CHAPTER 7
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.
The flickering candlelight throws shadows across his jaw, his cheekbones, his eyes—those stormy, unreadable eyes. It’s unfair, really, how good he looks in low light. How comfortable he seems while I’m over here trying not to combust from the heat creeping up my spine.
“I guess we’ll just have to find creative ways to pass the time,” he says, that grin tugging at the corners of his lips again.
I raise an eyebrow. “Creative like arts and crafts, or creative like… murder mystery roleplay?”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Depends. Are you always this dramatic?”
“Only when trapped in paradise with a cocky stranger and no Wi-Fi.”
His smirk deepens. “You could just admit you’re enjoying my company. I mean, you are my wife, after all.”
I scoff. “Don’t flatter yourself. And thank you for dinner, I had a great time.”
Lightning cracks so loudly it vibrates through the floor. I jump before I can stop myself, the sound punching straight through my chest. Carter doesn’t say anything, just gently reaches over and pulls the blanket from around my shoulders. His fingers skim my skin for a moment—barely a touch, but it sears straight through me.
He drapes the blanket over both of us.
Then… he stays close. Too close.
I glance at him, heart pounding. “Is this part of the creative time-passing plan?”
“Would you believe me if I said I’m just trying to keep you warm and comfortable?”
“I think you just like the excuse.”
He doesn’t answer. Just looks at me and I can see the hunger in his eyes.
The silence stretches. Tightens. I swallow. “This is dangerous.”
His brow lifts. “The storm?”
I shake my head, barely above a whisper. “This.”
Carter shifts slightly, facing me fully now under the blanket. “You think I haven’t noticed it too?”
My breath catches.
“The way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention,” he says softly. “The way your lips twitch when you’re trying not to laugh at my jokes. The way your eyes soften when you forget to hate me.”
My stomach knots in that delicious, terrifying way that signals I’m past the point of return.
“You’re imagining things,” I murmur.
“Am I?” His voice drops lower, rougher. “Because I’ve been trying to be good. To give you space. But every second we’re in this bungalow together, I keep thinking about what it would be like to break the rules.”
I freeze.
His hand brushes my thigh under the blanket—gentle, questioning, not pushing.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, his voice just above a whisper. “Ivy, if you don’t want this, say it now.”
I don’t.
God help me, I don’t want him to stop.
I reach up instead, fingers brushing the edge of his jaw, the faint stubble rough against my skin. His breath hitches as I trace the line of his cheekbone, letting my hand fall to the base of his throat where his pulse thrums wildly beneath my touch.
And then I lean in.
Our lips meet like they’ve been waiting for permission.
It’s not a soft kiss. Not hesitant. It’s slow but firm, a claiming of something that’s been simmering for days now, ever since I mistook his suitcase for mine.
He groans into my mouth, one hand sliding behind my neck, the other gripping my waist like he’s afraid I’ll vanish. I press closer, threading my fingers into his hair, gasping as he deepens the kiss, his mouth moving against mine like he’s unraveling me on purpose.
When we finally pull apart, we’re both breathing hard, our foreheads pressed together, the air thick and heavy with what we’ve just crossed into.
“Ivy,” he murmurs hoarsely. “This doesn’t have to mean anything.”
But I already know it does.
Because I’ve never kissed someone like this—someone who makes the whole damn world fall away.
I pull back just far enough to look at him. “I know. But right now… I want this. I want you.”
Carter doesn’t move for a beat. Then, he nods—like he’s made peace with something inside himself—and leans in again, his mouth finding mine with even more urgency.
We lose ourselves after that.
The blanket falls to the floor.
His hands are everywhere—gripping my thighs, sliding under my shirt, pushing it up, bunching the fabric just beneath my arms until I lift them and let him pull it off entirely.
My bra follows, unclasped and tossed aside like he’s been waiting to do that since the moment we met.
He groans when he sees me—eyes dark, greedy, starved.
He lowers his mouth, dragging his tongue over my nipple, teasing it until it’s tight and aching. His other hand cups my other breast, fingers rolling over the peak until I’m arching into him, moaning shamelessly.
“Fuck, you’re unreal,” he breathes against my neck, his voice ragged with need. The heat of his breath sends a shiver racing down my spine. “I’ve thought about this—about you—more times than I should’ve. And now that I have you… I’m not holding back.”
“Then stop thinking,” I breathe, grabbing his face and kissing him again, rougher this time. “And do something about it.”
That’s all it takes. The restraint breaks and he lifts me off the couch like I weigh nothing, laying me down beneath him. He impatiently pulls off my donut-themed pajama shorts in one swift motion, taking my panties with them.
His mouth follows, dragging down my body in a trail of fire—nipping, kissing, tasting until he’s between my thighs, and I’m already shaking.
He spreads me open with his thumbs, eyes locked on mine as he leans in and licks a slow, firm stripe right up my center.
I gasp, hips bucking. But his hands are on my thighs, holding me in place, his tongue working me with long, deliberate strokes. He circles my clit, slow at first, then faster, sucking just enough to send sparks through my entire body.
