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It is not lost on me how quickly my body bends to her needs. She didn’t even ask for comfort, yet I know that’s what she needs.
Calvin meets my eyes with concern. “That was too easy. Too natural.”
Ivy burrows her face into my chest while holding tight to Calvin’s hand. “Sleep. We need to get some sleep before anything else crazy happens. I’m tired and the world makes no sense.”
Calvin clears his throat, his posture straightening. “This way, Miss Moon.” Then he dips his head to me. “Leo.” It’s a clear invitation to come along, as if he’s got some solution for the sleeping arrangement that would satisfy all of us. He leads the way down a dusty, cobwebbed hall and pushes open a door to his right, revealing a grand bedroom fit for a king but horribly neglected. “There’s enough room for the three of us in here.”
12
Ivy
Calvin’s bed is large with red plush linens that look like a person should wash their hands before touching them. His bed is the only clean thing in sight. He’s got dirty clothes on the floor and a cobweb in the corner so thick; it’s a wonder I don’t see a massive fist-sized spider lurking in the silk.
Calvin’s bed is one of those antique four-poster things that looks intimidating with importance. I cling to Leo, and without saying a word, I can tell he understands that I am nervous.
Leo’s hand fixes to my lower back, rubbing soothing circles into the base of my spine. The hold I have on my body loosens, and I sink into him, wondering how he understands without a word that I need to be held when life makes this little sense.
Calvin turns to me with hesitation plain in his red eyes. “Is this alright? I’m not going to be able to sleep without knowing you are safe and well. I would imagine Leo feels the same way.”
My shifter nods, his hand settling on my hip to keep me tucked tight to him. “It’s up to you, Ivy, but Calvin is right. I won’t be able to sleep if you’re not where I can see you.”
This whole thing is a little heady, and I’m already sleep deprived and undereducated on tethering as it is. “Could I… Calvin, could I borrow something to sleep in? And could I take a shower? I need to clear my head.” I motion to the bed and the whole arrangement. “This is fine.” Then I quickly backpedal, knowing I’ve chosen the wrong words. “It’s more than fine. Your room is lovely. Your whole home, really. It’s like a true adult’s home. I’m afraid to touch anything. I meant the whole sleeping together bit. That’s what’s fine. After I shower, if that’s okay.”
I sound like a mumbling idiot.
Calvin moves slowly toward me, his black trousers unwrinkled, even at this late hour. His movements are graceful and hard not to be captivated by as I watch him come close enough to touch. “My house is yours for however long you’ll have me, beautiful girl.”
I swallow hard, unsure how I will ever quell the flames that arise every time he nears. “Th-Thank you.”
Calvin kisses my lips once while I stand in Leo’s embrace. It’s surprising how natural the whole exchange is, as if one of them should always be holding me while the other blesses my lips with a kiss.
That’s what’s so strange about the whole thing—how very organic it all feels.
Calvin parts from me, no doubt sensing that I am about to overanalyze everything and drive myself crazy trying to make sense of any of this. He rummages in his drawers, coming back to me with one of his white dress shirts. “Take your time in the shower. I’ll have something more comfortable sent over for you.”
My neck shrinks at the lavish nature of his affection. “You don’t have to do that. Anything you have lying around is fine.”
Calvin narrows one eye at me. “Then let me indulge myself. I want to see you in something soft and sexy.” He turns me around and sends me off to the bathroom that joins to his bedroom.
That is a whole other experience. Who on earth has a bathroom like this? It’s easily the size of my entire apartment. Every surface is marble with gold accents. It’s like a museum, complete with an ivory two-foot-tall pillar inside the massive black tiled shower that he uses to set his shampoo and whatnot atop. It looks like a social media bathroom that no one was ever meant to step inside.
I can tell that parts of it have been freshly cleaned, too.
I swallow down the insecurities that come from being working class and knowing that in my wildest dreams, I would never be able to afford even a weeklong rental home like this. The marble is cold, reminding me that I don’t want to linger too long. I’m tired from a long night of nothing making sense.
I turn on the water and slowly peel off my clothing, wishing for clean underwear after all that running in the woods.
No matter. Once the spray is warm enough, I step underneath and let the water do its hard work of washing the confusion and grime of the day off my body. I take my time washing myself. Everything in here reminds me to slow down so I can savor the moment that no doubt I will never come by again. The luxury of the shampoo is too good to rush through, so I indulge myself in a long scalp massage until my breathing is deep and relaxed.
I kissed two men in one night. I kissed two men in the same minute. I’ve never even kissed two men in the same month, so I am lightyears out of my comfort zone.
Those last two words ring in my ears. My comfort zone has kept me afloat for years, but did it bring me joy?
Well, joy was never a big priority. Purpose was more important. Doing right by my patients, making sure to keep a roof over my head and Fern’s so we wouldn’t be homeless. All that purpose made for good motivation, but standing in Calvin’s enormous bathroom, I realize that perhaps I’ve missed the point of living if I made no room for luxuries like a long shower and nice shampoo.
I take Calvin at his word and go slow, soaping myself up from top to bottom while I replay the maddeningly seductive moment we shared in the kitchen. When I run my hands over my breasts, my fingers slip over my nipples, sending a shiver that echoes between my legs. The whole thing feels so good that I take my time pinching them, massaging the supple mounds that I never spend much time on lately, because my life is more practical than pleasure.
A quiet moan is swallowed by the sound of the water hitting the floor when my hands traverse lower, finding my clit easily beneath my narrow patch of soft curls. All I want is to replay those kisses over and over again while I touch myself, so that is exactly what I do while I let the conditioning hair mask settle into my tresses for the allotted time.
