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An hour later, I’m done, and the first thing I do when I leave the OR is turn on my phone and check if Ivy has called me back. She hasn’t. Back in my office, I update my notes and respond to a few emails. There’s one inviting me to a health show on one of the local TV stations.
Being on TV is not my favorite pastime, but my family and I agree to never say no to any PR activity that puts the clinic in the limelight. I email back and agree to be on the show. In addition to the free advertising for the clinic, those shows are also fulfilling in that they are intended to educate the public on fertility issues, which is always a good thing.
I wrap up for the day, and still, Ivy hasn’t called or messaged. I head to the parking lot, and in a spontaneous moment, I decide to go to her place. I’m not a worrier by nature, but I find myself imagining all sorts of situations that Ivy could have found herself in.
I tell myself it’s the baby that I’m worried about, but that’s not quite true. I’m finding myself thinking about Ivy more and more. I’m not suspicious of her. Not anymore. I think her story is true. She found herself in this situation the way I found myself in it.
It takes longer than usual to get to her place because of the evening traffic. I’m relieved when I find her car parked outside. At least she’s home. I bound out of my car and hurry to the front door. I knock twice, and when there’s no answer, I try the door and find it unlocked.
How can she leave the door unlocked in the kind of neighborhood she lives in? I’m tense all over as I enter the eerily quiet house.
“Ivy?” I call out, but there’s no response. I step in and shut the door behind me.
There’s no one in the kitchen, and I hesitate a little before going down the hallway to the bedrooms. The first door is ajar, and a quick peek tells me that it belongs to Peter. There’s a musky smell coming from the unmade bed, and the floor is littered with clothes.
I move to the next door, and as I raise my hand to knock, I hear a distinct moan coming from inside. I quickly push the door open and burst in. Ivy is lying on the bed, twisting and turning. It doesn’t take long to figure out that she’s caught in a nightmare. I step further into the room to wake her up. She’s kicked the covers off, and her nightshirt has ridden up her legs, exposing smooth shapely thighs. To my shame, all the blood in my body rushes down to my cock.
I can’t take my eyes away from her thighs. God, she’s beautiful. I move closer to wake her up from her nightmare or dream and kneel next to her on her bed. As if sensing there’s someone in the room, she inhales deeply, and as she exhales, her chest rises, exposing more cleavage.
Desire rages through me, and I feel like a complete pervert. I lay a hand on her bare shoulder.
“Ivy, it’s okay; you’re dreaming,” I say.
Her eyes pop open and focus on me. Then she reaches out, drapes her hand around my neck, and pulls me down. The next thing I know, Ivy is kissing me, and I’m kissing her back.
Common sense prevails for a second or two. It’s not a real kiss. Most likely, it’s part of her dream. I should pull back. Fuck. Too late. That’s the last rational thought I have before the heat and sweetness of her mouth pull me into an earth-shattering kiss.
I’ve kissed more women than I can count, but I’ve never been kissed by a woman and felt as if her lips were on my crotch as well. Ivy kisses with everything she’s got. Her lips, tongue, and hands are everywhere, and I feel as if I’m drowning in pleasure.
Her hands rake through my hair, and she presses her chest to me, touching me with the tip of her nipples. Without thinking about it, I bring my hand down to cup her breast, and she lets out a long achy moan.
Then all movement stops. The next thing I hear is an ear-piercing scream.
“Who are you?” she shouts while pounding on my chest.
“Ivy, it’s me, Alec. You were caught up in a nightmare,” I say as Ivy scrambles to sit up in bed, her eyes wide open with terror.
Recognition dawns and the fear leaves her eyes. She looks down at her nipples poking out of her sheer nightgown and her exposed thighs. She pulls down the material to cover herself up, but there’s nothing she can do about her aroused nipples.
“You were kissing me,” she says accusingly.
I’m still kneeling by the bed, and I change positions and sit down cross-legged on the floor. “I’ve been calling you all afternoon, and you haven’t responded to my calls, so I decided to come and check on you. You’re the one who pulled me in for a kiss.”
“I was asleep,” she says.
“I know. I’m sorry I kissed you back,” I tell her. I adjust my pants as my cock still hasn’t gotten the message that the action is over.
Ivy doesn’t miss my movements. “How can you get turned on by someone who is asleep?”
“I’m a normal male attracted to a beautiful, sexy woman. You’re the best kisser I’ve ever been with.”
She stares at me and then starts laughing. “This is crazy. I have to admit, though, that you kiss pretty good too.”
Relief surges through me. I’m glad she’s not offended. “Why haven’t you been answering your phone today?”
“I threw up after lunch and felt horrible afterward. I just wanted to nap. I don’t even know where my phone is,” she says glancing around the room.
“Morning sickness is kicking in.” I glance at my clock. It’s half-past four. “That means you haven’t had anything to eat all day?”
