I feel my lips quirk, and nod. “Okay.”
I reluctantly pull my gaze from Ivy, and focus on the screen, beginning to read. I catch on quickly from context clues, and get swept up in the scene right away. My eyes devour every single word, but all too soon, the text ends. I stop reading at the blinking cursor, and slowly close the laptop, not saying a word.
Woah.
I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that.
“What? You hated it?” she asks with a concerned expression. “You know what, you have to be a paranormal smut fan. More specifically a vampire smut fanandinto blood play…” she trails off and rises from her seated position to kneel beside me, trying to snatch her computer from me.
I wrap my fingers around her delicate wrist to stop her. “Don’t,” I say, and press my back into the headboard, willing my body to relax.
“What?” she barks, attitude boiling over.
“Give me a minute,” I grit out, and her brows lower.
Then it clicks, and her face relaxes for a moment, before she smiles an evil smile that should be only reserved for manic scientists and the Grinch.
I try to think of unsexy things to will my erection away, but it’s impossible in Ivy’s presence. She’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on, and the fact that her mind came up with what I just read, has me nearly coming undone.
“So you liked it then?” she taunts, arching an eyebrow. “Honestly that’s the best compliment you could’ve given me.” She brushes imaginary dust off of her shoulders.
Fuck, she’s cute. Not helping.
I know I’m not an avid reader, but I’m impressed by what I just read nonetheless. It makes her that much more attractive. She’s smart, and funny, and for the life of me, I can’t get her out of my head.
She’s wearing that fucking grey tank top that showcases her piercings, and the tiniest cotton shorts on planet earth, making it impossible to push my arousal down.
“Yeah, Ivy. I liked it,” I breathe out.
Our eyes lock, and no one speaks for several seconds. Looking down, I realize I still have a faint grip on her wrist. My body moves on its own accord, lightly pulling her closer to me.
She looks down at where I tugged on her, then back up to my eyes. “What’re you doing?” she asks softly, voice just above a whisper.
“I don’t know,” I whisper back. “Tell me to stop.” My voice is low, almost tortured.
She doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, then breathes, “No.”
Seeing Ivy with Delilah today pushed me to my breaking point. The matching outfits, the swimming, the giggling, the love I saw in Ivy’s eyes when looking at my daughter.
She’s sweet, and bold, and clever. Her smart-ass mouth keeps me on my toes. I can’t take it anymore. I’ve done everything in my power to resist her and nothing works. I pull her in a bit closer and slowly lift my other hand to brush her long hair behind her shoulder. I carefully trace her jawline with my knuckles, and her breath catches.
“Wesley…” she quietly questions again, still kneeling beside me, but starting to lean over me as a result of my pulling.
“Tell me to stop,” I demand again.
I lift both of my hands to her face now, and cradle her head in between my palms, threading my fingers through her silky, damp hair. I tug gently to tilt her head back, and she licks that bottom lip I’ve dreamed about since the day I met her.
My eyes bounce between hers, looking for any hesitation.
She attempts to shake her head in my grasp. “Don’t stop,” she pleads.
I stare down at her. “Just once?” Repeating her words from the night of our almost-kiss on the couch. I’m desperately trying to convince myself this is all I’ll need to get her out of my head.
She doesn’t hesitate, nodding frantically. “Once. Just once.”
I don’t waste a second, lowering my head and gently brushing my lips against hers. One gentle press of our lips turns into two, and when she moves in to deepen the kiss, everything around me disappears.
There’s only her.
