Chapter 61: Cuddles
Tessa is lying in Daniil's arms the next morning. There's a faint ache between her legs from what they shared and what she shared with Sascha and Andrey the previous day.
She stretches languidly, her body still humming with the afterglow of pleasure. The morning light filters through the sheer curtains, casting a golden glow over the bedroom.
Daniil's arm tightens around her waist, pulling her closer. His breath is warm against the back of her neck, his stubble rough against her bare shoulder. "Morning, *malyshka*," he murmurs, his voice still thick with sleep.
Tessa smiles, turning her head to press a soft kiss to his jaw. "Morning," she whispers back.
For a moment, they just lie there, wrapped in each other, the world outside the villa forgotten.
The distant sound of waves crashing against the shore blends with the rhythmic pulse of their breathing, creating a hypnotic rhythm that makes everything else fade away. The air is thick with the scent of salt and sex, a heady mix that makes Tessa's head spin.
Tessa loves this stillness.
The way the morning light filters through the sheer curtains, painting golden stripes across Daniil’s bare chest. The way his fingers trace slow, absent circles along the curve of her hip, as if he can’t quite believe she’s real. The way his breath warms the back of her neck, steady and reassuring.
She exhales, letting her body sink deeper into the warmth of him. The faint ache between her legs reminds her of last night—not just with Daniil, but with Sascha and Andrey too. The memory sends a fresh shiver through her, and Daniil’s fingers tighten slightly in response.
“Cold?” he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep.
She shakes her head against his shoulder.
"No. Just thinking."
Daniil's fingers pause their slow circles. "About last night?"
Tessa exhales, her fingers tracing the light dusting of hair on his forearm. "About everything." The words hang between them, heavy with unspoken meaning.
The villa is quiet except for the distant sound of waves and the occasional call of seagulls. The morning light filters through the sheer curtains, casting golden patterns across the rumpled sheets. Tessa can still smell the faint scent of salt and sex in the air, a reminder of the night before.
Daniil's breath warms the back of her neck as he exhales. "You regret it?"
She turns her head slightly to meet his gaze.
His brown eyes are soft in the morning light, searching hers. The question lingers between them, unanswered.
Tessa hesitates, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his forearm. The truth is, she doesn’t regret a single moment. Not the way Sascha had pressed her against the kitchen counter, his hands gripping her hips with that familiar intensity. Not the way Andrey had watched her with those piercing blue eyes, his touch surprisingly gentle for someone so reserved. And certainly not the way Daniil had carried her to bed after, his strong arms steady beneath her.
But admitting that would be too much. Too raw. Too real.
Instead, she settles for a half-truth.
I don't regret it." The words feel heavier than they should, loaded with all the things she can't say. The way Sascha's hands had felt on her skin, the way Andrey's quiet intensity had made her pulse race, the way Daniil had held her afterward like she was something precious.
Daniil's fingers tighten slightly on her hip, his thumb tracing slow circles over her bare skin. "But?" he prompts, his voice low.
Tessa exhales, her gaze drifting to the window where the morning sun is just beginning to crest over the Mediterranean. "But I don't know what this means.
For any of us," Tessa admitted, her fingers tracing idle patterns on Daniil's forearm. The morning light filtered through the sheer curtains, casting golden patterns across the rumpled sheets. The villa was quiet except for the distant sound of waves and the occasional call of seagulls.
Daniil's breath warmed the back of her neck as he exhaled. "It means whatever we want it to mean," he murmured, his voice rough with sleep. His fingers tightened slightly on her hip, his thumb tracing slow circles over her bare skin.
Tessa turned her head slightly to meet his gaze. His brown eyes were soft in the morning light, searching hers. The question lingered between them, unanswered.
Tessa traced idle patterns on Daniil’s forearm, the morning light painting golden stripes across his bare chest. The scent of salt and sex still hung in the air, a reminder of the night before.
Daniil’s breath warmed the back of her neck as he exhaled.
The question lingered between them, unanswered.
She exhaled, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his forearm. "It's not that simple," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
The morning light caught the golden flecks in her blue eyes as she turned to face him fully. "What if this changes everything?"
Daniil's fingers stilled on her hip. The silence between them stretched, heavy with unspoken possibilities. Outside, the distant crash of waves against the shore seemed to echo the rhythm of their breathing.
"You're overthinking it," he murmured finally, his thumb resuming its slow circles. "Why does it have to change anything? We're all adults. We know what we're doing."
Tessa exhaled sharply, her fingers tightening around his wrist. "That's easy for you to say.
Guys never get judged for things like this." Tessa's fingers tightened around Daniil's wrist, her voice low but sharp. The morning light caught the golden flecks in her blue eyes as she searched his face, looking for something—reassurance, maybe, or just the truth.
