Chapter 25 Caleb
I woke up this morning with Ivy wrapped around me like some kind of affection-starved python, her thigh thrown across mine.
For a solid minute, I'd laid there. The world's most conflicted statue, cataloging every soft curve pressed against me, before my brain kicked in and I'd carefully extracted myself.
And now, because Matt couldn't keep his mouth shut about this "mandatory" dance lesson over breakfast, I'm watching Kristal strut toward us in what appears to be an entire craft store's worth of sequins.
I was planning to skip it, maybe fake spontaneous combustion, or blame food poisoning from that sketchy egg-white omelet.
But then Ivy lit up at the idea. And apparently, I'm physically incapable of saying no when she gets that sparkly-eyed look.
So here I am, about to voluntarily press myself against Ivy while some bedazzled pocket rocket yells at me about "feeling the rhythm in my soul." Just what I need after spending all morning trying to forget how perfectly she fit against me.
"Dude." Matt elbows me, his shit-eating grin already in place. "You sure you remember how to lead? It's been a while since you danced with anything besides your Xbox controller."
I flip him off without looking. Sarah catches it and sighs. "Boys, please."
"What?" Matt wraps an arm around her waist. "I'm making sure my little brother doesn't embarrass himself."
"When have I ever—" I start, but Ivy walks in and my entire vocabulary evaporates.
She's wearing a tiny white dress that's testing every shred of my self-control.
It clings in all the right places, draping soft over her hips, hugging her chest as if it was tailored to ruin me.
There's a slit that flashes enough thigh to keep my brain short-circuiting, and she's got these bedroom eyes going; lips painted the exact shade of bad decisions I excel at making.
Sweet mother of porn.
"You were saying?" Matt mutters, and I realize I'm eye-fucking her.
"Shut up."
"I bet you're already thinking about the horizontal tango—"
"Drop it."
But he's not wrong, and that's the fucking problem.
Of course I want to rail Ivy six ways from Sunday.
I've got a pulse, and she's . . . well, she's the kind of hot that makes you forget how to spell your own name.
Would I fuck her? Obviously. But there's more than that carnal need when it comes to her.
That's what makes this so dangerous. Because Ivy isn't another girl I want to bend over the nearest surface. She's more. And that thought terrifies me more than any boner-induced awkwardness ever could.
"Alright, my sweet things!" Kristal claps her hands, her fake eyelashes batting. "First, we warm up. Emotionally and physically. Love starts in the heart, but it lives in the hips!"
Matt wraps his arms around Sarah's waist, nuzzling her neck like they're alone in their bedroom, not in a makeshift dance studio. It's disgusting. And maybe a tiny bit sweet.
I'm already mapping the fastest escape route when Kristal shimmies between us. "Partner up!"
Ivy moves toward me with a little half-smile. "Don't drop me?"
"No promises." I put my hands on her waist. "But if I accidentally dip you into a wall, it's not personal."
"Such a gentleman." She drags her fingers up my arms, and my skin's on fire everywhere she touches. In any other situation, having a hot girl run her hands over my biceps would be a green light to flirt back. But this is Ivy, and my usual moves feel wrong. Or too right. Fuck if I know anymore.
"Okay, no, no, NO!" Kristal rushes over to us. "We're not at your first awkward formal. CLOSER!" Before I can process what's happening, she's behind me, her bedazzled hands shoving my hips forward until Ivy and I are pressed together like we're trying to make a baby right here on the dance floor.
"There!" Kristal chirps. "Now MOVE those hips!"
Matt's wheezing with laughter until Sarah smacks him upside the head. "Ow! What? I'm appreciating the show."
"You're supposed to look into her eyes," Kristal instructs, still way too close. "Dancing is like making love—it's all about the connection!"
Jesus Christ.
I try focusing on Ivy's forehead, but she tilts her head and catches my gaze. Her pupils are blown wide, lips parted, and I'm back in that bed this morning. I step forward, right onto her foot.
"Ow!"
"Shit, sorry." I steady her, but now my hands are spanning her waist and she's practically straddling my thigh. She shifts, deliberately pressing closer, and dammit—this is not helping the semi I've been sporting since she walked in.
Think about football stats, think about Mom's fruit cake, think about anything but how she's grinding against me.
Her fingers trail up my arms to my shoulders, nails grazing skin through my shirt. The little vixen knows what she's doing.
"Less apologizing, more feeling!" Kristal demands. "The music should flow through you like desire!"
I attempt a spin move to get some space, but Ivy's dress tangles around my legs. She stumbles, clutching my shoulders, and in the next moment her whole body's molded against mine. Her breath hitches when my hands slide lower, and the sound shoots straight to my dick.
"Smooth," Matt calls out. "Really channeling that two left leg energy."
"At least I'm not counting under my breath like a kindergartener," I shoot back, catching him mouthing one-two-three while Sarah tries not to laugh.
"Closer!" Kristal demands. "This isn't a business meeting. Show me passion!"
Lady, if we get any more passionate, this dance lesson's gonna need an ID check and age verification.
Ivy grinds against me, a move that's definitely not part of any dance curriculum, and my fingers dig into her waist. Her eyes lock with mine, daring me to do something about this tension.
"For someone who claims to hate dancing," she breathes against my neck, "you're surprisingly good with your hips."
