29. A Single Desire
A SINGLE DESIRE
Ivy—June
This week had been intense, but as the kitchen filled with the smells of sizzling meat, I tried to let go of the tension. Lasagna noodles boiled beside me, and the oven was preheating. Windows open around the room let in a slight Colorado breeze as I tried not to fidget with the end of my braid.
I’d gone this morning and gotten the ends trimmed and a few layers added for shape. I absolutely loved it. I’d done two french braids this morning, and the ends just tickled the base of my neck.
“Sunny, can you dump the pasta in the strainer over there?” I asked the thriving pre-teen behind me. He’d been sitting at the island, drawing in his sketchbook, his head bobbing along with the pop music I had flowing through the Bluetooth speaker.
Of course, now I just thought about Oliver’s face a few days ago when he’d walked in and complimented the choice of genre. The man had even infiltrated my damn music.
“Got it!” Sunny replied with a smile.
I finished up the meat, mixing in the sauce, and preparing the cheese mixture for the lasagna.
“Okay, next up we’ve got to assemble, kid.” I looked over to see him nod, literally bouncing on his heels, eager to help with dinner just so he could tell his dad he’d done so. Personally, I was grateful to have him as a barrier between the two of us.
To say the tension was high was an understatement. It’d been a week since that kiss. One. Single. Week. And I’d never longed for anything to happen a second time the way I did that kiss.
Only for him to bring me coffee the next morning and then whisper dirty things into my ear the next. The man was insatiable, and I couldn’t seem to tell him to stop. Part of me worried I didn’t want him to stop.
Ever.
Are you my woman, Ivy Tinsley?
I’d fallen asleep hearing those words on repeat in my head long into the night. I couldn’t seem to make them stop. His gravelly tone haunted my waking and sleeping thoughts.
Ten minutes later, Sunny and I had a massive mess of meat, cheese, and red sauce all over ourselves and the countertop, but the lasagna was assembled.
“Well, what do you think?” I asked as we stared at the pan full of messy noodles and cheese.
He shrugged, his hands on his hips. “I think it’ll taste good and Dad will be happy.”
I bit my lip to hold back the chuckle. He was such a boy.
“True. I’m going to put it in the oven and clean up the counters. Why don’t you go get changed before we eat? Preferably out of the hockey clothes.”
“On it!” he replied with a mock salute before heading down the hall and up the steps. Sliding the pan of lasagna into the oven, I set a timer, and started washing the dishes we’d used for the prep.
It was times like these, the moments in between moments, that my mind started to wander into territory I didn’t need to be in. Past his hushed words and unhinged promises and into thoughts more dangerous.
Oliver knew the truth. He knew about Todd and the absolute shit show that was my relationship.
I’d admitted the truth of my feelings. Part of me wanted to admit to him that I’d stayed with Todd out of guilt.
Guilt over what I saw as an emotional affair that we’d cultivated in these months working together—of course, that was before my birthday.
Talking and helping Hudson with hockey, late-night confessions over situations I had no business discussing with my boss, let alone someone like Oliver Carragan.
A man who made it as his personal mission to be there and fix things that needed fixing—even when those things were me, and not an old tractor.
So deep within my own thoughts, I didn’t hear him come in until he was behind me, the warmth coming off his dark wranglers and white tee as he stepped in close. Flashbacks of the other evening in this very kitchen flowed through my mind.
It had been one kiss. One kiss in a moment of emotional weakness. Nothing more. But what about everything else?
His callused fingers slipped down my arm as I scrubbed the pan in hand, before they made it the sink where he turned off the water. It was that that made me realize I’d stopped scrubbing, my entire body frozen beneath his heated touch.
He smelled like mountain air mixed with cedar and cinnamon—much too nice for a man who’d been outside in the hot sun all day on a ranch.
“He’s upstairs, getting cleaned up for dinner,” I whispered, my voice thick with something I couldn’t name—shouldn’t name.
“That’s good.” His words came out hoarse as they slid along my bare skin, the tank top I’d donned this morning not covering nearly enough skin suddenly. His lips grazed along my shoulder before steps entered the kitchen, and the oven timer went off.
“Dad! You’re back!” Sunny hollered from behind us.
