“I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

Behind the wheel of his Tesla, Ivan shrugged a shoulder and spoke the second sentence he’d decided to deem me with all day. “You won’t get anyone sick. Your contagious period is over already.”

If he said so.

I’d spent most of the day sleeping on and off in the guest room that Ivan had dumped my stuff in the day before. I’d been so distracted by his pets, that I hadn’t noticed when he’d gone back outside to grab the bag that I’d dropped on the ground.

After dinner, we had taken the dogs on a long walk. Apparently he had 103 acres forty minutes outside of the city, and he took the dogs—and the pig—on a walk every day he could. Twice a day, he had a woman named Ellie come by to feed all of them, give them their medications, and let them out to run around while he was at practice. With me.

Who the hell would have known?

I wanted to know what had made him get so many animals, but the truth was, I didn’t know how to speak to him after the night before. No one had ever spoken to me like that before. At least no one that wasn’t my mom.

He said he wanted me to be safe and happy. And that it had nothing to do with us being partners.

What did it have to do with? I wanted to know. But I was too scared to ask and find out because what if his answer ruined what we had built up?

I didn’t think the truth was worth it.

So after a walk I’d bet was at least a mile long, I’d silently followed him to the living room and taken a seat on the opposite side of the couch from him, getting surrounded by Russ and an eight-year-old, three-legged Husky named Queen Victoria who had decided she liked me a lot. Ten minutes on the couch with a dog on my lap and one along my side, I passed the hell out and only woke up hours later when Ivan flicked me on the forehead and marched me half asleep to my room with his hand on the back of my neck.

And I hadn’t been too half asleep to not remember that I’d crawled under the covers, and that it had been him who had dragged them up to my chin, then followed that up by palming my forehead before he’d turned off the light and left.

I slept in the next morning and didn’t get up until almost noon, which said just how awful I felt. Ivan had been gone, but he’d left a note on the fridge that said he’d be at the LC and would be back around one, and that I shouldn’t worry if a woman came into the house because it was the pet-walker/caretaker, Ellie, who usually came at seven in the morning. I’d been asleep, obviously.

So I took advantage of it. For the next hour, I snooped through his house and found more things about Ivan that surprised me.

The rabbit alone had a big, fancy play area and house in one of the five bedrooms. It was honestly nicer than my own room.

He had four big dog beds and one small one in his giant master bedroom, and I was pretty sure they were custom Tempur-pedic mattresses. I’d sat down on one with Russ, who had been laying down outside of the room I was sleeping in with the Husky, Queen Victoria, and decided even their beds were more comfortable than the one I had back home.

Ivan kept a tube of lube in one of his nightstands—and my stomach had only given a dull pulse of dread that I pretended hadn’t happened.

His house was immaculate.

There weren’t any beauty products in his bathroom, which meant that perfect skin of his came naturally—total bullshit. But I did find a tin container of organic hair shit in one of the drawers.

I didn’t find any condoms anywhere.

But I did find a room filled with trophies, plaques, and two gold medals.

He had a desktop computer with a password I couldn’t break into.

The only pictures he had up were either of him with his family, candids of his pets, and his family in general. I happened to be in two of them.

It was all very interesting.

The one and only thing I wasn’t totally surprised by was the fact that I was 99.9 percent sure Lacey, the white Frenchie, didn’t like me. She watched me every time we made eye contact with each other and just glared the whole time. I liked her. She was smart to not be sure what to think of me.

By the time he got back home, I had already looked through his entire house. Opening up drawers and cabinets I had no business looking in, but not even feeling a little bit bad about it. He knew me well enough. He had to expect it. And if he didn’t, then it was his fault for being so trusting.

My fever had kicked back in again at some point while I’d been snooping, and I headed back to the guest room to nap while he took the dogs—and the pig—out. It wasn’t until almost six o’clock that something wet nudged at my face and woke me up. It was the pink pig sitting on my chest, with Ivan standing off to the side of the bed, watching me, while he held his huge bunny in one arm.

“What?” I croaked, reaching to stroke the piglet like I’d pet one a thousand times before and this was nothing new.

Those gray-blue eyes remained on my face as he said, “You almost look sweet when you’re sleeping.”

I blinked.

