.

She was absolutely mesmerizing.

Mom leaned over. “You need to help her see herself like this,” she whispered in my ear. “All she sees is the ugliness that’s been done to her.”

Mom was right. The only problem was I didn’t know how.

Tori’s eyes were still lit up when she joined us after changing into her street clothes. Her smile was as wide as the span of her arms during that lift, and she kissed my chin.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her the rest of the day. She seemed more alive than I’d ever witnessed. Instead of walking, she practically floated across the floor everywhere she went. Yes, this was who she was. This was who she was meant to be.

I fell more in love with her than ever, because I finally had a glimpse of the woman she wanted to be, not the one she’d tried to squeeze herself into because of all the things that had happened to her over the years. It was as if she’d shed a constricting skin and now she was spreading her wings.

I wanted to see her fly.

When we went to bed that night, I picked up the drawstring bag of her dilators, but she shook her head. “Nyet.”

“You don’t want to practice?” I had to fight off the disappointment from my tone, because I’d been thinking about helping her to climax for hours.

“Not with dilators,” she said. She undid the fly of her jeans. They slipped down her hips along with her panties and pooled at her ankles. “Just you.”

My dick hardened instantaneously just from the sight of her long legs and naked pussy. She still shaved it completely bare, not leaving even so much as a landing strip. But while she’d made progress with the dilators, she still wasn’t ready to accommodate me.

I opened my mouth to tell her as much, but she stripped off her shirt and bra, and my brain stopped functioning.

“I want your fingers in me,” she said, lying on her back and drawing her knees up. “Dilator is cold. You’re warm. Fingers feel more like cock.”

“But you won’t have any control over my fingers.” How deep they went. The way I moved them. It would be too easy to go too far or too fast without knowing I was hurting her. And I wasn’t sure she’d be honest about the pain until it was too late.

“You won’t hurt me,” she insisted. “Just fingers. One. Maybe two.”

“You’ll tell me to stop if it hurts?”

“Promise.”

I wasn’t positive I believed that promise.

In spite of my reservations, I took off my shirt and tossed it on the armchair near the door. Then I crossed to the bed and lowered my head toward her heat. She was already wet, the same as I was fully erect. I stopped when my face hovered only an inch or two above her, and I took in a deep breath, letting the scent of her desire fill me up. Without me touching her at all, her clit was already swollen and protruding.

I blew a breath over it, watching it strain toward me.

She let out a soft sound and spread her thighs wider, making room for me. I kneeled between them, but I didn’t start out where she wanted me. Instead, I placed one hand on her ankle, lifting her leg as I slid my fingers up the toned muscles of her calves. Once I had her foot pointing toward the ceiling, I made a point with my tongue and licked the sensitive underside of her knee, my focus never leaving her face.

Her eyes turned stormy, and she took a shaking breath.

“More?” I asked.

“More. Please.” The opening to her pussy moved, like she was already trying to grasp my fingers and keep them where she wanted them even though they weren’t inside her yet.

I groaned, thinking of how it would feel to bury my cock in her sex while she worked her muscles, squeezing me tight and not letting me go.

“Please, Razor,” she said after I spent a moment staring at her glistening, pink lips.

Painstakingly, I worked my way up first that leg and then the other, before finally feasting on her softness. I licked her slowly, starting at the bottom of her slit and not stopping until I could flick her nub with the pointed end of my tongue, then going back for more.

Tori writhed her hips and rocked against me. And she whimpered, so quietly it was almost inaudible.

I sucked her clit between my lips and eased a single digit inside her. She was working her muscles so hard it felt as if she were trying to swallow my finger.

“More, Razor.”

So I gave her more.

She arched her back and fisted her hands in my hair, focusing my attention on her tiny bundle of nerve endings.

I never got a second finger inside, because she came, long and hard, collapsing against the mattress with her limbs tangled around me.

My name fell from her lips over and over again. “Razor. Oh God, Razor.” There was passion in her voice, but there were tears on her cheeks.

I slid up the length of her body and lay beside her, smoothing her hair off her face. “Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head. “No pain. Just hold me.”

“I’m here,” I said. I kissed her forehead and cradled her face, holding her close to me, but she only cried harder.

“Don’t let me go.”

“Hey. I’ve got you. I’m not letting you go.”

I only hoped she had no intention of leaving.

I held her for so long I thought she’d fallen asleep. But at one point, she lifted her hand to my cheek and angled my head until I looked down at her.

“Need you to know I love you.” In the moonlight streaming in through the window, her eyes—almost black in their intensity—bored through me.

I swept her hair off her forehead and kissed her where it had been. “I know you do. And I love you, too.”

“I love you so much it already hurts.”

I held her tighter, memorizing the feel of her long, strong body curling into mine. Times like this, she left my nerves on edge.

THE NEXT DAY was another game day, the last home game before we would leave for our first road trip of the season. It was also the day that Tori was finally going back to the counselor. Mom had talked her into it over the course of the week and was going with her to be sure she showed up and went through with the session.

After morning skate, I wanted to get out of the arena and home as soon as possible so I could find out how it had gone, but Gary Asher, the team’s general manager, stopped me before I could leave the locker room.

“I need you to come to my office for a minute, Razor.”

In my experience, it was rarely good when the general manager wanted to see me in his office. Since I wasn’t due for a new contract for a few more years, it couldn’t be anything of that nature. That left being traded. Or at least that was the only thing that came to mind.

And I couldn’t get traded.

Not now.

Yeah, I would give my left nut to be playing for a team that wasn’t destined to scrape the bottom of the barrel in the league for several years to come.

But Tori was safe here.

Hell, if it was a Canadian team he was trading me to, she couldn’t even come with me. Until we had everything sorted out with her residency status, she couldn’t leave the country.

And I sure as fuck couldn’t take her with me to Montreal or Toronto, if either of those were where he’d traded me.

He stopped halfway through the door. “Coming?” he said. I was still in my stall, watching him with my jaw hanging open as all of these bad scenarios followed by worse scenarios raced through my mind.

“Yeah, Gary. Be right there.” I shoved my phone in my pocket and followed him out.

How the hell was I going to talk him out of trading me? Was it already a done deal? I should have pushed harder for a no-trade clause when I’d signed my last contract. Granted, I wasn’t even with the Thunderbirds when I’d signed that deal. They’d picked me up in an expansion draft last summer, so they’d inherited the contract I’d signed with the Sabres. I was just stuck with the terms, with this team, with the current management.

Except now, he wanted to trade me.

I followed him into his office and shut the door, talking before I’d even turned around to face him. “I know that this is a business and all that, but you can’t fucking trade me. Not now. I’ll do whatever you need me to, but—”

“I’m not trading you, Razor,” he cut in.

“You’d damned well better not be.” With the thick Southern accent, there wasn’t a chance in hell that was anyone but Mr. Jernigan.

I spun around, confused as all get out. “You’re not?” And why was the team owner in here? This wasn’t normal. I didn’t know what it was, but it was definitely not normal.

“Why the hell would I want to trade you?” Gary demanded. “I sure don’t have anyone else to fill your role.”

“Have a seat, Chambers,” Mr. J said.

Chambers. No one around here called me anything but Razor. I didn’t know what to do with that, but I took a seat like he’d told me to.

This had to be about Tori. And Mrs. Jernigan.

Had to be.

Gary cleared his throat. “Razor, Tom asked me to bring you in so he could say something to you.”

“I’m not telling Tori to stay away, if that’s what this is about.”

“It is,” he said. “And it isn’t.”

I shook my head. “I don’t follow.”

“I’m here to apologize to you.”

Now I was really lost.

“You haven’t done anything to apologize for. And if anyone is owed an apology, it’s my wife.”

“I completely agree,” Mr. J said. “Sharon certainly owes your wife that much and more, but I thought I’d start it with you, man to man. Make sure the two of us are on the same page. I didn’t know what was happening until I walked in that night. There are members of our congregation who are calling and sending messages, trying to get us to end any association with her. I’m actually working on a sermon for next month to put everything that’s wrong about what they’re asking of us into perspective. I never would have agreed to go along with what they’re demanding, and if I’d had any idea that Sharon was behaving in such a manner, she and I would have had a come-to-Jesus discussion well before now.”

I wanted to cut to the chase. “So no one’s going to try to kick Tori out of team events where our families are allowed, right?”

“Right,” he said. “No one is going to say anything to her. And in fact, I’ve strongly encouraged Sharon to realize the error in her ways, and that she not only needs to apologize to Viktoriya, but she should try to make amends.”

“I don’t think that part’s going to be necessary,” I groused. In fact, whatever kind of amends Sharon Jernigan thought she needed to make would likely have something to do with attempting to save Tori’s sinful soul after she’d repented for her mistakes. Right now, what she needed more than anything was understanding and compassion, not judgment and shame, and from what I’d seen, those were her MO.

