Chapter 12
twelve
Mateo
Mateo:
How’s the research going?
Ivy:
You think I’d use that stuff?
Mateo:
Visualize with me…
Nessa, wearing her teen idol T-shirt, chugging electrolytes from the veiny straw between rounds with each of the toys.
Ivy:
Uh, okay. The only part you have correct is that I’m walking around with Taylor Lautner’s face plastered to my chest.
Mateo:
That’s fair. You are classy. How about this vibrator instead? Link to Lelo Inez
Ivy:
OH! ONLY $20K? Sure. I’ll go order that right now. smirk emoji
Mateo:
Are you more of a gold or silver person?
Ivy:
middle finger emoji x2
Mateo:
One of each?
Never mind, I’ll pick.
Expect a package soon.
Ivy:
You did not!!!
Mateo:
Guess you’ll find out wink emoji
Can I send her a twenty-thousand-dollar vibrator just because? I can.
Would it be reasonable? Not even close.
Plus, now that I’ve sent her the link, I’ve removed the element of surprise.
Instead, I find something better and choose rush shipping.
Then I watch the status updates, tracking the package from pending to shipping.
From the warehouse to the first postal stop, then another.
After another few days, it’s arrived in the US.
Next, it’s with the local mail carrier. It’s delivered to her house on Dragonfly Lane.
It’ll be waiting for her on her doorstep when I drop her off after work.
The whole way home, I work overtime to put a lid on my enthusiasm. I’m giddy, amped up like a puppy with zoomies. But I don’t want to ruin the surprise.
It only took a couple of days to discover that the key to unlocking playful Nessa was a great playlist. As a man who grew up surrounded by people who loved to break out the karaoke machine at parties, I’ve been training for this my whole life.
I distract her from my giddiness by putting on a playlist full of high-energy girlie pop artists. My smiles don’t raise suspicion since I’m also belting out bangers.
In the car like this, she becomes my favorite version of Nessa. She’s a series of perfect contradictions: tough, feminine, empathetic, and brilliant, while also being biting and sarcastic. And she takes no shit.
“How is my pop princess today?” I’m cheesing hard; I can’t help it.
“Obsessed with this playlist and, actually, kind of relaxed.” She sighs, her lips tipping up, but before I can respond, she snaps straight and says, “And that is not because of your cheap gag gift sex toys. Don’t even.”
“Of course not, princess. Only the best for you.” I glance her way and give her a wink.
“Oh no. No.” She groans, turning the music down. “Princess will not be the nickname you use.”
“All right, how about cutie?”
She cringes.
“Babydoll?”
“Hell no.”
“How about I just stick with Ivy?”
On that, she relents and then does a double take. “Wait. You didn’t.”
“What did I do?” I keep my eyes on the road as I merge into traffic. “Or not do?”
“You didn’t buy that five-figure vibrator you texted me, did you?” She hides her face in her hands. This is so cute. She’s afraid of what I might say.
“No way. I’m far too economical for that. I am much better at hunting for subtle luxury.” I can’t help but let that last part slip. The anticipation is killing me.
“What?” she asks, fast and sharp.
“What?” I reply, brow cocked. “I guess you’ll find out.”
Much sooner than she realizes.
It takes two hours for Nessa to come pounding on my door like the four horsemen of the apocalypse have arrived.
Like a predator, I’m ready to go in for the kill.
The first thing she’ll see is my wardrobe change: light gray sweatpants slung low so the waistband of my boxer briefs is on display. No shirt. The nervous energy had me doing pushups to keep myself busy, and it got too sweaty.
Slowly, I pull the door open and rest an arm against the frame.
“Fancy seeing you here.” I can no longer contain my smile, knowing that dimple she pretends not to love is on full display.
The tiny tornado I’m met with is adorable. With one arm around a cardboard box, she pushes me back into the house and stomps in behind me.
