3. Ivy
3
IVY
The next night, I’m absolutely buzzing with anticipation.
I told Slate I wanted another date, and if he keeps his promise, he’ll be here soon. I wait in the shadows of the tree outside my house, the night air cool against my hot cheeks. I shouldn’t be doing this. I know that. But I’m helpless against his charm, his manly presence, and his panty-melting good looks.
I’ve never snuck out before like this. I’ve never done anything even remotely rebellious. I guess I’ve always been a “daddy’s girl.”
Until tonight.
My pulse is racing with anticipation. There’s just something about the thrill of sneaking out to hop on the back of Slate’s bike that finally got me to step over the line–break the rules. It’s only been one day since he took me bowling, and all I can think about is that kiss…
How tall he is compared to me. The way I have to look up at that Adonis face and those blazing blue eyes. How small I feel when he wraps his arms around me. He had feelings I’ve never felt before raging through my body.
And I’m desperate for more.
My heart leaps as a headlight cuts through the darkness. And then Slate arrives, his blond hair hanging casually over his right eye as he eyes at me like I’m already his. He sits on his bike like a king on his throne, a worn leather jacket stretched over his heaps of muscles. His gaze is like a physical touch, causing my entire body to go warm. Making me anxious and thrilled at the same time.
He smirks dangerously, causing goosebumps to break out over my arms. “Thought you might stand me up.” He smiles.
I place a hand on my hip, scoffing. “After beating your butt in bowling, you think I’d waste my prize because….why?”
His lips twist, and he nods, amused. “You make a good point, Miss Debater. Ever think of going into politics?”
“Oh, God no,” I laugh. “Keep me around engines. Nice and simple and work like they’re supposed to–most of the time.”
“Well, I’ve got a bike right here,” he replies, patting the seat behind him. “Hop on. Let’s ride.”
I hesitate a moment and glance back over my shoulder at the house, my father’s dark window. Slate clearly notices.
“Scared, sweetheart?”
His tone says he’s teasing, but his words still strike me like a challenge. I whirl and stride quickly over to him, holding my chin high. “Not at all.”
“Good. Then get on.”
I do. I swing a leg over the saddle and happily wrap my arms around Slate’s strong waist. He’s so sturdy, like a concrete column that could hold up the Earth. The second I’m settled in, he reaches back and grips my thigh just above the knee. His strong fingers send a tremor through me that I’m sure he feels.
“Hang on tight, sweetie.”
I don’t even get a chance to respond before he kicks the bike into gear and pulls away from the house, the rumble of his engine vibrating through me, the wind whipping at my hair as he speeds up. I clutch him tighter, sinking into him. His warmth, his strength, the effortless way he moves the bike as he takes every curve.
Our house is just a few minutes out of town, and as we speed down Main Street, I realize I have no idea where we’re headed. We pass dimly lit signs, shops closing for the night, until he pulls into a small parking lot, tucked away behind a strip mall. The sign reads Chesterville Diner.
“Really? A diner?” I ask as he cuts off the engine. “This is where you bring me to romance me?”
Slate tongues his cheek as he glances back over his shoulder, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Princess Ivy. I guess I didn’t peg you for the type of girl who’d turn down fries and a milkshake.”
I have to bite the inside of my lip to keep myself from laughing. “Okay. I’ll allow it,” I reply, doing my best impression of royalty.
He chuckles and hops off the bike, offering me his hand. I don’t hesitate. I take it, and the moment I feel his rough calluses against my palm, my stomach tightens, and I feel myself starting to blush again. He holds my hand as we cross the parking lot and walk up the stairs, then holds the door for me like he did last night.
“Such a gentleman,” I tease, trying not to let it show just how much his moves are working on me.
“I may not look like one”—Slate shrugs with a chuckle—“but looks can be deceiving.”
Without shame, I eye him up and down and do my best impression of a guy’s face when he thinks a girl is hot. “I sure hope not.”
Slate bursts out laughing as I step past him and enter the diner. It’s cozy and retro, like something out of the '50s, and filled with the smells of hamburgers, fried food, and coffee. A few people sit at the counter, and a jaded-looking waitress barely gives us a glance before gesturing to the booths.
“Any open one is fine, dears.”
Slate leads me to one in the back and slides in first. I really want to sit beside him and show the whole diner that I am here with him, but it’s probably too soon to do that, so I just take the seat across from him. As we settle in, I’m suddenly aware of just how nice this feels.
It’s not some fancy restaurant, but it’s romantic.
I feel like Slate and I are already boyfriend and girlfriend.
I’m blushing again and quickly hide my face behind a menu. There aren’t that many items to choose from, but I don’t want him to see that I’m actually nervous around him, so I just keep holding it there, hiding from him.
“You gonna pretend you’re reading the whole time we’re here?” he asks, calling my bluff.
I peek at him over the top of the laminated sheet. “I’m deciding.”
He smiles and leans back, slips out of his jacket to expose his muscled arms ready to tear out of his T-shirt. He’s so confident, so at ease. Talk about being an alpha male. “Let me guess,” he says. “Vanilla milkshake with extra whipped cream and a cherry, French fries and…” his eyes narrow as though studying me. “Nope, that’s it.”
My jaw drops. “What the hell–?”
“It’s just a skill I have, Ivy.” He smiles, plucking the menu from my hands and placing it back in its basket. “I can read people. Know exactly what it is they want.”
