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“Yes.”
Her answer is so quick, so sure, that I kiss her again. I capture her lips with a fervor I’ve never felt with anyone else, like I need her mouth on me to breathe, to survive.
We stand together, entwined and unwilling to part as the water rushes over us and I just hold her until it runs cold.
Once we’re dressed and packed, I wrap my arm around her waist and guide her to the door. I don’t want to stay here for another minute. I’ve done my job, and now Ivy needs proper aftercare from me, at our home.
I brush my lips over her temple before pulling open the door. Nobody bothers to look at us since they’re too occupied with their own erotic play. I take Ivy by the hand, squeeze it tight, and lead her to the front entrance. She walks behind me, careful not to put too much space between us.
We’re at the front door when the hostess of the club rushes over to me with a thick envelope and a somber look on her face.
“For you, Mr. Vale.”
THIRTY-TWO
ivy
Mercer is sonice and attentive, I want to scream.
Holding me in the shower as I floated down…those insane kisses that made me fall into gorgeous depths, made me swoop and twirl and melt…to me, that was enough. I mean, along with him not holding me like an actual pet in front of people at Broken Angel or fucking me on that gross sofa in the private room…
He took me back to his place and now…now he’s being this guy who’s acting suspiciously like…I bite down on my lip, almost afraid to think the words…like he’s caught feelings for me.
It’s weird. And I don’t even allow myself another second to dwell on it because it would be seriously delusional of me.
Right?
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“My ass hurts, but I’m good.”
Good, confused, obsessed.
He holds up a blanket, looking nonplussed, like he doesn’t know what to do with it or why he’s holding it. Makes mewant to laugh. But I don’t, because if I do, I might cry at how soft he is in this minute, how…vulnerable.
Mercer tucks it around me on the sofa in his upstairs library. He gives me a long, critical look, the maestro contemplating his masterpiece with uncertainty. He picks up a cushion and puts it down behind my head.
Then he turns, goes to the bar, and comes back with two drinks. Rum for me and expensive as hell scotch for him. He hands a glass to me, then realizes he’s tucked my arms in.
“For fuck’s sake.”
He puts the drinks down on the side table.
“I don’t know how to do this, Ivy. That was intense. Even for me.”
I stare at him, my lips falling open.
“You can close your fucking mouth, Pollyanna, before I close it for you.”
“With your cock?”
My words and their taunting tone hang in the air.
I know what’s wrong. He was in that subspace with me. Is there such a thing as a domspace? I don’t know enough about all this, but I’ve been in that place enough times to see it clearly now that we’re back. Mercer is softer, but not dreamy like me. He doesn’t know what to do because I don’t think he’s been so vulnerable…thisvulnerable…before.
And this time, I’m the one in charge. I can get him out. I throw off the blanket, stand up, and slowly strip off my clothes. My dress, underwear. But I keep the heels on. I think I love these black heels he got me.
I slowly walk up to him, swaying my hips. I’m no femme fatale, but I’m trying hard to look the part. The heat in his gold-flecked eyes tells me I’m doing something right.