“Well, I hope she offers. And it’ll be completely up to Viktoriya whether she wants to accept what Sharon puts out there or not. Anyway, this was what I wanted to see you about. Because it was the right thing to do.”

I got up and shook his hand. “Thanks for that.”

He slapped me on the shoulder as we shook. “I’ll be praying for the two of you, son. And I’ll let you know when I’ll be giving that sermon, in case you and Viktoriya want to come. You’d be honored guests…”

Not a chance in hell that would happen.

After making sure that was all Gary had wanted from me, I got the hell out of Dodge before someone else could corner me.

When I got home, it was to find my wife with red, puffy eyes.

Mom got up from the couch, where she’d been sitting next to Tori, and excused herself.

“Want to talk?” I asked once Tori and I were alone. I was torn between hoping she would and hoping she wouldn’t. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear what she’d have to say, because it might be that she was still thinking it would be best for the immigration people to take her away from me. She’d only mentioned it that one time, but everything had felt off between us since.

She shook her head.

Damn.

“You need nap before game.”

“Not if you need to talk to me about something.”

“Just want you to hold me,” she said, sniffling.

“I can do that.” I held out my hand for her.

She took it and got up, coming straight into my arms. She buried her head against my chest, burrowing into my neck. Her arms came around my waist and held me tight. The scent of her vanilla body spray tickled my nose.

After a few minutes, I took her into our bedroom. We stripped down enough that we’d be comfortable in bed for a while, and she crawled beneath the covers. I put an arm around her waist and tucked my knees behind hers. “I love you,” I murmured.

She let out a soft, humming sound.

I didn’t sleep a wink during my pregame nap time. Tori didn’t sleep either.

I simply held her. Stroked her. Wished I could see inside her mind to understand where she was coming from and what she was thinking.

Just before I had to get up and prepare myself for game time, a thought hit me, though. In her previous sessions with the counselor, Tori hadn’t shed a tear. She’d refused to talk about anything that would upset her. She’d kept her wall up, keeping all the hurts buried deep inside and not letting anyone close enough to even see what they were.

Maybe her tears were a good sign this time. Maybe they meant she was making some progress. I hoped that was the case.

AFTER SPENDING SO much time with both Razor and his mother of late, I hated being alone. It left me too much time to get lost in my head, in all the thoughts that my sessions with my counselor had brought up.

During the visit when Razor’s mom had gone with me and sat in the waiting room, somehow the counselor had gotten me started talking about not only everything to do with my parents and the Russian Mafia but also about my time working in porn. She would ask something seemingly simple, like, “How did it make you feel inside when you were vomiting but they wouldn’t stop? And to know that millions of people around the world would get aroused watching you be abused?”

I’d tried to tell her that it wasn’t abuse, just porn, but the words felt hollow as they came out of my mouth. And the next thing I knew, I was crying so hard I could barely talk, but that didn’t stop the words from pouring from my lips.

Even though neither the counselor nor Razor’s mom had tried to force me to make another appointment, I’d done it anyway. She’d popped the top of the can of worms inside me, and they’d all spilled out; I couldn’t put them back in on my own.

So I was going back. And I supposed I would have to keep going back until I was able to function on my own again.

But now I was crying almost all the time, or at least it felt that way to me. The simplest things would set me off. Sometimes the tears would start up again for no reason at all.

When Razor had been home, I’d been able to go to him. He’d held me through the worst of it, and he hadn’t demanded I explain it to him. He was gone now, though, and I didn’t know what to do when the waves of pain tried to drag me under. I felt like I was drowning in my past.

Today was the worst so far.

Razor had been gone for three days. We’d talked every day, but it wasn’t the same.

This morning, I’d gone to rehearsal. This afternoon, I’d seen my counselor. Ever since, I’d been stuck in the muck and mire that my counseling session had brought up. Even talking to Razor for half an hour before going to bed hadn’t been enough to force all the negativity from my mind.

I lay in the big, empty bed, wishing it would swallow me whole.

I rolled over to look at the clock. It was after two in the morning. He had a game tomorrow, so I shouldn’t call him. It would wake him up, and he needed his rest.

Harper might have Tallie awake, though. It was a possibility. I sent her a text message to ask if she was up, not expecting a response. My phone dinged almost instantly.

Tallie: Yes. Harper won’t stop fussing. What’s up?

Me: Can I come over?

Tallie: Sure. Bring ear plugs.

I didn’t have ear plugs, but it didn’t matter. I didn’t care if the baby cried all night. I doubted I’d be getting any sleep, anyway. Within a few minutes, I threw together a bag with a change of clothes and a few toiletries for in the morning, and I was on my way out the door.

A very upset Harper and her burp cloth were both draped over Tallie’s shoulder when they met me at the door.

“Oh, hon,” Tallie said. “You look like hell.” She led me inside and locked the door behind us. “Come on. Let’s go sit and talk about it.”

I didn’t want to talk about it, particularly, since that was what had led to my crying and insomnia to begin with, but I supposed I owed Tallie an explanation for showing up in the middle of the night, so I followed her.

As soon as I took a seat, she passed Harper into my arms and situated the burp cloth on my shoulder.

“Your turn,” she said. “I’m going to make us some coffee, because I think we’re in for a long night. She’s been like this the last few days—ever since the guys left. I don’t know if she’s missing Hunter like I am or if it’s something else. I keep threatening to make Kade come over for baby duty, but he’s still scared of changing her diapers. Not sure it’d be any better than going it alone.”

She kept prattling as she messed around in the kitchen. I got the distinct impression that being pregnant hadn’t had as much to do with her constant talking as she’d tried to convince me the first time we met.

“You miss Hunter a lot?” I asked when she came back and passed me a cup.

“You have no idea.” Tallie plopped down on a recliner and tucked her legs underneath her, carefully balancing her mug through the entire process. “I thought it was bad last season when they left for road trips, but this season? Now that I’ve got Harper?” She shook her head. “It’s not even just about wishing I had help with her. He just keeps me calm when I start feeling crazy, which is all the time these days. Lack of sleep’ll do that to you.”

Harper started fussing more than before. I sent a panicked look in Tallie’s direction.

“Try walking around with her. She likes to be on the move.”

I got up and started pacing through the living room. Sure enough, she settled some. Not enough that she’d fall asleep again, but enough that her cries turned more to whimpers than full screams.

“So are you missing Razor?” Tallie asked. “Is that why you’re here?”

“Something like that.”

“What else?”

I shook my head and moved Harper to the other shoulder, taking a moment to resituate everything. “You told me once we can talk.”

I should have kept my mouth shut.

“I did. And I meant it.” She sipped her coffee, her eyes following me as I walked with her baby. “You gonna finally tell me about this whole porn thing?”

It was bad enough telling my counselor. And I’d hardly told Razor a word of it. He knew it had happened; that was bad enough. But to truly tell someone what I’d allowed men to do to me… I felt more than enough self-disgust already. Tallie was the one real friend I’d had in years. What if she didn’t want to be my friend anymore once she knew?

But maybe it didn’t have to be specifics.

I bit down on my tongue, debating how to start. And then…it just started.

“I told myself was just sex. That’s how I coped. Just sex. Just my body. Not me.”

“But it wasn’t, was it?”

I shook my head. “Tried to separate myself from it. But really, I shut down. Closed off. Built wall around me and wouldn’t let anyone in.”

“But that wall maybe kept all of it in there, too, huh?”

I nodded. Harper’s fussing was starting to slow down. I patted her back as I walked. “Counselor called it abuse.”

“The things that they filmed?”

“I never thought it was abuse,” I said. “Told myself just sex.”

“But was it really just sex? You can tell me. I’m not going to think any differently of you, whether it was just sex or if they were abusing you. I already love you to pieces.”

Tears stung my eyes, but I didn’t want to let them fall. They’d land on the baby’s head. She didn’t need my tears. She had enough of her own. Clenching my jaw helped keep them in. Biting the inside of my cheek helped more. “Not just sex.”

“Can you— I mean, when you’re with Razor—” She stopped and shook her head. “Sorry. None of my business.”

“It’s different with Razor. He makes me feel loved.” And with that, there was no holding back my tears. They bubbled over like lava. I passed the baby back to Tallie before she started screaming again.

Razor had made me feel cared for right from the start. That first night, any other man would have fucked and paid me, and then he would have moved on. Sent me on my way. Forgotten all about me.

For so long, he’d frustrated the hell out of me because he wouldn’t treat me the same way I expected to be treated. Especially when it came to sex. Once he’d helped me to orgasm that first time, he’d made it his personal mission to repeat as often as possible. Sometimes, he didn’t even seem to care if he got his turn afterward.

