Chapter 4
GUNNAR
Iwas still reeling from what Ivy said at the diner.
I want it to be with you.
The words had been playing on repeat in my head for the past half hour. A beautiful, intelligent woman had just told me she wanted me to be her first, and instead of taking her straight back to my place like every instinct demanded, here I was suggesting we sit in the cold and play detective.
But maybe that was exactly what we both needed. Time to let the weight of her confession settle, to make sure we were both thinking clearly before we crossed a line there’d be no coming back from.
Still, having her this close, knowing what she wanted… It was taking every ounce of self-control I possessed not to forget all about soap thieves and Christmas tree vandals.
It was pretty moronic to sit here staking out the vendor booths like some pair of low-rent cops who hadn’t been properly trained for the job.
Now that we’d eaten our dinner, we’d be better off heading back, sitting in the warmth of my truck with the heater blasting, because whoever was stealing her soaps and cutting wires likely hadn’t come here on foot.
But I wanted to be here with her. And this was a damn good excuse. The only excuse I could think of right now.
“I’ll head to Hartsville tomorrow and see if I can grab a security camera,” I said. “We could position it near the entrance and point it at all the booths.”
“You’d do that for me?”
She looked over at me. We were seated side-by-side, our feet dangling off the riser they’d installed to act as a makeshift stage for the tree lighting ceremony tomorrow night.
“Of course,” I said. “I’m sitting out here in the cold for you.”
“Yeah, we probably should go,” she said.
I winced. I hadn’t meant that to be a complaint, but she’d apparently taken it that way. I didn’t want to give her a reason to leave.
“No, this is great,” I said. “Plus, it’s an important cause. We worked hard to get this lighting up and going again. The last thing I want is to spend all day tomorrow redoing it.”
“But we can’t sit here all night. We both need sleep.”
She was right, but damn if I would be able to sleep after what she’d said at the diner.
It still hung in the air between us. She was a virgin—not just that, but she wanted me to be her first. The knowledge had my cock pressing urgently against my zipper, and having her seated right next to me, our arms touching through our thick coats, was only making it worse.
“We can go if you want, but I’m kind of enjoying spending time with you,” I said.
Honesty was the best policy. Or so I’d been told all my life. But in the seconds that passed as she said absolutely nothing, I started to question that old wisdom. Maybe I’d said too much, too soon.
“Have you been picturing me naked?”
At her words, I sucked in a deep breath. If I’d been drinking something, I would have choked on it. Talk about honesty. It was an honest question, and I needed to give an honest answer.
“Since the second I met you,” I said.
“You say that like it should be understood.”
I looked over at her. “Shouldn’t it? You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
That brought her head around. She stared at me, her eyes wide, her lips slightly parted as she took me in.
“Nobody’s ever said that to me before.”
“That you’re beautiful?”
“Yeah. Cute. Pretty. Great personality. Such a pretty face. All the usual backhanded compliments curvy women like me get.”
“People are idiots,” I said.
“They were just kids,” she said. “And some adults who didn’t know better.”
Whoever they were, I wanted to have a talk with each and every one of them. Anyone who made this beautiful angel feel self-conscious about herself was on my shit list.
“Well, anyone who can’t see how beautiful you are is just plain blind,” I said.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
The words hung between us in the cold night air, and I found myself leaning closer. She smelled like pine and winter berries—like her soaps—mixed with something that was purely Ivy. Something warm and sweet that made my chest tighten.
“Ivy,” I said, her name coming out rougher than I intended.
She turned toward me, and suddenly we were so close I could see the faint freckles across her nose, could feel her breath against my cheek. Her eyes dropped to my mouth, then back up to meet mine.
“Yes?”
Instead of answering, I cupped her face in my hands. Her skin was cold from the night air, but soft as silk under my palms. “Can I kiss you?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” she whispered.
I leaned in slowly, giving her time to change her mind, but she met me halfway. Our lips touched—soft, tentative at first. A gentle brush that sent electricity shooting straight through me.
Then she made a small sound in the back of her throat, and something in me snapped. I kissed her deeper, harder, pulling her closer until she was practically in my lap on the stage riser. Her hands fisted in my jacket, holding on as I explored her mouth with mine.
She tasted like soda and possibility, like everything I’d been missing without knowing it. When she opened for me, letting me deepen the kiss even further, I had to fight not to groan out loud.
We broke apart, both breathing hard. Her lips were swollen, her cheeks flushed pink in the dim light from the festival decorations.
“Wow,” she breathed.
“Yeah.” I rested my forehead against hers, trying to get my heart rate under control. “Wow.”
She was quiet for a moment, then looked up at me with those beautiful eyes. “Gunnar?”
“Yeah?”
“I think we should go somewhere more private.”
Heat shot through me like lightning. “You sure?”
“Very sure.”
Her voice was steady, but I could see the nervousness in her expression. The trust. She was putting herself completely in my hands.