My entire body tensed even more than before, but Oliver didn’t stumble away. He didn’t act as if anything was amiss as he turned the water back on and reached above my head for an oven mitt that hung on the side of the cabinet above the sink.
“I got it,” he whispered once more as he backed up and started talking to Sunny. Asking about his day, how helping me with dinner was, how the hockey camp went and what positions he played tonight.
And that’s how it went throughout dinner.
We chatted about our days, hockey, the farm, the new bulls and how they’d done at the rodeo this past weekend.
All the while, every time his eyes met mine, my skin heated.
I counted down the moments until dinner was finished and I could make my escape back to my apartment and whatever smutty monster romance I could read tonight while I attempted to take the edge off from a man whose gaze left me on fire.
When everyone’s plate was scraped clean, Sunny rinsed off his dishes and put them away, only to hug me and run back upstairs. Apparently he had a new comic to read, which left me with his father.
“I should get going,” I said quietly—the first words I’d said directly to him since dinner began.
He leaned back in his chair, his leg outstretched while one hand sat on the table with a beer in his hand.
He looked like the picture of relaxed after a hard day, while also looking like pure, unfiltered sex.
The white T-shirt he’d donned stretched across his chest, the sleeves almost too tight on his biceps.
Oliver nodded. “Maybe.”
Clearing my throat, I jumped to my feet. “I’ll get a container for the leftovers from the pantry, clean up, and then head out. I know you want to relax, and I don’t want to be in the way.”
Shoving my way into the walk-in pantry before he could say another word, I sorted through the small stack of Tupperware until I found one that would be a good size, but the heat of him behind me and the click of the door halted any and all thoughts I may have had past that door.
The space was more of a small walk-in closet than anything. Shelves on all three walls. Enough to walk in, turn around, and walk out. However, with a tall, muscled, intense cowboy behind you? Walking out wasn’t an option.
His arm came around me like it had at the sink, and he took the container from my grasp, setting it back on the shelf.
“I don’t care about the leftovers, baby doll.” His voice was low, and the longer the door remained shut, the more intoxicating his scent became within such a small space.
My throat felt dry, and I did my best not to look at him. Looking at him would surely undo me. Both his hands sat on either side of my arms, skating down over my skin until they reached my hips.
“Do you have a plan?” he asked.
“A plan?”
“From how antsy you are, it doesn’t seem like you’ve left him.” One hand gripped my hip while the other ran over the top of my jean shorts. “Which is quite the conundrum when I feel as if I’ve made it clear to whom you belong.”
My lips parted, the shock coursing through my body as I tried to control my breathing.
“I didn’t, well I mean, I haven’t…” I stuttered over my words, which resulted in a low chuckle from behind me. His chest pressed against my back.
“I don’t appreciate your inability to listen, Ivy. And if I recall correctly, you told me to stop being nice.”
He managed to undo the button of my shorts with one hand, and the apology died on my tongue as his hand dipped into my shorts and panties.
“It’s crazy, when you think about it,” he growled against my shoulder. “How long I’ve gone without a single desire for anyone. But you show up one night on my doorstep, and then you just keep showing up. My kitchen. My living room. My ranch. My bar. My dreams.”
His fingers found their way to my heat as I grabbed the shelves on either side of us, hoping they’d hold me as my thighs spread enough to allow his hand further entry.
Thoughts escaped me as he mumbled his confession in that deep voice.
Two thick fingers plunged into my cunt, but his opposite hand left my hip to cover my mouth before any noise could escape, his hand pressing my head back against his chest as his fingers began their slow ministrations.
“I want you to think about this moment, Ivy. When you go home and he crawls into bed smelling of another woman, I want you to think about what my fingers felt like buried in these shorts. I want you to think about how quickly I brought you to the edge. I want you to think about how he’s missing out on my cunt by not appreciating what’s right beside him. ”
Breathing was becoming harder and harder the longer he whispered in my ear, his fingers only just moving enough to cause a small amount of friction.
I felt myself clench around his digits, the feeling I was chasing so close, but as if he could already sense my tells, he pulled his fingers from inside of me, air leaving my lungs as his hand came up to my lips.
“Open.”
I did, my lips parting as he slipped both fingers in my mouth.
“Suck, baby doll, because if I taste even an ounce of you on my skin tonight, it’ll be me that crawls into bed with you and shows you everything that piece of shit can’t give you.”