Chapter Fifteen
Rory stretched and murmured something inaudible, but it was enough to jostle Ivan awake.
He lay there, blinking to bring the room and his brain into focus.
It took him a few moments to realize there wasn’t anything wrong with his vision.
The fuzzy brown landscape was the back of the sofa in the living room, and Ivan’s memories stirred to life.
All of them—delicious, sexy, and heartwarming.
They’d cleaned up and returned to the couch buck-ass naked with only the throw blanket to provide a modicum of modesty.
Instead of worrying about who could show up and find them, Ivan drifted off to sleep and forgot about the things that had bothered him prior to his death by orgasm.
Maybe that’s why he didn’t care when he woke up to find Rory had ended up with seventy-five percent of the blanket and his bare ass was hanging out in the wind.
The fire had died down, casting the room mostly in shadows since someone had drawn the living room curtains.
Ivan’s money was on Dylan. His best friend was head over heels in love and wanted everyone else to be that way too.
He’s not staying. After what Ivan had shared with Rory, it felt like a good time to remind himself.
“How do you feel?” Rory asked from the vicinity of Ivan’s armpit.
That was a loaded question if ever Ivan heard one. “Wrecked.” It was the simplest answer to the tumultuous emotions spinning through his brain faster than a sidewinder.
“What?” Rory jerked up and bumped the top of his head against the underside of Ivan’s jaw.
Thank goodness for quick reflexes or the collision could’ve hit Ivan like an uppercut and taken him down for the count.
He worked his jaw to the left and right to assess the damage while Rory winced.
Ivan couldn’t tell if it was in shame or pain, and he didn’t like either option. “Did you hurt yourself?”
Rory worked his bottom lip as he shook his head, and Ivan reached up and gently freed the plump flesh. “But I heard your teeth rattle.”
Ivan grinned and suspected that was an exaggeration. He’d taken plenty of hits to rattle his teeth during football, and this collision wasn’t close to that. “I’m fine. You just caught me by surprise.”
“Same,” Rory said breathlessly. “Are you sore? Did I hurt you?”
Then Ivan realized how Rory had interpreted the answer to his question.
He thought Ivan meant he was physically wrecked and Rory had been too rough for his first time.
Ivan shook his head, cupped Rory’s face, and pulled him forward for a slow kiss.
“You were perfect,” he whispered against Rory’s lips after several moments.
“I have never felt anything so good, and I’m looking forward to feeling you inside me again. ”
Rory’s tension dissipated, and he practically melted against Ivan’s chest. “Thank goodness.” Then he jerked his head up again, but Ivan was quicker the second time, and Rory’s head missed his jaw by a few inches. “What did you mean when you said I wrecked you, then?”
Ivan brushed the back of his fingers over Rory’s cheek and his short beard.
“Parts of me are smarting because I’m not very flexible.
My thighs are demanding to know what the hell I was thinking.
” Ivan smiled and whispered, “Spoiler alert: I wasn’t because I was too busy feeling.
” He inhaled slowly and considered his next words and the wisdom of being so open with Rory.
Then he recalled the way he’d opened other parts of himself and decided not to hold back.
“Something about you entices me to make myself vulnerable in ways I’ve never done with others, and I don’t just mean sexually.
I want to tell you things and share experiences with you—good and bad. I just don’t get it.”
Ivan thought Rory had beautiful eyes in the sunlight, but he wasn’t prepared for how mesmerizing they were in dim firelight.
The various shades of blue formed a sea of emotion and seemed to shift and move with the flames, though he knew that was only a trick of the light.
Still, Ivan felt like he could fall into the bottomless blue depths.
The water would be perfect, a shifting temperature based on his body’s needs.
Ivan could just swim there, his safe place, and not care about resurfacing.
But the warmth of Rory’s smile lured him like the sun, and he swam toward it.
“Where’d you go just now?” Rory teased.
“I was right here with you.”
Rory smirked and shook his head slightly. “Maybe physically, but your thoughts were a million miles away.”
“I wasn’t that far.”
“I don’t want you to do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable,” Rory told him. “That’s not what we’re about.”
Ivan considered that for a moment. While it was true they’d agreed to a no-strings affair—a better term evaded him at the moment—they’d acted in the exact opposite way.
