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When Sawyer and Larry had told her about his illness, she had assumed he had deliberately stayed overseas for five years. She had never imagined that his condition had been so severe—that it had taken him more than four years to recover.
Christian hadn’t wanted to interfere in her life or burden her with his illness. That was why he hadn’t reached out. He had stayed away until he was well enough to come back.
Hank stood up. “Alright, go out now. That brat must be losing his mind over what I’m talking to you about for so long.”
Ivy gave him a faint smile, but her heart was already racing as she hurried out of the room.
As she stepped into the hall, her gaze landed on Christian. He was standing across the room, carefully setting up a plate of food for her, placing everything down with precise attention.
A lump formed in her throat.
The moment she saw him, she ran to him.
The sound of her footsteps made him look up, but before he could react, she threw herself into his arms, pressing her body against him.
Her soft curves molded into his firm chest, her breath shaky, her fingers gripping his shirt tightly. Her face buried in his chest, her body trembled, and warm tears spilled from her eyes, one after another.
Christian’s arms wrapped around her, his hand resting low on her back. He didn’t see the tears in her eyes.
Having her cling to him, he chuckled, his voice warm. “I’m happy to have you back too.”
She pulled back from the hug, but before he could say another word, her hands gripped his shoulders. She arched up on her toes, and in the next second, her lips crashed against his.
The kiss was deep, desperate, filled with everything she couldn’t put into words.
When she finally pulled away, breathless, her gaze burned into his. Her hands gripped his shoulders. She arched up on her toes, and in the next second, her breath fanned against his ear.
“I don’t want to have dinner right now,” she whispered. “I want to be in bed with you.”
The words had barely left her mouth before Christian lifted her into his arms, more than happy to oblige as he carried her straight to his bedroom.
The bedroom was a quiet mix of old and new, a reflection of the boy Christian had once been and the man he had become.
Dark mahogany paneling lined the walls, and a sleek king-sized bed with crisp white sheets sat at the center, framed by a tufted black headboard. Floor-to-ceiling windows, covered with sheer curtains, let in the soft evening light, casting faint shadows across the dark wood floors.
A few remnants of his childhood remained—a shelf of old trophies and a framed photo of his younger self with his dad—but the rest of the room spoke of quiet luxury. A marble fireplace, a leather armchair, and a glass coffee table gave it a modern, understated elegance.
The moment the door shut behind them, he pressed her against it, his large hands gripping her thighs, spreading them around his waist. The room’s quiet stillness contrasted with the storm in his gaze.
He pinned her against the door, his body pressing flush against hers. His grip tightened at her waist, feeling the curve of her hips mold against him. Her breath hitched as his fingers slid down her back, pressing her closer, their bodies flush, no space between them.
His breathing was heavy, controlled, but she could feel the tension in his muscles, the restraint he was barely holding onto.
His hands roamed her body, sliding under her dress, palms skimming the bare skin of her thighs.
She gasped as he suddenly hoisted her higher against the door, his grip firm as her legs wrapped around his waist. A deep groan rumbled in his throat as she instinctively ground against him, the heat of her core pressing against his hard length.
Her chest rose and fell quickly, her breath shallow. His fingers trailed higher, pushing the fabric up, exposing more of her.
“Christian…” she breathed.
His mouth crashed onto hers.
The kiss was deep, hungry, their lips colliding with a desperate intensity. His tongue pushed past her lips, claiming her in a way that left her breathless.
She moaned into his mouth, her fingers threading through his dark hair, pulling him closer, needing more.
Christian groaned, pressing her tighter against the door, his hips grinding into hers. She could feel every hard inch of him through his pants, making heat pool low in her stomach.