Daniil exhaled slowly, his thumb still tracing slow circles on her hip. "Maybe not," he admitted, his voice rough with honesty. "But that doesn't mean you should worry about it either. We're not in some stuffy tennis federation meeting. This is just us."
Tessa scoffed, rolling onto her back to stare at the ceiling. The sheets were tangled around her legs, the faint ache between them a reminder of the night before. "It's not that simple," she muttered. "What if someone finds out? What if—"
"Then what?" Daniil interrupted, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at her.
His brown eyes were warm but serious, the way they got when he was trying to make her see reason. "Then what?" he repeated, his thumb still tracing slow circles on her hip. "What's the worst that could happen?"
Tessa bit her lip, her gaze flickering to the window where the morning light was turning the Mediterranean into a shimmering sheet of gold. She knew he was right—logically. But logic didn't always win out over fear. "I don't know," she admitted. "But I can't help thinking about it. About what people would say. About how it would look."
Daniil's expression softened.
"You're overthinking it, *malyshka*," he murmured, his thumb tracing slow circles on her hip. "We're not in a tournament. No one's watching. No one's judging. It's just us."
Daniil's lips quirked. "Maybe not. But that doesn't mean you should worry about it either.
Tessa bit her lip, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his forearm. "You're overthinking it," he murmured, his voice rough with sleep.
His fingers traced slow circles on her hip, grounding her. But that doesn't mean you should worry about it either."
She scoffed, rolling onto her back to stare at the ceiling. "It's not that simple. What if someone finds out?
What if—"
Daniil's fingers stilled on her hip. "If you love us and we love you, then that's all that should matter," he said, his voice low but firm. The morning light caught the golden flecks in his brown eyes as he searched her face, his thumb resuming those slow, grounding circles on her skin. "It's not that simple," she muttered, but the words lacked conviction. The truth was, she *did* love them—each of them in their own way. Sascha's fire, Andrey's quiet intensity, Daniil's steady warmth. But love didn’t erase the fear of what people would say, of how it would look.
The tennis world was a small, insular place where reputations were built and destroyed on whispers. Tessa had spent years carefully crafting her image—professional, disciplined, untouchable. Now, wrapped in Daniil’s arms, she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d just shattered it all in one reckless night.
A knock at the bedroom door shattered the quiet.
Daniil’s fingers stilled on her hip. "Expecting someone?" he murmured, his voice low.
Tessa shook her head. But I think I know who it is."
Before she could answer, the door creaked open, and Sascha stepped inside, his usual confident swagger tempered by something softer.
His brown hair was tousled from sleep, his blue eyes still heavy-lidded with the remnants of the night before. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his bare chest, his gaze flicking between them with a knowing smirk.
"Morning, lovebirds," he drawled, his German accent thick with amusement. "Didn’t mean to interrupt."
Tessa felt Daniil’s chest rumble with a quiet chuckle behind her. "You didn’t interrupt anything," he said, his voice rough with sleep. "Just having a little chat."
Sascha’s smirk deepened.
"A *chat*?" His gaze flicked to Tessa, lingering on the way her bare shoulder peeked out from beneath the sheet. "Is that what we’re calling it now?"
Tessa felt her cheeks warm, but she refused to look away. "Depends on what *you’re* calling it," she shot back, her voice steady despite the way her pulse jumped.
Sascha pushed off the doorframe and sauntered into the room, his bare feet silent against the cool tile. The morning light caught the sharp angles of his face, the way his muscles flexed with every step. He was all confidence and charm, but there was something different in his eyes today—something softer, less guarded.
The way he looked at her made her breath catch, like he was seeing her for the first time.
Tessa felt Daniil’s fingers tighten on her hip, grounding her. "You’re staring," he murmured, his voice rough with amusement.
Sascha’s smirk didn’t falter, but his gaze flickered to Daniil before settling back on her. "Can you blame me?" His voice was low, teasing, but there was an edge to it—a hunger that hadn’t been there before.
The air between them crackled with tension, thick with unspoken words and lingering touches.
Sascha’s smirk softened into something more vulnerable as he stepped closer to the bed, his bare feet silent against the cool tile floor. The morning light filtered through the sheer curtains, casting golden stripes across his muscular frame, highlighting the faint bruises on his collarbone—remnants of last night’s passion.
Tessa’s breath hitched as he reached out, his fingers brushing a loose strand of hair away from her face. His touch was featherlight, almost hesitant, a stark contrast to the bold confidence he usually wore like armor.
"You look good like this," he murmured, his voice rough with sleep and something deeper. "Rumpled.
Messy. *Ours*," Sascha finished, his thumb lingering against her cheek before dropping his hand. The word hung in the air between them, heavy and unspoken. *Ours.*
Tessa's pulse jumped. The morning light caught the golden flecks in Sascha's blue eyes as he studied her, his usual smirk replaced by something softer. Something almost... vulnerable.
