25. Fallen
FALLEN
Oliver
I didn’t have to be a mind reader to know whatever was going on inside her mind wasn’t good as she rose from the table, tight-lipped, and went out the front door. I wasn’t even sure when I decided I was going to follow her, but I did.
The rain poured from the sky above, dark clouds and lightning in the distance. A springtime Colorado storm in every sense of the word.
I watched as she stood in the middle of the driveway, her eyes on the clouds above. Her hair was soaked and stuck to her bare skin. The satin pink pajama set she wore clung to every curve along her body.
Fuck, I wanted to take away every ounce of pain in her heart. I wanted to show her how precious she was, how much better she deserved, but I couldn’t if she wouldn’t let me. This wasn’t something I could force—that much I was quickly learning while being in the vicinity of this infuriating woman.
“Tell me what you need, Ivy,” I found myself pleading as I walked down the front steps, mere feet from her.
If I wanted to, I could reach out. Run my fingertips down her arm like I’d done outside the bar tonight.
Pull her in for a hug like she’d done inside the bar tonight.
Refuse to let her leave the ranch like I wanted to every single night she did so.
She finally turned around, her eyes meeting mine—always a dangerous choice with us, it seemed.
This whole evening had been tumultuous at best. Fuck, since the night on my porch it had been tense, but never in a bad way.
Just in the way that spoke of how much had been left unsaid.
A way that showed everything we felt but wouldn’t speak aloud for anyone to hear.
“I need you to stop!” Her hands flung out to her sides, her eyes wide as she blinked away the rain running down her cheeks. That deep green gaze seared into me, leaving me breathless and torn.
“Stop what?” I tried to remain calm, but everything about her left me wanting, eager, and lit aflame.
“Just stop! Stop showing up! Stop buying me perfect gifts! Stop speaking in that stupid voice of yours! Stop being so fucking perfect!” Her hands balled up into little fists, and I could see the fury within her eyes as clear as a July morning in the valley.
“I’m not perfect, baby doll,” I said quietly, the words barely audible in the storm we stood in the midst of.
“I am the epitome of fallen, Ivy. I’m not perfect, and in every sense of the word, I have fallen.
” My gaze turned to the ground as I shook my head.
“Did you know the literal definition of the word fallen is to be subject to sin and depravity?”
The anxiety rose within my chest as I thought about what I was about to confess, but I pushed past it because she was worth every ounce of discomfort.
“I have prided myself on doing the right thing. The proper thing. What is expected of me at every turn. I was the definition of control. Until one night, a woman showed up at my front door in a ripped-up hoodie and fur slippers. Since then, every moment of every day, my control has slipped, and I have found myself falling into a sense of depravity that I cannot climb my way out of. Truly, I have tried. Yet you have fully consumed my every thought and feeling, Ivy Tinsley, and without you, I find that I am nothing but an empty chasm of a man.”
Her chest heaved, her lips parted, and the expression of shock was clear as she watched me.
“Please fall with me,” I pleaded.
I saw when it clicked—her thoughts, her feelings. The idea to drop it all for something that could be everything. Two steps and she was pressed against me, her arms wrapped around my neck and her hands in my hair as her lips finally found their way to mine.
Something I’d been dreaming of for months—finally happening. Finally real.
My arms sank down around her, pulling her as close to me as I possibly could. Rain soaked us both, but nothing mattered beyond the feeling of her lips against my own.
I didn’t just kiss her. I devoured her. She opened for me, my teeth sinking into her bottom lip resulting in the most delicate whimper I’d witnessed in my life. Our tongues danced—the bourbon and cinnamon still strong, but mixed with it was a sweetness that could only be summed up as Ivy.
Perfection in human form.
Groans spilled from my lips as she tugged on my hair, one hand falling to cup her ass while the other shifted up her back and into her hair.
A click and hinging sound from behind us had us pulling apart—the moment ending just as quickly as it began. She withdrew her arms with such force, I had to hold onto her to keep her from falling.
“Don’t let me interrupt!” a drunk Theo hollered as he turned and shuffled back into the house.
I didn’t turn to look at him, my eyes glued to her as I tried to catch my breath. Tried to make sense of anything her face was giving away, but her eyes were on the ground, and the sound of rain was the only thing filling the space between us.
“Say something,” I once more pleaded.
But she shook her head. “That can’t happen again. We can’t. I can’t. I have?—”
“What? A fucking boyfriend? Don’t feed me that shit, Ivy. You and I both know better.” Anger began growing within me, and I tried to tamper it down. I tried to look at things from her perspective, but it wasn’t happening.
“Yes, Oliver! A fucking boyfriend!” Her anger matched my own, and I took a step closer to her, telling myself if I could just touch her once more she’d see.
She’d fucking see and feel what I did, but she took a step back, matching me pace for pace.
“Stop. I don’t—I can’t. Just stop. I’m going back inside.
This”—she gestured between the two of us—“can’t happen again. ”
“Tell yourself whatever you want, Ivy. But we both know there is no stopping it now. You’re mine. Maybe you always have been.”
She shook her head as she ran back to the front door, closing it behind her. And I watched her go.
For now.
For now, she could run.
But she couldn’t run from me forever.