“That’s what people who love each other do,” my counselor had said to me today. “It feels good to make someone else feel good. Sometimes, that’s satisfaction enough. Isn’t it? Don’t you feel good when you do things for him?”

As soon as she’d said those words, it was like she’d dropped a cement block on me. At first, I’d done things for Razor because I’d thought it was expected. That it was what men wanted. Then things between Razor and me had become tit-for-tat. But somewhere along the way, the ground had shifted beneath my feet.

My counselor was right. Doing things for each other, without expecting something in return, was what people who loved each other did. Taking care of the other person’s needs became as important or maybe more important than taking care of your own. That was why Razor was so focused on helping me with my sexual problems. It was why he had been turning his life upside down to make sure we had the best possibility of a positive outcome with the immigration interview.

And it was why I was still debating whether I should allow that to happen or if I should pretend we weren’t truly in love when it came time for that meeting.

Since I loved him, I wanted the best for him, even if it wasn’t what he thought was best. Having me in his life would only bring him grief. I should know. I’d seen more than enough of it for the both of us.

I just wasn’t sure I was strong enough to make that decision when the time came. Maybe it was selfish of me, but having someone in my life who loved me the way Razor did wasn’t something I could walk away from without serious misgivings.

Tallie cooed and bounced Harper a few times. Then she looked up at me. “So why is it that recognizing that your husband makes you feel loved is what makes you cry?”

I crossed my arms in front of me, wishing he was here to hold me. Then I sat down again, hoping she’d let it go without me answering.

She didn’t.

She stayed where she was, waiting for my answer.

“Been a long time since anyone loved me,” I finally forced out.

She smiled, a soft, sweet smile that made me so glad she was my friend. “Well, he’s not the only one who loves you, you know.”

Harper let out a renewed wail, interrupting the moment.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I don’t know what to do for this child,” Tallie said, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling.

“You said she likes to move,” I reminded her.

“She does.”

“Does she like riding in car?”

“Get your purse. We’re gonna find out.”

Even though it was after three in the morning and we were both in our pj’s, Tallie and I took the baby and headed out to her car to go for a late-night drive through Tulsa. It was what Harper needed. And helping each other out was what friends did.

“YOU’VE GOT TO start breathing again, or I’ll have to do something drastic like tickle your ribs. Are you ticklish?” Razor rubbed his hands up and down my biceps, warding off the chill in the air.

Some sort of front was blowing in, and the temperature outside had dropped radically in the last twenty minutes. Huge, black, billowing clouds filled the sky along with the cooler temperatures. Ten minutes ago, when Razor and I had left the house to go to the immigration interview, the sun had been out. Now that we were about to head into the building, it was as dark as night…at two in the afternoon.

I’d never experienced such a drastic change in the weather before, but the meteorological shock wasn’t what had me shivering and unable to take a full breath.

It was that I still didn’t know what I was going to do when we got in front of the interviewer. On any other game day, Razor would be at home getting his pregame nap in right now. Instead, he was here with me, and everything was riding on what happened over the next hour. Should I do what was best for Razor and force my own deportation? Or should I stick with the plan and hope for the best?

I wasn’t sure. In fact, I might not make up my mind until pressed to answer a question. Considering that it was such a massive decision, you’d think I would have decided well before now what I should do. I’d never been so wishy-washy about anything before.

A streak of lightning lit up the sky, followed soon after by a crack of thunder that I felt all the way down to my bones.

“Come on,” Razor said. “Let’s get inside before this storm hits. Just tell the truth, no matter what they ask.”

I took his hand and walked through the glass double doors by his side, forcing myself to put one foot in front of the other. Whatever decision I ended up making, I still had to go into this interview.

There was no getting out of this.

The receptionist greeted us, all business despite her smile. “Mr. and Mrs. Chambers? We’re ready for you.” She led us through a door and down a hall, much like the office where my counselor worked. At the end of the hall, we turned into a corner room, where a man in a gray suit sat behind a computer desk, glasses perched near the end of his nose. The receptionist left the room and closed the door behind her.

The man stood up and held out a hand for Razor to shake when we entered. “Mr. Chambers. And Mrs. Chambers,” he said when he offered me his hand.

I took it even though a sheen of perspiration covered my palm.

He smiled. “Doug Harris. Thank you both for coming in today. Why don’t you have a seat so we can get started and not take up too much of your time.”

There were two armchairs in front of his desk. Razor guided me to one and eased me into it before sitting beside me. I reached for his hand as soon as we were settled, needing the reassurance of his touch.

He squeezed it and winked at me before smiling at Doug. “Thanks for working us into your schedule at a time when my team’s in town.”

“No problem, no problem. Although, it might not have been so bad if you’d been here on Friday instead of in Winnipeg.”

“I don’t know. I think we might have lost a hell of a lot worse than we did if I hadn’t been out there.”

Doug laughed. “It gets worse than eight to nothing, then?”

“It can. You’re a hockey fan?” Razor asked. He had an easy smile and, as usual, no problem talking to anyone. About anything. He was a natural.

“Learning to be one. It’s still new in these parts.” But then he was down to business. He picked up a manila file and opened it, taking out a stack of papers. “So… It says here that you two met in Vegas?”

“Yeah. I was there for my buddy’s bachelor party and wedding.”

“And Viktoriya? What were you there for?”

Another crack of thunder shook the walls of the office, and I jumped. Then the rain started, pummeling the windows. It was coming down in sheets instead of individual drops, or at least that was how it looked. My heart beat so hard it had to be almost as loud as the storm outside.

Doug smiled at me. “Sounds like we’ve got quite a thunderstorm brewing. Is it your first good storm in this part of the country?” He glanced at one of the windows. “Might get some hail. The sky doesn’t look green, though, so hopefully we won’t have to deal with a tornado.”

“Tornado?” I’d only seen about those on TV before. I’d never seen one up close and personal, and I didn’t want that to change now.

“Let’s get this done so we can all get home, hmm? So why were you in Las Vegas?”

My throat felt swollen shut, and I couldn’t swallow.

Razor squeezed my hand again and rubbed the pad of his thumb over my skin.

The plan was to tell the truth, but wouldn’t telling the whole truth prove we had only married in order to deal with my residency? Surely if I was up-front about it, blunt and to the point, the truth beneath the partial truth would come out.

I took a breath and met Doug’s gaze head on. “I was trying to be prostitute. Wanted Razor to be my first John.”

Doug raised a brow, but he didn’t say a word, waiting for me to continue.

“I lost my student visa and needed money to go back to Russia.”

“How did you lose your student visa?”

“Porn. I was in porn. Against rules of ballet school.”

He shuffled through the stack of papers until he found one and pulled it to the top. He jotted a couple of notes on it. “And you two married the same day you met?”

“We did,” Razor said. “I realized there was more going on than met the eye. My mother worked as a prostitute for several years when I was growing up. She did it to put me through school and get me involved in hockey. So, I know a bit about the profession. The women in it. And Tori wasn’t like them.”

“Hmm.” Doug kept jotting down notes. Then he looked up, staring straight at me. “So why, exactly, did you two decide to get married?”

This was it. Do or die. Sink or swim. I had to make up my mind right now about what I wanted to happen. I tried to swallow, but nothing would go down. In fact, it felt as if everything was about to come up. I pressed my eyes closed, hoping that would make everything come into focus. And then I said the first thing that came to mind, the words pouring out in a rush.

“Razor married me because he wanted to protect me. Because I have no more family, no one left to go home to if deported. I did porn because Tambovs killed my father and—”

“The Tambovs?” Doug interrupted. His entire demeanor changed suddenly. He sat up straighter. His eyes darkened like the clouds outside. He leaned forward, tapping the end of his pen on the desk. “The St. Petersburg Tambovs?”

I didn’t know what this change meant, but I’d already started down this path. There was no turning back now. “Yes. They took Mama. Tried to take me, but Papa got me away. He sent me to school in America, but they killed him.”

“We’ve found out that they’ve killed Tori’s mother, too,” Razor added. “One of my teammates has an uncle in Moscow who is a member of the local police force there. He did some investigation for us.”

“And that’s why you started doing porn,” Doug said. He didn’t ask. In fact, he was already writing notes again.

“Yes.”

“And porn is why you lost your visa.”

“Yes.”

He stopped writing and looked up at me. “What was your plan in Vegas? If Mr. Chambers had taken you up on your offer and paid you for sex, what were you going to do with the money?”

That question caught me off guard. “Was going back to Russia before I was deported.”

“Even though you knew the Tambovs had taken your mother and killed your father.”

“Didn’t know what else to do.”

