Chapter 11 Sleep With Me
Ivy’s heart pounded in her chest, the intensity of his words shaking her to her core. But she couldn’t let it show— he could never know what he did to her.
She met his gaze, her eyes turning to ice. "It’s my life, Christian," she said, her voice flat. "If I have a boyfriend or an ex, it’s none of your business. I can be with whoever I want. I can sleep with any man I want."
His jaw clenched so tightly she thought it might crack. His possessive gaze burned through her, hollow yet scorching. And then, in a flash, he moved.
His fingers tangled in her hair as he yanked her closer, his grip fierce, his breath unsteady. "Then sleep with me ," he growled, his voice edged with dangerous hunger. "I’ll make love to you, and then I’ll fuck you raw. I’m better than any bastard you’ll ever meet. I’ll be the man you remember—day and night—when your legs tremble with every damn step you take."
His lips brushed against hers, teasing, torturous. "Ivy Watson, sleep with me in my fucking bed, and I swear, you won’t fucking remember the existence of any other man in this world."
Before she could react, his mouth crashed onto hers. The kiss was desperate, searing—full of frustration, jealousy, and something far darker.
Her hands flattened against his chest, pushing, but he didn’t budge. His grip tightened around her waist, crushing her to him until their bodies were molded together. His lips moved over hers, fierce and demanding, his tongue sweeping past her lips, tasting her deeply.
Her breath hitched, her body shivering under the force of it. His hand slid up her spine, threading through her hair, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. His lips moved over hers with a rough intensity—hot, consuming, raw.
A low sound escaped him as he kissed her harder, his breathing ragged and uneven. His mouth was relentless, dragging her under the storm of his need, his desperation spilling into every stroke of his tongue. He devoured her like she was the only thing keeping him alive. His breathing was ragged, his mouth relentless as if he was pouring every ounce of anger and longing into her.
The mere thought of her in another man’s arms, another man’s bed—drove him absolutely insane.
His lips moved from hers to her cheeks, her scent surrounding him, flowing through him like a drug. His mouth found her throat, kissing and licking over the marks he had left on her skin, branding her as his. His lips never stopped moving, his tongue tracing over her heated flesh, burning through her.
Ivy’s hands pushed halfheartedly, weakly against his chest, but the tingling from his kisses spread through her body, making her movements feeble. His scent engulfed her, his muscular frame pressing her firmly against the wall. His mouth was on her, as though he had never kissed a woman before, as though she was the only woman he ever could. And under his touch, she felt herself slipping, the intensity of his desire swallowing her whole.
The kisses grew more frantic, more desperate. Christian's hands roamed her body, his fingers sliding up her waist before palming her breast. His head dipped suddenly, his mouth capturing her nipple through the fabric—until the reality of their surroundings hit him. They were in an open hallway.
Ivy took the chance to shove him away with all the strength she could muster. She pushed him off, breathless.
Christian's gaze was wild, hunger raging in his dark eyes like a man starved for his only salvation. He looked at her with an unmistakable greed, but Ivy turned away, storming out without a single glance back.
Christian stood there, watching her retreating figure as she entered the elevator. The doors closed, taking her away. His breaths were ragged, uneven, the fire inside him still far from extinguished. Without hesitation, he followed, stalking behind. But by the time he reached the ground floor, she was already getting into a cab and left the place.
A frantic desperation overtook him, jealousy clawing at his chest like a beast unchained. His mind burned with the thought of her in someone else's bed, another man touching her, kissing her. The rage consumed him.
Snatching his car keys from Samuel, he climbed into his vehicle and sped off, his knuckles white against the steering wheel.
His vision blurred with fury. Her words echoed in his head like a curse.
She had a boyfriend. An ex. She had dated someone.
She had said she’d sleep with others.
The thought of it burned a hole through his mind, scorching every rational thought, every ounce of control.
He didn't see the turn.
The car slammed into a wall. The deafening crash echoed through the night, metal screeching, the horn blaring in an unbroken wail. Smoke billowed from the crushed hood, the engine hissing as if it, too, had been consumed by his fury.
