Page 41 of Hate You Most

Dakota froze for a fraction of a second, like the words had physically hit her and knocked something loose inside her chest.

“Only if you ask nicely.” Dakota said. Her tone was playful but her eyes were glossy and blank.

“Please—”

The rest of her clothing was left discarded on the tile floor not even a moment later. The locker room shower was turned on while Dakota's mouth traced the line of every one of Viktoriya's ribs.

The gold medal that was hanging in her hotel room didn't feel half as good as being with Dakota. She'd spent her entire life chasing that medal and now that she had it, it didn't matter. All she could think about was the woman on top of her.

“Dakota,” she whispered, and her name felt like a prayer.

Dakota looked up at her, and something flickered in her expression—something raw and unguarded that made Viktoriya's chest ache. For a moment, she wasn't the confident, commanding presence she'd been seconds ago. For a moment, she was just a woman looking at the lover she was about to lose.

They both knew. This was the last time.

In a few hours, Viktoriya would board a plane back to Moscow. Back to her life and her training and the expectations of a nation that saw her as a symbol of greatness rather than a person. Back to a world where Dakota Sanchez was her rival, her competitor, the American skater she had defeated.

And Dakota would go back to America, to Detroit, to her coaches and her own federation and her own version of the same gilded cage. They existed in different orbits, and those orbits were never supposed to intersect like they had.

Viktoriya watched as Dakota bent over and tugged off the last of her pants, getting her feet free. She then stood upright and faced her as she removed her top.

Viktoriya almost wanted to look away. This wasn't a sight meant for her, and this wasn't something she was supposed to be doing. It was punishable by law in her country, and yet it felt too right to stop. Heat flooded through her body at a dangerous speed.

There was so much Viktoriya could've said and stopped this from happening, but then Dakota removed her underwear and stepped into the shower. She motioned for her to follow, and all logic got thrown violently out the closest window.

Dakota's naked body pressed against hers as the water slowly evaporated the cold from their skin. Dakota carefully replaced her hands with her lips all over her body. She tasted every part of her body, until she was exactly where she needed to be. Viktoriya steadied herself against the tiled shower wall, water dripping down beneath them. It wasn't long before every sense of composure had been stripped away from her. She begged Dakota for more, while her legs were shaking beneath her. A hand tangled in Dakota's wet curls as she entered euphoria with another moan.

They'd been rivals for years. They'd hated each other—or at least that's what they'd told themselves. It was easier that way. Easier to channel the electricity between them into competition, into the drive to be better, to win. It was easier to pretend that the tension between them was just the natural friction of two athletes going after the same gold medal.

Dakota was her drug, and she was an addict forced to quit.

CHAPTER NINE

Date: — Year: —

— Location: Hospital.

It was too bright and too loud. That was the only thing Viktoriya's brain could firmly grasp onto and contextualize. She opened her eyes gradually and was met by bright fluorescent lights.

Great, so she was at the hospital. It wasn't the first time figure skating had sent her there, but usually it was for ankle sprains or bad bruising. A dull throbbing pulsed through her head, buried behind a wall of haziness.

She forced herself to wiggle her toes and sighed in relief as they moved slightly. Her feet were fine, so maybe she was just here for a bad headache. A bad headache shouldn't keep her away from the ice for too long, thankfully.

Viktoriya attempted to push herself up and off the bed, but it was nearly pointless. Her arms weren't strong enough to bear the weight of her upper body, like she had been lying dormant for a while. She groaned and tried once more.

"I'll get a nurse, I'll be right back,” A female voice said and Viktoriya faintly registered how the woman ran her fingertips over the top of her hand before leaving the room.

The voice was so familiar yet she was unable to place it. She wondered for a moment how many people were in the room with her, or if it was just the one woman. She seemed kind, so at least there was that.

Fuck—her head was really throbbing now and the lights were burning her retinas. She tried to swallow but sandpaper lined her throat. Sounds from outside of the room were splitting her brain in two. She was clearly on some kind of pain medication but it wasn't enough to disintegrate the pain completely.

A moment later the woman returned to the room with a second set of footsteps that Viktoriya concluded was a nurse or doctor.

“Ms. Volkova,” a cheerful voice said. “Glad to see you're awake.”

A gentle hand was placed on her shoulder as the bed was moved into a sitting position. The mechanical sound as it moved made her wince.

“Viktoriya,” the woman said as Volkova was turned upright. Realization hit her all at once, why the woman's voice had sounded so familiar. Dakota Sanchez looked down at her with undeniable agony in her eyes.