Page 69 of Recovering Ivy

“But I embarrassed myself and you.”

“Baby, you didn’t do shit. Do you think you’re the first woman to put her man in his place when she feels he’s gone too far?”

“I didn’t put you in your place,” I argued.

“Really? You had no issue speaking your mind.” I thought about his answer. As true as it was I should’ve handled myself differently. “What are you making?”

“Scrambled eggs and bacon. Is that okay?”

“Perfect. Mind if I check my email or do you need help?”

“Go. I can manage eggs on my own.”

With another soft kiss he let me go and went to the living room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I tried to quell the fear that began to bubble up. Why didn’t I deserve to be happy? Maybe Zane was right. I had been so worried about trying to prove I wasn’t who my mother said I was, I completely missed I had already done it. I did it the day I left her house. I did it throughout my childhood when I fought against everything she tried to do to me. I never turned to drugs to escape the hell she put me through. I never took the low road and stooped to her level when she put me down and reminded me how unloved I was. The only thing I’d given her control of was my reactions. I cracked the eggs into a bowl and contemplated all the ways I’d allowed my mother to control my relationships. As I beat the yolks with more force than was necessary, I began to understand the error of my ways. I allowed fear to rule every part of my life. Fear of the unknown. Fear of rejection. Fear of being loved. I was afraid of living; scared I wasn’t strong enough, even though I’d already proved I was.

I poured the mixture into the pan and hated I’d given Sarah so much power. She didn’t warrant my thoughts; she never had. Yet I gave them to her. I cooked the bacon, set the table, and served our breakfast all in a daze. I wanted this. Sunday morning breakfast. Love. The excitement of the unknown, learning, discovering, living.

Zane came to the table, concern etched in his face. “You look a million miles away.”

“Please don’t let me ruin this.”

With the food forgotten, Zane picked me up in his arms and carried me back to the bedroom. He gently laid me on the bed and crawled in next to me.

“Why do you keep putting us in bed?” I asked as he pulled the oversized t-shirt I was wearing over my head. He’d done the same thing yesterday.

Once his shirt was added to mine on the floor, he tugged my arm until I was draped over his chest.

“When we talk, I want nothing between us. That includes clothes. Skin on skin. Soul to soul. I want us bare. No hiding, no pretense, just us.” The scrape of his callused hand across my back sent chills racing over my body.

“I’m not a quitter, Ivy,” he started. “I have failed but never quit. I’ve learned lessons the hard way but never backed down. I’ve built a life of solitude thinking that was the only way I could protect myself and those I loved. You’ve shown me a different way. You’ve proved all of my assumptions wrong. I am capable of loving; I’ve realized I was just waiting for you. You make it easy.”

“There is nothing easy about me,” I huffed.

“It’s easy to get lost when I’m with you. It’s easy to acknowledge I want happiness. It’s easy to admit I want a wife and a family. It is easy to love you. I never thought I’d have any of it. But with you in our bed, and by my side, I clearly see it all. I will not quit us, and I won’t let you run away from it either. I’ll fight for us; I’ll fight when you can’t. I’ll make sure when we cross the finish line you are stronger than you’ve ever been.”

“I love you, Zane.”

In one slow, fluid motion he rolled me to my back and pulled his sweatpants off, leaving my panties the only thin barrier between us. He settled between my thighs, his hand moving down my stomach and under the lacy material. The pad of his finger gently caressed my clit before he went lower. Without words he tested my wetness. Drawing his slick finger out, he pushed my panties to the side. His hand was replaced with the thick head of his dick. In one smooth thrust, he pushed inside.

Skin on skin.

Soul to soul.

Completely bare.

“I love you, Ivy.”

My hips lifted when he pulled back, not wanting to lose the deep connection. His pace was slow and gentle. The normal charge of urgency was gone, replaced with a breathtaking awareness. This big, strong man loved me despite my flaws; he wouldn’t reject me and leave me. His lips were on my neck, but instead of the hard pull of his mouth when he marked my skin, he was leaving a trail of soft kisses down my throat and across my shoulder.

“Only you,” he whispered. My climax was building fast, not from a lust-crazed frenzy but a bottomless emotional bond. “It has only ever been you. I’ve been waiting my whole life for this.”

“Promise me you won’t let me run.”

“Do you feel me, Ivy?”

“Yes,” I moaned.

“Not this.” With his dick buried deep he rocked his hips, and the friction from his pelvis against my clit sent tiny electrical sparks over my body. “Me. The man you make me. The one who is going to love you for the rest of your life. That man will never let you run.”