Chapter 32 Ivy
IVY
Even though I’m lying on the floor, my body like Jello from the mind-shattering orgasms Sebastian just gave me, I’m still riding the high of seeing him masked and commanding.
The moment he told me to stay still, something inside me lit up in relief.
I wanted to prove I can follow just as easily as I can lead.
I can still taste myself on his tongue. That’s a new experience for me. Can’t say I don’t like it, though.
He’s staring at me with an intensity that’s slightly scary—and extremely sexy.
The mask rests on top of his head. His dark eyes blaze as he studies me, gauging my mood. Just like he did when he was pleasuring me.
I had a taste of what he felt this week when he told me to stay and left the room. His absence was louder than his presence.
When he returned, I wanted to sob in relief. I knew he was going to punish me.
Totally worth it.
He finally gets it. He thought he wanted space, but he doesn’t. He proved it when he came looking for me. The mask was an added bonus.
“You look pleased,” he says.
I smile. I don’t bother hiding it. “I am. Not only from the orgasms, but because you finally stopped pretending.”
Something sharp and satisfied flickers in his gaze. “So did you.”
My arms are still wrapped around his neck, keeping him close. He told me he doesn’t intend to ever let me go. The feeling is mutual.
He reaches over and grabs the knife. My arousal coats the handle of the knife.
His smug smile has me rolling my eyes. “Guess I’ll take care of washing this while you get dressed and pack.”
My heart kicks hard against my ribs. “Pack?”
He studies me for a long moment. Long enough that my skin hums with awareness. “I’m taking you home.”
The words land low and heavy in my chest.
“Okay,” I say softly.
His brow lifts a fraction. “That easy, huh?”
I shrug. “It’s that easy.”
That earns me a slow, dangerous smile.
He leans forward, lips pressing against mine. “Can you make it up the steps?”
I stretch my legs. “I think so.”
“Good.” He gets to his feet, then reaches down and grabs my hands. “Don’t forget your shoes and jacket.”
I kick my other foot out of my leggings. He pulls me to my feet. I grin at him and move without hesitation. My bare behind is chilly now that the fireplace has nearly burned out.
It doesn’t take me long to dress. I grab my suitcase and duffel bag and start throwing clothes and toiletries inside.
When I’m finished, I head to my office. Grabbing my backpack, I load my laptop and textbooks into it, then step into the hallway. He stands there, waiting for me.
He grabs my suitcase and duffel bag. He tries to take my backpack, but I roll my eyes at him. “I can manage.”
We head downstairs. I grab my keys.
“The patio door is locked,” Sebastian says.
“That’s a first.” I study his face. “Where’s your mask?”
He gestures to the pocket of his hoodie, like it belongs there now.
And he’s right. Hollow Creek isn’t ready for that kind of drama.
The night air wraps around us as we step outside, and I realize something important as I fall into step beside him.
I didn’t win.
Neither did he.
This isn’t a chase anymore.
It’s an agreement.
“Oh, wait.” I stop, turning toward the back patio.
“Mr. Pickles, right?”
My head snaps toward his. A smile lights up my face. “You heard.”
He nods. “Let’s see if we can get your cat.”
“Stalker,” I tease as I lead the way.
“Takes one to know one,” he quips right back.
I see Mr. Pickles’ tail flickering in the light. He’s hiding in the shadows of the tree.
I call his name, and he slowly comes out, bright green eyes moving from me to Sebastian. My body tenses, afraid he’s going to take off running.
But the craziest thing happens.
Mr. Pickles heads right to Sebastian and rubs his body against his shins. A strange sound comes from him—like he’s trying to purr, but the sound is rough and strained.
Sebastian looks like he’s ready to crawl out of his skin.
“You okay?” I ask with a smile.
He shakes his head. “I’ve never had a cat. Only a dog.”
“Well, this one seems to like you.”
I squat down, and Mr. Pickles hisses at me.
Sebastian chuckles, letting go of the suitcase and duffel bag. Then he reaches down and scoops up the mangy cat.
“It’s okay, Mr. Pickles. Ivy’s nice. She’s been feeding you.”
He scratches Mr. Pickles’ ears. The cat stares at me with a smug look that clearly says mine.
Mr. Pickles is in for the fight of his life if he thinks I’m giving Sebastian up that easily.
We stare each other down. He bows his head slightly, and I feel a sense of victory go through me.
“Can I pet you now?”
Mr. Pickles leans into Sebastian’s touch, eyes lifting to mine.
He stops rubbing the cat’s ears. “Let her pet you, or there will be no more ear scratches.”
The cat sighs—sighs—then gives me a reluctant look that seems to say proceed at your own risk.
I carefully reach my hand out, not trusting that Mr. Pickles won’t scratch or bite. He watches, his skinny body tense as he waits.
I gently stroke his mangy fur, seeing the potential. With food, love, and veterinary care, he could be a beautiful black cat.
A smile curls my lips when I scratch Mr. Pickles’ ears, and he leans into my touch, purring. It sounds more like an old lawnmower trying to start up.
Sebastian’s voice has something in it I’ve never heard. Something… soft. “My car isn’t far away. Before we head home, we’ll need to go to the store and get supplies for Mr. Pickles.”
He scratches the cat’s ears again, his expression tightening. “No one should have to fight this hard to survive.”
My brows wrinkle. “Isn’t the pet store closed?”
He looks at his phone. “Not in the city.” He shifts the cat in his arms, then grabs the suitcase handle with the duffel bag on top. His dark eyes meet mine. “Let’s go.”
And as we head toward his car, I can’t stop smiling.
Sebastian chose me.
His stalker.
And a stray cat I call Mr. Pickles.