But Ivy didn’t spare him a glance. She turned away from the kitchen island and walked off without a word.
Jamison just chuckled, a sly, wicked grin tugging at his lips, and fell into step behind her–picking up the pace as he closed the distance.
Ivy didn’t look back, but her instincts screamed “danger.” Suddenly, she spun around–and saw him reaching out for her. She yelped and bolted, but he was too quick.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
In one swift motion, she was swept off her feet, lifted high into the air. Startled, she cried out again, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck to keep from falling.
That reaction was exactly what Jamison wanted, and he burst out laughing.
“Jamison!” Ivy fumed, her voice sharp with playful annoyance.
He was all smiles as he leaned down and kissed her, tasting the lingering sweetness of tea on her lips–and he was instantly, completely lost in her.
Held tight in his arms, Ivy’s feet no longer touched the ground. There was no escaping him, so she let him take the lead.
Maybe it was the adrenaline from before, but a flicker of longing sparked inside her. Her resistance faded quickly, melting into acquiescence–first passively, then with growing eagerness, matching his rhythm.
Jamison noticed the change in her right away. His face lit up with delight as he nudged the bedroom door open wider with his foot and carried her straight to the
bed.
But suddenly, Ivy snapped back to herself.
A jolt of panic shot through her. She lifted her head, trying to wriggle free, but Jamison reacted instantly/calling her name-“Ivy, it’s me!”
Their eyes
met, and the fear in Ivy’s gaze eased, just a little.
“I’m sorry, I…” she murmured, biting her lip, searching for the words.
Before she could finish, Jamison spoke gently, “It’s okay. I get it. Just rest, alright?
I’m not going to do anything.”
She nodded silently and let her head sink back onto the pillow.
His scent lingered all around her. She swallowed, taking a deep breath to steady her racing heart.
But even after a long while, her thoughts were a tangled mess.
Jamison left the room to grab his phone. When he returned and saw her still tossing and turning, he switched off the ceiling light, then sat beside her on the bed. In a low voice, he asked, “Can’t sleep?”
Bathed in the soft, golden glow of the bedside lamp, Ivy looked up at him and mumbled, “Maybe I’m just not used to sleeping somewhere new…”
He grinned and stretched out beside her, propping himself up on one arm so they were face to face. “My bed’s really comfortable, you know. I even change the sheets every few days. It’s spotless.”
“I’m not complaining about
“I know.”
your bed.”
She fell quiet, but her eyes drifted to his bare, sculpted chest–rising and falling with every breath, shadows flickering over his muscles like some wild creature lurking in the dark.
A million thoughts raced through her mind. After a moment of silence, she blurted out, “Have you ever… done this before?”
Jamison blinked, caught off guard by the sudden question.
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