I stood up on the riser and jumped down, then turned back to help her. My hands spanned her waist as I lifted her, and I couldn’t resist pulling her against me for another kiss once her feet touched the ground.
“Come on,” I said, taking her hand. “I know a place.”
I led her around the back of the festival area, past the rows of vendor booths to where the organizers stored extra supplies and equipment. There were stacks of folding tables, extra decorations, and piles of hay bales that had been used for autumn displays but never cleared away.
It was darker here, more secluded, but still close enough that we could hear if anyone approached the festival grounds. Perfect for keeping watch. Perfect for other things too.
“Here,” I said, gesturing to the hay bales. “It’s not exactly romantic, but—”
Ivy stepped closer, placing her hands on my chest. “It’s perfect.”
The way she looked at me—like I was everything she’d been waiting for—made my chest tight. I couldn’t speak, so I showed her instead, capturing her mouth with mine in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was a claiming, a promise, a raw need that had been building since I first saw her.
Her fingers scrambled at the buttons of my jacket, pushing it from my shoulders.
I let it fall, my own hands sliding up her back, under the thick wool of her sweater.
She was warm and soft, and I groaned into her mouth as my palms traveled the length of her spine.
I found the delicate clasp of her bra, my fingers fumbling for a second before the hooks gave way.
I broke the kiss, my forehead resting against hers as my hands splayed over the newly bared skin of her back. “Ivy,” I breathed, the name a prayer.
Her answer was to step back, her eyes locked on mine. With a shrug, she let her own coat fall to the dusty floor. Then, without breaking eye contact, she gripped the hem of her sweater and pulled it and the loosened bra over her head in one fluid motion.
The air left my lungs. She stood before me, bathed in the sliver of moonlight filtering through a crack in the wall. Her skin was pale and luminous, her breasts full and perfect, tipped with rosy peaks that tightened in the chilly air.
“Jesus, Ivy. You’ll freeze,” I managed to say, my voice rough with want.
A small, brave smile touched her lips. “Then you’ll have to keep me warm.”
The invitation was all I needed. I closed the distance between us, my hands coming up to cup her face, my thumbs stroking her cheeks as I kissed her with a reverence I didn’t know I possessed. She melted against me, her bare skin searing through my flannel shirt.
She took my hand and led me to the hay bale. With a look of pure, potent desire that nearly brought me to my knees, she lay back, her dark hair fanning out against the rough material. She held out a hand.
“Gunnar.”
My name on her lips was my undoing. I stepped between her legs, bracing my hands on either side of her head as I lowered myself over her.
The scent of hay and her perfume and pure, unadulterated woman filled my senses.
I kissed her again, deep and slow, as my hand trailed down the delicious curve of her side, over the waistband of her jeans, to the button there.
My fingers were thick and clumsy with need. I fumbled with the fastening, a frustrated growl rumbling in my chest.
“Let me,” she whispered, her own fingers deft and sure.
The button popped open, the zipper hissed down.
Together, we pushed the denim over her hips, down her legs.
She kicked off her shoes, and I pulled her jeans and the scrap of lace that was her underwear away, tossing them onto the growing pile of clothes.
She was completely bare to me now, open and trusting. I knelt between her legs, drinking in the sight of her. I placed a hand on each of her inner thighs, gently urging them wider. She trembled, but not from the cold.
“Look at you,” I said. “So beautiful.”
I lowered my head and tasted her.
Her gasp was sharp, her hips lifting off the hay bale.
I held her firmly, my tongue finding her center, laving the sensitive nub with slow, deliberate strokes.
She was sweet and musky, and her little cries were the most exquisite music I’d ever heard.
I slid one finger inside her, feeling her hot, tight warmth clench around me.
“Gunnar…I…I can’t…” she panted, her hands tangling in my hair.
“You can,” I said against her, adding a second finger, curving them just so. “Let go, Ivy. Come for me.”
I increased the pressure of my tongue, the rhythm of my fingers, and felt the tension coiling deep within her.
Her breaths came in ragged sobs, her thighs tightening around my head.
With a broken cry that was my name, she shattered.
Her body convulsed around my fingers, her release washing over her in powerful, pulsing waves.
I gentled my touch, drawing out her pleasure until her body went limp beneath me, spent and trembling. I pressed a soft kiss to her inner thigh before rising to my knees.
Her eyes were closed, a look of stunned, sated bliss on her beautiful face. I stood, my own body screaming for release. I made quick work of my belt, the button of my jeans, the zipper. I shoved them and my boxer briefs down just enough to free my aching erection.
Ivy’s eyes fluttered open. Her gaze dropped, and her lips parted in a soft ‘o’ of awe and desire. She looked from my length back to my face, her expression one of raw need.
I placed a hand on her knee, my thumb stroking her skin. My voice was low, guttural, strained with the effort of holding back.
“Are you ready?”