“He wants to fuck you, Ivy. There’s a difference.” Sean shot out of his seat and paced the room at a lion’s pace. “He doesn’t care about you. You’ll just be another notch on his belt. A trophy for his case. Another victory he can claim. He doesn't actuallycareabout you!”
“Like you do?” she fired back.
“Yes! LikeIdo,” he barked. “I care about you, and I’m trying to fucking understand where all this is coming from when a week ago we were fine sitting on your couch eating pizza and watching bad TV.”
And there it was. Sean was happy in the friend zone. He cared about her, took care of her, made her feel safe, but she’d never be more than his friend. With no benefits. Their explosive kiss was a one off, not a premonition of the future.
She sighed loudly. “True Detectiveis not bad TV.”
His hard gaze didn’t waver.
“And maybe I’m not happy with that anymore. Maybe I don’t want the rest of my life to be yoga pants, dry shampoo, and takeout with a friend. Maybe I want to know what it’s like to have passion in my life. To finally put my hormones to good use. Did you ever think that maybe I had needs that went beyond knowing if the husband actually got a contract killer to take out his wife?”
By the end of her tirade, Sean’s jaw was pure granite, and she took pity on him. Her change of heart must have seemed out of the blue for him. She’d never once let on she’d wanted more in her life from a man than friendship. Up until recently, she’d been too timid, too afraid. But she was tired of that.
“Look, I know Greg. He’s a playboy,” she conceded. “And he doesn’t try to hide that which, to be honest, I appreciate about him. It makes things between us clear. No games. No emotional entanglements.”
She held Sean’s gaze wanting her underlying message to be clear. What she planned with Greg would be straightforward. She wouldn’t have to guess as to his intentions or spend restless nights lying in bed wondering how much he expected from her. It would be casual sex. Exactly what she needed right now. With all the anxiety she had around sex, she didn’t need any compounding complicated emotions making it worse.
“So, you want a fling with some random dude you hardly know?” Sean asked.
Ivy didn’t bother to remind him that Greg hadn’t been her first choice, that she had asked him first and been rejected.
“I want uncomplicated, Sean,” she explained. “I can’t handle anything else right now.”
I can’t handle you.
The second the thought materialized in her head, she knew it was true. And the truth hit her like a smack to the forehead. How naive she’d been.
Sean knew her too well. Their past was too complicated. Being with him could never be casual, no-strings. Nothing between them had ever been that way. They’d always been too close, too connected. Embarrassed that she hadn’t accepted it sooner, she conceded he’d been right to turn her down. They had no chance.
“So, Lewis,” Sean said, looking defeated, like he’d just tapped out on the biggest fight of his life.
“I know where I stand with him,” Ivy replied smoothly.
Sean came to a stop in front of her. So close. So far away. He lifted his hand and ran his fingertip down her nose. The featherlight touch sent a shiver through her. Then he dropped his hand and stepped back. The loss of his warmth made her wrap her arms around herself to keep the familiar chill away.
“I hope you find what you’re looking for, Ivy.” His eyes softened as they held hers, then he headed toward the door.
“Sean,” she called after him.
The thread between them was strained, stretching taut. When he stopped but didn’t turn to face her, a throb of pain flared behind her breastbone.
“We’re okay, right?” she asked.
He didn’t speak, and Ivy was left clinging to herself as she watched his back—strong, silent, still. She held her breath waiting for his reassurance. He’d never let her down. Not once. Not ever.
At the side of his hip one hand flexed. It was the only perceivable movement on his entire body. Finally, he responded in a tight, forced voice. “Always.”
And without a backward glance he was gone.
Ivy hugged herself tighter—afraid she’d just lost her soulmate.
CHAPTERSIX
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
Sean punched the heavy bag hanging in his living room over and over in rhythm with the expletive pounding in his head like a drumbeat. Every time his fist hit the bag’s vinyl casing, he imagined Greg Lewis’ face.
