Exposed (12 page)

He wanted to feel her skin against his. Needed that connection. No matter the consequences. 

Ivan hooked his finger over June’s pinky and circled the pad of his finger against the thin, sensitive web of skin between her fingers. And she didn’t pull away.

Emboldened, Ivan slid his fingertips over her smooth hand and fluttered the very tip of his finger against the tender skin under June’s wrist. Beside him, June sucked in a quick breath that pulled taut the muscles behind Ivan’s navel, like a string stretched tight. His body tightened as he imagined taking her here, right here, under the lightening sky. He rubbed his fingers in a circle across June’s wrist, reveled in the softness and the way her pulse quickened under his touch.

And still, they stared out over the river as the sun breached the tops of the mountains and spilled pure yellow light across the valley floor. The fingers of sunlight reached, reached, reached and Ivan did too. He swirled his finger along the crook of her arm and thrilled at the way June tensed, slim muscles tightening under his touch.

June moved just slightly, inched her fingers along the railing in front of Ivan. Asking him to continue. 

“You make me forget,” June whispered. “Make me forget, Ivan.” Her voice was caught on the cold wind and carried away. But her words etched themselves across Ivan. 

Gone were the soft movements, the fluttering touch. Ivan tugged June’s arm so she spun away from the railing. His hands slid against her waist and pulled her close. And oh God, it was exactly like he’d imagine she’d feel. She fit against him, her breasts soft against his chest, his hips lining up above hers. He dipped his fingers back around to her stomach, felt for the sliver of skin he’d noticed earlier. She was velvet smooth, and the curve of her hip felt good in his hand. 

She looked up into his eyes, hers liquid warm and half-closed. She sighed, lips parted and Ivan’s hardness strained against his pants. 

He wasn’t ready to give into the temptation of those lips. He was afraid that once he started kissing her, he might never stop. Instead, Ivan dipped his mouth against her neck, her collarbone, the hollow of her throat. 

While he explored with his mouth, June’s hands slid down the front of his chest and lower. Lower. Lower until he sucked in a breath and leaned his forehead against her shoulder. Jesus, she was nearly touching him. His arousal was hot, pulsing. And her fingers were at the band of his trousers. They hovered there, teasing.

Ivan clenched his eyes shut. “Don’t stop.”

And she didn’t. Her hand inched closer to the erection that strained against his pants, but her fingers circled away from it, playing along his taut stomach and hips. Ivan blew out a low, stuttering breath and dragged a hand down June’s back. He grabbed her hip and crushed her against him. Her hips rocked—so subtle, so small—but the movement slid up his cock and made him want to explode. 

Ivan dipped his head to June’s neck and let his lips whisper against the fine hair at her hairline. He couldn’t hide the desire—didn’t want to. This was … this was absurd! They’d barely spoken, and when they did it was in anger. And now this. This exquisite connection. They were tired, exhausted, nearly alone in a world that would fear them if it knew the truth of their power. Ivan already knew the excuses he’d find for this. But in the moment, he didn’t care.

But she saw too much. Too much. There was no hiding his true emotions from her, and that was terrifying. Yet it was liberating too. He’d been too long without a woman like this.

Ivan pushed back the reason trying to still his mouth and hands and concentrated on June’s neck. Her pulse quickened under the heat of his lips. He could feel it pounding in her neck. It made him nearly groan with pleasure, to recognize a desire in her that matched his own. Ivan slowly, slowly trailed his lips up her neck and nipped at her earlobe. June moved her jaw against him, pushing her lips closer to his. Ivan’s breath was coming quicker now, gasps that didn’t quite seem to fill his lungs. His limbs felt light and fuzzy, his head nearly spinning.

Their lips brushed together, softly, faintly. And Ivan smiled. June’s eyes fluttered open and met his—her warm brown into his ice blue. Her pupils were large, open. Ivan held her tighter, opened his mouth to let his tongue taste her lip. 

Her breath stuttered against his mouth. Their lips met sweetly, softly. But it felt to Ivan like the pause, the breath before the plunge. 

He wanted her—completely and utterly wanted her. 