“I said almost.”

Still petting the pig and not sure if I was doing it correctly, I gave Ivan a wary look as his own hand brushed through his bunny’s coat. “Why are you standing there watching me, creep?”

Ivan’s gaze had moved to the piggy when he replied, “I came to wake you up. We’re going to dinner at my parents’ house. Get dressed.”

“I don’t feel very good.”

“All we’re doing is eating. You can sit there for an hour. My mom has been worried about you.”

Shit.

“I don’t want to get them sick.” Which was true. I didn’t. The Lukov’s had always been nothing but wonderful to me. Genuinely. They were rich—wealthy, if you wanted to be exact—and came from a bloodline that had probably married Russian royalty at some point, according to Karina, but they were some of the kindest and most well-mannered people I had ever met.

That and they gave me a huge discount on my LC fees. As in 90 percent off. All I’d had to pay for almost the last ten years was pretty much just my coaching and choreography fees. They’d insisted.

“They’ll be fine,” he said, still standing there, holding his rabbit like it was second nature. “And it’s Father’s Day. I want to see my dad.”

It was Father’s Day?

“What? You didn’t know?” Ivan asked, reading my mind.

I’d been so busy over the last month and hadn’t gotten a chance to watch any live television…. “No. I didn’t.”

His eyebrows bunched together. “You want to call your dad first?”

I didn’t hesitate to shake my head, even though it still felt weak and wobbly. Heavy.

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.” It wasn’t like he’d care if I contacted him or not. He probably wouldn’t even notice.

But…

Be better.

Maybe that was the point. I could at least send him a text. Be better.

Remind him I was his, regardless of whether that disappointed him or not.

“I’ll send him a text on the way,” I told Ivan with a shrug. He was probably off with his step-kids doing something fun. This funny fucking feeling swam around in my stomach for a second, but I shoved it away. Far away. “I’ll send my brother and Aaron one too.”

“You’ll come then?”

For Mr. Lukov, I would. Even though I still felt like a giant butthole. He’d said an hour. I could make it an hour at their house.

His nod took a moment, but it finally came at the same time his gaze shifted to me and the piggy that had walked up to cuddle against my neck, then he smiled. “She’ll take a shower with you if you let her.”

The little creature gave two soft snorts into my skin, and I felt my heart give this tiny tingle. “She will?”

He might have nodded, but all I heard was, “Uh-huh.”

“Do you care?”

I glanced up that time to find his gaze hadn’t moved anywhere. “No.”

And just like that, despite feeling like I’d gotten half my energy sucked out of me and the headache that hadn’t gone away, I sat up, kicked the sheet off my legs, set Charlotte back on the bed before I swung my legs to the side and got up.

“If your head still hurts, I left painkillers on the table beside your bed,” Ivan let me know.

I managed a nod, then grabbed the pills, dropping them in my mouth and swallowing them with what was left of the water in the glass beside the bed. And it wasn’t until I was swallowing them, that I realized he’d brought them to me.

I glanced at Ivan, who hadn’t moved from his spot standing beside the bed with his rabbit, less than two feet away from me, and said, the words coming out easier than they ever had before, “Thank you.”

He didn’t look surprised… but he did just… look. As he held that freaking giant bunny.

One shower minus Charlotte, the most unenthusiastic three minutes of my life getting dressed, another glass of water, and a short drive later, we were pulling up to his parents’ house. And I was ready to take another nap.

The house was in a gated community in south Houston set up on a couple of acres that separated each mansion from one another. The Lukov’s lived in a six-thousand-square-foot stucco and tile-roofed monstrosity with an infinity pool that Karina and I had spent a lot of time in during our teenage years. Well, not a lot of time, but more than I spent just about anywhere else that wasn’t school, the LC, or home.

Ivan pulled his car into the winding driveway leading to the back of the house and parked it just outside the oversized four-car garage. I let out a tired breath as we got out and headed toward the back door that I’d always gone through in the past. Ivan opened it using a key, and I finally took the time to take in the button-down shirt he had on tucked into fitted gray pants that I had a feeling were custom-made, because there was no way his bubble butt could fit into anything that didn’t stretch, and black leather shoes that almost looked like boots. Then I looked down at the fitted T-shirt and leggings I’d put on, and shrugged inside. The Lukovs had seen me in worse. They knew I wasn’t feeling well. It wasn’t like I was meeting my new boyfriend’s parents.

