“Because we were apart for so long. I just thought you couldn’t wait.”
He entwines his fingers with mine. “Couldn’t wait to f**k someone I didn’t care about? Ivy, you knew me better than that.”
Tears slide faster down my face. “Why wouldn’t you just explain? I still don’t understand why you let me go to Chicago thinking you cheated on me.” Anger, sadness, regret—they all resonate within me. None of them taking control. I’m mad that he let me believe a lie for so long, I’m sad that I didn’t confront him before I left, and I regret letting my own insecurities cloud my judgment—overshadow what I knew we had.
He squeezes my hand and I squeeze back. He catches my chin between his thumb and finger with his other hand and caresses it. “Because it was the easy way. I had to let you go . . . you had to get away from your mother, and that was the only way. I had so much other shit going on in my head. I couldn’t go with you, baby, even though I wanted to so badly. My mother, my brother, my sister—they needed me.”
My tears are out of control and I push him back. Anger finally takes over. I turn and head for the door, my voice rising as I cross the room. “I needed you.”
He follows on my heels, clutching my hand and twisting me to look at him. “I know,” he says in barely a whisper. “I know. But I knew you were stronger than you thought. I wanted you to make it. To become the powerhouse singer that you deserved to be. And you did it. I had so much going on in my head then, I couldn’t think straight, and at the time it was the only way.”
I stare at him and he doesn’t falter. More anger clogs my throat. “You shouldn’t have decided that on your own.”
“I didn’t know any other way. I was struggling with so many emotions, emotions I still struggle with. Things about my father I can’t seem to forget.”
“I was there for you. I would have been with you.”
“That’s why I let it happen. You couldn’t stay and I couldn’t go.”
“But I missed you every day. When I started singing, every performance I thought of you, I looked for you, not for congratulations but for support.”
He steps into me and any buzz I was feeling from earlier is gone. He brings his hand to my face and wipes away my tears and I let him. Silence falls between us as we communicate with only our eyes for a few seconds. He draws even nearer and the attraction can’t be denied and neither can the love. He kisses my forehead and again I let him. I want him to. I want to feel his touch. I love him. Yes, I love him. I always have.
Pressing his forehead to mine, he whispers, “Baby, I was always there for you. I watched you. I never forgot you. I sent a piece of my heart to your first show and even though you never responded, I didn’t give up for the longest time.”
I’m breathing so fast my heart can’t keep up. “What do you mean? What are you talking about?”
“The plants. I sent ivy plants with a card that said this.” He points to his side, to the beautiful letters.
“I never got any of them. I promise. God, if I had gotten them, gotten one—I would have responded.” Did Damon circumvent them? Did he keep them from me?
Cupping the back of my neck, his strong fingers press against my skin. He pulls me even closer and grazes the very corner of my mouth with his lips. With just that one simple touch, a need that’s been buried for years surfaces, in the most out-of-control way. I lift my mouth toward his, sealing us together, and his response is immediate. His lips are warm, full, inviting. It’s a forceful kiss, and when we both pull away, breathless, his eyes are simmering. My fingers tremble as they dance across his abs over to the letters. He takes a deep breath.
I bend down and drop my mouth to his tattoo, tracing the letters with my tongue. I peek up at him and see his eyes close and his head fall back. I lick his skin, taste the ink, inhale his sweet scent. His muscles tense under my lips with every touch. Once I reach the ivy leaf, I slowly stand up on my toes and bring my mouth to his ear. “Remember after our first performance when I fell on the bus stairs and you whispered, ‘I want you’?”
“Uh-huh.”
I slide my hand to rest on the button of his jeans. “All you had to do was take me and I would have been yours.”
“Fuck,” he breathes through his teeth and his hands slide down my back to my ass. “Well, I want you now, and I’m not asking.”
“You don’t have to.”
His lips part and form an incredible smile. He clenches my h*ps in his strong hands and turns us around. Pushing me against the wall, he grinds into me with his hard cock, and everything in the world as I know it is gone—I have all I want, all I need, right here. His lips are at my ear and he says my name over and over. I skim my hands along the bare skin above his jeans, this time unbuttoning them.
He pulls me close to him—as close as he can—and holds me. Just holds me, for the longest time. Then his lips brush my ear and in his sexiest, huskiest voice, he says, “Fuck, you feel incredible. I want you, now.”
His whisper floats into the air and shivers run down my spine. Oh God, I want him so much. “Xander, yes!”
I’m frozen in anticipation of what’s to come as he grins down at me before sealing his lips over mine. This time the kiss isn’t as forceful, but it is equally as breathtaking. His mouth is wet and soft . . . just like I remember, and his tongue probes deep inside my mouth . . . just like I remember. We seem to dance a familiar dance with our tongues. I’m so hot for him, I moan with every touch. Pulling my dress up, he reaches between my legs and I writhe against him with a primal need. He cups my sex with one of his strong hands and cups my breast with the other. And then I finally get to bury my fingers in his hair. I am done pretending. I want him and he wants me. I pull on his hair to make sure this is real, and he grits his teeth with a strangled gasp. My dress keeps sliding down and he keeps pulling it back up. His fingers are back in my panties and the moment they circle my clit, I call out his name. “XANDER!”