A slow, prickling warmth spreads through me, tickling my entire body with a thrilling touch. “Stop it,” I tell him. “No one can read someone that well.”
Slate shrugs and raises his eyebrows in response. “I can.”
If any other guy behaved like this, it would annoy me. But when Slate does it, it’s exciting, almost in a dangerous way. Like he’s reading my mind and knows just what I’m thinking.
And if that’s the case, I’m in big trouble…
“Yeah?” I lean forward, challenging him with my eyes. “So what else do I want? You forgot something.”
Slate holds my gaze, heating the moment with his eyes. I can’t help but wonder if he’s all bulged up under the table like he was back at my dad’s shop.
“You sure you want me to answer that, Ivy?” he asks. I draw a deep breath and run my tongue across my lower lip.
Do I? I’m inviting him into my world now.
Something I should not be doing.
“Yes,” I finally reply. “Yes, I do.”
“Okay, then,” Slate says, leaning closer, so close I’m having a hard time keeping my eyes off his lips. I’ve never been kissed before, but I’m wondering what his feels like. What his naked body would feel like against mine. I’ve never had thoughts like this before in my life, but now I’m losing myself in them.
Keeping his voice low, he says, “You want me to take you out back, pull your pants down to your ankles, and take your virginity against the wall of this diner.”
I freeze.
Who is this guy? David Blaine? Seriously, is he some kind of magician or something?
There’s no use in trying to hide it now. I’m blushing like crazy. Red like a tomato. And Slate is smirking, which means he sees it, but more than that, he knows what he just said was right.
“How did you know I was a virgin–?”
“Know what you want yet?” the jaded-waitress barks, stepping up beside the table. She looks like she’s just worked a double and was called back for another shift.
I nearly jump out of my seat, but Slate isn’t bothered at all. He smiles charmingly and orders for the both of us as I take deep breaths and try to get my heart rate under control. Once she’s out of hearing range, I open my mouth to speak but realize I have no idea what I want to say.
“You know, the way you look at me…” he muses, eyes unwavering. “It’s like I’m a puzzle you’re just trying to figure out.”
“Accurate,” I reply. “You’re like this big, bad, brooding biker guy, but then you’re also this charming gentleman. What exactly is your job with the Bastards?”
“I tend bar. Do security.” Slate smiles. “Not as glamorous as you may think.”
“And read minds?” I suggest. He shrugs and chuckles.
“That too.” He winks.
I swear the room temperature has risen ten degrees since we sat down and is still climbing. I don’t know what I was thinking last night when I pulled him in to give me my first kiss–or how I even had the balls to do it–but I want to do it again now.
Only I don’t get the chance.
Slate slides out of his seat and scoots in beside me, wrapping me up with a strong arm over my shoulders. It’s subtle, but there’s an unspoken possessiveness in his touch. Like he’s showing the world that I’m his. “I’m not that complicated, Ivy,” he replies. “I see something I want, and I don’t let anything get in the way of me having it.”
My chest tightens. My heart is quivering. I’m feeling a storm of emotions I should not be feeling. This is dangerous.
If my dad finds out that I’m seeing a Heartless Bastard…
“And what do you want, Slate?” I ask.
His grip on me tightens. I can smell his delicious scent as he looks down at me.
“You, Ivy.”
I know I should respond. Tell him that I’m falling head over heels for him.
Or maybe I’m supposed to tell him we’re moving too fast and that this is a mistake. But when I look up at him and his piercing blue eyes, those words don’t come. Because even though I know this is wrong on so many levels, I don’t want him to stop.
And just like that–in an instant—I feel the same spark I felt outside the bowling alley go off again within me.
I glance over the counter into the kitchen where the cook is working on our order. I know it won’t be long before our food is out here, but I’m like a little girl on Christmas Day with a huge present wrapped up under the tree. I just can’t control myself. Especially not with Slate’s thick arm wrapped around me.
I lean in close and whisper in his ear, “Then what are you waiting for? Take me out back now .”
Slate’s eyes blaze as he drinks me in, clearly shocked at my second bold display of what some might call aggression.
I might be innocent, big boy. But I too know what I want.
He studies me a moment, as if searching for deception in my words. But then, with a low growl, he takes my hand in his and scoots me out of the booth.
My heart is pounding, my pulse racing as he pulls me out the door and into the night. It’s chilly out, but I don’t even notice. Hell, it could be an arctic winter, and my current body heat would keep me alive for weeks.
I nearly trip over myself as he leads me around the corner of the building into the shadows of the back lot. It’s grungy and unkempt with a single light bulb illuminating the brick wall that he shoves me up against, taking my breath away.
I have no time to even process what’s happening before his lips crash into mine and his tongue darts hungrily into my mouth. My whole body tingles with eagerness and anticipation as he slips both hands up my shirt, under my bra, and cups my breasts. I gasp into his mouth as he squeezes, harder than I had anticipated.
The sharp, brief sting of pain as his fingers close around my nipples causes my body to nearly convulse. I tremble and reach out, grasping his broad shoulders for support as my thighs blaze with lustful heat. I’m losing myself in him, surrendering fully to a man I have no business being near.
He presses a hand between my legs, applying just enough pressure to cause me to whimper. “Slate…”
This is so wrong. So naughty.
I’ve never hooked up with a guy before–never had sex–and I’m out here in the dark, behind a diner, ready to let him do whatever he wants to me.
It’s been no time at all, and I’m already in deep.
Too deep.
And I’m not even trying to get out.