***
The next day, Sawyer stormed into the hospital room, his expression dark with frustration. His gaze immediately landed on the man in the hospital bed, and he let out a sharp exhale.
Christian sat in the hospital bed, a bandage wrapped around his forehead, a cut marring his sharp features, and one hand secured in a temporary cast.
Sawyer marched over, his brows drawn together. "What the fuck is going on, man?" he demanded. "How the hell did your car flip? You almost died!"
Christian frowned, the memories of the previous night searing through him. He leaned back against the pillow, staring at the ceiling before muttering, "Ivy said she had a boyfriend." His voice was low, rough. "I got jealous, drove off… lost control. Didn’t see the turn."
Sawyer ran a hand through his hair, exhaling harshly. "Jesus fucking Christ, Christian." His hand settled on his hip, his eyes blazing. "Can’t you pay a little more fucking attention to yourself when it comes to Ivy? One of these days, you’re gonna get yourself killed because of her."
Christian ignored the outburst and instead reached for the glass of water on the bedside table.
Sawyer, exasperated, yanked out his phone and quickly dialed Ivy’s number.
The call rang for a few moments before she answered.
"Ivy," Sawyer said immediately. "Christian was in an accident. Can you come see him? He’s at the City Hospital."
Silence.
On the other end, Ivy's body went rigid. She shot to her feet instinctively—but then, just as she took a step, she froze, her stomach dropping.
‘What am I doing?’ she thought. ‘He doesn’t matter to me anymore. I have to remember that. Again and again. He can’t have control over me again.’
Steeling herself, she forced her voice to remain indifferent. "Is he alright?"
"He’s better," Sawyer replied. "But he’s injured. When are you coming?"
"I’m not." Her fingers tightened around her phone, her throat constricting. Saying those words wasn’t easy, even though she had promised herself she would stay cold, that she wanted nothing to do with Christian anymore. Still, it hurt.
"Since you’re there, you can take care of him," she added. "I don’t understand why you’re calling me. What does this have to do with me? I’m not a doctor."
Sawyer’s patience snapped. His brows furrowed, his lips curling in anger as his fists clenched.
"Ivy Watson," he ground out, his voice laced with fury. "He’s injured because of you! If you don’t get here within an hour, I swear to fucking God, I’m going to kidnap your parents and every other human that exists in your life until you beg to see Christian and—"
The phone was snatched from his hand before he could finish.
A second later, a glass of water came flying straight at his face.
Sawyer barely dodged in time, the glass shattering against the wall behind him. Drops of water clung to his collar as he straightened, blinking in disbelief.
Christian immediately ended the call, his jaw tight, his entire body radiating tension. His piercing gaze snapped back to Sawyer.
"Don't threaten her!" Christian snapped, his voice sharp, his eyes flashing with warning.
Sawyer scoffed, his irritation only deepening. "Fine. Keep spoiling her like this." He turned and stormed out of the room.
The moment he was gone, Christian’s phone rang again.
Ivy.
He stared at the screen before answering.
Her panicked voice came through the line. "Don’t… don’t hurt my parents. I’ll come. Just don’t go to them. Which hospital are you at?"
Christian clenched his jaw at the sound of her voice. The worry in it. The fear.
Calmly, he replied, "Don’t worry. You don’t have to come."
Silence. He could hear her breathing, shaky and uneven.
"You need to go to work, right?" His voice softened. "It’s almost ten. Don’t rush. Walk slowly. You always walk too fast and don’t look properly when you cross the street in a hurry. Walk slowly. Go to work. Don’t worry—I’m fine."
There was no response, but he knew she was still listening.
"It’s alright," he murmured softly. "I’ll hang up now."
The call ended. The sound of the disconnecting tone echoed in Ivy’s ears long after the call was over.
She leaned against the table in her room, her heart pounding, her phone clenched tightly in her hands. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, but the ache in her chest told her she wasn’t at ease. It wasn’t in fear, but because the worry for christian was eating her alive.
