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That was what Ivy didn’t understand.
Her sharp edges weren’t something that I tolerated because I wanted her.
Hers honed mine. Her hard let me be hard in return.
She could handle the sides of me that no one else saw, and I didn’t have to worry about being good and perfect while I was with her.
It didn’t take long like this, my hands gripping her hips with bruising strength, the relentless smack of my hips against her backside, before she seized tight around me, her body shaking with jolts of pleasure that had my brain short-circuiting.
I came with a shout, slumping over her sweat-soaked back once we’d melted into the mattress. Her chest heaved on deep, sucking breaths, and I tugged her tight against my chest, curling my body around her back with my arms firmly under her breasts.
As her body melted further, her fingers tangled with mine, and I buried my nose into her hair and inhaled deeply.
I could love her so easily, I thought as I succumbed to sleep. Maybe I already did.
Yet if I told her now, she’d run.
So I kept the words locked in my chest and held her close, wondering if the pounding of my heart against her back gave me away.
Chapter 25
Ivy
“I’m telling you, if it wasn’t my brother, that would’ve been the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”
It wasn’t like I didn’t love reliving it either. I’d been reliving the entire night since I woke up alone in his giant man bed, with a note by my pillow telling me he’d had to leave for work but to help myself to whatever I could find in the fridge.
I didn’t linger, though, because the temptation to root through drawers and closets was dangerously high. Instead, I slipped my dress on and walked very carefully through the woods until I got back to my place.
Thankfully, the trees could keep secrets very well because no one saw my ass trip over more than one stick or rock or whatever littered the ground.
Stilettos and outdoors did not go together. If I stayed too much longer, I would have to ask him to put in a paved sidewalk.
“Do we have to keep discussing this?” I asked Poppy.
“Yes.”
She’d shown up at my door with a feather toy for Neville and a small container of cinnamon streusel muffins because Sheila Wilder was determined to bump me up a dress size.
With a resigned sigh, I popped the rest of the muffin in my mouth, and my eyes fluttered shut when it melted in my mouth. “I swear, she could take over the world with baked goods, and no one would bat an eye.”
Poppy laughed.
“Please don’t tell me you’re really good at this too. Because I swear, if you show up here with perfect croissants or something, I’ll lose my shit.”
There was only so much one could take with this family. They had to have flaws somewhere.
She shook her head. “No way. Adaline and Greer are hopeless too. Mom tried to teach us, and we’re terrible at baking.”
I studied one of the muffins, mouth pursing in thought. “I asked my housekeeper to teach me how to bake once. We got in trouble when my dad found out, so I never made it past the first recipe.”
“Baking is no joke,” Poppy said. “I hate measuring things precisely, so I was doomed from the start.”
Unable to help myself, I plucked some of the cinnamon crumble off the top of another muffin. “So this fall festival,” I said. “Cameron made it sound like it was a really big deal.”
Poppy folded herself onto the ground, legs crossed over each other while she played with Neville. “It’s a tradition more than anything,” she said. “Normally it’s impossible to have the whole family here for it, but because my dad isn’t doing well…” She gave me a sad smile. “Everyone’s making a point to get back here for it.”
Neville batted at the fluffy white feather, and Poppy smiled.