“There’s a U-Visa,” he said.

“But I can’t help police. I have no information. Need information for U-Visa.”

“Hmm.” He went back to making notes and didn’t say anything for a long time, so long that I started fidgeting in my chair.

I shouldn’t have been so honest. Because now, he knew that the reason Razor had married me was just for the green card. They were going to deport me, and even if that might be the best thing for Razor, it was a nightmare come true for me. They were going to send me back to Russia, and I would never see him again. Panic clawed at my throat, forcing bile upwards. Another booming crack of thunder shocked me so much that it went back down, just in time.

“So I think I know why you two married to begin with,” Doug said. “But I need to know if that’s the only reason you’re still married, or if there’s something more.”

“You’re not taking her away from me,” Razor said, practically growling the words and turning as fierce as the storm raging outside. “I’m not going to sit here quietly and let you send her into that kind of hell. She’s been through enough already, and they want her. They’re after her. You looked like you believed her about the Tambovs. That’s the fucking Mafia. You’re not sending her—”

Doug held up a hand. “Whoa. Hold up. I never said anything about sending her back to Russia. Viktoriya’s right about the U-Visa, but that isn’t the only option here.”

“It’s not?” Razor repeated, sounding much calmer.

“I’m not ruling that out yet, but there are other possibilities. We could still get her permanent resident status through marriage, possibly, but we need to reasonably believe that this is a real marriage. And if that’s the direction we go, the process could potentially be expedited due to the threat of trafficking. There are a few other options, as well, but here’s what I need you two to both understand right now.” He stopped talking and stared straight at me. “We’re not going to send you back to Russia to be trafficked. Period.”

“I can stay?” My voice was so small I could barely hear it myself.

Razor threaded his fingers through mine.

Doug gave me a slight smile. “I’m going to do whatever it takes to make sure it happens. But I need you two to cooperate, and I need you to be completely honest about everything. Got it?”

All the tension within me lifted in an instant. I’d done my best to do what was right for Razor, even though it would rip me to shreds to do so, and I’d failed. Maybe my staying wasn’t best for him, but it was the only way I’d ever be free, and I knew it.

He knew it, too. That was why he’d worked so hard to do everything his agent told him.

I didn’t think I could love him any more than I did right at that moment. I nodded. “Yes.”

“Got it,” Razor said.

I could stay.

With Razor.

I took a breath, letting my lungs fill with air, and the most perfect sense of peace settled over me.

I could stay.

WE HAD THUNDERSTORMS just as intense as that first one, and some of them even more so, almost every afternoon for the next week, often lasting well into the evening. They cropped up out of nowhere, the temperature dropping and the sky turning black as midnight within minutes. Tallie told me I’d get used to them if Razor and I lived in Tulsa long enough. I doubted that. The sudden changes left me shaken, and the intensity of Mother Nature’s wrath was more than simply frightening.

Razor didn’t seem to be used to them, either, but he wasn’t anywhere near as terrified as I was. One night after a game the Thunderbirds lost by a wide margin, a storm woke me from a dead sleep. I jumped awake, only calming again when Razor settled an arm around my waist and drew me against his side, yet another reassurance that he had no intention of letting me go.

But before long, he had to leave again for another road trip with the team. Tallie invited me to stay at her house while the guys were gone. She said it was so I could help with the baby, but I had a feeling it had as much to do with the fact that I was as scared of the storms as I was of being alone. Either way, I readily took her up on the offer.

“Fair warning,” she told me when I showed up at her house with a few days’ worth of clothes. “The pediatrician thinks Harper has colic, which is why she cries so much. And there’s not really anything we can do other than try to find things that help keep her calm. You might not get much sleep.”

“Wouldn’t sleep at home alone, either.”

“I know.” She gave me a side hug with the arm that wasn’t supporting her baby. “That’s why I don’t feel so bad having you over. We can all take naps whenever Harper goes down.”

The two of them came with me to my rehearsals each day. The music seemed to soothe Harper, at least for the time being, so it was good for all of us. Somehow, thunderstorms soothed her even more than music did. During the almost-daily storms, she slept more soundly than ever, while I curled up in a fetal position and prayed it would end soon. If the weather stayed like this much of the year, I wasn’t sure I was cut out to live in Oklahoma. Tallie assured me storms like this were only common in the fall and the spring, though.

“Only half year, then,” I joked. I had to make a joke of it or I’d go crazy.

She winked. “Something like that.”

The day after the team returned following a three-game trip during which they hadn’t scored a single goal, Razor and I were back at Hunter and Tallie’s house for my birthday party. I’d tried to talk him out of doing anything like that for me, but he hadn’t listened.

“We still need to do things like this to prove our marriage is the real deal,” he reminded me on our way over there.

And I knew that. Doug had promised he would talk to everyone he could to provide corroborating evidence about the deaths of my parents, and that should be enough to get my residency status expedited. But he’d stressed that, while he believed we’d fallen in love since we’d gotten married, we couldn’t leave any doubts about that. At least not until everything had been pushed through the system. For most people trying to get permanent residency through marriage, the process could take two to three years before everything was finalized. He was hoping to sort it all out within the next few months.

So here we were, parking in front of Tallie and Hunter’s house for a birthday party. There was another car in the driveway that didn’t belong to either Hunter or Tallie.

“You said small party,” I complained. “Not many people.”

“And I meant it. Dima’s coming over, too. That’s probably it.”

“Probably?” The last thing I wanted was to be surrounded by dozens of strangers—and no matter how many of Razor’s hockey games I’d been to, most of the other wives and girlfriends were very much strangers to me, not to mention his teammates.

“Maybe Kade, but you’ve spent some time around him. Not a big deal. Right?”

Hunter greeted us before we even reached the door, as did Harper’s cries.

“Sorry,” he said. “She just started up when Dima rang the bell. Hopefully she’ll calm down soon.” He stepped to the side and let us enter.

Dmitri kissed me on the cheek when I came in, putting a small gift box in my hand. “Open later,” he said.

I nodded and thanked him before heading into the kitchen, following the sounds of the baby’s fussing. The guys came in behind me.

Tallie gave me a harried look, bouncing Harper on her hip. “Sorry! But we finished the cupcakes before she started, except I still need to put some icing on them, and there’s wine. Actually, can you pour me a glass? It might get her to calm down if she gets a bit of alcohol in my breast milk. Or maybe I shouldn’t do that. I probably shouldn’t do that. Oh my God, I can’t even think straight anymore. Her colic is going to kill me.”

“No wine for you,” Hunter said a little too cheerfully.

Razor fought to keep from grinning at me, but he failed. “But we can help ice the cupcakes. Just tell us what you want us to do.”

“Well, you need to—” She furrowed her brows. “It’ll be easier to show you. Here.” She passed Harper to Dmitri, whose eyes looked ready to bug out of his head.

“How do I hold baby? Not good idea.”

Tallie glanced at him briefly, rolling her eyes, but she was already digging through the cupboards and bringing out countless mixing bowls and other implements. “You’re fine, Dima. Just let her rest against your chest.”

He awkwardly brought Harper closer, and she immediately grabbed a fistful of his beard. But she also stopped fussing. The change was so sudden and so dramatic that we all stopped to look.

“She stopped crying,” Tallie said, near tears herself. “Oh my God. She finally stopped crying.”

“So take her back,” Dmitri said, trying to pry her fingers free from his beard.

The baby started whimpering again.

“No chance,” Tallie said. “You just keep doing whatever you’re doing to keep her calm.”

“No fucking idea what I’m doing.” But he left her fingers alone. She settled her head on his chest and made soft, gurgling sounds.

“I don’t know what you’re doing, either,” Hunter said. “You’re the Harper Whisperer or something.”

I tried to take one of Tallie’s bowls, but she grabbed it out of my hands. “You’re not icing your own birthday cupcakes.”

“You baked and iced your own baby shower cupcakes,” Razor reminded her. He took the bowl Tallie shoved in his direction and winked at me.

“Totally different scenario.” She nodded at me. “Why don’t you go fix a glass of wine and sit in the living room with those two?” she suggested, indicating Dmitri and Harper.

I followed him and sat, watching the two interact with pure fascination. The baby was riveted by Dmitri’s beard, and the way she was pulling on the hairs was obviously painful for him. But he didn’t do anything to stop her. In fact, he started speaking to her in Russian, saying all sorts of silly things about skating on frozen lakes in the dead of winter that would make no sense to anyone but me. The sound of his voice seemed to calm her. Eventually, she stopped trying to rip out the hairs of his beard and fell asleep on his shoulder, and I could have sworn I heard him call her kukolka—my little doll.

I ducked my head to hide my smile.

