spilled his cum into her.
Marissa floated in a sexual haze of post-coital bliss. She smiled at the reflection of their entwined bodies. Her arms were around his neck, her hands stroking his back. One of her legs was cocked on his side, her other leg straight, and her foot was touching the floor from when he had lowered her. And she was thinking this was the best she’d ever had.
Marissa woke and thought she was still dreaming. She wasn’t, but Viktor was. He was mumbling in his sleep, clearly agitated.
“Nadia—” he muttered.
The blood left her face and her heart cracked with an extreme emotion. Heartbreak? Jealousy? Anger? For Nadia was the name tattooed on Viktor’s right arm over a crown of thorns. Whatever the ink stood for, it wasn’t promising for her. Pride had prevented her from asking him about it. What did she care about the women of his past if she was his present? Apparently, she was wrong.
A sympathetic person would rouse someone who was having a nightmare. But she wasn’t feeling very sympathetic right now. She felt murderous. So before she decided to smother Viktor with her pillow, she got out of bed and walked to the sofa. There was no way she could sleep now. But she wasn’t spending another second in bed with him.
She’d been wallowing in self-reproach for her stupidity of getting involved with Viktor again when she saw him get out of bed and pad quietly toward her. Sitting beside her, he drew her stiff body against his, kissing the top of her head.
“Can’t sleep?” he whispered.
Marissa pulled away, ignoring his frown, and scooted to the opposite side of the sofa. She flicked on the lamp so she could see his face clearly.
“Who’s Nadia, Viktor?”
His face turned cold as all emotion leaked out. Freaking great . This was one topic that she wasn’t going to let him shove under his boot.
“Well?” she prompted impatiently.
“Not up for discussion, Iz,” Viktor bit out. To emphasize his point, he left her on the couch and prowled to the kitchen in all his naked glory. She followed him.
“Who is Nadia?”
Viktor’s jaw hardened. “Leave it alone, Marissa.”
“Who. IS. NADIA?” she screamed. God , why am I doing this ? Obviously, Nadia was someone important in Viktor’s life who’d probably held that piece of his heart that he wasn’t willing to share with anyone else.
“Damn it, Marissa,” Viktor yelled at her. “It’s none of your goddamned business. We fucked, Iz. Do not assume that gives you the right to ask me these questions.”
His words were like the proverbial slap to the face. He was right. At least she knew where she stood right now. She wasn’t going to cry. So she bit her lip and drew in a ragged breath.
“That’s right. How could I forget?” she said mockingly. “You just want someone to fuck.” His already furious face grew darker. “Well, guess what? If I wanted a fuck buddy, I’d just fuck my neighbor. At least he doesn’t say another woman’s name only a few hours after HE’D FUCKED ME. So go fuck yourself, Viktor!”
Marissa turned away from him and marched to the bathroom. She swept all her toiletries into her vanity bag. She grabbed her robe that was hanging behind the door and walked back to where her bags were still packed—thank goodness—and shoved everything in it.
Viktor didn’t move from the kitchen. His head was bowed, and his hands were spread out, gripping the countertop. He wasn’t going to stop her from leaving. She’d probably have to call Allison to pick her up because a cab was out of the question given the threat against them.
Stilling the sob that tried to escape her throat, she pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater. After she had laced up her boots, she chanced a glance at Viktor—he still hadn’t budged.
She rose, picked up her bags, and walked to the door.
“I’ll just meet you at AGS later,” Marissa informed him, surprised how calm her voice was. They still had to