Chapter 37 Don’t Make A Sound
She walked across the vast hall and stepped into a private room—Hank’s study. Books lined the walls, surrounding a cozy seating area with a couch, a table, and a chair. A television was mounted on the wall, while various devices were neatly arranged on the shelves.
“Come, child. Sit here,” Hank said, patting the back of the couch next to his own.
Ivy obeyed, taking a seat on the single couch.
“Now that you’re here and going to spend your life with my son, I want to talk to you openly,” Hank said, a kind smile on his face. “Just to get to know my new daughter. Is that alright?”
Ivy smiled at his words. The way he called her daughter made it clear that he had already accepted her as family. He was just like Christian—quick to form relationships and unwavering once he did.
Christian was the same. The moment he fell in love with her, he had immediately declared her as his.
Now she knew where Christian got that trait from. The thought made her smile.
Hank continued, "I remember the name Ivy from a long time ago." His gaze turned thoughtful. "Are you the same girl from five years ago? The one Christian called his girlfriend?"
Ivy’s eyes widened in shock. "You… know about me?"
Hank nodded. "Christian had told me about you. He had said he’d found the girl he was going to marry."
A quiet warmth spread through Ivy, her fingers tightening slightly as she took it in.
Meeting Christian again after five years, she had gradually come to understand that he had been forced to leave her due to circumstances. But she had never imagined that back then, when they weren’t even officially together, he had already told his family about her.
He had only been flirting with her, calling her his girlfriend for a few weeks. There had been no real relationship. And yet… he had told his father about her?
He had been more serious about her than she had ever imagined.
All this time, she had thought he had left her without a second thought. But was there more to it—something she hadn’t known?
Hank let out a hearty laugh. "That brat fell in love with you at first glance. It was funny watching all his ridiculous antics. He’s not exactly expressive. But when it came to you, he was half-mad."
Ivy’s face burned. Christian had been so obvious, even to his father?
Hank continued, shaking his head in amusement. “I remember when he found out that you constantly suffered from low blood pressure. He changed the entire cafeteria staff and food selection at the office just to make sure you got proper meals all the time. Even hired a dietician for the entire office—all for you.”
He wiped his eyes and met Ivy’s stunned gaze. "He isn't the most expressive brat, but he cares deeply for the people he loves.”
Ivy swallowed hard, her fingers clenching in her lap.
"When he suddenly suffered from that paralytic attack five years ago. He was furious, but he couldn’t move. It was the darkest time in his life," Hank admitted, his voice laced with lingering pain.
Ivy stiffened. "He… couldn’t move at all? Was it that bad?" she whispered, panic rising in her chest.
Hank nodded, his expression turning tense. “After his mother abandoned him as a child, he suffered through a lot of hardships and trauma. But five years ago, she suddenly came back to meet him. The moment he saw her, his trauma triggered a severe attack. He had to be rushed to the hospital.” Hank sighed. “The doctors here couldn’t do much, so we took him to France for treatment from specialists.”
He fell silent for a moment, his brows furrowed with worry. “The attack was severe. The only movement he could make was blinking. He couldn’t talk, couldn’t walk, or do anything. His body had locked up completely. It took years for him to recover. Only last year was he strong enough to walk and speak normally again.” Then, Hank smiled knowingly. “And the moment he got better, he insisted on coming back. The reason was obviously you.”
Ivy could barely breathe.
When Sawyer and Larry had told her about his illness, she had assumed he had deliberately stayed overseas for five years. She had never imagined that his condition had been so severe—that it had taken him more than four years to recover.
Christian hadn’t wanted to interfere in her life or burden her with his illness. That was why he hadn’t reached out. He had stayed away until he was well enough to come back.
Hank stood up. “Alright, go out now. That brat must be losing his mind over what I’m talking to you about for so long.”
Ivy gave him a faint smile, but her heart was already racing as she hurried out of the room.
As she stepped into the hall, her gaze landed on Christian. He was standing across the room, carefully setting up a plate of food for her, placing everything down with precise attention.
A lump formed in her throat.