Not that that had ever happened. I’d dated a little before I switched to pairs, but every guy I went out with turned out to be a dick by the second date. There had only been one guy I’d seen for a few months, but I couldn’t remember what he looked like anymore.

“Hello?” Ivan called out the second he was inside the kitchen that the door led into.

I closed the door behind us, leaning against it for a moment when exhaustion hit me hard once more. The kitchen was the same as the last time I’d seen it, almost… a year ago. The last time I’d come over was for Karina’s last birthday, and that had been right after Paul’s bitch ass bailed on me. Then she had left for another year of medical school, and now we were here.

“Living room!” Mrs. Lukov’s voice called out.

Ivan glanced at me over his shoulder and frowned. “You all right?”

I nodded, and even that seemed like it took too much energy.

He must have read it on my face because he frowned. “We should have stayed home.”

“I’ll be fine,” I said, pushing away from the door.

He didn’t look like he believed me, but he didn’t say anything either as I walked toward him.

Instead, Ivan held out his hand, and I didn’t think much of it as I slipped my hand into his and leaned into his side without thinking about it. I was used to it, I could tell myself. I was used to being right up against him. It felt more natural than it should have.

“You’re feeling that bad again?” he asked gently, taking my weight without a complaint.

I shook my head against his shoulder. “Just tired.”

His hand squeezed mine. “Want some more water?”

“I’m okay.”

He “hmmed” before asking, “What hurts?”

I swallowed and closed my eyes for a moment. “Everything.”

There was no hesitation as Ivan asked, “Want a hug? You liked that before.”

I nodded.

Ivan was silent as he turned his body and wrapped those long, muscular arms around me, pulling me into his build so that my face went right for that space between his pectorals. My own sigh was instant. One of his hands went flat to my spine and started rubbing up and down the length of it before pausing at the highest point and then rubbing over one shoulder blade and then the other. Circle, circle, circle, easing the ache somehow like it was fucking magic.

“That feels nice,” I whispered, trying to get closer into him.

Something about being sick just made me want to be held. And especially when it was Ivan. He was big enough to really hold me, and he wasn’t squeamish or weird about affection or the contact. He was used to it too, I guess.

One of those big hands went to the back of my neck and started kneading the muscles there, and I swear to God, I moaned.

Ivan chuckled low into the top of my head. “That good?”

“So good,” I whispered, pretty much leaning my entire weight into him. “I could fall asleep like this.”

“I’ll rub your back some more when we get back,” he offered, one hand going to my neck, the other one still rubbing up and down both sections on either side of my spine.

“Promise?”

He chuckled some more. “Promise. But when I get sick, you’re going to have to return the favor.”

“Sure. Uh-huh.”

“Promise?” the pain in the ass asked quietly, his tone pretty amused.

“Promise.”

I sighed into his chest, taking a whiff of that subtle, sweet cologne he usually had on.

“My poor, poor Jasmine,” came a familiar voice from somewhere close by.

I froze, realizing where the hell I was and what the hell Mrs. Lukov would see and think, and was about to take a step back when the arms around me grew tighter. So tight I knew there was no way I was about to get a chance to jump back like we’d gotten caught making out, when all he’d been doing was giving me a hug and rubbing my back. You know. Considering I’d been butt fucking naked a few weeks ago in front of him and he’d had his hands all over the place.

But something about getting caught getting a hug from Ivan seemed even more vulnerable and personal than if we would have been kissing.

At least that’s what I thought.

“She’s not feeling well,” Ivan murmured directly above my head, almost like he was talking into my hair.

“Are you taking your fever reducer?” Mrs. Lukov asked from somewhere behind me.

I still didn’t move as I said, “Hi and yes. Ivan’s been keeping me stocked on them.”

How did she know I’d had a fever?

“Stop being greedy, Vanya, and let me give her a hug too,” Mrs. Lukov demanded.