Her eyes flickered to the clock.
Ten already. She was late.
Her gaze dropped to the phone screen, Christian’s name still lingering there.
In the end, she grabbed her bag and walked out of the house.
Half an hour later, she entered City Hospital.
She asked a nurse for Christian’s room number before making her way to the eighth floor. As she approached, she spotted Sawyer walking ahead, engrossed in his phone. When he lifted his head, their eyes met. He stopped abruptly.
"You’re here," Sawyer was the first to speak, his voice laced with surprise.
Ivy nodded. "I came to see Christian." She pointed to a door at the end of the hallway. "That one?"
Sawyer nodded.
She started walking, but his voice stopped her. "Ivy?"
She turned back, brows slightly furrowed.
Sawyer hesitated before exhaling, his voice softer this time. "I apologize for how I spoke to you on the phone. I just... he didn’t look alright. Something was off. His head wasn’t in the right space, and I got worried." He shoved his phone into his pocket, glancing away. "I was afraid he’d have another paralytic attack like the one five years ago."
Ivy’s body went rigid. Her fingers clenched around her bag.
Her face twisted with confusion. "What paralytic attack?"
Sawyer froze.
"Fucking hell," he cursed under his breath, his jaw tensing.
He had assumed she knew—after all, it happened right after she met Christian five years ago.
But the look on her face made it clear.
She had no idea.
Sawyer took a deep breath before speaking. “Remember what I told you last time, when Christian was attacked? About his mother leaving him and the psychosomatic paralysis he’s suffered from since then?”
Ivy nodded slowly, her throat tightening.
Sawyer exhaled, his voice steady but distant. "Five years ago, just a few months after you joined Evans Holdings, he unexpectedly ran into his mother again. She showed up at his company, asking him to reconcile—to forget the past and move on."
His jaw clenched slightly.
"The shock of seeing her… it triggered something in him. The unresolved trauma, the memories—his body couldn’t take it. He collapsed. Completely paralyzed. That’s why his father took him abroad for treatment. He didn’t return until recently. It took him nearly five years to recover from that attack."
Ivy’s mind went blank for a second. Five years ago—he left because of this? Because he got sick? Not because he got tired of her?
Her lips parted, but no words came out. Her heart pounded so hard it felt like it might crack her ribs.
No.
It couldn't be that simple.
Her throat tightened. If he had truly cared about her, wouldn't he have told her? Wouldn't she have known?
Ivy’s voice was barely above a whisper. "So… is he cured now?"
Sawyer sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Not really," he admitted. Then, pointing at the door ahead, he said, "That’s his room. You can meet him now."
Ivy nodded, turning toward the door, but her mind was in chaos.
Five years ago… he had been her boss. Always around her. Making her feel special. He had slipped into her life so seamlessly, so effortlessly, that she never even realized when admiration turned into something deeper—when her world started revolving around him.
And then, out of nowhere, he vanished without a trace.
The pain of his absence had been unbearable. She had convinced herself it was because he had gotten bored, that she had been nothing more than a passing amusement. She had spent years resenting him, trying to erase the memories of how easily he made her heart race, how his gaze used to linger on her like she was the only person that existed in his world.
But now… this?
Had she been wrong all along? Had she hated him for nothing?
Or was she right all along?
Had he walked away first, only for this attack to happen afterward? Was it just a coincidence?
Or had he never wanted to leave her at all but fate cruelly ripped him away, forcing him to disappear without a word because of his illness—while she spent five years believing he had simply lost interest?
Her stomach twisted painfully.
If she had known, would things have been different? Would she have waited instead of trying to bury every trace of him in her heart?
And now that he was back… was this real? Or was he simply love-bombing her, trying to lure her in again just to break her one more time?
Her fingers trembled as they curled around the doorknob, her pulse hammering in her ears.
She had spent five years thinking she knew the truth.
But now, she wasn’t so sure anymore.