Chapter Eleven #2
Wearing a jumper, his jumper, that dwarfed her.
His heartrate kicked up; he liked it on her, far too much.
Liked that her hair reflected how many times he’d run his hands through it, snared it in his fists.
Liked that her lips showed evidence of his kisses and the hours they’d spent, tasting every part of him.
She wrapped her arms around herself, and his chest tightened at the protective gesture.
He shifted his feet, trying to get his balance while losing any notion he’d had his fill of her. He still wanted more. The thought vanished into the charged silence settling over them, thick and potent.
He blinked.
‘I didn’t know you’d be…’ he started.
‘I thought you were asleep…’ she said at the same time.
Her lips flattened, and she motioned for him to speak as he desperately tried to gather his scrambled thoughts.
Why didn’t you wake me?
Was it as earth-shattering for you?
Neither were options.
‘I didn’t realise you’d be in here,’ he repeated, shocked at the hint of vulnerability in his tone.
‘I woke and…’ she began, her eyes locking on his, attraction and something he couldn’t identify flashing across her face.
He held his breath and what?
She turned her head, looking over his shoulder, and dropped her arms to plant both hands on her hips. Then she puffed out her chest, pouted her lips, as second by sickening second, Ivy Flame returned.
‘None of that matters now,’ the sultry voice he hated practically purred.
‘No!’
He didn’t realise he’d shouted out loud until the word reverberated around the room.
For a stunned moment neither spoke, nor moved.
Light-headed and clammy, he dragged much-needed air into his lungs, because until that moment he hadn’t realised how much of Annie he’d seen over the past weeks. How bit by bit, she’d replaced Ivy, and how much—he frantically searched for the right word—he preferred that. It was Annie he wanted.
He stiffened, his heart hitching. Wanted her for WillowGlen, he meant. She was the one he’d worked side by side with, deciding on how best to honour Ruby’s wishes, and he was proud of what they’d achieved, together. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure if he’d have reached the same outcome by himself.
‘I want Annie. You don’t need to be Ivy with me,’ he implored.
She gasped, and for a searing second, vulnerability and uncertainty flickered across her features, making him want to heave.
He ached to reach forward and hug away the pain on her beautiful face, because he knew why she’d had to become Ivy. And he hated to think she had to pretend with him to be anything other than her true self.
‘Really, Ethan.’ She lifted her chin and gave a false grating laugh, not looking at him. ‘I’m Ivy. I’m always acting.’
Like the blinkers had been torn off him, he acknowledged the gut-curdling truth.
‘Were you acting this afternoon, tonight?’
‘No.’ This time it was Annie who shouted the word, horror etched on her face, her eyes spearing his.
Relief pounded through him. He should turn and walk away, only returning when he had a tight rein on his control, except he couldn’t get his feet to move.
* * *
Ivy dug her fingers into her hips instead of covering her face from Ethan’s penetrating stare, terrified he’d see all the things she wanted to hide.
How much she hated Ivy and what she represented.
How much he threatened everything she had to hide.
How much their one time had affected her.
Except she didn’t want him to think what she’d experienced in his bed was anything other than real. Breath-stealing, heart-racing, forget-what-year-it-was-in-all-the-best-ways real.
He’d looked so hurt, so outraged, Ivy had been instantly forgotten as Annie had taken over, yelling her denial that she hadn’t been acting. Far from it.
A truth she could no longer run from.
When he’d arrived in the kitchen, looking all rumpled and delectable, as if she’d conjured him and it had been years not minutes since she’d seen him, shock and excitement had brought her to her feet.
Had he followed her on purpose?
She’d wanted to launch herself at him and take up where they’d left off. Until she recalled with sickening clarity their one-time-only arrangement and why it could never be more than that.
So instead, out of necessity she’d called on Ivy.
It had never been effortless, even though she’d perfected it over the years, but tonight it had felt wrong, foreign, and instead of protecting her, it had repulsed and exhausted her.
Like every bit of her energy had gone into holding that grotesque facade in an attempt to stave off her growing feelings for him, far beyond what she could ever allow herself.
Her Ivy mask was crumbling, and she didn’t know how to halt it, or even if she wanted to.
That terrified her, because Ethan was right in front of her and she had no idea how she could keep pretending to be Ivy for another minute, never mind another two weeks.
And she needed that protection. Because even though Ethan knew she’d created Ivy in the aftermath of her parents’ deaths, he still didn’t know the real reason why.
Could she leave WillowGlen now and make all contact virtual until they finished out the remaining two weeks? Bile rose, burning her throat, but she swallowed. She’d never do that to Ruby, and she’d given Ethan her word.
Could she drop the pretence of Ivy until she left, while it was only her and Ethan, and bring her back as soon as she left? Because surely it was his presence and the length of time they’d spent together that made it impossible for her to hold the facade?
Could she take the risk and be Annie and keep Ethan at an emotional arm’s length, without revealing anything further to him?
The answer resonated through every fibre. She’d have to.
It was only two weeks. Then Ivy would reappear, and all would go back to normal when she left and no longer had to see Ethan, day in and day out.
Decision made, she dropped her hands to her side, dismantling Ivy’s signature pose.
‘None of it was an act, Ethan,’ she said quietly, honestly, as Annie.
He stiffened and a muscle pulled at his jaw.
She’d done it. Revealed herself, and the world hadn’t tumbled down, although her legs had turned to jelly, and she gripped the kitchen bench to steady herself and wrapped her other arm around her waist.
He took a step towards her, his brow furrowed.
‘Are you’re okay?’ His voice was soft.
Okay? She frowned.
About what?
That she’d just stripped herself bare, in every way, before him.
That she’d dropped her protective persona.
That she’d just had the most amazing sexual experience of her life.
‘Did I hurt you? Was I too rough? Do you need to sit down?’ Concern rippled over his forehead.
‘No.’ She cleared her throat. ‘I don’t need to sit down and you didn’t hurt me. It was…’ Out of this world, sublime, incomparable. ‘Fine.’