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She liked morning sex and long showers doing God knows what in there for like thirty minutes. She hogged the blankets and cuddled in her sleep. She was ruthless about how she made the bed, and I’d had three tutorials already on how to fold the corners at the foot of the mattress. I still couldn’t get it right. She watched the stock market while she drank her coffee and did crossword puzzles at a speed that was intimidating as hell.
She kicked my ass at chess but was never smug about it.
And all of that felt casual and easy, because it was knowledge gained one tiny piece at a time.
This felt purposeful.
Big and risky.
And my sister was right—it was stupid that I hadn’t done it yet, because I wanted to do purposeful, risky things for this woman.
I slid a hand down the front of my shirt and knocked on the door.
“Come on in,” she called from the inside.
When I walked in, she was facing away from me, putting in her earrings with the help of the large mirror leaning up against the wall.
Her eyes met mine in the mirror, and I settled a hand over my heart, humming slightly at the sight of her.
“You are so beautiful,” I told her.
Ivy’s smile was small, just the tiniest tug at the corner of her mouth, and when she finished with her earring, she turned slowly, studying me from head to toe.
She wore a deep green dress that skimmed her figure, a deep V in the front and back. Her hair was curled again, but pulled back off her face. Her lashes were darker tonight, her eyes lined with heavier makeup, and the long gold chain she’d been wearing the first day I saw her dipped low in the V of the dress, a tiny gold leaf dangling at the end, nestled against the mouthwatering hint of cleavage.
She approached slowly, her hand tracking lightly up the lapels of my deep charcoal suit jacket. Her eyes lingered on the base of my throat where I had one button undone on the white dress shirt.
“So are you,” she said simply. Then she pushed up on the balls of her feet and laid a gentle kiss on my lips. “I do like you in a suit,” she whispered.
I smiled, rolling my forehead against hers while I fought the urge to rip the damn thing off and do the same with her pretty green dress. “I have one. I wear it for weddings and funerals,” I paused, “and first dates with beautiful women.”
Ivy’s eyes danced with laughter as she pulled back. “Well, you wear it well even if you don’t wear it often.” She hummed, sliding her hand over my shoulders. “It fits you perfectly.”
I curled my hand over her hip, dropping a kiss on her forehead. “These are for you,” I said, and handed her the dahlias.
“Thank you.” After a quick appreciative inhale, she pulled a glass out of the cupboard and set the flowers in water, placing them on the center of the island. “I’m ready if you are.”
Our eyes met and held when I opened the door for her—like neither of us could believe we were doing this after such a backward start to whatever this relationship was.
The nerves were gone as soon as we walked out, my hand resting lightly on her lower back while I opened the passenger door for her.
Once inside the truck, I caught her closing the passenger side mirror as she cleared her throat. Her hands clasped tightly in her lap, and she shifted her shoulders like she was about to meet a firing squad.
“You’re not nervous, are you, Ivy Lynch?” I teased.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said in a lofty tone. “I woke up this morning with your mouth between my legs. What on earth would I have to be nervous about?”
I laughed heartily, then settled my hand on her thigh, my heart rate settling into a normal rhythm when she slid her fingers between mine for the drive.
“I was,” I admitted.
Her head snapped in my direction. “You were?”
“A little.” I lifted her hand up and gently brushed my mouth against the skin on her knuckles. “I should’ve asked you to do this the moment you arrived in town.”
Her throat worked on a long swallow. “I would’ve said no then.”
I smiled. “I know. But I still should’ve asked.”