Daniil's fingers tightened slightly on her hip, his thumb tracing slow circles against her skin. "You're making her blush, *brat*," he murmured in Russian, though his tone was more amused than annoyed.
Sascha's smirk returned, but it was different now—less cocky, more knowing. "Good.
It means I’m doing something right." Sascha’s fingers traced the curve of Tessa’s bare shoulder, his touch sending a shiver down her spine. The morning light caught the golden flecks in his blue eyes as he studied her, his usual smirk softened into something more vulnerable.
Daniil’s fingers tightened slightly on her hip, his thumb tracing slow circles against her skin.
Sascha’s smirk returned, but it was different now—less cocky, more knowing. "Maybe she likes it," he said, his voice low and rough.
"Maybe she likes when we don't hold back." Sascha's smirk deepened as he climbed onto the bed, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. His fingers traced the curve of Tessa's bare shoulder, sending a fresh wave of goosebumps across her skin. "Or maybe she just likes the way we look at her when she's like this."
Daniil's chest rumbled with a quiet chuckle behind her. "Or maybe she's just trying to figure out how to get us both out of her bed before breakfast."
Tessa rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress the smile tugging at her lips. "I was thinking more along the lines of coffee before you two start your morning interrogations."
Sascha's fingers stilled on her skin.
"Interrogations?" His smirk softened into something almost vulnerable. "Is that what we're calling it now?"
Tessa exhaled, her fingers tracing idle patterns on Daniil's forearm. "You know what I mean." "We're just making sure you're okay," he murmured, his voice rough with sleep.
"After last night."
Tessa felt her cheeks warm at the memory. The way Sascha had pressed her against the kitchen counter, his hands gripping her hips with that familiar intensity. The way Andrey had watched her with those piercing blue eyes, his touch surprisingly gentle for someone so reserved. And the way Daniil had carried her to bed afterward, his strong arms steady beneath her.
She exhaled, her fingers tracing idle patterns on Daniil's forearm. "I'm fine," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "Better than fine."
Sascha's smirk softened into something almost vulnerable. "Good," he murmured, his thumb brushing against her cheek.
"Because we're not going anywhere."
Tessa's breath hitched as Sascha's fingers traced the curve of her shoulder, his touch sending a fresh wave of goosebumps across her skin. The morning light filtered through the sheer curtains, casting golden stripes across his muscular frame, highlighting the faint bruises on his collarbone—remnants of last night's passion. "You're making her blush, brat," he murmured in Russian, though his tone was more amused than annoyed.
The way Sascha's smirk returned, but it was different now—less cocky, more knowing. It means I'm doing something right."
Tessa's breath hitched as Sascha's fingers traced the curve of her bare shoulder, sending a fresh wave of goosebumps across her skin.*"
The word hung in the air between them, heavy and unspoken.
*
Daniil pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering just long enough to leave her skin tingling. The gesture was so tender, so *him*, that Tessa felt something inside her unclench—just a little.
Sascha’s smirk faltered for half a second, his blue eyes flickering between them before settling back on her. There was something in his gaze now, something she couldn’t quite name. Possessiveness? Jealousy? Or maybe just the same quiet intensity that had drawn her to him in the first place.
"You still thinking about last night?" Sascha said, his voice low and rough as he climbed onto the bed beside them. The mattress dipped under his weight, sending a fresh wave of warmth through Tessa's body. His fingers traced the curve of her bare shoulder, sending a shiver down her spine.
Tessa exhaled sharply, her fingers tightening around Daniil's wrist. she shot back, her voice steady despite the way her pulse jumped.
Sascha's smirk faltered for half a second, his blue eyes flickering between them before settling back on her. There was something in his gaze now, something she couldn't quite name.
Tessa swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around Daniil's wrist. The morning light caught the golden flecks in Sascha's blue eyes as he studied her, his smirk replaced by something softer. Sascha asked, his voice low and rough as he climbed onto the bed beside them.
"Maybe a little," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "She's thinking about how we all fit together so perfectly," he murmured, his thumb tracing slow circles on her hip.
"Like this was always meant to happen."
Tessa felt the heat rise in her cheeks as she met his gaze. There was something different in his eyes today - less of the cocky swagger, more of the quiet intensity that had first drawn her to him. The morning light caught the golden flecks in his blue eyes as he studied her, his smirk replaced by something softer.
Sascha's smirk returned, but it was different now - less cocky, more knowing.
"Tessa, you have no idea what you do to me. To *us*," he said, his voice rough with emotion as his fingers traced slow circles on her hip. The mattress shifted beneath his weight, sending a fresh wave of warmth through Tessa's body. His thumb brushed against her bare skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.