With one more squeeze around my body by those warm arms of his, he let me go, and I immediately felt heat rise to my face, and I prayed it came off more like I was overheated because of my fever—if I even still had one—and not because of getting caught getting affection from this woman’s son. The second I was out of his hold, I turned around slowly and came face-to-face with Mrs. Lukov, who had apparently been standing directly behind me.

The older woman was already beaming at me. A little older than my mom, Mrs. Lukov looked liked a perfect mix of both her kids… except older. Jet black hair that she had been dying to her natural color for as long as I had known her, tall, slim, with pale skin and the brightest blue eyes that she had passed down to Ivan. She was almost as beautiful as my own mom.

She just wasn’t nuts.

“You look terrible, Jasmine,” Mrs. Lukov claimed, a moment before she wrapped her arms around me to pull me into a hug. At what I guessed was about five foot seven, she almost dwarfed me.

“I feel terrible,” I told her honestly, hugging her back. “Thank you for inviting me. I hope I don’t get you sick.”

“Oh, shush. I’ve been telling Vanya to bring you by since he told me he’s been having Saturday dinner with your family, but he pretends not to hear me,” she claimed, rocking me from side to side. “I was so excited when he told me you were going to be his new partner. Petr and I had always thought it was only a matter of time.”

Yeah, his parents were sweet. And a little naïve. But I liked them a lot.

“I had a dream once many years ago that both of you were on the stands winning a gold medal,” she said, still rocking me like I was a baby, and I was eating that shit up because not even my own mom did that to me. “Maybe it was a sign, hmm?”

And I couldn’t help how I tensed at the reminder of what I wouldn’t get.

At least not with Ivan.

But I had known that coming into this, hadn’t I? I didn’t have a reason to be disappointed. Something was better than nothing. Hopefully we could take a stand together, only it wouldn’t be for an Olympic medal.

But it would have to be enough.

“It would be nice,” I told her, my voice sounding off and not from feeling bad. “I’m sure Ivan will look great with whoever is his partner then.”

It was her turn to tense around me. I felt her head move but didn’t hear anything come out of her mouth except a “Hmm” I didn’t know what to do with.

And as much as I told myself to relax, I couldn’t.

Because I wouldn’t be the one standing beside Ivan when he made it to the Olympics in two years, and I was going to have to be okay with that.

I just wasn’t right then.

And from the weird vibe I had gotten for a moment from Mrs. Lukov, I didn’t know what was going through her head.

What I did know was that what might have been a minute later, she patted my back and rubbed a circle a lot like the one Ivan had given me, before she said, “I know exactly what you need right now to get over this virus.”

I’d had Mrs. Lukov’s teas once years ago while I’d been on my period and had almost thrown up. She’s sworn it would stop cramping. What it had done was killed my appetite.

“Fresh squeezed orange juice for the vitamin C—”

Oh, thank God. I relaxed in her arms then.

“And vodka. It will kill all the bad germs in you.”

Then I tensed back up. “Ah—”

“Vanya said you weren’t on antibiotics,” she told me like I didn’t know. “You don’t have practice tomorrow. It will be good for you, Jasmine.”

Where the hell was Ivan and why wasn’t he telling her that I couldn’t drink? I didn’t want to. I didn’t like the taste of vodka, but—

“Are you going to tell me no?” the older woman asked, but it came out more like a dare.

Did I have the balls to tell her no?

I couldn’t begin to count the amount of times I had gotten into arguments with people. Couldn’t begin to imagine ever putting a number on the amount of people I’d called bad names. It had been a long time since I cared what anyone other than my family thought, and even then, that pressure usually wasn’t enough to keep me from doing something that would embarrass them.

If this was my mom, I wouldn’t have a problem telling her no.

But she wasn’t.

And from the tone of her voice, chances were that I’d hurt her feelings if I didn’t do something she thought would help me.

Fuck.

“No, Mrs. Lukov,” I said, a moment before Ivan kicked me in the calf.

I lifted my leg to try and donkey kick him back, but he was out of range.

“Excellent,” the woman responded, pulling away from me with a smile on her face and two hands on my shoulders. “Vanya?“ She looked around at the floor suddenly, like she remembered something and was confused. “No babies?”

Babies?

“I left them at home,” Ivan replied.

Oh. Oh.

“You didn’t bring my little Lacey?” Mrs. Lukov asked, disappointment dripping from her words.