"Babe, you have no idea what they can do." The words come out more as a promise than a joke. Something dark and hungry unfurls in my chest when she shivers against me.
Normally I'd be mapping out the quickest path to naked, but with Ivy, I'm thinking about stupid shit like breakfast pancakes and whether she'd steal my hoodies permanently.
Jesus, when did I become this guy?
"Show me."
Before I can process this new, bold-as-fuck version of Ivy, Matt and Sarah's soft moans draw Kristal's attention. They're dry humping in the corner like they're at junior prom and the chaperones just left.
"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Kristal's sequins create a strobe effect as she bounces over. "Save the baby-making for after the wedding!"
Sarah turns tomato red, but Matt just grins and adjusts his grip on her ass.
"Now!" Kristal spins to us, evil glint in her eyes. "Ladies, turn and press back. Let's make this sensual."
Fuck. Me.
Ivy turns, and that dress is doing nothing to separate her ass from my dick.
"Feel the music," Kristal purrs. "Let the rhythm move through you both. Like waves of passion!"
I pull her closer and grind into her so she knows exactly what she's doing to me. But instead of pulling away, she arches back with a little whimper.
"Ivy," I growl against her ear. "You trying to kill me?"
Her answer is another calculated grind that has me seeing stars. "Maybe I like the way you press into me."
My hands slide lower. "Careful what you start, this isn't a game I play nice."
"Who says I want nice?" She turns her head, and god—when did my sweet innocent Ivy learn to play with fire?
"Spin!" Kristal commands.
I twirl her out, and when she spins back, she slams into me, knocking the air clean from my lungs. Her lips are inches from mine, her breathing shallow.
"Do you want to stop?" she whispers.
I should say yes. We're crossing every line we've ever drawn. But my hands are already sliding down her stomach, drawing her harder against me. "Not a fucking chance."
"OH MY GOD, MATTHEW!" Kristal's screech shatters the moment. "This isn't Magic Mike!"
I use the distraction to adjust Ivy against my hip instead of my dick. Though from the way she's looking at me, I'm pretty sure there's no going back from what we just started.
"Take five." Kristal announces. "Hydrate those beautiful bodies!"
I grab my water bottle, retreating to a safe distance and Matt sidles up.
"So," he starts, and for a second I'm seventeen again, passing a joint in the garage while he critiqued my disaster of a love life. "That was quite the performance. Got enough blood left in your brain to form sentences?"
"Eat shit."
"Come on." He tosses me a towel. "I've seen you with girls before, but that?" He gestures vaguely toward where Ivy's talking with Sarah, her cheeks still flushed. "That's different."
"Thought you were too busy climbing corporate ladders to notice anything below the penthouse."
The jab lands and his smile cracks for a second.
"Alright." He crosses his arms. "Let's do this. Get it all out."
"What?"
"Whatever's eating at you. I know you're pissed. Have been since you showed up this week. So let's hear it."
I stare at him. "Seriously?"
"Seriously." Matt leans against the wall. "Use me as your emotional punching bag. I want to clear the air before my wedding. Because we've got three more days of this, and I'd rather not spend them watching you glare holes into my skull every time I enter a room."
Something in me snaps. "Fine. You want the highlight reel?
You bailed and left me behind. You got the fancy degree and the fancy job and the fancy life, and I got stuck here with Dad's disappointment and Mom's worried looks.
And the worst part?" My voice drops so no one else can hear.
"The worst part is that you used to be the only person who actually got me.
Who didn't make me feel like the family fuck-up. "
Matt doesn't flinch. "Keep going."
"And now you swan back in with your perfect fiancée and your perfect life, and everyone's falling all over themselves about how great you are. So yeah, I'm a little fucking bitter."
"That's all?"
"No." I grip my water bottle so hard the plastic crackles. "You don't even see how different you are now. All corporate speech and adult responsibility. It's like you're embarrassed of who you used to be. Who I still am."
Matt's quiet for a long moment. "You done?"
"Yeah." I exhale, feeling lighter than I have in days. "I'm done."
"Good." He nods, processing everything I just unloaded. "For what it's worth, not all of it was on purpose. Things just . . . happened. And then more things happened."
He glances over at Sarah, his expression warms. I follow his gaze to see her failing miserably at pretending not to watch us. Her eyes dart away the second I look over while Ivy chatters away with Kristal. Great. They definitely heard the whole thing.
"But maybe we can talk about all that shit later," Matt continues. "When we've both had a few beers and aren't standing in a room with my fiancée watching."
The knot in my chest loosens. "Remember Melissa?" I ask, changing the subject.
"When you came to me freaking out because she wanted to go 'all the way' and you didn't know what that meant?" He laughs. "God, you were clueless."
"Still am, apparently." I glance over at Ivy.
"Nah." He follows my gaze. "You just care about this one. Makes everything scarier."
For the first time in years, I feel like my brother actually sees me. "Truce? At least until after the wedding?"
"Truce." He holds out his fist, and I bump it like we used to.
"You're still an asshole, though."
His grin breaks through. "Yeah, but I'm the asshole who's about to save you from round two of Kristal's passion project." He nods toward where she's approaching with fresh determination. "Unless you want another chance to grind on Ivy."
"I hate you."
"Nah." He claps me on the back. "You love me. You're just shit at showing it. Kind of like how you're shit at hiding what Ivy does to you."
And he's right. About both things.