They didn’t just fuck and go their separate ways.
They shared a bed and meals and found little ways to stay connected, even if it was a parting comment about the next time they’d be together.
Rory hadn’t left Ivan’s thoughts since he’d arrived on the ranch.
Ivan opened parts of his body and soul to him, and instead of regretting the vulnerability, he was looking forward to doing it again. Would now be too soon?
A sudden bout of anxiousness gripped him, but Ivan breathed through it.
He hadn’t spoken of the incidents leading up to his arrest or his history with the press in a very long time.
Ivan probably should’ve worked with a counselor afterward.
He’d thrown himself into learning beekeeping in jail, and the process had become a therapy of sorts before it became a business.
He still turned to his hive whenever he needed a healthy outlet for stress.
Maybe that’s why the ranch hives were not only productive but a picturesque little fairyland for bees.
The urge to share his Honeyland, as Harry called it, and his past trauma with Rory, gripped Ivan with surprising intensity.
“You make me very uncomfortable,” Ivan said.
Rory’s eyes widened, and Ivan hastened to clarify his remark.
“But in the best ways. I think it’s called growth.
You make me want to tear things down and build them back up again just so I can become the vision of me that you see.
” Even if Rory wasn’t around to witness it.
That thought put a damper on his mood, so he shoved it into the back of his brain’s closet where he kept other thoughts best left alone.
“Fuck, you really are a poet,” Rory whispered. His eyes shimmered with moisture, and he looked on the verge of tears.
“Not normally,” Ivan said. “That’s another thing you bring out in me. I feel things deeply, but to say the things I’ve said to you… It’s a first. I feel like a different person when you’re around. Not better. Not worse. Different.” Whole.
Rory swallowed hard and inhaled a shaky breath. “But we’ve only known each other for ten days. How is this possible?”
“It just is,” Ivan replied.
“I feel the same level of comfort and challenge when I’m with you like maybe I might like me because you do.”
“Let the world see how amazing you are, and you’ll attract the kind of people who deserve your devotion,” Ivan said. Those assholes who blabbed his personal business to the press sure as hell didn’t deserve it.
Rory’s smile faltered, and Ivan wished he could kick himself in the ass for bringing up painful things.
Maybe he would’ve tried it if not for still feeling the effects of their lovemaking.
Damn, he used to be so fit and limber. Hope was always trying to recruit him to yoga classes and meditation, and maybe he should take her up on the offer.
Ivan couldn’t take the words back, which was probably for the best. At least one of them needed to keep their footing on solid ground.
Rory wasn’t staying. Pretending otherwise would lead to heartache neither of them needed, which reminded Ivan of the confession he’d wanted to make to Rory.
Waiting until nighttime no longer sounded appealing.
Ivan wanted to air out his laundry in the sunshine with Rory as his witness. And he knew just the right setting.
“Would you like a proper tour of my beehives and the ranch?” Ivan asked.
Rory rose up on his elbow and kissed him. “I’d love to see this beautiful place through your eyes.”
Who’s the poet now?
They tidied up the living room to make sure they didn’t leave behind traces of their passionate exchange.
Ivan cut off oxygen to the fire, reducing the small flames to smoldering embers before they parted ways to dress.
Most of Rory’s belongings were still in his room, so he headed there while Ivan went upstairs to change.
When he returned, Rory wore the same outfit as when he’d arrived at the ranch.
The flannel shirt was a fleecy material but wouldn’t be enough to ward off the chill in the dwindling sunlight.
Don’t get him started on the distressed jeans with holes.
“We need to make a quick stop at the general store,” Ivan said on their way out of the house.
“In town?”
“No, that’s what we call the supply room here on the ranch,” Ivan replied. “Cash keeps a variety of work clothes here for the crew. Proper attire is important, and most new members of the crew don’t have the means to buy their own upon release, so Cash makes work clothes part of our benefits.”
“Wow,” Rory said. “That’s one hell of a perk.” His reaction grew even stronger when he stepped inside the store. Ivan had already learned that a wowed Rory was a quiet one. He turned in a slow circle, taking it all in with his hands on his hips.