Chapter 35
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Ivy
It’s been a few hours since I surprised Wyatt, and after sharing some incredible Italian takeout, we’re now curled up on the sofa, completely tangled in each other.
I didn’t realize how much I needed this, his arms around me, my head tucked against his chest, the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat; a quiet reminder that I’m exactly where I belong.
It feels like coming home, and I’ve missed every bit of it.
“So, how’s training going? I ask, lifting my head off his chest. “It looked full on today. Is it always like that?”
He smiles down at me. “Yeah, pretty much. The fans want a show, so we give them one.”
“I was exhausted just watching you. I was seriously impressed, Wy.”
“You were?”
I nod. “I couldn’t run around like that for ten minutes, let alone an hour and a half! Cardio and I aren’t friends.”
He laughs. “Is that right?”
“Yeah. I get out of breath running up the stairs!”
He smiles. “Not ideal for someone who avoids elevators.”
I chuckle as he leans down and presses his lips to mine in a searing kiss. As the kiss deepens, I open up to him, our tongues colliding. Heat pools low in my stomach, and kissing him just seems to get better every time. I swear I could kiss him forever.
“Maybe we could work on your cardio right now,” he says huskily, against my lips. “I reckon I could get your heart racing in no time.”
I smile. “It’s already racing like crazy, but I could get on board with some cardio if it’s with you.”
He’s stretched out on his back on the sofa, and I’m curled up beside him. I tilt my head to kiss him again, my hand slipping under his shirt. His breath hitches as my fingers trail across his skin.
I slide my hand lower, to the waistband of his sweats, and ease it beneath.
My eyes widen in surprise when I realize he’s not wearing anything underneath.
Wrapping my hand around him, I start to stroke, slow and firm.
He groans into my mouth as I brush my thumb over the head of his cock, his grip tightening on my ass as he squeezes hard.
He whimpers when I let go and shift off his chest.
“These need to go.” I sit back on my heels and tug his sweats down. His cock springs free, already rock hard as it slaps against his stomach. I drop the pants to the floor and move between his legs, leaning down to take him into my mouth.
His hands tangle in my hair as I bob my head, licking and sucking up his length.
“Jesus,” he breathes out, his fingers tightening. “Your mouth feels so fucking good, baby.”
I keep working him over, my hand stroking where my mouth can’t reach. When he hits the back of my throat, I swallow, and he moans deep and low.
“I’m gonna come, Ivy,” Wyatt pants, his voice strained.
I don’t let up, and with a sharp jerk, he releases, spilling down my throat with my name a whispered sigh from his lips. I swallow and sit back, watching him as he catches his breath. That’s only the second time I’ve done that. I hope it was okay.
Wyatt reaches for me, pulling me on top of him.
“That was incredible, Ivy,” he says huskily, his hands sliding beneath the oversized jersey I’m wearing.
“Yeah?” I ask, nibbling nervously on my bottom lip.
He cups the back of my neck and brings my mouth to his. “Yeah, baby. You don’t ever need to question how much you turn me on. Okay?”
A smile tugs at my lips. “Okay.”
His eyes gleam, and he winks. “Now it’s my turn.”
Before anything else can happen, his phone starts ringing from the kitchen. I start to move off him, but he tightens his grip on my waist.
“I’m not answering that,” he says firmly. “The only person I want to talk to is right here.”
“What if it’s important?”
“Nothing’s more important than you. And for the record, I’m starving.”
Heat rises in my cheeks, and I lower my gaze, resting my head against his chest.
“God, I love it when you blush,” he says with a grin.
I let out a quiet laugh as Wyatt sits up and grabs the hem of my jersey, pulling it over my head. I’m left in nothing but a pair of black panties.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, kissing my lips before trailing soft, lingering kisses along my jaw and down my neck.
He eases me back onto the sofa, his mouth continuing its path downward.
My breath catches when he takes one of my nipples into his mouth, his tongue swirling over the sensitive peak.
I arch into him, savoring the heat of his mouth on my skin.
But he doesn’t linger long. His kisses drift lower, and anticipation coils in my belly. I was already wound tight when I had him in my mouth. Now, I’m teetering on the edge.