Maybe the birthday party wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

THE WEEKS SINCE Tori’s birthday party had been filled with one improvement in our relationship after another. She was going to see her counselor regularly and making visible progress. She was continuing to work through her dilators, and I was continuing to enjoy helping her with the process. We were talking more, and not just about things we thought we needed to know to prove we actually loved each other. They were things that came up because we did love each other.

Once again, Greg was calling me almost every day with updates from the immigration office, outlining where we were in the process and telling me what he needed from Tori and me. After spending months with nothing to do but wait and hope for the best, all of a sudden the proceedings were moving at lightning speed.

We were already in the second month of the NHL’s regular season, but things hadn’t gone so well on the hockey front. After winning the first game of the season, we’d dropped eight straight before finally pulling off another win—and that one only came about in a shootout. Hunter had been practically standing on his head in these games, but it didn’t matter how good he was. The team, as a whole, stunk to high hell, just like I’d known we would.

Tori and the other dancers had filmed the video for The End of All Things last week. We still hadn’t seen it. Soon, they’d told us. Whatever soon meant.

I knew the production would be fantastic, but waiting was difficult, particularly since rehearsals had given her something to keep her busy. She was still going up to the dance studio and taking classes, but it wasn’t the same as having a specific goal she was working toward. The community ballet was planning to put something together for the holidays, though. I hoped she might be cast in that.

At the moment, I was gearing up for something I had been looking forward to for months. Tonight, we were playing the Storm, at home, for the first time this season.

Did I expect us to win? Hardly. They were a serious threat to win the Stanley Cup every year lately, and we could barely score a goal some nights.

But playing them meant two things: one, I would be up against Babs all night, giving me the opportunity to show him up, even if my team got beat by his; and two, I was finally going to get the chance to bash Koz’s nose in. I’d been thinking about it on and off since Babs’s wedding.

My desire to rearrange his face only grew every time someone else said something to me about Tori and her history of working in porn, because I knew he’d had something to do with it. Maybe he wasn’t the only one who’d been aware of her previous profession, but he’d definitely spread the word far and wide through the league. Some asswipe on every team took it upon himself to chirp at me about it. For that matter, he might have been the one who was behind Mrs. Jernigan’s discovery, even if the path of the gossip reaching her had been circuitous and complicated.

Regardless, tonight was my chance to let the son of a bitch know exactly how I felt about him.

I hadn’t fought a guy in a game for a few years now. Coaches preferred to leave that to the third and fourth line forwards, not their defensemen, since it meant spending five minutes in the sin bin. Sitting in my stall, lacing up my skates before the game, my blood was already pumping with the anticipation. Electric surges kept pulsing through my knuckles. I couldn’t wait to bloody the fucker.

Doug “Spurs” Spurrier, our head coach, reiterated a few notes for us to keep in mind tonight. “And let’s not forget, they like to clear the puck out on the right wing wall. Let’s clog that side of the ice. Keep your sticks in the passing lanes. Got it?”

Everyone nodded or said something to confirm.

“Good.” He took a moment to rattle off the players starting for the Storm, including Koz’s line. My whole body thrummed with the hope I’d be out there at the very beginning. Breaking his nose would be a nice way to start my night. Spurs looked down at his clipboard. “So Hunter’s in the net. We’re starting with Zee, Drew, and Goose up front, Razor and Slava on the back end. Let’s have a good game, boys.”

This was it. This was my chance.

We went out to the ice and skated through the foggy totem poles to the sound of war drums. Most of the guys took their places on the bench, but I stayed out for the anthem, my energy going wild.

Finally, we lined up for the opening face-off. Koz was the center on his line. Our captain, Eric Zellinger, was almost as pumped up for this game as I was. He’d played for the Storm for well over a decade. Zee had even been their captain for many of those years, so he probably felt the urge to stick it to them. Whatever it was, he got some serious mustard on the puck when he jerked it away from Koz.

Slava caught it on his stick, and that was enough for me.

I decided to take the opportunity now, before things got too far underway. I skated straight over to Koz and gave him a two-hander straight to the chest. At that point, everything around us disappeared for me. I forgot all about the game, all about the crowd or my teammates. It was just me and Koz, and we had a score to settle.

“Fuck off,” he shouted and tried to skate away.

I grabbed a piece of his jersey. “Fuck you.”

He spun around and cross checked me. “The fuck do you want?”

“My fist up your fucking nose.”

“You wanna go? That it? You still pissed because you married a fucking whore and I pointed it out?”

“Yeah, I fucking wanna go.” I tossed my stick and flung off my gloves at the same time he did before grabbing for him again. I was faster. I filled my left fist with his jersey and took a swing with my right. Landed right in the kisser. “Fucking watch what you say about my wife.”

That was the last either of us said with words. After that, we let our fists do the talking. I got a few good jabs in against his ribs before he could really get into the fight. But once he started swinging, he was like the goddamned Energizer bunny. He peppered me with rights and shook the elbow pads free from his left. He got me in the eye before I tied up one of his arms. Aimed straight for his nose with three strikes in a row.

The linesmen came in to break us up when I was just finding my footing in the fight.

“Come on, Razor. That’s enough.” The zebra with his arms around me skated me over to the penalty box.

Koz didn’t take a seat in the other box, though. They sent him off for repairs. When he skated to the bench, there was a trail of red dribbles following him.

Zee brought me my gloves and stick. “Get that out of your system?”

I nodded.

“Good. We’ve got a fucking game to win, and you’re not helping us do that in here. I think you broke his nose, though.”

“Looked like he needed it. He’ll probably look better now. Might have helped him get a girlfriend.”

Zee was laughing when he skated away.

IT WASN’T EASY, and it definitely wasn’t pretty, but we pulled out a win against the Storm. Koz had returned wearing a full face mask with tampons shoved up his nostrils. The guy had all the skill in the world, but there was no denying he wasn’t up to snuff for the rest of the night. As for me, my knuckles hurt like a son of a bitch, but it didn’t keep me from being a thorn in Babs’s side all night long. I didn’t score, but neither did he. For me, that made it a successful outing.

But now, I wanted to get Tori and take her home.

Since the beginning of the season, our time together was so limited. The T-Birds had started the season with twice as many games on the road as we’d had at home. The road games had helped to bond us as a team, in a sense, but it had been hell on my growing relationship with my wife.

I saw Dima on my way up to the wives’ room. I hurried in case he had any plans to stop me and make more plans for his charity gig, not even looking to see if he was still around. That didn’t turn out to be necessary; he’d left before I did. As soon as I caught up to him, he put an arm around some new blonde’s waist, and they headed for the exits. Maybe he would stick with this one for a while, or at least more than one date. Most likely not.

The moment I walked through the door to the wives’ room, Tallie stepped into my path, putting a hand on my chest to keep me from taking another step.

“Let her do this,” she said, bouncing the fussy baby on her hip.

“Do what?”

Without waiting for an answer, I scanned the room to figure out what was going on. Tori was in the far corner with Mrs. Jernigan. Just the two of them. No one was there to hold that woman back. No one was close enough to step in and protect Tori if she needed it.

But she didn’t look like she needed it. At all.

She looked calm but determined, not like she was trying to melt into the walls or anything like that. Confident, even. Her shoulders were back, and her hands were at her sides, not crossed in front of her. She looked in control of the situation, whatever was going on.

“Do I want to know what they’re talking about?” I asked Tallie.

The baby started fussing louder. Tallie sighed, looking as frustrated as I’d ever seen her.

“Give me the baby and tell me what’s up.”

“Oh, thank goodness.” She passed Harper over to me, not that it helped quiet the baby. I wasn’t Dima. I didn’t have a beard for her to grab on to and pluck out a hair at a time. Tallie visibly relaxed as soon as her daughter was in my arms, though. “All right, so I think you know Mr. J is planning a sermon because of everything that went down, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, Mrs. J is trying to convince Tori that the two of you should go to church on Sunday so they can make a big spectacle of her. Granted, she didn’t put it that way. She said she wanted y’all there so they can publicly apologize. But that’ll just put the spotlight on Tori. They’ll make sure that everyone in that church, and everyone who watches at home on TV, will know exactly why they need to apologize.”

“Bullshit. Over my dead body.”

“That’s what I said. Well, actually I told Mrs. J that she was nuttier than a five-pound fruitcake if she thought that was gonna happen, but that’s beside the point. The point is that Tori thanked her for the offer but politely declined. Mrs. J wasn’t too happy about that, so they’re discussing it.”

“Discussing it?”

“Tori’s reading her the riot act and letting her know that it ain’t gonna happen, no way, no how, never.”

“All right, then.” Even though I was tempted to go over and eavesdrop, I forced myself to stay put and let her take control of the situation.