“No, especially not Lacey.”

Her shoulders dropped in definite disappointment, and she even frowned before glancing at me and shaking her head. “He always comes with at least two of his babies. Always. They make a mess, get hair everywhere, and now I miss them. Silly, isn’t it, Jasmine?” She gave Ivan a tender look that only a loving mom was capable of. “Vanya and his rescues. Always taking the things other people don’t want anymore, ever since he was a little boy.”

Something weird happened in the upper half of my body, and I couldn’t help but slide a look toward Ivan, who had leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed his arms over his chest while I’d been with his mom. His eyes met mine. And they didn’t go anywhere.

“Next time I suppose. The soup is ready, let me make you something to drink, and we can eat!” Mrs. Lukov exclaimed.

* * *

I woke up knowing I wasn’t in my bed.

I woke up knowing that mostly because there was no way I’d wake up in my bed naked.

And my room wasn’t painted a royal blue.

But mostly, I didn’t sleep topless ever. I didn’t trust anyone in my family enough to not barge into my room while I was sleeping and do something to me. And I wasn’t about to scar them for life by seeing parts of me that I would rather not see of theirs.

And as I blinked into the semi-dark room, something else confirmed I wasn’t in my room or my house.

There was no way in any universe, or in any level of hell, that I’d wake up in my bed in only my underwear with a fucking arm wrapped around my waist.

I could have freaked out the second I realized the heavy weight draped over my hip and curled over my belly was covered with hair. I could have screamed when I felt the first puff of breath against the nape of my neck.

I could have done any and all of those things after I woke up.

But I didn’t.

Mostly because I knew that fucking royal blue. I’d seen it when I’d been snooping the day before. And as I glanced down and squinted, I knew the shade of skin color resting against my belly. Lighter than mine. Dusted with dark hair. The forearm lined with ropey, lean muscles. If that wasn’t enough, I would be able to recognize the fingers on my belly if I were blindfolded.

But even knowing all of that, I still couldn’t help but turn into a mannequin as I lay there, without a top or a bra, and basically in the arms of the one and only man in the world who I would let touch me like this because I trusted him, even though I wouldn’t tell him I did. Because I wasn’t even sure when I’d started to trust him, but it had happened at some point. It had just snuck right up to me, and was there when I needed to think about it.

But what the fuck had happened?

“Morning, Meatball,” the familiar voice whispered softly and roughly, the puffs of his breath touching my neck… along with what had to be his damp, soft lips as they formed the shape of every letter coming out of his mouth.

“Morning?” I asked, frowning in horror but not as much as I would have figured.

What the hell had happened? I tried to think…. But all my body could do was acknowledge the fact that I felt like shit and couldn’t remember a single damn thing after we’d made it to his parents’ house and his mom had started shoving borscht and what she refused to call screwdrivers, but was really a screwdriver, at me every chance my glass went empty, despite Ivan telling her to stop after the second one.

But like my own mom, nobody told Mrs. Lukov what to do. Especially not her son.

And after that, everything was a blur of nothing.

What in the fuck had happened? I wondered as Ivan sighed against my neck.

“Quit freaking out. You spilled Gatorade all over yourself getting out of the car and crawled into my bed halfway through the night.”

Oh God. I groaned in horror. Seriously. Horror. Where the hell had the Gatorade come from, and had I been that drunk that I’d spilled it on myself and decided the best thing to do was to strip down instead of shower? There was a reason I rarely drank, other than because of how high in calories some drinks were.

And Ivan must have known exactly that because he chuckled, his mouth landing on the nape of my neck. “I told you to go back to your bed, but you kept saying you were dying—”

I wanted to be surprised.

I wasn’t.

“—then you kept saying ‘I broke it,’ and I asked what you broke.” His voice cut off at the same time those puffs of breath came in quicker and lighter against me.

Fucker.

He was laughing, half asleep and trying not to.

“And you said you broke your… your…,” he managed to choke out, those puffs getting faster and faster, telling me he was laughing. Like the way his upper body was shaking didn’t say exactly that and much better.

I groaned. “Shut up.”

He was still shaking. “You kept insisting you broke your liver,” he huffed out.

