Ivy reeled back, her face indignant, hurt swimming in her eyes. Hurt he’d put there.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Ivy—” He needed to set the record straight on a few things here, but a movement behind her caught his attention, and he panicked as Beefcake rapidly approached.
Ivy followed his gaze, then jerked her head back, aghast. “Are you kidding me, Sean? Tell me you aren’t coming to pull me over here because you think that hunk of muscle is headed my way?” She pushed her fists onto her hips and stared up at him. “Tell me.”
Looking at her straight on was always his greatest exercise of control. Her body sizzled in a tight little skirt and a loose, flirty top. Layers of hair falling around her chin, accentuating her soft jawline and high cheekbones. Her eyes, like always, were incandescent, stunningly beautiful. She was his friend, but whenever he so much as glanced at her, he saw his whole future.
He wasn’t exactly sure when his life became unimaginable without her. Everything with Ivy had happened so gradually, like a wave in the middle of an ocean starting as little more than a movement, but landing hours later on the shore with a crash.
What killed him was that, within the span of a few weeks, a distance had grown between them. Like she was being pulled away by a tide of fear and anger. His fear, her anger. And he had no fucking clue how to stop it.
They wanted different things. She wanted a friend with benefits. He wanted everything. Every piece, the cracked and the chipped, the whole and the parts in progress. He wanted it all. He wanted the benefit of their friendship to be love.
She was ripping him a new one, yelling at him about being a jerk, but his thoughts were louder. Her hands curled into tight fists around his shirt as she pushed his chest. And all he could think about was how much he wanted her, and how fucking hard it was to stand this close to her and not have her. In his heart, in his life, and in his bed.
And suddenly his hands were on her, gently enveloping her face, threading his fingers through her hair. Time slowed, music dulled, Ivy’s lips stopped moving. Her eyes grew wide, like twin moons. So bright they were almost a silvery-blue, and in them he saw it—the need that mirrored the one firing through him.
He rubbed his thumb across her bottom lip. “Can I kiss you?” He wasn’t sure he’d spoken out loud or if he simply projected the words into her mind, but he saw her nod. One small movement of her head while her eyes held his, signaling consent, and he was pulling her in, crushing his lips against hers.
The music blurred with the hard beat of Sean’s heart. People faded along with the bar. All that remained was the heat of her lips against his, the mist of breath, and their passion waging a battle to surrender between them.
He lifted his mouth off hers and clamped it down on the soft flesh right below her earlobe. His grip on her tightening when he heard her low moan. Maybe he could kiss some sense into her. Maybe if his lips never left her body, she’d allow herself to admit it. They were so much more than friends.
It was that thought that shocked him into stopping. Never in his life had he used sex to manipulate a woman, and he wasn’t starting now. Especially not with Ivy. If she was going to let him in, he wanted her to do it freely and wholeheartedly. Heneededher to do it freely. Especially since he was pretty damn sure that freedom had been taken away from her before.
Fuck.
The heat in him was doused like a bucket of cold water had been dumped on it. He lifted his head, watching as her eyes slowly opened, a little bit dazed, a little bit reluctant. The blue was darkened with lust. She wanted him. But not the way he wanted her to want him. And that wasn’t her fault. He’d leave her be and lick his wounds in private.
“Sean, you can’t keep kissing me, and then tell me you can’t give me what I want.”
“I know. Jesus, I know.”
“I need to do this my way.”
“I know,” he repeated, solemn now because he did. However she chose to deal with it, he needed to accept it. This wasn’t his battle to fight. But dammit…
“I’ll never not worry about you, Ivy.” Obviously, she deserved more of a statement than that, but right now, with his heart thundering in his chest, and his mouth still wet from her kiss, it was all he had. When he straightened and looked past her shoulder, a defeated sigh escaped him. “Although it looks like my concern was misplaced this time.”
“It’s always misplaced,” she retorted, turning her head to follow his gaze.
Beefcake was leaning against a bar table, chatting up Carter.
Ivy snorted. “Sometimes I envy him.”
“How so?” Sean asked, watching Carter laugh at something Beefcake said.
“It’s like he doesn’t have a single insecurity. He’s so effortlessly confident.”
The way she said those final words, almost to herself, made Sean look back to her. This was one of those cryptic moments that hinted at something deeper but he knew he couldn’t push her.
Which was just as well, he’d pressed her enough for one night. His next best course was to walk away. But before he could take a single step, Ivy whirled on him, eyes blazing.
“Why do you only want me when it looks like someone else is showing interest?” she demanded.
Christ. He should have bolted when she’d had her back to him.