He shifts off the sofa and positions me so my hips are at the edge, my back resting against the cushions. Kneeling between my legs, he lifts them and hooks each one over his shoulders, spreading me open for him.
Then his mouth is on me, and I cry out, unable to stop myself.
His tongue moves with expertise, licking, sucking, and teasing, driving me closer and closer to release.
I moan as he slips a finger inside me, then a second, stretching me with slow, deliberate thrusts.
His fingers curl just right while his tongue continues to torment me.
My hand slides into his hair, and when I glance down, he’s watching me with an intense, hungry look in his eyes.
That gaze alone nearly undoes me.
His free hand glides up my body, and when he pinches my nipple, I unravel completely. My orgasm crashes through me, my legs trembling around his head as I ride the high.
Just as the waves begin to fade, his phone starts ringing again.
“Fuck,” I breathe, letting my head fall back. “You should probably answer that.”
“Not a chance,” he says, pressing one last kiss on my clit before sliding up my body and capturing my mouth with his.
“Do you have a condom?” I ask.
He smiles and nods. “I’ll grab one.”
He stands and pulls his T-shirt over his head, letting it fall to the floor as he heads, completely naked, into the kitchen. I can’t stop myself from watching him go. His body is unreal, every muscle honed to perfection from the hours he spends training. He looks like he was carved from stone.
When he opens a drawer in the kitchen, my brows lift in surprise.
“You keep condoms in your kitchen?” I call out.
He glances back at me with a sheepish look. “Yeah.”
I know he has a past. I know there were plenty of women before me, but the placement makes me wonder just how spontaneous things used to get. What’s he done in that kitchen that made him want to keep condoms within arm’s reach?
I try to push the thought away, but he catches the look on my face instantly.
He comes back and kneels in front of me, his eyes searching mine.
“None of them ever meant anything, Ivy,” he says.
But the words don’t soothe the ache; they sting a little more. If they meant nothing, then why were there so many?
He must see the doubt in my eyes, because he reaches for my hand.
“You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved,” he says, his voice steady. “The only one I ever will.”
I offer him a small smile, determined not to let this bother me. I know he loves me. I can feel it every time we’re together, and even when we aren’t.
I cup his jaw. “I know, Wyatt. It’s fine.”
He searches my eyes. “It’s not,” he whispers, leaning into my hand. “I hate that my past might make you second-guess what we are.”
I shake my head. “I’m not second-guessing anything. I know how you feel about me.” I sigh. “It’s not fair for me to make you feel bad about what happened before we were together. I’m here with you now, and that’s all that matters.”
He stands and then sits down next to me on the sofa. I move to straddle him, his hands resting on my waist. I lean my head down to kiss him.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says against my lips. “Ever.”
“You won’t,” I breathe, brushing my lips over his. “You haven’t.”
He kisses me again, slower this time, like he’s relishing every second, and it doesn’t take long for the heat to build. When his tongue sweeps into my mouth, I roll my hips against the hard length of him beneath me, and a low groan escapes his throat.
His hand slides up from my waist to cup my breast, his thumb flicking over my nipple, making me gasp.
“Where’s the condom?” I ask, breathless, my body burning with need.
He lifts it in response, and I shift back just enough to watch as he rolls it down over himself. The moment it’s in place, I reposition myself and sink down onto him, gasping at the stretch.
“God, Wyatt,” I moan, my voice shaky. “I feel so full.”
His hands grip my hips, his fingers tightening. “You feel amazing, baby,” he groans.
Right then, his phone rings again. This time, the sound drags a frustrated growl from his throat. It’s not pleasure, it’s annoyance.
“I swear to God, I’m going to kill whoever keeps calling,” he mutters, his jaw tight.
“Do you want to get it?” I ask, pausing.
“Hell no,” he says firmly. “I’m making love to my girlfriend, and nothing is more important than this.”
I can’t help but smile at that, the word girlfriend making my heart flutter. “What should I do?” I ask, a little shyly. I’ve never been on top before.
“I’ll guide you, baby,” he says.