The moment she saw him, she ran to him.
The sound of her footsteps made him look up, but before he could react, she threw herself into his arms, pressing her body against him.
Her soft curves molded into his firm chest, her breath shaky, her fingers gripping his shirt tightly. Her face buried in his chest, her body trembled, and warm tears spilled from her eyes, one after another.
Christian’s arms wrapped around her, his hand resting low on her back. He didn’t see the tears in her eyes.
Having her cling to him, he chuckled, his voice warm. “I’m happy to have you back too.”
She pulled back from the hug, but before he could say another word, her hands gripped his shoulders. She arched up on her toes, and in the next second, her lips crashed against his.
The kiss was deep, desperate, filled with everything she couldn’t put into words.
When she finally pulled away, breathless, her gaze burned into his. Her hands gripped his shoulders. She arched up on her toes, and in the next second, her breath fanned against his ear.
“I don’t want to have dinner right now,” she whispered. “I want to be in bed with you.”
The words had barely left her mouth before Christian lifted her into his arms, more than happy to oblige as he carried her straight to his bedroom.
The bedroom was a quiet mix of old and new, a reflection of the boy Christian had once been and the man he had become.
Dark mahogany paneling lined the walls, and a sleek king-sized bed with crisp white sheets sat at the center, framed by a tufted black headboard. Floor-to-ceiling windows, covered with sheer curtains, let in the soft evening light, casting faint shadows across the dark wood floors.
A few remnants of his childhood remained—a shelf of old trophies and a framed photo of his younger self with his dad—but the rest of the room spoke of quiet luxury. A marble fireplace, a leather armchair, and a glass coffee table gave it a modern, understated elegance.
The moment the door shut behind them, he pressed her against it, his large hands gripping her thighs, spreading them around his waist. The room’s quiet stillness contrasted with the storm in his gaze.
He pinned her against the door, his body pressing flush against hers. His grip tightened at her waist, feeling the curve of her hips mold against him. Her breath hitched as his fingers slid down her back, pressing her closer, their bodies flush, no space between them.
His breathing was heavy, controlled, but she could feel the tension in his muscles, the restraint he was barely holding onto.
His hands roamed her body, sliding under her dress, palms skimming the bare skin of her thighs.
She gasped as he suddenly hoisted her higher against the door, his grip firm as her legs wrapped around his waist. A deep groan rumbled in his throat as she instinctively ground against him, the heat of her core pressing against his hard length.
Her chest rose and fell quickly, her breath shallow. His fingers trailed higher, pushing the fabric up, exposing more of her.
“Christian…” she breathed.
His mouth crashed onto hers.
The kiss was deep, hungry, their lips colliding with a desperate intensity. His tongue pushed past her lips, claiming her in a way that left her breathless.
She moaned into his mouth, her fingers threading through his dark hair, pulling him closer, needing more.
Christian groaned, pressing her tighter against the door, his hips grinding into hers. She could feel every hard inch of him through his pants, making heat pool low in her stomach.
His lips left hers, trailing down her jaw, her throat, kissing and nipping as he went. His hands roamed over her body, sliding under her dress, fingers skimming the bare skin of her thighs.
“I missed this,” he murmured against her skin, his lips brushing the sensitive spot beneath her ear.
Her breath hitched. “Then don’t stop.”
He hummed in response, his mouth moving lower, lips grazing her collarbone, her shoulder, his breath hot against her skin.
His fingers hooked into the thin lace covering her, teasing the fabric aside before dipping lower, testing her readiness.
Ivy’s back arched, a sharp breath escaping as his fingers found their target, stroking slow, deliberate circles that sent shivers down her spine.
Her hands gripped his shoulders, nails biting into his skin. She bit her lip, trying to hold back the sounds threatening to spill from her mouth.
Christian smirked. “Hush, Ivy. This is not our home.” he teased, his fingers pressing deeper, his movements relentless.
She whimpered, shaking her head, unable to answer.
Christian suddenly pulled back, his strong arms lifting her again as he carried her to the bed. He laid her down, his dark gaze devouring the sight of her sprawled beneath him. He took in the sight of her bare skin, her breasts rising and falling with each uneven breath.