Harper let out a fresh, blood-curdling scream in my ear that made me clench my toes.

“Dima’s not still around, is he?” Tallie asked, sounding panicky.

“Nah, he’s gone with a girl.”

“How come he never has his girlfriend up here with us? And why doesn’t he bring her around, like for Tori’s birthday party?”

I tried not to laugh out loud. “I don’t think he’s got a girlfriend. Or maybe he has ten girlfriends.”

“Oh.” Tallie nodded slowly. “So he’s playing the field.”

“Something like that.”

“Damn. I was kinda hoping I could steal him for long enough to calm her down and get her to sleep.”

“I think he’s caught on to the fact that you want him on baby duty. He’s probably not going to make himself available so much for a while.” At least not until his jaw healed from all the hairs Harper had ripped out the last time she’d gotten hold of him.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mrs. Jernigan leaving the wives’ room. She gave me the stink eye on her way out. What a piece of work. I spun around to find Tori heading our way. Smiling.

I couldn’t stop the grin from taking over my face. “Hey,” I said when she reached us. “So how’d that go?”

“It’s fine.”

“Honey, fine ain’t gonna cut it,” Tallie said. “Details. The more, the better.”

Tori shrugged. “I told Mrs. Jernigan I accept apology but not coming to church. Told her it’s not okay. Not going to sit in church while she tells whole world I’m porn star.”

“And she just accepted that?” I asked.

“Not exactly. But doesn’t matter. I’m not going to church. Won’t play her game.”

I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t stop staring at her and grinning like a lunatic, thinking about how different she was now than when we’d first met months ago. That night, she’d tried to put off the air of a woman oozing self-assurance and sexuality, but she hadn’t been able to fool me. I’d seen through her façade to the scared, damaged woman underneath all the bluster. But now? There was no pretense. No falseness. Tori might always be a little shy, other than when she was dancing, but there was a quiet confidence shining through that made her sexier than any woman I’d ever known.

“Are you ready to go home with me?” I asked.

She nodded. “But leave baby with Tallie.”

“Oh, no,” Tallie said. “It’s all right. Seriously. I swear. Y’all keep her tonight. You can say it’s practice for when you have your—”

“Need time with Razor tonight,” Tori interrupted her.

I didn’t think I’d ever heard her interrupt someone other than me. Yeah, she was starting to feel like she belonged in my life. Lord knew I couldn’t imagine my life without her in it.

Tallie took Harper with an exaggerated pout. “Fine. Be that way. But one of these nights, I’m gonna talk y’all into babysitting.”

Tori laughed. “No Baby Whisperer here.”

I WAS STILL riding an emotional high from my talk with Mrs. Jernigan when Razor and I got home that night. She’d set my teeth on edge, but there was no chance I was going to allow her to make a mockery of us in front of her entire congregation. There would be thousands people in the church that day, not to mention all the ones watching on their televisions at home. Hundreds of thousands more? Maybe millions? More than enough of my life had already been broadcast for the whole world to see. I wasn’t going to do anything like that again unless it was something that I wanted, like the video we’d filmed for The End of All Things, and not something I’d been pushed into.

I was worth more than that.

While I might not always feel that way every moment of every day, I was starting to believe it. Like my counselor told me, I hadn’t started feeling worthless overnight, so there wasn’t any point thinking I could change how I felt about myself with a snap of the fingers. It was a process. And I was working the process.

In fact, I was even starting to like myself. Maybe someday I would love myself. That was the plan, at least. So far, so good.

Tonight, I wanted to harness the energy flowing through me from that confrontation and use it to seduce my husband. Because, after months of physical therapy and counseling, I was ready. Or at least I thought I was. We wouldn’t know for certain until he was inside me, but I wanted to take that step.

We hadn’t been speaking much on the way home, but it was a comfortable silence. Razor reached for my hand and threaded his fingers through mine. When I glanced down, his reddened, swollen knuckles filled my gaze.

“Why did you fight him?” I asked, sliding my thumb over the injured flesh and remembering how my stomach had jumped into my throat while it happened. I’d been to enough hockey games by now to know that fighting sometimes took place on the ice, but Razor had never been involved in them when I’d watched before. Knowing that the guys who fought almost always stayed in the game afterward wasn’t much consolation in the heat of the moment. I’d wanted to close my eyes, but I couldn’t out of fear that I’d miss seeing him get seriously injured, and I wouldn’t know it had happened.

The corner of Razor’s lips twitched up. “Because he’s more of an asshole than I am.”

“You’re not asshole. You’re good man.”

“Still think so after I picked a fight?” He chuckled. “I guess I’ll never convince you I’m not as good as you think I am. But you make me want to be that man.”

Maybe none of us ever saw ourselves the way we truly were. If Razor couldn’t recognize what a kind heart he had, I supposed it only made sense that I had a hard time seeing myself the way he saw me.

I lifted his hand so I could kiss his knuckles. We didn’t talk the rest of the way home. I was nervous, thinking about how to go about initiating sex once we got there. He’d rejected so many of my previous efforts—for good reason, of course, but that was beside the point—that I’d lost much of my confidence in that area.

My cell phone chimed with a text message when we got inside. I was half tempted to ignore it so I could get started seducing Razor, but he raised his eyebrows in question.

“Aren’t you going to see what Tallie wants now?”

“Might not be Tallie,” I said, laughing. But I dug my phone out of my purse and slid my finger across the screen to unlock it.

And it wasn’t from Tallie. The message was from Devin.

Here’s a quick and dirty draft of the video. They still haven’t finished editing it, but I thought you’d want to see what they’ve done so far.

He’d included a link to download the video.

“So? Is she still trying to spring the kid on us tonight?”

“Devin sent video so I can watch.”

“Yeah? Let’s send it to the iPad and watch it on the TV.”

I didn’t have a clue how to do that, so I handed Razor my phone and let him take over. He stripped off his jacket and tie, undoing the top couple of buttons of his shirt before starting on the electronics. Only a few minutes passed before we were side by side on the couch, his arm draped casually around my shoulders. We propped our feet up on the coffee table next to the Russian music box Dmitri had given me for my birthday. Then we were ready to watch the video I’d spent weeks working on.

It started with the bass and drums. The corps of other dancers in their dark costumes creeped along the floor, their movements halting and jerky. Images of the band playing on a roof at night popped up, interspersed with the dancers.

Then other images came in, which I hadn’t been expecting. A man and woman. She looked an awful lot like me.

The shots of the couple were dark, and so brief it was hard to get a good sense of what was going on with them at first. But then it became clear.

He was abusing her.

Physically.

Sexually.

My stomach churned, and I wanted to turn it off. As soon as I reached that point, the music changed and I was on screen in my phoenix costume. I was in bright reds and oranges, and the fabric draped off my arms and fluttered behind me, creating wings that changed shape as I moved through the choreography Devin had created. I’d known during rehearsals that his vision would be beautiful once we saw it realized, but I’d never expected this. I truly was the phoenix rising from the ashes.

The other dancers lifted me into the air and raced toward the camera.

And I flew.

Shivers raced up my spine as the shots of me mixed with images of the band as the sun rose behind them. Dawn. A new day. A fresh start. It was all the things Razor had given me, wrapped up in a three-minute music video.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Razor asked. He sounded awed, the same as I felt.

“I don’t know. What do you see?”

“You. Exactly as you are. Exactly as you should be. Thriving and powerful and ten times more beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen before.”

I couldn’t take my eyes off the screen, completely mesmerized by the vision they’d made of me. “It is beautiful,” I said once it ended.

“You are.”

He’d called me beautiful countless times in the last several months. He’d even used it as my name sometimes, as if beautiful was me and I was beautiful, like the two were intricately linked, and maybe even inseparable. I’d always shrugged it off before, much as he tried to convince me he wasn’t the good man I knew him to be. But this time, for the first time, I wasn’t itching to tell him how wrong he was.

All I wanted was to believe he was right.

Breathing hard, like I’d just danced instead of watching myself dance, I set my hand on his thigh. His muscles tensed under my touch. When I looked down, his arousal made itself known. His hard length strained against his pants. It might not be so difficult to seduce him, after all.

“Razor?” My voice cracked on the word.

“Hmm?”

“I want you to fuck me. For real. I want you, not dilators. Your cock. Inside me.”

He went completely still and silent, and he stayed that way for so long I was sure he was about to reject me again. To tell me no. To say he couldn’t do that, he couldn’t do anything that might hurt me even if it was something I desperately wanted. No, at this point I didn’t just want it, I needed it. I needed the sort of connection we hadn’t been able to have the entire time we’d been married.

I needed him.

But, for whatever reason, he wasn’t going to give it to me.

