Page 19 of Recovering Ivy (Red Team #4)

Ivy

Sometime in the middle of the night I had tangled myself around Zane. After I had attacked him last night, then laid on top of him not wanting to lose the safety of his arms, I further embarrassed myself and basically made out with his neck.

What type of crazy person does that?

I was afraid to open my eyes. I knew he was awake.

He’d softly brushed the hair off my cheek, and his fingertips were brushing my lower back.

God, it felt so good when he touched me.

I really, really, did not want to have to face him.

I’d jumped him and used him. I’d even told him that was why I wanted to have sex with him.

It was a half-truth, so I didn’t feel bad about lying.

I did want him to make me forget, but more than that, I wanted him.

I shouldn’t. He was dangerous; he’d shatter my world without meaning to.

“I know you’re awake,” he said.

“UGH,” I groaned.

“Open your pretty eyes, baby.”

Why did he say shit like that to me? Those were falling in love words, not booty call, fantastic sex words. I could handle when he talked dirty to me in bed. It was all kinds of hot. But the sweet talk and the babies, those words were starting to melt my ice-cold heart.

It was too much.

When I cracked my eyes open, he was close, so close I could feel his breath fan across my face and all that came into focus were his sexy, deep-blue eyes.

No man should be this hot. It should be illegal.

Between his jet-black hair, blue eyes, dimples, hard body, very nice…

package, he was the perfect specimen of male beauty. I was powerless against him.

“Good morning,” I croaked.

“Sleep well?” He chuckled.

Jerk. He knew I had. After I’d fucked him in the guest room, he carried me back to his room, stripped me of my sleep shorts, and tucked us into bed. To say I was shocked when he pulled me close and wrapped his arms around me was an understatement.

Shit! I was naked. I fumbled with the sheet, trying to cover my exposed breasts.

That earned me another chuckle before he stopped my attempt at modesty.

He didn’t comment, he simply started to trace around my nipple with his fingertip.

I wanted him to stop, yet I arched into his touch.

Stop. Go. I couldn’t make up my mind. I couldn’t think with his hands on me.

“I need to apologize,” I started, knowing his extreme aversion of talking would more than likely make him stop and want to jump out of bed to get away from me.

“For what?” he asked and continued to trail his finger over the sensitive tissue, making my nipple pucker.

“For… you know, attacking you. Taking you against your will. ”

His hand fell away, his head hit the pillow behind him, and he roared with laughter. Damn, even his laugh was sexy. Deep and gravelly. It sent chills racing over my body. This was not good!

“Against my will,” he spoke through his hilarity. “That’s cute. Baby, you’re about as big as a sack of potatoes. You couldn’t take anything from me I didn’t want to give.”

Well, that pissed me off.

“Whatever,” I mumbled and in a fatal flaw I put my hand on his hard chest in an effort to push him away from me.

His hand moved to capture mine and he held them both against his bare skin. He was hot and hard and memories of using his chest to balance myself while I rode him last night came rushing back. My pussy clenched and my breasts swelled.

What the hell was wrong with me?

When his lips touched mine, I was lost. I hadn’t noticed when he’d rolled me to my back and spread my legs.

He broke the kiss and pecked the side of my mouth before his tongue trailed down the side of my neck.

I moved my head to the side to give him better access and he latched on, sucking and pulling my skin into his mouth; I knew I’d have another bruise.

Somewhere inside of me, deep in a secret place I didn’t want to acknowledge, I loved that I’d wear his mark.

It was possessive and animalistic and everything a modern independent woman should hate.

He pulled back and looked at my neck, a satisfied smile played at his lips before he looked at me.

Without breaking eye contact, his hips pulled back and I felt the head of his dick bump my wetness.

Zane’s features softened and with exceeding gentleness he slid fully inside me.

He waited a few moments before he started to move.

He set a slow, leisurely pace, like he had all the time in the world.

It wasn’t a race to completion, or a lust-fueled frenzy; it was a slow burn.

He was building and stoking, each measured thrust added more kindling to the fire.

Through it all he held my gaze. It was the single most intimate moment of my life.

I couldn’t hide from him, not physically, not emotionally.

And he couldn’t hide from me. Zane was giving me a gift, one I was afraid was the kiss of death.

He allowed me to see him , not the man he described last night, but the man he truly was but would deny.

The inferno built, and I was afraid for it to end.

Afraid this was Zane’s way of saying goodbye.

I knew as soon as it was over he’d pull away.

It shouldn’t have mattered, but it did. Now that I’d seen the pain, regret, and sorrow he carried, I didn’t want it taken away.

But like everything with Zane, I couldn’t stop it. The fire had been built, and stoked, and the end was now. My hips bucked, and my head thrashed, causing me to lose sight of his face.

“Eyes, Ivy. I want you to watch me.” Watch him? What? His words weren’t registering. “Watch me, baby. Open your eyes so I can see you come with me.”

I tried to focus, I really did, but as a tidal wave of pleasure washed over me, I could barely contain my pleas for more.

“Zane!” I whined. “Please, baby. Please, don’t stop.”

His body tightened, and his dick seemed to swell because his movements became jerky and he lost the slow rhythm.

“What did you say?” he growled. Gone was the gentle Zane and in his place was a feral beast.

His hips slammed into mine and another orgasm was building much too quick.

“Don’t stop,” I repeated .

He hitched my leg up high, giving him a new, deeper angle.

“Not that.” I didn’t understand what he was asking. “You called me baby .” His face twisted and sweat beaded on his forehead. “Say it again!” he demanded.

Zane continued with fast, short strokes but he added his unmoving thumb on my clit. He waited his thumb simply resting on the sensitive area. I needed more. I rocked my hips trying to gain the much-needed friction, but he stopped me.

“Say it again and I’ll give you what you want.”

“Please baby,” I moaned. “I need more. I’m so close.”

His head fell forward and he closed his eyes, his face once again relaxed, and he started adding pressure to my clit. Slow circles became faster ones before he changed to a hard, back-and-forth rub.

“Shit.” That was the spot. “Don’t. I’m. Please. Baby!” I yelled and let go.

Pleasure mingled with pain as my orgasm seemed to last forever.

“Ivy.” Zane’s voice pulled me from the euphoria. “Watch me come for you.”

When he threw his head back and moaned my name, I was grateful he’d demanded I watch. It was a thing of beauty. His muscles bunched. I could see his heart rate pounding in his neck, his dick throbbed inside of me, but the most magnificent part was, Zane Lewis was completely serene.

I wondered if the tranquility I saw was the result of his orgasm or if I’d had the same calming effect he had on me. I hoped that was the case.

Was it possible for two fucked-up, broken people to find solace in one another?