Chapter 13
IVY
H oly. Shit.
I lift my fingers to my lips, swiping two of them back and forth while I sit on Sawyer’s bed, stunned.
“Tell me, butterfly, if I touched your pussy right now, what would I find?”
He strokes his hand across his short beard and ticks his jaw before bringing his eyes back up to mine, as if he were re-hearing the same thing, shocked by his own words. With all the madness of the evening, I haven’t properly taken him in. He’s changed so much. His rich brown hair is mussed, like running his hands through it is a common occurrence. There is no arguing that he is all man now. His body has filled out in the best places. It’s clear that he works hard to stay in shape, I wonder if he’s still boxing his brothers. His biceps strain against the navy blue henley that fits his body like a glove, his forearms thick and veiny.
I was always putty in Sawyer’s hands. There was something about being swallowed up into his vortex that emptied my brain of all rational thought. All I saw, heard, and felt was him. And now? Hearing the deep timbre of his voice say those filthy words, his warm breath caressing my ear and down my neck, his big hands holding my face exactly where he wants me—my core pulses and throbs in need. I can’t deny that he’s right. No matter how much time has passed, that pull to be swept up in him hasn’t changed. We may be strangers now, but our cores recognize each other as if they are two halves of a whole.
This undeniable connection.
A tether that lights me on fire, a flame that only he can stoke. Even after all this time, just being in close proximity to him makes me feel more than I have in years. It burns brighter the closer he is to me, the longer he looks at me, the more he touches me. It’s like I’ve been asleep and seeing him again has jump-started my heart. How did I walk away from him?
“Get some sleep, Ivy. You’ve had a long day.”
His voice startles me out of my thoughts. I watch him as he walks toward the open door of his bedroom.
“Where are you going?” I ask, slightly confused and not wanting him to leave.
“To the couch.”
“Sawyer, you don’t have to sleep on the couch.”
“But I do. We have a lot to process and we aren’t going to do that lying next to each other. The last thing I want is more separation from you, Iv, trust me. But at least this time I’m choosing it and I know where you’ll be when I wake up.”
His words, although true, sting. Fresh tears prick my eyes and I do my best to blink them away. He walks back over to the side of the bed and pushes my hair behind my ears before grasping my jaw again in his large hands. He tilts my head back so I’m forced to look into his eyes.
“No more tears. Rest. We’ll talk more in the morning. You may think that you have to figure everything out on your own, but you don’t. You have people here in this town who have always loved you, Ivy. You can have whatever life you want, as long as you’re living it for yourself. Not your mother. Not me. Yourself.” His voice is gentle, almost pleading with me. As if the way I’m treating myself and the way I’ve been living all these years is causing him pain. Not pain for how it affects him, but pain seeing me this way.
His words hit home.
He uses the pads of his thumbs to wipe the stray tears from under my eyes before leaning down and pressing his perfectly warm lips to my forehead. I close my eyes and take the first breath of steady air in what feels like an eternity. A calmness washes over me. He releases me before I’m ready and returns to the door. He places his hand on the side of the door frame and drops his chin to his chest for a moment before looking back over his shoulder at me.
“Be here when I wake up, baby. Please.”
He leaves me alone in the bedroom, the door shut softly behind him. I listen to his footsteps retreat down the hallway before silence takes root in the empty room.
I nestle into his bed and pull his blanket over my shoulders until it’s tucked under my chin. The warmth of it surrounds me and I’m filled with his scent. All woodsy and sweet. It’s comfort, and smells like coming home. Despite his request, I cry myself to sleep, the weight of my actions pressing down hard on my heart, his words playing on repeat.
Have I been living the life my mom wanted for me all these years? Or have I been living for myself? My mother never had the chance to experience the world around her. In my attempt to make sure I didn’t turn out like her, and experience all that she didn’t get to do, I didn’t explore what I wanted most of all.
A life spent with Sawyer by my side.