Chapter 13
Ivy
I've always had problems falling asleep. I looked it up once and found myself on a website promoting crystals and telling me that I have a restless spirit. I rolled my eyes and laughed, before clicking “add to cart”.
They worked for a while. Until they didn't and I realized I was just drinking more alcohol than usual around that time.
I throw the blankets off my body and grab my phone, noticing a little yellow ghost in my notifications. Snapchat? I haven't been on this app for years, but I haven't braved myself to delete it since it holds so many photos of my younger self.
Ash J
I tap on it and his face floods the screen.
Shit. I'm about to exit when he shifts the camera between hands, and that look—fuck, that look—nails me to the mattress.
Distance doesn't matter. The alcohol swimming in his eyes doesn't matter. He cuts straight through every layer I've built. I’m thankful I can hide behind the camera at least, because if he looked at me like this right now, right here, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself.
Weak? Probably. I can live with regret later.
The camera dips lower, crawling down his chest. He hooks his thumb through the belt buckle. My breathing turns shallow.
“Ohhh, Asher!” Someone slams into his frame, but that smirk carves deeper into his face.
I strangle the volume, afraid I’ll wake Parker. He shifts, his snores muffled through the room as his pillow hits the ground.
Am I going to hell for this?
No…you've done worse.
My fingers trail down my stomach, grazing lace as he rips his belt free with one savage pull.
“Are you making a sex tape?” Camille's voice scrapes like nails on a chalkboard.
“Yeah.” He keeps his focus welded to the lens. “Recording this for you for later.” He brings the camera close, his lips forming a silent command through the screen…. Lie.
“Hot. Best boyfriend ever.”
Jesus. How drunk are they all.
His hand vanishes beneath denim, and my heart kicks savage against my ribs, wild and untamed. Heat crawls across my skin, sweat gathering in the hollow of my throat as every nerve ignites, yanking me from nothing into fucking everything.
His tongue flicks over his lower lip, slow and deliberate, as he strips away my defenses.
Teeth sink into my bottom lip, choking back the moan clawing its way out.
My thumb drags across slick heat, and my breath fractures.
My hips roll against my own touch, chasing the lightning that shoots straight up my spine.
Pressure builds beneath my skin, raw and electric.
I can't stop the broken gasp tearing from my throat when I imagine his knuckles brushing my inner thighs.
His eyes never leave the camera, dark and consuming, while my fingers slide deeper. My vision bleeds into static as my body weeps for him.
Is he really doing this, right there, with others around?
And do I give a shit? Not even close.
That smirk of his cuts me open, and I picture his mouth on me, devouring, relentless.
My thumb matches the fantasy, circling with brutal precision.
I slip a finger deeper, grinding against my own hand.
I should stay quiet, but Asher's chest heaves faster, the vein in his neck pulsing under ink, and when his teeth claim his lip, I shatter.
Release hits like a storm, ripping through me in ruthless waves.
My body jerks, the mattress creaking under the weight of my unraveling.
I crash back to reality and kill the video, laying still for a beat. Fuck. Does that count as betrayal? I'd never cheat on Parker. As much as I loathe him, I take my… marriage… seriously.
I wait for it.
For the shame to become suffocating, but as I grab Parker's shirt from the end of the bed, using it to erase the evidence, all I can think is…
That wasn't enough.
* * *
I blink back at Lucinda as she orders her coffee. The local cafe is nestled in the heart of Veilarath. Decorated with a flora of nature, it's hard to imagine a place more beautiful.
Unwinding her scarf, she places it beside her. “I noticed you and Parker sneak off last night.”
Caffeine isn't a hard enough drug to pull me up today, but I gulp it down, anyway. “It’s fine.”
She tilts her head knowingly. “No change from him?”
“He's, well, Parker.”
She doesn't respond, her finger tapping against her mug. “I don't know why all famous people don't come to Veilarath. Being able to escape the paparazzi because of the privacy laws here must be alluring for them.”
“Asher sent me a Snapchat last night,” I say, unable to stop myself.
Her mouth drops open. “Oh?”
I nod, trying to process all of what’s happening between us. “Of him.”
Luce leans close, eyes narrowed.
“…doing things on purpose to make me—” My lips tighten. Privacy laws aside, no one is about to skip on details they accidentally stumble upon on a casual Tuesday at a cafe.
She gasps, spine snapping straight when she reads between the lines. “And?”
