36. Duncan
DUNCAN
I vy's words landed deep in my chest, as steady as a promise as heavy as forgiveness. Her breath brushed my lips when she said it. But I couldn't wait for tomorrow. I wanted her now.
I kissed her again—no hesitation, no searching—like I couldn’t get enough of her.
Her mouth opened under mine and the tension between us snapped.
Her fingers fisted in my shirt and yanked me closer.
I slid one hand up her back, the other into her hair, as she shifted in my lap.
The press of her body against mine said everything.
I pulled back to look at her. Her lips were flushed. Her chest rose fast. That familiar heat moved through me. “You still mad at me?” I asked.
Her fingers tightened in my collar. “Try harder," she purred and her hooded gaze invited me to continue.
I kissed her again, deeper this time, until everything else faded. The silence. The past. The hurt. I pulled her shirt up. She lifted her arms, and I stripped it away and her bra followed.
I relearned her slowly, my hands framing her ribcage. My thumbs traced under her breasts. I dipped my head and took one nipple into my mouth. She gasped, arching into me, her fingers clutching at my shoulders.
I was already hard, the pressure almost unbearable with the way she moved against me. I needed more skin, more heat, and less waiting.
I hooked my arms under her legs and around her back and then stood carried her down the hallway. Her breath hitched and she held on but she didn't tell me to stop. Her fingers curled behind my neck. Her thighs gripped my waist. By the time I reached the bedroom, I wasn’t sure who was shaking more.
I set her on the bed and dropped to my knees. I pulled her leggings off in one smooth motion. Her panties went too. She leaned back on her elbows, legs parted, eyes locked on me.
I ran my hands up Ivy's thighs. Then I bent and pressed my mouth to her. Her breath hitched again as my tongue worked her open. Softly at first, then more firmly, I tasted her. She melted into the bed and every sound she made pulled me deeper into her.
“Duncan,” she whispered.
I kissed her thigh. “Still mad?”
She let out a shaky laugh. “Getting there.”
I smiled, but I didn’t move. I kissed the inside of her thigh again, then the other slowly. Then I ran my palms over the curve of her hips and settled between her legs, pressing a hand to her stomach to keep her steady.
My tongue found her again and started to move against her center.
I wanted her to feel every stroke, every pause.
Her hips lifted, but I held her still and worked her deeper.
The taste of her, the heat, the way she gasped when I sucked her clit between my lips—it all lit something in me I hadn’t touched in years.
I flattened my tongue, traced around her rim, then circled until her thighs trembled.
She moaned my name again, hands gripping the sheets, breath breaking apart. I pushed two fingers inside her while my tongue kept moving, never easing up. Her muscles clenched around me. I felt her start to fall apart and I whispered, "Still mad?" before diving back in.
“Duncan,” she gasped, voice cracked and desperate.
I didn’t let up. I wanted her loud. I wanted her undone. I kept her there, on the edge, until her whole body broke and she came with a cry, her thighs locking around my head.
Her body convulsed though I did my best to hold her down while she writhed, her tight walls constricting around my digits.
When she calmed I stood, yanked off my shirt, and shoved my jeans down.
She reached for me the second I climbed over her.
Her legs wrapped around my hips. She pulled me in until every inch of her pressed against every inch of me.
I slid into her in one slow, thick thrust. She gasped, arched up, clutched at my back. She panted and her fingers dug into my skin, her breath caught in my ear.
We moved fast, our bodies falling into rhythm, every thrust answered by hers. Her thighs tightened around my waist as her mouth traced along my jaw, down my throat, then my shoulder. She knew exactly how to pull me apart.
I shifted my angle to get deeper, bracing one arm beside her head and sliding the other between us. My thumb circled her clit, starting slow, then moving faster until her hips began to jerk and her breath came hard against my chest.
“You’re so close,” I whispered.
She nodded, lips parted and eyes wide, breath ragged and quick. I drove into her harder, deeper, while my fingers stayed steady, pushing her further. Her body tensed all at once, muscles clenching as release tore through her.
Ivy came hard, her back arching off the bed, a broken cry ripping from her throat. She clung to me as her body pulsed, and I slowed, letting her ride through it, and kissed her neck, her jaw, her mouth as she trembled beneath me.
I didn’t last long after that. She pulled me closer, legs locked around me, and I let go, groaning against her skin as I came, buried deep, my arms locked around her. Heat surged through me, shaking everything loose.
Her fingers slid into my hair, as our lips met again and I swallowed the last of her moans.
When her body began to calm down the kisses became softer and not as deep.
Eventually, I rolled to the side and took her with me, her body half-sprawled across mine.
Her leg hooked over my thigh, her hand resting flat against my chest.
I held her against me, skin warm and damp from what we'd shared. The afternoon light filtered through the curtains, and I could feel her heartbeat slowing against my chest. Her hair spilled across my shoulder, auburn waves catching the golden hour glow.
"We need to get dressed," she murmured, her voice still breathless. "Go back to my parents' house."
I tightened my arms around her, not ready to let this moment end. "Five more minutes."
"Duncan." She lifted her head, those hazel eyes serious now. "They're expecting us for dinner."