“What… the… fuck?—”
I steal the words from her mouth with a kiss as fiery as her entrance. After waiting seventeen weeks and a day—not that I’m counting—to kiss her again, I can’t resist any longer.
She must feel it too, because she kisses me back just as fervently. I graze her lower lip with my teeth and lightly nip. She swipes back with a press of her tongue, and we continue to devour each other in a frenzy.
She’s terrifying in the best way. I cannot keep my wits about me with her. She’s soft and pliant, yet she fights me for control with her own intensity. Powerful and so fucking beautiful.
“Tell me what’s on your research list, Ivy.” I press open-mouthed kisses to her neck, then nip at her earlobe. From there, I kiss and lick and bite my way down to the pulse point at the base of her throat.
Back pressed against the closet door, she wraps one leg around me. I palm her ass and lift, and she clutches the back of my head. The way her fingers comb my hair and mix between soft scratches and yanks sends electricity through me.
“You. Infuriating. Immature. Insufferable. Man,” she says between kisses. “You think you can just send me a full catalog of products, and then what?”
Without breaking contact, I stumble to the living room. She slides down my body, slow enough to slightly rub herself over the growing tent in my pants.
“Sit.” She points at the couch, and as I soon as I do, she shoves the box at me.
“Then what? I hoped you’d show up here mad as hell. Which you did. I hoped you’d be too angry and turned on to restrain yourself. Like you’ve been. We didn’t even break a rule. This is necessary touching. You were doing something fun, just for yourself.”
I grasp her arm and pull her onto the couch beside me, then draw a light line along her jaw and tilt her face so our eyes meet.
“If everything goes according to my plan, I’m one screaming match from finding out what’s on your list.” I bite my knuckles and consider pushing this a bit farther.
“Once I start to check those boxes, you’ll be all”—I raise the pitch of my voice—“oh, Matty. This was so much better than having to think about rules or ex-boyfriends.”
I kiss the tip of her nose and pull back, making sure to give her my best smolder, then I take a calculated risk.
Returning my voice to its normal register, I say, “We can benefit from this fake relationship.”
“Listen, Scarecrow, if you only had a brain, this would be so much easier. Let me use words that you can understand. This. Is. A. Terrible. Idea.”
Swallowing the hit to my pride, I feign disinterest and look down at my watch.
“Right on time. Listen to me for a minute here, killer. You said you’ve only been with three men.
You don’t want to date and won’t while we’re faking this thing anyway.
So take advantage of me. Form your own opinions.
It’s a win-win for your brand; you’ll improve your podcast. Then, by going back for seconds with me, it keeps your precious body count down. ”
Bringing up body counts was a gamble. A long shot for sure. But based on the ice replacing the fire in her eyes, I went bust.
Rearing back, she flashes both middle fingers at me. “Fuck off, asshole. Next, you’ll ask me how many blow jobs I’ve given or make that stupid fucking joke again.”
My gut plummets. What joke?
“God, sleeping with you was the worst mistake I’ve ever made.”
She stands and scrambles for the door. Before I can get to her, she’s stepping into her warm, furry boots and slamming the door behind her.
Shit. I can’t let her walk home alone.
I dart to the kitchen, where I left my shirt, then stuff my feet into my sneakers. “Nessa, wait,” I call, still tugging the shirt over my head. “Hold up a minute. Can I?—”
She pops in one earbud, then the other. As she stalks away, she sings along to the song. I’m trying to catch the lyrics, but all I hear is the word poison over and over.
She’s so fucking cute, even when she’s probably plotting my murder.
I follow several steps behind her the whole way.
Her light pink coat sways as she dances.
Her long, thick blond hair is in these adorable big French braid pigtails.
And her smile is larger with each passing house.
Instead of pushing it farther, I just soak up the sight of her.
Once she’s inside her house, I make my way toward the park before looping around town and heading home to sleep.
When I get into bed, all I can think about are those kisses, causing me to end another day fucking my fist with visions of her in my head. Except this time, her citrus vanilla scent lingers on me.