I told myself there was no harm in it if I didn’t respond. I’d almost managed to convince myself, until I heard Fox’s words.
Why had he called Oliver a psychopath? And what was Jamie going to do to him on Monday?
My heart squeezed at the thought of Jamie. The things happening between us terrified me and thrilled me in equal proportions. Some days, I’d allow myself to enjoy it, and others, all I could think about was how I was losing myself so very quickly again. Hadn’t the experience with Oliver taught me anything? It was foolish to fall this fast and hard.
But then Zoey’s words would ring inside my head. A great love was supposed to make you feel powerful. And with Jamie, that’s how I felt.
I wasn’t in love with him. Not yet. But I also saw no point in denying that I was heading there at breakneck speed, and it had only been three weeks since I’d slept with him for the first time.
That first night, when I got home, I told myself nothing bad would come out of seeing him again. We had fun together, so why wouldn’t I keep going? But within the span of a few days, it wasn’t just fun. It wasintense. And although it was different from how I felt toward Oliver, I wondered if it was two sides of the same coin.
I’d idolized Oliver. I’d let him define me. I’d obsessed over his every detail.
And Jamie? I thought about him constantly, but I saw him for who he was. The strengths and the flaws of his character. He wasn’t perfect, but he was authentic. Thoughtful. Kind. Sexy. He didn’t try to change me, but I’d begun to change anyway. I was more confident, more passionate, more alive. It all sounded amazing, but what if it was just an illusion? Would I go right back to the same old Ivy when he was no longer around?
I didn’t want to be defined by the men in my life. I wanted to be my own maker.
The fact that this particular thought wouldn’t have crossed my mind before I met Jamie didn’t go unnoticed.
* * *
“You’re going backto his placeagain?” Zoey asked me the next evening when she saw I was getting dressed. She was sprawled across the sofa with a book. “You just came back last night. Should I be asking Sophie to move in with me next semester? At the rate things are going, you’re going to be moving in together in a few weeks.”
“Oh, relax,” I waved her off. “We’re just having fun together.”
She laughed under her breath. “You are so in denial. And so far gone over this guy.”
Stuffing my arms into a thin cardigan, I tried to muster up a convincing glare, but her expression told me she saw right through me.
“Seriously, Ives. Are you going to ignore the fact that he’s the first guy you’ve dated for real since the man who shall not be named? It’s kind of a big deal.”
“We haven’t put a label on it yet,” I mumbled.
“Okay. Sure. But labels aside, you must really like him if you can’t stand to spend more than a day apart,” she retorted.
I rolled my eyes at her and left to catch my Uber.
Walking up Jamie’s driveway, I tried to let go of my anxious thoughts from the night before. He’d called me in the morning, asking if I could come over, and I suspected it was because he wanted company before whatever was happening tomorrow. He sounded stressed and distracted. Something was weighing on him, and I was torn between wanting to ask about tomorrow and just being there for him.
I rang the doorbell, and moments later, the door swung open to reveal Jamie dressed in a loose tank top and a pair of sweatpants that hung low on his hips. My gaze lingered on his muscular arms before sweeping up to his face. What I saw there made my heart skip.
“Come here,” he said gruffly, his voice sending electricity right down to my core. There was something dark in his eyes, something that told me he needed me right now, and my body moved to obey without a conscious thought on my part.
He pulled me into his broad chest, the door slammed behind me, and then I was pressed against it, his lips crushing against mine, and his body lined up with every part of my own.
The tension he was carrying released bit by bit as he kissed me with an intensity that tasted a lot like desperation. He slipped his hand under my shirt, and I arched my back, opening myself up to him. He was hard against me, not just his cock, but his entire body, pressing, pressing, pressing, as if his final destination was some place beneath my skin.
He pulled back and I moaned his name.
“Ivy,” he said in a hoarse voice. “I want you so badly, I can barely speak. Let’s not speak. Let me stay between your legs until I forget the day, the year, the fucking planet we’re on.”
“Yes,” I said, a dazed grin on my face.
He carried me to the bedroom and tossed me on the bed as if I were a rag doll. I tore at my clothes, then his hands were helping me, and soon, I was naked, and he was moving his lips over my breasts.
I tangled my fingers in his hair as he moved lower, kissing my pubic mound, prying my center open with his fingers, and finally swirling his tongue around my clit. My eyelids fluttered. “Oh God.”
He pushed two of his fingers inside of me, curling and rubbing against my G-spot so proficiently that I was there within a minute. I thrashed around his fingers, fighting against him while he held my hips in place.