His hands find my hips with a gentle touch, guiding me into a slow, steady rhythm, one that feels like so much more than just physical. I feel so in sync with him, so deeply connected, and I never want the feeling to end.
When his head falls back against the sofa and a deep groan escapes his throat, I realize I must be doing something right. It feels incredible for me, but more than anything, I want it to feel good for him too.
I lean down to kiss him, and his hands come up to cup my breasts, his thumbs teasing over my nipples. Then one hand slides lower, circling my clit, and suddenly my rhythm falters as the pleasure ramps up.
“I’m going to come, Wyatt,” I whisper against his lips, breathless.
“I’m right there with you, baby,” he groans, his voice tight.
When he pinches my clit, it shatters me. I cry out, trembling as the orgasm rips through me, and the way my body tightens around him must send him over the edge too. He jerks beneath me, his head falling back as he comes with a hoarse moan.
We’re both left breathless, our bodies still tangled together, riding the aftershocks. Wyatt wraps his arms around me as I collapse against him, my face buried in the curve of his neck. He holds me there tightly until our breathing slows.
I lift my head and meet his eyes. “I love you.”
He smiles, warm and a little dazed. “I love you too, baby.”
I slowly lift myself off him, still trembling slightly.
“I’ll go clean up,” he murmurs, kissing me lightly before standing. “Be right back.”
I watch him walk, completely naked, across the apartment. Then I reach for his jersey, pulling it over my head and sinking back into the cushions, the warmth of him still wrapped around me.
He returns a few minutes later, just pulling on his sweats, when a loud knock echoes through the apartment.
“Who the hell is that?” he mutters, grabbing his T-shirt and yanking it over his head.
“Probably whoever kept calling you,” I say, adjusting the hem of his jersey. “Should I change?”
He shakes his head. “No. Whoever it is isn’t coming in. No sharing tonight, remember?”
I laugh, and he steals a quick kiss just as another, louder knock rattles the door.
“Jesus, I’m coming!” he calls, heading toward the entryway. I stay back in the living room.
“Cleo? Ronnie? What are you doing here?” I hear Wyatt say, his voice caught between surprise and irritation.
“Well, maybe if you answered your damn phone, you’d know,” Cleo snaps, and I wince at her tone.
“I’m busy, Cleo. What do you want?”
“We need to talk,” Ronnie says more gently. “We’ve got a problem.”
“Can it wait until tomorrow?”
“No, it can’t,” Cleo cuts in, and I glance over just in time to see her brush past him into the apartment like she owns the place. Ronnie offers a quick, apologetic look before following her inside.
Ronnie and I haven’t had a proper introduction, unless you count the time I made a complete fool of myself by assuming she was sleeping with Wyatt.
We’ve messaged a bit this week while she sorted out a stadium ticket for me, and she came across as kind and easy to talk to.
So, when she offers me a sad, almost apologetic smile, my stomach twists.
Whatever brought them here tonight... it’s not good.
Wyatt steps beside me, slipping his hand in mine.
“Baby, you remember Cleo and Ronnie?”
I nod, like I could possibly forget. Cleo practically radiates disapproval every time I’m in the room.
“So,” Wyatt says, his tone a little clipped, “what do you need to talk about? Can we keep it quick? I’ve got plans with Ivy.”
“We should talk in private,” Cleo says pointedly.
Wyatt glances down at me, a frown tugging at his features. “No. Whatever it is, Ivy can hear it. I’d just end up telling her after you leave anyway.”
Ronnie shifts awkwardly, her voice softer. “It might be better if it were just the three of us, Wyatt.”
My stomach churns. Cleo wanting me out of the room is no surprise, but Ronnie?
“I’ll go to the bedroom,” I say, giving Wyatt’s hand a small squeeze.
I start to step away, but he holds me in place.
“No,” he says firmly. “Stay.” He turns back to Cleo and Ronnie, his expression hardening slightly. “Whatever this is, just say it.”
Cleo exhales sharply. “Fine. But don’t say we didn’t try to warn you.” She pauses for effect, then adds, “A woman showed up at my office today... claiming to be your wife.”
My eyes snap wide. His what?