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Me: It doesn’t matter. It’s still a yes. Do you want to pick me up as well?
Ivy: I’d love to pick you up in my new car and take you home after.
Me: Or we could just skip dinner and go straight home.
My cock stirs at the thought of taking Ivy home and having her in my bed all night long.
Ivy: Ha! Not happening. Dinner first. I’ll pick you up at half-past six.
Me. Great. I look forward to it.
Ivy: Me too.
Did she mean that, or is it that thing you say automatically?
I turn the ignition and drive absentmindedly out of the parking. Suddenly, my dull evening has just brightened up considerably. I have time to shower and relax a little before Ivy comes. I whistle as I head home, my exhaustion from the day completely gone. Thoughts of Ivy fill my mind. She’s easily the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Even that first day, when I judged her harshly, her beauty was the first thing I noticed.
Adrenaline zips through my bloodstream, almost as if I’m about to perform a rare surgery. Ivy is doing things to me that no woman ever has. Hell, I don’t even recognize myself.
The worst thing is that I can’t seem to control myself. If I had a choice, I would make myself stop. Ivy is not the right woman for me, and I’m definitely not the right man for her. As a matter of fact, I’m not the right man for any woman.
Then why the fuck did I agree to go out for dinner with her? I tell myself it’s because I’m curious about the favor she wants to ask of me. Then there’s also the prospect of taking her home afterward. She’s a sexy woman, and I’m a hotblooded male. Of course, I want to sleep with her again and again when and if the opportunity arises.
Tired of assessing my feelings for Ivy, I get home and head straight to my home gym to get rid of the pent-up energy that I feel. A half-hour jog on the treadmill does the trick, and by the time I finish, I’m dripping with sweat and ready for the shower.
I take some time to pick out my outfit, this time admitting to myself that I don’t want to impress Ivy. My cell phone vibrates with a message, and when I click on it, I see that it’s from Ivy telling me that she’s downstairs.
I shoot her a quick message telling her that I’m on my way down. It’s a first for me to be picked up by a woman to go for dinner. My brothers would shit a brick if they knew. I’m the ultimate control freak. I like knowing that my car is waiting for me outside the restaurant.
Ivy is parked at the front of the building.
“Sorry I didn’t come out to open the door for you like a gentleman,” Ivy says, giggling sweetly.
I bang the door shut and lean across the seat to plant a kiss on her cheek. I hesitate slightly, unsure of where to kiss her. “That’s because you’re not a gentleman.
“You smell and look good,” I tell her, taking in her minidress that makes my cock grow harder. Being near Ivy turns me into a beast whose only thought is ripping her clothes off.
“Thank you,” she says softly. “I’m not sure if it’s my imagination, but I feel as though my clothes have become snug. It’s a little too soon for my pregnancy to start showing, isn’t it?”
I attempt to turn on the doctor side of me but fail. All I can see in my mind is Ivy’s belly softly rounded, and I itch to run my fingers over her skin.
“You’re probably right, but I’d have to examine you to give you a correct answer.”
She laughs softly. “I have no problem with you examining me later. I like the way you conduct your examinations.”
We flirt all the way to the restaurant, and when we get there, the first thing I do when I get out of the car is to adjust my pants. This woman has turned me into a man I don’t recognize, but I’m not complaining. I like the new me. Serial dating has started to seriously bore me, just like it has Dylan. I’d gotten tired of meeting the same type of woman whose sole interest was to put a foot into my world. Women who see your last name first before your personality. It’s refreshing to meet a woman who has her own goals and dreams in life that have nothing to do with me.
The irony of that doesn’t escape me. The very traits I admire in Ivy are the same ones that make her uninterested in pursuing a relationship. I know there’s crazy chemistry between us. That’s why we keep having sex, yet we are not dating or in a relationship.
I suspect that for Ivy, that’s all it is. A physical relationship. That’s all it should be for me too, but my mind or heart lets me down. Ivy has crept into my life, and not just because of the baby. It’s beginning to feel normal to me. As if she and I have something going. In my rational moments, I know that is wishful thinking. We are two people thrust into a situation in which we had no control. What Ivy and I are doing is making the best of it.
“I hope you like Italian food,” Ivy says.
“I’m not fussy about food.”
We are shown to our table, and I pull out Ivy’s chair for her and inhale a whiff of her feminine floral scent as she sits down. I feel stupidly happy as I sit down opposite Ivy. This feeling is alien to me, and I’m not sure I want to fight it anymore.
“Do you come here a lot?” I ask Ivy, finally paying attention to my surroundings.