I grip the couch cushions, moaning louder than I mean to. “Carter… please, don’t stop.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs, voice thick with lust.
When I come, it’s with a cry so sharp it echoes through the bungalow, my legs trembling as he keeps his mouth on me, drawing it out, licking me through every wave until I’m gasping his name.
He kisses his way back up my body eyes filled with desire.
“You taste like donuts,” he murmurs, taking aim at my pajama shorts.
Ugh! Why did I wear those shorts tonight? After a nice dinner, I could have tried a little harder.
“Are you seriously trying to make a joke right now?” I reach down and wrap my hand around his length, and my breath hitches at how hard, long, and thick he is—veins pulsing, the head already glistening with arousal. His jaw clenches as I stroke him, slow at first, then firmer. He hisses through his teeth, eyes fluttering shut for half a second.
“You keep doing that, and I’m not gonna last,” he growls.
“I don’t want you to last,” I whisper. “I want you inside me. Now.”
That’s all it takes. He shifts between my thighs, teasing my wet pussy with the tip of his huge cock. My body aches for him so badly that it burns. And then he slowly starts sliding into me. I feel every damn inch as he buries himself deeply inside of me. I feel my center stretching open, and the pain is almost unbearable.
Fuck, I don’t think I can handle all of him. But I want to, I want to so badly. Carter’s huge cock is penetrating parts of me I didn’t even know were within reach. I bite my lips to keep from screaming from the pain and the unexpected pleasure that I get from him filling me so deep I can’t breathe for a second.
My head falls back, a guttural moan escaping me. “Carter—”
“Shhh,” he murmurs, kissing my neck. “Just feel it.”
He starts to move, hips rolling, thrusting slow and deep. Every time he pushes in, it knocks the air from my lungs and lights my nerves on fire. He’s big—thick and perfect—and I swear he hits a spot that makes my vision blur.
“Faster,” I pant.
He obliges, picking up speed, gripping my thighs tighter as his hips snap into me with more force, more hunger. Skin slapping against skin. His name falling from my lips over and over.
It’s wild and messy and so damn good.
I hook my legs around his waist, dragging him deeper. He thrusts harder, faster, the couch groaning beneath us.
“You feel…” he pants, head lowering to my shoulder. “Damn Ivy, you feel so fucking wet on my cock… fuck!”
I bite his shoulder to keep from screaming but then he thrusts into me with long, fast strokes, and I can’t hold it in any longer.
I cry out when he slams into me so hard we lose all sense of rhythm. He growls my name like it’s the only thing anchoring him, fingers digging into my hips as he drives deeper, chasing that final, blinding release.
We crash over the edge together—him shuddering inside me with a guttural moan, and me unraveling around him, body shaking as pleasure rips through me again.
He stays there for a beat, still inside me, his forehead pressed to mine. Our chests rise and fall in sync.
No words. Just heaving breathing.
Eventually, he pulls out gently, disappearing for a second before returning with a towel, wiping me off with surprising tenderness. I smile, too spent to speak.
He lies down beside me, pulling the blanket back up, wrapping an arm around my waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
We fall asleep like that. Tethered.
Outside, the storm rages on. But for one night, at least, we don’t worry about the world waiting beyond the walls.
There’s only Carter. And me.
And the fire we finally stopped pretending not to feel.
***
I don’t know what wakes me. The wind? A shift in the air?
Then I hear it.
A voice. His voice.
Low. Soft.
Coming from the living room.
I sit up slowly, careful not to make a sound as I shift toward the cracked bedroom door. The soft glow of a lamp bleeds in from the hallway.
“I miss you too, baby.”
The words land like a slap. My breath stalls in my chest.
“I’ll be home next week, I promise.”
Carter’s voice is a low murmur, the kind reserved for someone special. Someone he cares about.
“I love you, too, sweetheart. You know you mean everything to me.”
My throat tightens. The sheets feel suffocating now.
“I promise I won’t miss it, okay? Alright.”
I don’t hear the other side of the conversation, but I don’t need to.
I’ve heard enough. I press a hand to my mouth to keep quiet, my heart hammering so loud I swear it could echo through the walls. I lie back down slowly, curling onto my side with my back to the door.
A few moments later, the hallway light clicks off. The floor creaks under his steps. He doesn’t come straight to bed. He pauses in the doorway. I feel him watching me. Then the mattress dips behind me. Sheets rustle. His breathing evens out beside me.
He thinks I’m asleep. And I wish I was. Because I don’t know what hurts more—how real it all felt, or how stupid I was to believe it could’ve been.
My heart feels like it’s folding in on itself. I keep my breathing steady, my back to him, every muscle in my body tight and still. I don’t move. Don’t flinch. Don’t say a word. Because if I do, I might scream.
All that talk. All those stolen looks. That ridiculous pineapple drink. He said I make things complicated, that he came here for peace. But now I know the truth. He already has someone waiting for him.
Someone he loves. And that damn sure isn’t me.