She was right. The real world waited outside these walls, and we couldn't hide here forever. I pressed a kiss to her temple and reluctantly let her go. We moved around each other in comfortable quiet, gathering scattered clothes, stealing glances that made heat flicker between us again.
When we pulled into her parents' driveway an hour later, the smell of charcoal and grilling meat filled the evening air. Bill stood at the barbecue on the back patio, spatula in hand, flipping burgers like he needed something to keep his hands busy.
He looked up when we approached, his gaze moving from Ivy to me and back again. Something had shifted in his expression since this morning's confrontation. The sharp edges of anger had worn down into something more resigned.
"Burgers will be ready in ten," he said, his voice carefully neutral.
I nodded. "Thanks."
Ivy squeezed my hand once before heading inside to check on her mother and the triplets. I stayed on the patio, watching Bill work the grill and avoid eye contact with me. The silence between us held weight, but it wasn't the explosive tension from before.
"Beer?" he asked, nodding toward the cooler beside him.
"Sure."
He handed me a bottle, and we stood there drinking with the elephant in the room. Both of us knew we had to speak, but I didn't think he had a clue where to start. God knows I didn't either. The triplets' laughter drifted from the house, followed by Barbara's voice reading them a story.
"They're good kids," Bill said finally.
"They are."
"Smart. Elena's got Ivy's stubborn streak, but she's got your eyes." He flipped another burger, not looking at me. "Sammy's got your build. Kid's going to be tall."
I took a long pull from my beer, unsure where this was heading.
"I was angry this morning," he continued. "Still am, if I'm being honest. You broke a promise. A promise I asked you to make because I was trying to protect her."
"I know."
"But I've been thinking." He turned the burgers one more time, then set down the spatula. "Barbara's illness shook me. Made me feel like I was losing everything that mattered. Made me act like a man who thought he was running out of time to fix things."
I waited, sensing there was more.
"The truth is, I've watched Ivy for years.
Watched her on those video calls, seen her in the background when she thought I wasn't looking.
She's been different since she left. Quieter.
More careful. I told myself it was because she was growing up and maturing.
" He finally met my eyes. "But it wasn't that.
She's been carrying this secret, and it's been eating at her. "
"Bill—"
"Let me finish." He held up a hand. "I don't like what happened. I don't like that you broke your word. But I've seen her today, and she's different again. The way she looks at you, the way she moves when you're in the room." He shook his head. "I haven't seen her look that alive in years."
His admission was weighty but I knew he was trying. "I'm sorry," I said, meaning it. "I should have kept my promise. Should have been stronger."
"Yeah, you should have." He turned off the grill, then looked at me again. "But you weren't, and here we are, three beautiful grandchildren I didn't know existed, and a daughter who's finally stopped looking like she's carrying the world on her shoulders."
I didn't know what to say to that.
"Are you going to marry her?" The question came out blunt, direct.
My throat tightened. "I want to ask her."
"Want to, or going to?"
"I'm going to ask her." The words came out strong despite me not truly having a plan.
Still, there was no doubt in my mind that a proposal was the next step—and not out of obligation as Ivy feared, but because my heart couldn't live without her.
"I love her, Bill. I've loved her for years, and I was too much of a coward to admit it. "
He studied me for a long moment, and I saw something of Ivy in his careful assessment. "You know all the reasons this is a bad idea."
"I do."
"Age difference. The scandal it'll cause. The fact that you've had one of these already and this complicates everything."
"I know."
"You're set in your ways. She's got three kids and a sick mother. You don't know the first thing about being a father."
Each point landed with the accuracy of a man who'd been thinking about this all day.
"You're right," I said. "About all of it."
"But?"
"But I'm not walking away from them. Not again." I met his stare. "I can't promise I'll be perfect at this. I can't promise it'll be easy. But I can promise I'll try. Every day."
Bill picked up his beer, took a long drink, then set it down with a decisive thunk. "If having you as a son-in-law means my daughter stays home, means those kids grow up knowing their grandfather…" He trailed off, then shook his head. "I can't stand in the way of her happiness. Not anymore."
Relief flooded through me, followed immediately by a new kind of terror. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet. You still have to ask her."
The back door opened, and Ivy stepped outside, the triplets trailing behind her. Elena ran straight to Bill, wrapping her arms around his legs. Sammy and Chrissy made a beeline for the sandbox in the corner of the yard.
"Dinner ready?" Ivy asked, and I saw the question in her eyes as she looked between her father and me.
"Just about," Bill said, lifting Elena into his arms. "Why don't you help your mom set the table?"
As Ivy headed back inside, Bill turned to me one more time. "One more thing. You hurt her again, and I don't care how many business deals we have together. I'll destroy you."
The threat was delivered with the calm certainty of a man who meant every word.
"Understood."
But as I watched Ivy through the kitchen window, laughing at something her mother said, I resolved take the next step. I was ready to ask her to marry me. Ready to build a life with her and the children. Ready to be the man she deserved.
The only question was whether she'd say yes. Or whether she'd think I was only asking out of obligation, out of some misguided sense of duty to fix what we'd broken.