I tried to shift myself out from under his arm, but he slipped it down to my waist and tugged me closer.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” His voice was deeper than normal. Rough.

“Can’t know for sure until we try.”

“True enough.” With his other hand, he tipped my chin up until I met his gaze. “But I’m not going to fuck you.”

I blinked back tears and tried to leave again.

“I will make love to you, though.”

“Oh.” The word came out soft and airy, like the fabric wings that had floated behind me when I’d portrayed the phoenix.

He kissed the end of my nose. “Is that all right?”

It was better than all right. It was everything.

I got up so I could straddle him, putting my arms over his shoulders and resting them on the back of the sofa. He let his hands roam up my sides and down my thighs, teasing me by not touching where I wanted him to.

“Don’t let me hurt you,” he said, low and reverent. A plea. Maybe even a prayer.

“I won’t.” Then I kissed him, taking his lower lip between mine and suckling.

He groaned loud enough that I backed off.

“Sorry,” he said. “It’s a little tender. Koz must have hit me there.”

I couldn’t stop my smile. “You didn’t know it before now?”

“Adrenaline. It masks a lot of things.”

I bent and kissed his jaw instead, letting my tongue trace the strong, square line of it. “Better?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Don’t let me hurt you,” I teased.

He shifted his hands to grasp my ass and squeezed, laughing. “You already are. But I promise, it’s the best kind of hurt. Don’t stop.”

I lifted my shirt up and over my head. Before I’d even gotten my arms free, he’d already buried his face in the cleft of my breasts. He breathed in deeply and licked my skin.

“Have you always worn this vanilla scent?”

“I started when I danced in strip clubs.” I tossed the shirt behind me and cupped the back of his head, drawing him closer. “Girls who made money all wore it.”

“Hmm. It makes you smell good enough to eat.”

I laughed. “You’ve already done that.”

“And I can do it again.” To underscore his words, he pushed the cup of my bra aside and nibbled on the sensitive flesh close to my nipple. My tit puckered immediately, and he flicked it with his tongue while he reached behind me to unhook the bra.

“I want you naked,” I said when he moved his attention to the other newly bared breast.

“I want you so slick I’ll be able to slide right in. I swear, Tori, I’ve wanted this for so long. And once I’m inside you there’s not a fucking chance I’ll last long, so I need you ready to come with me.”

“I am. Wet. Ready.”

“Is that so?” He moved his attention to the fly of my pants and undid them enough that he could slip a hand inside. One finger slipped between my outer lips. “You are,” he murmured.

I rocked my hips forward, seeking more of his touch, and moaned when one of his fingers brushed over my clit. “More, Razor.”

He threaded the fingers of his other hand through my hair, bringing me down for a kiss. His tongue tangled with mine, mimicking the way he was teasing my pussy.

I didn’t want to mess around anymore. I’d been in love with this man for weeks, maybe months, now, and I wanted to feel him inside me. I undid the remaining buttons on his shirt and pushed it back over his shoulders. His chest muscles flexed under my fingers as I dug his undershirt out of his waistband, driving my hands up under the soft material until I had them on his bare flesh.

“You’re not going to slow down, are you?” he asked, amusement mixing with desire.

“Naked. Now.” I went to work on his belt buckle, but he lifted me off his lap, set me on my feet before him, and got up.

“Come on, beautiful. I want to do this right.” He took my hand and headed for the bedroom, and I had to hurry to keep up with his determined strides.

As soon as we were there, he whipped off the rest of his clothes. I bit down on my lower lip and shimmied out of my pants. By the time I was free of every stitch of clothing, he’d taken a condom out of the nightstand drawer and was ripping the packaging open.

I lay down on my back, reaching for him.

Razor shook his head. “I want you on top, baby. So you can be in control. At least to start, until we know if you can handle it.”

He climbed into the bed next to me and stretched out on his back, stroking his cock a couple of times now that the condom was in place.

With nerves making my heart pound as much as desire, I climbed over him. Braced myself with my hands on his chest. Our eyes locked together. He rubbed the head of his cock up and down my slit, stopping to circle my clit a few times before guiding himself inside me.

An inch at a time, I lowered myself onto him. Until I’d taken all of him. Every inch. I felt stretched. Full.

But no pain.

I rolled my hips and clenched my internal muscles around him.

“Fuck, baby.” His eyes were almost black with lust.

Rising up off him, I picked up a rhythm.

His hips rose when mine fell, matching my movements. And his hands were everywhere. My ass. My breasts. My belly.

He took a handful of my hair and brought me down to him. I thought for a kiss, but no. He held my face a hairsbreadth above his, staring into my eyes as he moved within me. “No pain?”

“No pain.”

“Thank fuck for that, because this is the closest I’ll ever get to heaven.”

His strong arms came around me, wrapping me up in his love as we moved together. Slow. Deep. The friction was intense. The heat was explosive. With each thrust, I came closer to melting into him. He slid my body up and down over his, grinding my clit against his pelvic bone.

“Kiss me,” he said. “I want to be kissing you when you come.”

So I kissed him. Eyes still open, staring into his.

My whole body tensed, so tight it was painful. And then, with Razor’s hands holding me close, keeping me safe, I let go into the most earth-shattering release I’d ever experienced.

He increased the pace of his thrusts, and I rolled my hips to help him reach his own climax. He groaned when he came, but he didn’t stop kissing me. Not even after he’d rolled us over so he was on top. The kisses went on for hours. Maybe days. I never wanted them to end.

And they didn’t have to. Because no one was going to take him away from me or me away from him.

Not now.

Not ever.

HOURS LATER, I was still awake with Razor’s limbs tangled up in mine. He’d been sleeping on and off, but every now and then he’d come awake and kiss me soundly before gradually nodding off again.

I couldn’t sleep because there was a niggling sensation gnawing at the back of my mind.

We were married, yes. And we loved each other. The government wasn’t going to force us apart. The only thing that could do anything like that was if one of us decided it wasn’t working.

I was fairly certain we both knew which one of us it might be, should it come to that.

Me.

In fact, we both knew that I had done my best to convince the immigration people that our marriage was a sham. My efforts had backfired, though, and thank God for it.

But what if Razor still wondered if I thought I should leave? How could I make him believe I had no intention of going anywhere?

And then it hit me so hard it would have knocked me out of bed if not for Razor’s strong arms holding me in place.

The moonlight shining down on us through the window was bright enough for me to see without turning on the lights as I disentangled myself from Razor’s grasp.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice fuzzy with sleep. He shot up in bed, tossing off the covers, ready for anything.

“Nothing’s wrong. Lie down.” I rummaged through my purse. It was just my luck that this bag had no pockets or structure to speak of, so everything sunk into a big heap at the bottom, making it impossible to find what I wanted without having to dump the entire contents on the floor.

“What do you need in your purse at this hour?” This time, his tone wasn’t sleepy; it was wary. Further proof that I had to do this.

“Not going anywhere. Just need something.” And while the moon was giving off a decent amount of light, it wasn’t anywhere near enough to see into the bottomless depths of my purse. I upended it and spread everything out. The light shined down on the two gold bands. I shoved them both on my fingers and shoveled everything else back into the cavernous bag. Then I climbed back into the bed.

Razor hadn’t listened to me. He was still sitting bolt upright, naked save for the bit of sheet covering half of one thigh. I tried not to focus on the fact that he was fully erect again. This wasn’t about fucking. It wasn’t about sex or making love. It wasn’t physical in any sense of the word.

It was my heart.

Facing him, sitting cross-legged, I held out the two gold bands so the light would bounce off them. “Give me your hand,” I said.

He held his out, and I slipped Papa’s ring onto Razor’s ring finger.

“When Papa sent me to America, he gave me two rings. Wedding rings for him and Mama. She didn’t wear hers for long time. Years. Worked at chemical plant, so no jewelry. He still had Mama’s ring when Tambovs took her, and he sent me to America with both rings. So I would always have piece of them with me. So I would never forget how much they loved me, even if it was long time until I saw them again. It’s all I have now.”

Razor brushed away a tear from my cheek with the backs of his fingers, but he didn’t say anything. He cradled my face but let me keep talking.

“You’re part of me. Maybe you don’t know, but you’re part of me.”

“Pieces of me, filling up the cracks,” he joked. Or maybe he wasn’t joking. Either way, it was the truth.

“Yes. So I give you piece of me so I can be part of you. I want you to have Papa’s ring. And I’ll wear Mama’s.”

“Can I see it?” he asked.

I placed Mama’s ring in his palm, and he held it up in the stream of moonlight.

“What does it say inside? I can’t make it out.”

“Moye serdtse prinadlezhit tebe navsegda,” I said. “My heart is yours forever. It’s inscribed inside both.”

