Chapter 63
IVY
My nightmares are even more horrible and vivid now.
They’re a mixture of the accident, my mom coming to life—accompanied by a never-ending soundtrack of her screaming for help—and Remy.
He’s always smiling and happy, though; he’s not scared or in pain.
He’s at peace. I wish my mom would appear the same way.
Peaceful and joyful. But when I wake up, they’re both still gone.
“Did you sleep at all?” Luca keeps his arm around me.
“Yes, some.”
He relaxes against me. “Let’s skip today.”
“You don’t have to babysit me. The dare was terrifying and horrible, but I’m good.”
Luca moves over me. “I’m not,” he admits, his weight resting slightly on me as his forehead rests on mine. “I almost lost you.”
“I’m fine,” I say, trying to convince myself of the same. “You almost died trying to keep me from falling. It was stupid.”
“I meant it, Ivy. I wasn’t leaving that oil rig without you.”
“Yeah, and that was stupid too.” I twist under him, turning to my side. “I just want to sleep a little longer.”
He drops behind me as we lie in bed. I don’t want to sleep.
I just don’t want to talk or deal with anything.
But I eventually doze off until the nightmare returns.
My eyes snap open as soon as my mom’s do.
Thankfully I didn’t wake him, though he stirs a bit when I slide off the bed.
I head into the bathroom, shower, brush my teeth, and get ready for the day.
It was the routine I did when I didn’t want to do anything else. And that’s what today is. Bare minimum.
It’s not long after I step into my bedroom when he gets up and heads to the bathroom. “I’ll grab us breakfast. Want anything specific?”
“No, not hungry.”
When he exits the bathroom, he says, “You might be later. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Okay.” There’s no point arguing with him. I just wish he would stop being so accommodating. It makes me feel broken. He’s the jackass who makes me uncomfortable, not the one who fetches breakfast.
I end up dozing off again. This time when the bad dreams wake me up, I move to a chair. The street is mostly empty. It’s raining and dreary. The weather definitely fits the mood of the day.
Luca returns, places a to-go bag and some coffee in paper cups on the table nearby, then drops into the other chair beside the table. “I ordered a few different options from Cracked Pirogue.”
My mom would love that café.
“Thanks,” I respond, looking out the window.
Luca moves from his chair, stooping down in front of me. “Talk to me. What do you need?”
Leaning forward, I mutter the words that I’ll more than likely regret later. “Make me forget.”
His palms rests on my thigh and firmly hold on as he says, “It won’t stay away.”
“Please. For now, just make it stop hurting.” I don’t want to think. I don’t want to dream. I don’t want to feel hollow.
His movements are hesitant, like he’s fighting to resist what he wants to do.
“Luca, please,” I beg.
I witness the second he gives in and begins to undress me.
As I lean back in the chair, he kisses down my stomach gradually. His fingers tenderly move between my thighs, slowly sliding inside me.
I grasp a handful of his hair firmly as I say, “You’re holding back. I said make me forget, not coddle me.”
His jaw clenches as he lowers his mouth back to me.
His fingers slide inside me, his furious eyes on me as his mouth covers me, sucking in as his teeth nip my clit.
His fingers plunge inside me, pumping hard as he consumes me.
My head drops back, savoring the sensation of his face between my thighs as he kneels in front of me, bringing me to orgasm too fast.
Standing, he removes his shirt and pants.
He guides me to get up then pushes me against the French doors.
My hands press against the glass as he lifts my leg, forcing me to bend over.
His fingers dig into my hip as he enters me with a hard, unforgiving thrust. When he nearly pulls out, he rams back into me, his hand controlling me as he brings me to meet his thrust. He moves his hands to my throat, gripping firmly as he pounds into me.
“Get out of your head if that’s what you want. Come on my dick,” he demands.
“More. Harder,” I beg, and he complies as he pushes into me repeatedly, his movements wild and rough.
The pleasure and pain are exactly right as he declares, “It’s just us.
That’s all that matters. Fuck everything else.
” His body goes rigid, clinging to me he spills inside me as I float down from my own release.
The thing about reaching the peak of pleasure is the only direction to go in afterward is down.