“June ….”

June jumped—jumped away from Ivan. Her hand wrenched free of his waistband and she fisted her hand like it burned. Clayton and the others were rounding the corner to the bridge. June couldn’t quite meet Ivan’s eyes, didn’t know what to do with the fingers that so recently touched him. 

A ghost of a guilty smile flitted across June’s face and she mouthed sorry, her eyes still somewhere beyond Ivan’s shoulder. Like that would make up for the fact that she’d lurched away from him. Like it would make up for how obvious she was—how horribly obvious that she didn’t want her friends to see them even standing close together. Ivan’s teeth clenched and his shoulders tightened. He jerked around to face the river, his hands tight against the railing. He was a fool to expect any different. Such a fool. 

“June!” Clayton held up a hand to her as the group approached them on the bridge. 

“We’re going to the diner for breakfast,” Frank said. His eyes narrowed, bouncing between June and Ivan. “Come with us, June.”

There was no invitation for Ivan. He glared out over the river and pretended they weren’t there. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw June shuffle back and forth on her feet. “I’m a bit tired,” she admitted in a small voice.

“Oh, come on!” Meg said. “We’ve been up all night, might as well get some pancakes.”

“And the strongest coffee available,” Will grunted, holding one foot gingerly off the ground.

Cora spoke up. “You should come too, Ivan.”

Ivan’s head snapped at his name. He stared at Cora’s open smile, Clayton’s hopeful nod. 

June glanced up at him, still not quite able to meet his eyes. “Yeah, Ivan. Come with us.” But her voice convinced him to do nothing even close to that.

And it was too late to pretend. He glowered at June. “You just said you were exhausted and in pain.”

June chewed on her lip and laughed it off. “Oh, it’s not that bad,” she lied.

Ivan cursed himself for letting attraction overcome logic. June was one of them. No matter how good her hands felt, it didn’t change anything. She would do anything to please them, even if that meant denying the man she had just so willingly let kiss her neck. 

He took a chance, looked down into her eyes, urging her silently to say no to her friends to stay with him.

“Come with us, Ivan,” she said instead. She looked anywhere but at him. 

Ivan hissed so only she could hear. “Jesus, it’s pathetic.”

June dropped her eyes, and he could see her blinking furiously. It was a second before she looked up, but when she did her face was ferocious. “Have a nice day, Ivan,” she managed. 

Then she followed her friends across the bridge and disappeared down Independence Falls’ narrow streets. 

Ivan watched her go, his body a war of conflicted emotions and desires. What was it about that woman that wouldn’t let him go? 

“Screw her,” he growled to the river. The river rushed on, indifferent.

He wanted to hate her, and he almost did. But more than that, he hated that he couldn’t rid his mind of her, rid his body of the heat of her skin against his. She was the personification of what he loathed about this town. The false smile, the insincerity. She’d rather make others happy, even if it was wrong. He could never accept a woman like that, someone who didn’t have the spine to stand up for herself.

Yet Ivan had to wait a long time for his body to calm. The sun marched higher, and warmth washed over his face. Warm like June’s fingers against his hip, like the fire in her eyes when she dropped her careful, perfect mask.

Across the bridge, Independence Falls was waking up. As he walked through town, whispers followed him, suspicious stares and wary glances. If only they knew what they’d just missed at the bridge, that would really give them something to gossip about. Ivan glared at anyone who dared to meet his eyes and strode back to where he’d left his truck late the previous night. He slumped against the wheel. All he wanted was his bed and sleep. His eyes scratched against his lids and a headache was forming at his temples. Ivan turned the key, and the old truck belched to life. 

He drove hard away from the town square, jamming his foot against the clutch to switch gears and pushing to each gear’s breaking point. But nothing would dislodge June from his head. She was everywhere, the memory of her fingers, the sound of her sigh, the wild scent of her hair. 

Ivan swung the old, blue Chevy onto the dirt road leading to his family’s farm and could see his brother in the distance already getting to work. He groaned. Another full day of work lay ahead of him with only June to occupy his heated thoughts.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

June

Was she pathetic?