Fine. It did feel like I’d broken something. And broke it good. I couldn’t remember shit. I’d drank more than I ever had. More than I might ever again. But how much vodka had Mrs. Lukov been slipping into my drink to begin with? It hadn’t tasted like she’d put a lot into it but…

Fuck.

But Ivan kept right on going. “And you wanted me to take you to the hospital.”

I groaned. I groaned on the inside.

“You said you wanted me to hold your liver together—”

Oh God.

“Just for a little, Vanya, just a little,” he choked out. “I broke it.”

I’d called him Vanya? Huh. I shoved that aside and focused on the most important part. “So you let me stay in your bed? Without a shirt on? So you could hold my liver together?”

The arm around me tightened. “You insisted.”

“Without a bra.”

“You came to me that way. What was I going to do? Force you to get dressed? You know how stubborn you are when you’re not drunk.”

“You could have gotten dressed.”

“I was in my bed, comfortable, asleep. It was you that showed up.”

I tipped my head to try and look at him over my shoulder before remembering I probably hadn’t brushed my teeth. “Do you even have pants on?”

“No.”

“You couldn’t put any on?”

“And ruin how warm I was?”

“You could have put a shirt on me.”

“And put my hands on you when you hadn’t given me permission?”

I held my breath. Then I rolled my eyes as the pale hand on my belly made the slightest movement. “You idiot, your hands are on me right now.”

His laugh was slow and awesome, unrepentant and all Ivan.

“Or put a shirt on yourself.”

He paused. Then said, “Nah.”

I was going to kill him.

“So you just thought it would be fine for both of us to be here?”

I felt rather than saw his shoulders shrug.

“Why didn’t you get out of bed?”

He huffed. “Why would I? It’s mine.” His soft laugh curled over the back of my neck. “And it isn’t like I haven’t seen you naked—”

I groaned.

“And my job is to make sure you’re fine.”

That was one way of looking at it. If you tipped your head to the side and squinted. “Not when I don’t have a shirt on.”

“But I already did, remember?”

Did he have a point? Of course he did. Did I care? Of course I didn’t.

“You let all your partners into your bed drunk and naked, you goddamn pervert?”

He stopped breathing and laughing behind me for a moment, but the tension eased out of him just as quickly and he said, “No. You let all your partners see you naked?”

“No.” It was more like a “hell no,” but my head was hurting so bad, I couldn’t get it out.

Neither one of us said anything for a moment until Ivan decided to ask a question I didn’t expect.

“Do you miss him?” Something bluntly touched my back, and I did my best to play it off like it was no big deal it was probably his dick covered in just underwear, when it absolutely was. Friends didn’t touch other friends’ penis, did they?

Friends with benefits do, a small voice in my head whispered before I made that bitch shut up and asked instead, “Who?”

There was a pause and then, “Paul.”

That time I could get out “Hell no” real easy.

His maybe-dick was still touching me when he asked, “You’re sure?”

“I’m positive.” Then I couldn’t help but glance over my shoulder to see him literally there. Right fucking there. Morning breath be damned. “Do you miss your old partners?” I threw out the question like a complete moron, even as some part of my head warned me that was a stupid idea.

“Not even a little bit,” he echoed.

Huh.

“Do you regret that Mindy took a year off and now you’re stuck with me?” I asked another dumbass question, instantly regretting it.

He stared at me. He stared at me for so long, inches away from my face, while neither one of us had any clothes on, that I thought for sure he wouldn’t respond. But he did, and his one word answer felt like so much more. “No.”

No.

Okay.

Neither one of us said anything. Not for a minute and not for five based on the digital clock on the nightstand I could see over his shoulder.

The soft but hard organ that was more than likely poking at me seemed to move, and I swore my clit felt it. It was about time I gave it a rub, from the feel of it. I hadn’t masturbated since the morning before I’d gotten sick, and that was almost a world record for me.

“Ivan?” I asked gently.

“Hmm?” He sounded all sleepy and lazy again.

“Are you going to move your dick or is that what kind of friends we’re going to be?” I tried to joke.

His laugh was soft as he said, “That’s what kind of friends we’re going to be.”

And if that was disappointment in my belly, I told myself I was just embarrassed that I’d crawled into his bed to begin with.