He stripped off his shirt, his toned body flexing as he reached for his belt. Ivy’s eyes followed his every movement, anticipation tightening in her core. His hands were on her again in an instant, pushing her dress higher, higher, until it was gone, revealing the smooth expanse of her skin.
His rough palms traced over her body, memorizing every curve, every inch of softness beneath him. His fingers traced the curves of her bare breasts, his thumbs brushing over the hardened peaks.
Ivy whimpered as his fingers traced the soft skin, making her shiver. His lips moved up, trailing along her jaw, down to the sensitive spot beneath her ear.
“You’re trembling,” he murmured, his hot breath fanning against her skin.
Ivy barely had time to respond before his tongue flicked out, tracing the curve of her jawline, leaving a damp, heated trail. Then, he moved lower.
His mouth found the soft skin just beneath her ear. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss there, sucking lightly before dragging his tongue in slow, deliberate strokes.
Ivy gasped, her hands fisting the fabric of his shirt.
Christian smirked against her skin. “Sensitive here?”
He didn’t wait for an answer. His teeth grazed the spot before he latched on, sucking harder this time.
The heat of his mouth sent fire racing through her veins. She tilted her head back, exposing more of her throat to him, a silent invitation he eagerly took.
His tongue flicked over the delicate curve of her neck, tasting her, savoring her. He kissed lower, tracing the hollow at the base of her throat, his lips moving in a slow, sensual path toward her collarbone.
Then he did something wicked.
He flattened his tongue against her skin, licking a hot, wet stripe from her collarbone back up to the base of her ear.
A shudder wracked through Ivy’s body.
She could only moan in response, her body pressing against his, desperate for more.
Encouraged by her reaction, he took his time, his lips exploring every inch of her neck, alternating between soft, teasing nips and deep, claiming kisses.
He sucked at the tender spot just above her pulse, rolling his tongue against her skin as he marked her with bruising heat.
Ivy whimpered, her head lolling to the side, completely surrendering to his mouth.
Christian didn’t stop.
He trailed his tongue down the column of her throat, then bit gently at the curve where her neck met her shoulder.
The sudden contrast between sharp teeth and soothing tongue made her thighs clench together, an ache pooling low in her belly.
“Christian…” she moaned, her fingers threading through his hair, gripping tight.
He growled against her skin, the sound vibrating through her body.
He dipped back down, his mouth tracing a path along the delicate curve of her throat. His lips pressed soft, open-mouthed kisses against her skin, followed by teasing flicks of his tongue. He sucked lightly, just enough to make her squirm, his breath hot against her damp flesh.
His hands slid down her sides, fingertips gliding over her trembling ribs before he caught her wrists, lifting them above her head. His weight pinned her down, leaving her exposed beneath him. She barely had time to catch her breath before his lips dragged lower, trailing across her collarbone, down the slope of her shoulder.
Then, his mouth found the sensitive hollow beneath her arm.
Ivy gasped, her body jolting at the unexpected sensation. Christian hummed in satisfaction, his tongue flicking experimentally against the soft, untouched skin. His lips followed, pressing wet, lingering kisses, savoring the delicate warmth of her body. He alternated between gentle nips and slow, deliberate licks, teasing her in ways she had never imagined.
A shudder ran through her, heat flooding her veins. “Chris—”
His teeth grazed the sensitive skin, his tongue swirling against it as his grip on her wrists tightened.
“You’re so damn sensitive everywhere…” he murmured against her skin, his voice laced with hunger.
His mouth continued its slow, intoxicating path, moving downward, tasting, worshiping. Every kiss, every lick left her trembling beneath him, her breath coming in short, desperate pants.
His hands tightened around her waist, his grip firm, possessive. His breath was hot against her flushed skin as he hovered over her, his darkened gaze filled with something wild—something that made her shiver in anticipation.
“Don’t make a sound,” he rasped, dragging his teeth over the swell of her breast, just enough to make her body jolt beneath him.