Ivan’s accusation lanced through June, leaving her raw. 

It shouldn’t matter what Ivan Sokolov thought of her. He saw the worst in everyone. 

But it did matter. It mattered so much. Because the more she got to know Ivan, the more June realized he also saw the truth in everyone, the truth most people didn’t want to acknowledge.

And more than that … the way her eyes wandered over him in hunger, the way her body seemed drawn to him. She’d woken up that morning panting, with perspiration beading her forehead and arousal making her slick. She’d dreamed of him kissing her, touching her. Doing things to her no one had ever done before. 

She’d nearly slid her hand between her thighs to finish what Ivan had started in her dream, but instead she rolled over and replayed what he’d said to her.

He thought she was pathetic.

Hours later, she was still embarrassed at how he could make her go hot with anger and arousal at the same time. Thinking of his touch had her angrily tucking her blouse into her green circle skirt. 

God, what a mess she’d made. She’d almost kissed Ivan that morning—properly kissed him. June had kissed others before, but not like that. Never like that. There’d been a passion between them that had lit her on fire, made every inch of her body alive and electric. He made her feel alive, completely herself for the very first time. And he thought she was pathetic.

June forced Ivan from her thoughts and finished getting dressed. The blouse was dotted Swiss and the skirt one she’d forgotten about. Culling her closet had unearthed a few old favorites and June felt as if her wardrobe had been renewed. It was nearly better than shopping. The pride of her sacrifice almost erased the hot confusion of the morning. Almost. 

June smoothed the shirt collar and could feel Ivan’s hands on her. She pushed back her hair and could feel his lips at her neck. The sweet ache from the morning bloomed anew within June so suddenly she almost had to sit down. His hands, his eyes, his smile that came out so rarely. How had she never noticed just how beautiful he was?

Or how harshly truthful. Pathetic. She was pathetic. June shook her head free of the memories and leaned close to her bedside vanity to pat on a bit of lipstick, determined to forget the slight. 

Her hand knocked against a little vase and sent it wobbling. June grabbed for it, but her fingers went straight through the glass. She winced—her skin was still tender from the night at the mine. 

The vase hit the glass vanity top with a shrill clink and rolled to the floor. June scooped up the vase and Ivan’s yellow flower—still perfect—and set both back on the vanity, careful not to let her power overtake her.

Her fingertips lingered at the velvet petals, butter yellow like her hair. June cocked her head and held the flower up to her face in the mirror. How had she not noticed before? The petals were a near perfect match, and the hint of warm brown at the center of the flower echoed her eyes. 

It couldn’t be coincidence. Ivan had created this flower … created it for her. That made her chest tighten with warmth. She was right about him. She knew it. There was kindness and beauty at the heart of Ivan, she just needed to dig it up. June didn’t quite know why it was so important, but it was. On an impulse, June tucked the beautiful flower into her ponytail. 

She’d told the truth at the bridge. Ivan made her forget—the pain of her new power, of giving up her paychecks to support her family, of giving up her dream to see the world. Being around him, she forgot all of that and was able to just
be
. 

Yet they seemed two planets on opposite trajectories. When she was angry with him, he surprised her with forgiveness. And when she was gave in to her growing fascination with the man, he snapped. And he found her pathetic.

The worst part was, she worried he might be right. She’d always thought making others happy was the right thing to do. She told herself it made
her
happy, but since the sickness June had come to a painful truth. It was a lie. How much of that outward smile was really her? How much did her fear of others’ judgments keep her real self hidden behind that placid smile?

June stared at her reflection, at the flower—her flower—in her hair. The truth was, she didn’t know
how
to change. This was who she’d been raised to be. And if she stopped trying so hard, what would people think of her? June hated how much that fear ate at her, made her stomach twist with worry. Independence Falls was all she’d ever known, despite her dreams to explore the world.

A knock on the door startled June. She slipped into fawn colored ballet slippers and pulled the door open. Her father smiled back at her.

“Junie! I thought you’d snuck out on me!”

Annoyance prickled through June. She was a grown woman. She didn’t need her father’s permission to go out, even if it was something innocuous like a picnic with friends.