Chapter 22
Chapter twenty-two
Dane
The highway opens in front of us in one long, dark ribbon, the city shrinking behind us. Ivy keeps glancing at the signs, then at me, her suspicion growing every mile we put between ourselves and Manhattan.
“Are you ever going to tell me where we’re going?” She asks, narrowing her eyes.
“You’ll see.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the one you’re getting.”
She groans dramatically and sinks back into her seat, legs curling beneath her, face turned toward me, hair slipping over her cheek in a way that makes it very hard not to reach for her. I manage to keep my hand on the wheel for all of ten seconds before instinct wins, and it drops to her thigh.
She glances down at it, then back at me, and for a moment I think she’ll push it away.
Instead, she covers my hand with hers, delicate fingers tracing over my knuckles like she’s committing them to memory.
My grip tightens almost imperceptibly, my pulse kicking up as that quiet, restless craving inside me finally settles—like it’s found somewhere to land.
With anyone else, touch is a decision.
With Ivy, it’s something closer to need.
“Well,” she says after a moment, clearing her throat, “since we’re being honest... I should probably tell you something.”
I glance at her. “That usually means trouble.”
She huffs out a breath. “You don’t scare easily.”
“I’m open to being surprised,” I say. “Go on.”
She hesitates, then her fingers curl more firmly around mine. I keep my eyes on the road. My thumb moves once over the back of her hand, an encouragement more than a question.
“The emergency Sloane had,” she says, “was because her daughter was sick.”
My brow lifts. “Sloane has a kid.”
She nods. “Elsie. She didn’t disclose it when she applied. She thought it would hurt her chances.” A pause, then firmer. “She needed that job. And she deserved it.”
“She would’ve gotten it anyway,” I say. “She was the strongest candidate we saw.”
Ivy’s mouth tightens. “Well, maybe your HR team needs to hear that. Because they didn’t make it sound that way. They spent the interview warning her about the hours. About ‘commitments.’ She took that as a warning label.”
I say nothing for a moment.
“So she panicked,” I say finally. “And asked you to step in.”
“Yes.” She watches me carefully. “She didn’t want to risk losing the job.”
I trace my thumb once more over her knuckles. “That makes sense.”
Her shoulders ease, just a fraction.
“She’s a good mom,” she adds, like it matters that I understand that part.
“I don’t doubt it,” I say. “Anyone who is terrified of losing a job usually has something worth protecting.”
That earns me a small, relieved smile.
Ivy studies my profile as my gaze stays fixed ahead. It feels natural to have her by my side. She stretches out in a yawn, kicks off her heels, and curls her feet underneath her.
“What happened with Brody?” I say, hands tightening on the steering wheel, my eyes still ahead. “Does he usually put his hands on you?”
She tenses a little, subtle but there. “He doesn’t... usually. Tonight was his launch night, so he was just a bit spun out.”
Spun out? From where I was standing, he looked like he’d snorted enough coke to light up a small village, but I bite back the comment—for now.
“That doesn’t excuse him touching you like that,” I say, voice lower. “And it sure as hell doesn’t excuse the way he grabbed you.”
“He didn’t hurt me.”
“I don’t care.” My fingers flex against her thigh. “He puts his hands on you again, I won’t be stopping myself next time.”
“Let’s forget about it for now,” she says, her fingertips brushing mine. “My tequila-soaked brain can’t deal.”
She yawns again, closing her eyes. “God, with training and then the club, I’m beat," she mumbles, her breathing evening out slowly.
“Get some sleep then.”
“Mmm..”
Her hand loosens, then slips away completely as she drifts off. Her breathing slows, lashes flickering, her body turned slightly toward me as if, even unconscious, she gravitates toward me.
I drive the rest of the way with nothing but the sound of loose stones under the tires, winding up the dark mountain road until the house finally appears—quiet, isolated, half swallowed by the surrounding trees.
Moonlight spills across the lake behind it, the surface calm and silver, mountains rising like shadows on the far side.
My sanctuary in the Catskills. A place I come to escape, where no one comes. Except her.
She doesn’t stir when I park the car and open her door, or when I slide an arm under her knees and another around her back. She leans instinctively against me, her head resting on my chest.
Inside, the house is dim, except for the moon pouring through the wall of glass that overlooks the spectacular mountain views. The lake looks like ink, still and deep, the pines along the edges moving only when the wind breathes.