“…and let’s just say, I suddenly remember how much I relied on sex to release my tension.” I let the words die into the quiet chatter of the cafe.
Silence. Because none of us want to touch that subject right now.
I shrug everything off, sipping my coffee again.
She blinks slowly at me. “I knew you two were more than friends!”
“I don't need to be judged.” I remind her, but it’s unnecessary. In all our years together, Luce has seen me at my worst, watched me make mistakes, and has never once raised a brow in judgement. And trust me, I've given her plenty of material to work with.
She lifts her shoulders, unbothered. “Do it.”
“Luce…” I warn carefully.
Her hardened expression slips as she scans the room for a moment. “I won't go into the why I think you should, for obvious reasons.”
My skin prickles, leaving a ghost of goosebumps over the nape of my neck.
She flashes a wide smile again, waving me off and leaning back in her chair casually. “Parker isn't the greatest husband. We all know that.”
“Yes, but don't you think I should divorce him and not cheat?” I lift a brow, the silent conversation between us not so obvious to the surrounding people. How've I become the one judging now? That isn't me—at all. I couldn't care less what anyone did. So long as children are safe and racism dies.
She mumbles into her coffee. “Yeah, because that's an option….” She sighs, sensing my unease. “You don't love him, Ivy. His fingers are just so deep in you that you can't rip them out without tearing yourself apart along with it.”
I wince. “Okay, stop talking.”
She chuckles. “Fine. But only because I know I already hit the spot.”
She has. I don't want to go further into what she is leading to because we both know that not only are those words forbidden to say out loud, but we would run the risk of others hearing it.
I need to change the subject instead. “Let's spend money.”
* * *
Three hours later I kick the door closed behind me, hauling in bags of Louis Vuitton, Chanel and Van Cleef. As much as I hate to admit, my shopping addiction didn’t help with the distraction that I am going to run into Asher and Camille today.
Someone flies through the doors, holding a dish in each hand.
“I have an idea about the meals tonight, Miss Ivy, but I am not sure whether you will approve. Do you mind tasting?” Jasper says in German.
“Do you even have to ask?” I tease back, plucking broccolini off the plate. Garlic-infused butter slips down my throat. “Are you kidding?” I chew on the stalk, sucking the drop of grease off my thumb while looking up at him. “You always hit the spot.”
“Jesus, Ivy!” Punk winks as her shoulders brush mine in passing, pulling me out of my food orgasm. I don’t see him enter, but I can feel him.
I wipe my hand on the back of my Levi's. “Tastes really good, Jasper.”
“Good morning!” Luce grins at Punk, placing her bags beside mine as we both make our way to the dining room. “And what time did you kids get in last night?”
I don't know where the rest of the trio went, since it's only Punk who plonks on the dining chair, massaging her temple. “A few hours ago, I think. At least I did. Asher came home earlier.”
Luce carries the conversation with Punk, and I leave them to it. I need to go and unpack all my new trauma items anyway.
I round the corner that leads into the living room, and stop when I see Asher sprawled out over the sofa, scrolling on his phone casually.
Dressed in a simple Givenchy hoodie and casual jeans, he’s effortless.
I don’t know how he does it. He rolls out of bed, throws on his shit, and still manages to look more fuckable than ninety-nine percent of the human race.
That one percent is reserved for romance novels.
“And how did you sleep?” He doesn't bother looking up at me, but the corner of his mouth twitches. “Nice?”
There is no way I'm getting out of this, and in a way, I'd rather rip the Band-aid off than dance around the angst of it. I’ve never been into the cat-and-mouse thing.
I opt for ignorance and continue walking past, but his fingers catch mine and my stomach hits the ground.
He keeps his hand in mine. “You're not playing fair, Venom.”
Sighing, I turn to face him. “Who said I wanted to play with you, Ash?”
His fingers interlock with mine. He pulls me down on top of him, widening his legs for me to slip in between. I go to push away, but his arm locks me in place as he slides my body up until my face hovers above his.
He looks between my lips and eyes. “You'd lose anyway.”
Giving up on my escape, I rest my chin against my palm, tapping at his tattoo. “Only when it comes to you.”
He stiffens, moving his head to the side to better gauge my expression.
His fingers find my chin and he forces my face up to his. “What's that supposed to mean?”
Swinging up in double time, I quickly dip away, dodging his attempt at grabbing me again. Ha!
“I hear Punk is throwing a party here tonight in the pool house.” I unzip my crop hoodie, slowly creating more distance between us.