Tessa's breath hitched at the raw honesty in his words, her fingers tightening around Daniil's wrist as she searched Sascha's face. The morning light caught the golden flecks in his blue eyes, making them shimmer like the Mediterranean under sunlight. There was something vulnerable in his expression now, something that made her heart ache with a sudden, overwhelming tenderness.
Daniil's chest rumbled with a quiet chuckle behind her, his thumb tracing slow circles against her skin. "He's not wrong," he murmured in Russian, his voice rough with sleep.
"You *do* have a way of making us all lose our minds."
Tessa felt the warmth spread through her chest at his words. There was something about the way Daniil said it—so matter-of-fact, so *him*—that made her heart stutter. She turned her head slightly, meeting his gaze.
His brown eyes were warm in the morning light, searching hers.
The mattress shifted as the door creaked open, and Andrey stepped inside, his reddish-brown hair tousled from sleep, his blue eyes still heavy with the remnants of the night before. He paused just inside the doorway, his gaze flickering between them—first to Tessa, then to Sascha, then to Daniil—before settling on her with an intensity that made her breath catch.
The air between them crackled with something unspoken, something heavier than the morning light filtering through the sheer curtains. Andrey’s usual reserve was still there, but there was something different in his posture—less guarded, more present. He was barefoot, his bare chest rising and falling with slow, deliberate breaths, as if he were trying to steady himself.
Tessa felt Daniil’s fingers tighten slightly on her hip, grounding her. Sascha’s smirk softened into something almost vulnerable.
Daniil chuckled, "We're all here." His fingers traced slow circles on Tessa's hip, grounding her. "No need to hold back now."
The mattress shifted as Andrey stepped closer, his bare feet silent against the cool tile. The morning light caught the faint bruises on his collarbone—remnants of last night’s passion. His blue eyes were intense, searching, as he took in the scene before him. There was no trace of his usual reserve, only a quiet hunger that made Tessa’s breath catch.
The air between them was thick with something unspoken, something that hummed beneath their skin. Andrey’s gaze flicked to Daniil, then to Sascha, before settling back on her with an intensity that made her pulse jump.
"You’re late," Daniil murmured, his thumb tracing slow circles on Tessa’s hip. "We were starting without you."
Sascha smirked, his fingers still tracing idle patterns on Tessa’s bare shoulder. "Guess we’ll just have to catch him up."
Andrey exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. But there was no anger in his expression—only a quiet, simmering need. He stepped closer to the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight.
There was no trace of his usual reserve, only a quiet hunger that made Tessa’s breath catch.
Andrey’s gaze lingered on the faint bruises on her collarbone—remnants of last night’s passion—before flickering back up to her eyes with an intensity that made her pulse jump.
The mattress shifted as he climbed onto the bed beside them, the weight of his presence sending a fresh wave of warmth through Tessa’s body. His fingers brushed against the bruises on her collarbone, his touch featherlight but deliberate, as if he were memorizing the shape of them. The morning light caught the golden flecks in his blue eyes as he studied her, his usual reserve replaced by something softer, more vulnerable.
Andrey leaned in to kiss Tessa, his lips brushing against hers with a tenderness that made her breath catch. The mattress shifted beneath his weight as he settled beside them, his fingers tracing the curve of her bare shoulder with a quiet possessiveness.
Tessa's fingers tightened around Daniil's wrist, her pulse jumping at the sudden intimacy. The way Andrey's lips moved against hers was different from the others—slower, more deliberate, as if he were savoring every second. His hands were warm on her skin, his touch sending a fresh wave of goosebumps across her body.
Daniil's fingers stilled on her hip, his thumb tracing slow circles against her skin. "Looks like someone’s making up for lost time," he murmured, his voice rough with amusement.
"I don’t know what you’re talking about," Andrey said, though his fingers didn’t stop their slow exploration of Tessa’s bare skin. The mattress dipped under his weight as he settled beside them, his body heat radiating against her side. His thumb traced the curve of her shoulder, his touch featherlight but deliberate, as if he were memorizing the shape of her.
Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, Andrey’s hand slid down her thigh, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh just above her knee. The contact sent a jolt through her, sharp and electric, and she couldn’t help the way her breath hitched.
Daniil’s fingers stilled on her hip, his thumb pausing its slow circles. Sascha’s smirk softened into something almost reverent, his own hand still resting on her shoulder. The air between them thickened, charged with something unspoken.
Andrey’s gaze never left hers as his fingers traced higher, his touch firm but gentle, as if testing her reaction. His blue eyes were dark with something she couldn’t name—desire, maybe, or something deeper. The morning light caught the faint scars on his knuckles, remnants of years on the court, and she wondered if he even realized how much she noticed.