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She bursts out laughing, “I’m twenty-eight, but thank you for that. It’s every woman’s dream to look twice her age.”
I’m taken aback, actually thinking she was younger, perhaps twenty-three. But twenty-eight is the ideal age. She’s becoming increasingly irresistible.
Her laughter is infectious, filling the room with a warmth that matches the flickering candlelight. I can’t help but find myself drawn to her, not just because of her quick wit and easy smile, but also because of the genuine vulnerability she shares in these moments of honesty.
“Well, twenty-eight is the new twenty-one, right?” I quip, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of my lips. “Plenty of time left to find that ‘nice’ guy you’re holding out for.”
She rolls her eyes, nudging my shoulder with hers. “Thanks for the reminder. I was starting to feel ancient there for a second.”
We fall into an easy silence, the crackling of the storm outside providing a soothing backdrop to our conversation. It’s moments like this, where we can simply be ourselves without any pretense or expectations, that make me appreciate Ivy’s company even more.
As we sit there, lost in our thoughts, a crash of thunder startles us both, jolting us out of our reverie. Ivy lets out a surprised squeak, and I chuckle at her reaction.
“Looks like the storm isn’t quite done with us yet,” I remark, glancing out the window at the dark clouds swirling ominously overhead.
Ivy shakes her head. “I swear, this island must have some sort of vendetta against me.”
I laugh at her dramatic flair. “Maybe the island just wants to keep things interesting for us.”
She smirks. “Well, it’s definitely succeeding in that department. Look at how bad it’s getting out there. If they shut everything down at the resort, what are we supposed to do in this bungalow for an entire week?” She pouts her lips, and I try and fail not to get distracted at how tempting they look.
“I guess we’ll just have to find creative ways to pass the time,” I suggest with a mischievous grin.
She rolls her eyes—but slower this time, like even she knows it’s just for show.
The air shifts. Charged. Thicker.
Her lips part, and for a second, neither of us says anything. I watch the rise and fall of her chest, the way her fingers toy with the hem of the blanket like she’s grounding herself. Like she feels it too.
I lean in, just a little.
“We could play more cards,” I murmur, voice low. “Or…”
“Or?” she whispers, not meeting my eyes.
“Or I could show you what else I’m good at when I’m bored.”
Her gaze snaps to mine, wide and dark and so fucking tempting. Her cheeks flush, and her breath hitches just enough.
She narrows her eyes. “You’re impossible.”
I grin. “And yet… you haven’t told me to stop.”
She opens her mouth but another gust of wind rattles the bungalow, breaking the moment. She pulls the blanket tighter around her shoulders and stands, muttering something about getting more candles.
But not before I catch that smile—sharp, unguarded, trouble.
She thinks she’s playing the game. She doesn’t know I never lose.
And Ivy? She’s the kind of challenge I don’t walk away from.
I take. I win. I ruin.
CHAPTER 7
Ivy
The storm roars like it’s trying to claw its way inside, and yet somehow, it’s quieter than the chaos stirring inside me. Carter’s laugh lingers in the air, low and warm. He’s watching me in that quiet, unreadable way again—like I’m some puzzle he’s trying to figure out. Or maybe like he already has.