The corners of his lips twitched up. “Forever, huh? Navsegda?”

“Navsegda.”

“You mean it?”

“Yes.”

“Give me your hand.”

I held it out, and he slipped the ring onto my finger. It fit perfectly. In fact, when I looked down, it was like seeing my mother’s hand. My eyes stung with fresh tears.

“Forever,” he said, lacing his fingers with mine. After a moment, he laughed.

I glanced up, curious.

“Dima told me we need to have a traditional Russian wedding. To honor your parents. Has he mentioned that to you?”

I shook my head.

“Yeah. Said he’d help plan it, and he’d even take on the role of your family.”

All my tears were gone immediately upon hearing that. “He can’t do that.” The idea that Razor would think about giving me something so personal melted me inside, and that Dmitri had suggested it in the first place was enough to make me feel warm and light-headed. But…no. Dmitri couldn’t take on the role of my family in a Russian wedding.

“You have anyone better in mind?”

“You don’t understand. In Russian wedding, bride’s family steals her from groom. He has to pay bride price to get her back. To prove love. Dmitri wants your money.”

“As long as it means you’re mine, beautiful, I’d do anything.”

“Not giving Dmitri money. Or anything else.” He might have given me a Russian music box for my birthday, but I wouldn’t stand for that. No one was paying for me. Not ever again.

“All right. But will you marry me?”

That threw me for a loop. “We are married.”

“I know. But we didn’t exactly do it right the first time. Unless you ask Tallie, of course. But I’m thinking we could do a real wedding—Russian or otherwise—and do it right. Not just a quickie. Something where we can build some new memories.”

Everything inside me expanded to overflowing with love for this man. “Yes, Razor. I’ll marry you.”

“My heart is yours forever.” He smiled as he lifted my hand and placed a kiss on my knuckles. “Any chance you’re ready to show me what else you’ve been carrying around in that purse all this time?”

“My purse?” There was no good reason I couldn’t show him. I climbed out of the bed again. He turned on a lamp. When I returned, we sat face to face. One piece at a time, I took out the contents. “Ballet program from first recital,” I said, holding up a tattered pamphlet.

He took it and carefully flipped through the pages, even though he couldn’t make out the Cyrillic words.

“I was five years old.” I pointed to the photograph of me when he reached the correct page.

“You were a little pixie. Did you wear a pink tutu?”

I raised a brow in curiosity. “Yes. We all wore pink tutus for recital. Why?”

There was a sparkle in his eye, but he said, “No reason. Tell me more.”

I took out the next item. “Train ticket from St. Petersburg to Moscow. Traveled with ballet company when I was eleven.”

I kept taking out items, telling him about them, and answering his questions until the sun came up. But we both knew it wasn’t just a bunch of stuff I was telling him about. It was me. My life. My heart.

And I was sharing it all with him.

I STUDIED THE final design Ravyn, my tattoo artist, had come up with, taking in every aspect of the artwork before she inked it onto my skin. It was an angel’s body with a phoenix’s wings. If you looked closely, you could tell that those very wings were formed from words.

Russian words. In Cyrillic, which I sure as fuck couldn’t read, despite the lettering on the inside of the wedding ring Tori had given me.

I turned to Dima. “You swear this is right? If I put this on my body and it says something like Razor is a fucking cunt, I’ll rearrange your face until you’re even uglier than you already are. It won’t be easy, but I’ll do it.”

“Words are right,” he said. The guy never cracked a joke. He was always straight to the point.

I’d talked him into helping me with the Cyrillic, in addition to the few lessons he’d given me as far as speaking Russian, in exchange for all the shit he was putting me through for his sledge hockey game in a few weeks. It seemed only fair.

“All right,” I said to Ravyn. She was probably seven or eight months pregnant, with violet dreadlocks and bright tattoos all over her body. I’d never had a woman do any of my other tats, but they’d all been done in other cities. Asking around had led me to Ravyn and her tattoos. A look through her online portfolio was more than enough to convince me she was the artist for this job. I nodded at her. “Let’s do this.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

“All right. I’ll go put this on transfer paper and we’ll get started.” She headed up to the front of her shop.

I took out my phone to send Tori a text.

She should be busy at the studio for at least a couple more hours, so the tattoo might be close to finished by the time she could come out. She’d been selected to be part of a community ballet for Christmas, and she had also started teaching a class for four-year-old beginner ballerinas in addition to all the classes she was taking. The video she’d done for The End of All Things had garnered her a lot of attention in the Tulsa ballet community, opening up countless doors. She’d even been invited to audition as a principle for the Tulsa Ballet next fall.

All of that meant we were taking our time in planning our wedding. We didn’t want to just throw something together. We’d already had a quickie. Now we wanted something meaningful, something including bits from traditional Russian weddings, some American traditions, and maybe a few things that were specifically about the two of us.

I sent her a note, asking her to meet me here when she was done, and then I dropped trou and settled into the chair so Ravyn could do her work on my thigh. Once he’d verified the Cyrillic for me, Dima took off.

Ravyn didn’t talk much while she worked, but at least every twenty minutes, she had to stop to go to the bathroom. The stopping and starting was starting to wear on me when Tori walked through the shop doors.

She shook her head and raised her brows when she saw me. “You’re getting new tattoo?”

“Yeah.” I couldn’t help but grin. Tori was going to flip when she understood what it was about. I nodded at Ravyn. “Mind if she takes a look now?”

“No problem. I’m almost done. And I could use a bathroom break, anyway.” She wiped the excess ink off my skin and backed away so Tori could lean in.

Tori started crying almost immediately. “It’s for me?”

“Who else? Get closer. Take a look at the wings.”

She sat in Ravyn’s chair and wheeled over. “Yesli ya izbavilsya ot moikh demonov, ya by poteryat moikh angelov,” she murmured.

“Please tell me that means If I rid myself of my demons, I would lose my angels and it’s not some bullshit Dima thought it would be funny to slap on my thigh.”

She laughed through her tears. “Dima wouldn’t do that. He’s good man.”

“Sweetheart, I think we’re going to have to have a talk about what constitutes a good man.”

She bent over me to give me a sound kiss. “I know what makes good man. Good heart makes good man. You both have good hearts.”

I still wasn’t sure about that, but I figured I’d better take her word for it. My heart belonged to her, so it needed to be better than good. It had to be the best, because there wasn’t a chance in hell I’d give her anything less.

Catherine Gayle is a USA Today bestselling author of Regency-set historical romance and contemporary hockey romance. She’s a transplanted Texan living in North Carolina with two extremely spoiled felines. In her spare time, she watches way too much hockey and reality TV, plans fun things to do for the Nephew Monster’s next visit, and performs experiments in the kitchen which are rarely toxic.

If you enjoyed this book and want to know when more like it will be available, be sure to sign up for Catherine’s mailing list. You can find out more on her website, her blog, at Hockey Romance, at Facebook, on Twitter, at Instagram, and at Goodreads. If you want to see some of her cats’ antics and possibly the occasional video update from Catherine, visit her YouTube account.

SMOKE SIGNALS is Book 2 in the Tulsa Thunderbirds hockey romance series, a spin-off from USA Today bestselling author Catherine Gayle’s Portland Storm series.

BURY THE HATCHET

SMOKE SIGNALS

GHOST DANCE

RITES OF PASSAGE

Look for Book 3, GHOST DANCE, to release on May 19, 2016. Book 4, RITES OF PASSAGE, will release November 10, 2016.

Want to join in the Tulsa Thunderbirds discussion? Join the Facebook reader group.

If you enjoy this book and want to try more of the same, be sure to look for the Portland Storm books.

BREAKAWAY

ON THE FLY

TAKING A SHOT

LIGHT THE LAMP

DELAY OF GAME

DOUBLE MAJOR

IN THE ZONE

HOLIDAY HAT TRICK

COMEBACK

DROPPING GLOVES

HOME ICE

MISTLETOE MISCONDUCT will release as part of a charity anthology on November 17, 2015. LOSING AN EDGE will release on February 18, 2016. GAME BREAKER will release on July 21, 2016. Also, join Catherine Gayle’s mailing list to receive ICE BREAKER, a Portland Storm short story prequel that you can’t get anywhere else.

If you prefer to buy boxed sets, there are a couple currently available.

PORTLAND STORM: THE FIRST PERIOD

PORTLAND STORM: THE SECOND PERIOD

There is also a reader group on Facebook for the Portland Storm series.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Table of Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgments

About this Book

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Twenty-Four

Twenty-Five

Twenty-Six

Twenty-Seven

Twenty-Eight

Twenty-Nine

Thirty

Thirty-One

Thirty-Two

Epilogue

Roster

Other Catherine Gayle Titles

About the Author