I carry her into the bedroom and lay her down on the bed.
She murmurs something half-formed, incoherent, already gone again.
I take off her shoes and slip off her dress, leaving her in just a black lace silk bra and matching thong that makes me groan in frustration.
Her nipples are hard and straining against the lace, taunting me, her skin an ethereal glow in the dim light, like she’s cast from a dream.
I wrap the quilt around her and leave her, heading back through to the living room to fix a nightcap.
I take a quick shower and wrap a towel around my waist before I venture through, pouring a drink, the splash of whiskey against crystal mingling with the faint buzz of rural life.
I drop into the armchair facing the window and take a slow drink, letting it burn down my chest, and watch the wind ripple across the lake, the night sky rich with stars.
After the drive, I’m not ready to sleep, and the sight of Ivy in black lace isn’t helping, so when a text from Charlotte flashes across my phone screen, I welcome the distraction.
charlotte
Where are you? I called around to your apartment earlier, and you weren't there.
me
I'm at my place in the Catskills.
charlotte
Oh, I thought we would grab dinner before I leave for Boston.
me
Sorry, next time.
charlotte
I’ll be back for the wedding dinner rehearsal. I’ll catch you then.
me
Look forward to it. You, that is, not the wedding rehearsal.
A soft sound, a whisper of movement, pulls me from my phone.
My eyes lift, and my chest tightens. Ivy is a vision standing in the doorway, wrapped in a single white sheet that leaves far too much to the imagination.
Christ, she’s perfect.
“Dane?” Her voice is soft and sleepy. “Are you okay? Aren’t you coming to bed?”
I place my whiskey glass down with a heavy thud and extend a hand, voice slipping out like gravel in the quietness. “Come here, Ivy.”
She doesn’t hesitate. She pads across the Persian rug on bare feet, a slight, curious smile playing on her lips.
When she’s within reach, my hand snaps out, my fingers circling her wrist. Her skin is so warm.
I pull her closer, my other hand finding the curve of her hip through the thin sheet, softly stroking.
“Where are we?” she murmurs as her eyes drift to the lake beyond the window. “It’s beautiful.”
“I’m glad you like it because you’ll be staying here a lot from now on.”
My gaze locks with hers as my fingers find the knot of the sheet. A single tug and it loosens, the fabric whispering down her body to pool at her feet on the floor.
I pull her forward, my hands sliding from her hips to the small of her back, until she’s standing between my knees. I lean forward, pressing my face against her stomach. My lips find her skin, a soft, open-mouthed kiss just above the waistband of her panties.
I feel her abdomen quiver under my mouth as she releases a soft whimper.
My lips travel lower, tracing a hot, damp path over the soft fabric. I hook a finger into the elastic of her thong.
“Take off your bra,” I order, my voice a low growl against her hipbone. “I need to see all of you.”
My eyes eat up every inch of her as her hands rise, and she reaches behind her. The clasp gives way, and she lets the flimsy garment slide down her arms and fall to join the sheet on the floor.
Fuck.
Her full breasts are perfect, her pink nipples already drawn into tight, eager peaks.
My hands are on her in an instant, my thumbs stroking over those hard nubs, circling them, pinching them just enough to make her gasp.
“You love it when I play with these firm tits,” I rasp, my other hand busy sliding the lace thong down her thigh. She moans in response, arching her back into my touch.
I don’t give her a moment to think. My fingers ease into the slick heat between her legs.
She is so wet, so ready. A cry tears from her lips as I find her clit, circling the swollen bud.
My other hand continues its torment on her breast, rolling her nipple, tugging it gently as her hips move against my hand, seeking more pressure, more friction, more.
“Dane... oh, God...” Her head falls back, a curtain of dark hair sweeping behind her.
“I bet you loved ignoring me today, didn’t you, Ivy?” I growl. “Seeing how fucking crazy I am for you.”
She doesn’t even try to deny it. Her eyes snap to mine, a devious smile ghosting her lips, and she drops to her knees, pushing my thighs apart slowly.
“Ivy, what are you doing?” I hiss as she crawls closer, fingers finding the knot of my towel.
“Being a good girl,” she murmurs, her eyes heavy-lidded with lust. I suck in a sharp breath as she unties it, and the fabric falls away. My hard cock springs free, flat against my abdomen, pre-cum already leaking from the tip.