His lips and tongue are everywhere. I’m lost in the feeling of him. My dress drops again and I don’t even notice.
“Take it off,” he growls.
I lift the dress over my head and before I have it completely off, his hands smooth down the bare skin of my abdomen. I’m wearing a simple white bra and matching thong. He stares at me with such intensity—I don’t even remember kicking off my shoes and pulling my hair down.
“You’re gorgeous,” he tells me.
I see the appreciation in his eyes and touch his hair again. “You’re all wet.”
“I walked back from the club,” he tells me, running his mouth down my neck.
“Why did you walk back?” I manage to say with shaky breaths.
He pushes my hair over my shoulder and his tongue slides up and down my neck. “I needed air,” he mumbles.
I start to ask why, but he silences me with that mouth I’ve wanted all over me for so long. And it works, because all I can think about is him.
“Take your panties off,” he says in a hoarse, low voice.
I nod and shimmy them down with trembling hands. I’ve never let anyone tell me what to do during sex except him. Never since him have I allowed anything but mutual dominance, but with him I love it when he takes control.
When I move to unhook my bra, he whispers, “Let me.”
His soft but callused hands first cup my br**sts, then slide around my back and with the precision he always had, he quickly unfastens my bra. I gasp when his cold, wet mouth finds its way to my breast at the same time his hands slide the straps down my arms. With his mouth still sucking one of my ni**les, his hand caresses the other one. He takes a step back and I swear I blush from the look he’s giving me. I extend my hands to unbutton his jeans, but before I can tug his zipper down, he pulls out the desk chair next him.
“Sit down,” he says, chewing his bottom lip.
He’s watching me, his jaw relaxed, relieved of all the tension he’s possessed since I first saw him at the pool. I slouch back and spread my legs like I know he wants. I want it too. When he drops to his knees, the anticipation of what’s to come has me squirming with an uncontrollable need to touch him. He draws a line with his tongue up my inner thigh and when he reaches my sex he circles it just one time before moving right to my clit.
“Oh, Xander,” I call out, and his eyes flare to mine.
Watching me, he kisses, licks, and sucks me in a way no one but him ever has. The feel of his stubbled face against my sensitive skin is like heaven. I completely lose control when he inserts first one, then two fingers inside me. My head falls back and I arch my body as I come hard and fast, shattering into what I can only think are pieces of the last twelve years of missed time.
Lifting my head to look at him, I can see he’s got a huge grin on his face. He wipes his mouth on his arm and toes his boots off before pulling his pants down. I watch with a ravenous hunger as his thick c**k springs free. The tip glistens, and all I can think about is tasting it. I don’t wait for him to kick out of his jeans before I lean over and lick the pr**um off of him.
“Fuck,” he says, pulling me up out of the chair. He claims my mouth with his and a groan escapes his throat when I take his throbbing c**k in my hand. Pulling away, he removes a condom from his wallet and rolls it on.
Once it’s in place, he growls, “I want to be inside you, right now.”
He pushes me back onto the desk and in an instant he thrusts into me, filling me in one swift motion. His h*ps jerk and mine follow. He brushes his lips along my collarbone, up my neck, and to my ear, where he whispers, “You feel so good.”
My fingers dig into his skin as a feeling of complete satisfaction takes over. The passion between us is so fierce that my muscles are convulsing around his c**k way too quickly. I don’t want this to end. I try to slow my impending orgasm, but when he rolls my ni**les with his fingers, I can’t hold back any longer. Instead, I just close my eyes and get ready to experience the joy I haven’t felt in so many years.
“Ivy,” he yells out, pounding into me at an unrelenting pace. “Look at me.”
Opening my eyes, I delight in watching him, but I can’t hold it off another minute. Lifting my hips, I grasp hold of his arms and move with him. Leaving no space between us—we come together, shouting each other’s names in unison. When he stops moving, he buries his face in my chest, practically panting. He licks his way up and I can feel his warm breath near my neck and hear his heart pounding against mine. Stepping back slightly, he slips out of me and I feel a sudden, overwhelming loss.
I pull him to me. “Don’t leave.”
He drags his teeth along my jawbone, sending a shiver down my spine. “I’ll be right back,” he says as he pulls me off the desk, and then he goes into the bathroom.
I stand there watching him—the boy who made love to me over and over is now a man that I don’t think I can ever get enough of. The feeling of having him inside me is something I’ve never forgotten, and I never thought I’d feel it again. It’s a feeling I now know I can’t live without. When he comes out of the bathroom, he rakes his eyes down my body in a way that makes my heart skip a beat. I stare at his tattoo as he walks back into the room and grabs the door handle, pulling the slide bar back and letting the door close on its own.
I start laughing uncontrollably, and he looks at me, then does the same.
“It might not have been so hysterical if Garrett had walked in on us,” he says, crossing the room with a confidence that makes my stomach flutter.
I bite my lip and stare into the depths of his eyes as he stands in front of me. Wrapping his arms around me, he inhales a deep breath. He runs his hands down my body and I relish his touch. When he presses his cheek to mine, his soft stubble makes me shiver. His body moves flush with mine, and I brush my fingers down the length of his side, blindly tracing the letters.