Chapter Twenty-Three - Nolan
I sit back down on the bench and Ivy rests her head on my shoulder, both of us breathing hard, our hearts hammering against one another as we calm down.
“I told you I wasn’t on birth control, Nolan.”
Shit. “Sorry, Ivy. I forgot. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”
“It only takes once,” she mumbles.
“I can go get you a morning-after pill.”
Her head comes up from my shoulder and I get the most disgusted look from a post-coital girl. Ever. “What?” I laugh.
“I don’t need an abortion pill, Nolan.”
Right. Pastor’s daughter. I put my hands up and shrug. “Fine. It’s your call.”
She gets up off my lap with a sigh and stands underneath the water, reaching for the soap.
I get up and take it from her, then place the bar against her breasts and start rubbing her in small circles. “I’m sorry,” I say as the lather begins to build. “I just got caught up in the moment.”
“It’s my fault, so never mind.”
“Well, lack of condom buzzkill aside”—I lean down into her ear and whisper—“that was fun. Did you like it better this time?”
“Yes.” She hesitates, like she’s not sure if she wants to be mad at me or not, then gives in and smiles. “That felt amazing.”
I wash Ivy’s arms and belly and she squeezes some shampoo onto her the top of her head and lathers up her hair. “My turn now, right?” she asks.
I play dumb. “Turn for what? I got you off.”
“Not that, Nolan. You know what I want.”
“Why do you want to know what happened that night? It’s history. It doesn’t even matter anymore.”
“It matters to me. I mean I guess you’re just using me for a good time this weekend, so what I feel doesn’t matter to you. But your part in what happened that night matters to me.”
“Who said anything about using you?” I say, getting pissed off. And just what the fuck does she mean by ‘your part in what happened that night’? “If I didn’t like you, Ivy, you would not be at my private residence in Del Mar. Believe me, I’ve got plenty of places to take a one-night stand. Besides, this is our second day together, so it’s past one-night stand territory.”
“Hmmm.”
“Hmmm what?” I ask. “What are you thinking so hard about?” But before I can get an answer out of her she ducks under the shower again and I have to wait until her hair is rinsed before I can repeat my question.
“I want you to draw me. Like you said. I want to see a drawing.”
“Because you think I’m lying.”
“I just want to see,” Ivy says, going for the conditioner and massaging it into her long hair that is more brown than blonde now that it’s wet. “Can you do it?”
“Yeah. But why should I? What do I have to prove to you?”
“Nothing, I guess. But I’m going home right now if you don’t.”
“Is this all part of your rules of war, Ivy Rockwell? The fine art of negotiation?”
“Sure,” she says, ducking under the water again to rinse the conditioner. I can’t stop watching her. Her breasts are lifted up because her hands are above her head. And her nipples are tight peaks that call to my mouth. “If we’re going to play this through to the end we might as well negotiate something.”
“Instead of your job?”
“What job, Nolan?” She spits out the water dripping down her face, steps out of the stream, and wipes her eyes. “What job? You were never going hire me, were you? You were planning on sending me away before I even stepped out of that car back at the resort yesterday morning. The reason I’m still here is a mystery to me. I have no idea what you’re doing. But whatever it is, you’re good at it, Nolan. You’re good at getting what you want. Me, not so much.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Life isn’t fair, remember?”
“Why are you so pissed off?”
“I’m not pissed off. I’m just being realistic. Believe me, if I was mad you’d know it.”
“Do you wanna go home, Ivy? Is this how you cut your losses, enjoy the fact that you got me to rid you of that pesky v-card, and go home to tell all your friends who did it?”
“Now that,” Ivy says as she covers her breasts with her arms, “was a low blow. And it’s my cue to cut my losses, yes.”
She tries to step past me but I grab her wrist and squeeze. “Hold on,” I say.
“Let. Go.”
I let go, but I place an arm in front of her and block her exit. “You want me to draw you? You want to know what happened that night?’
“Yes.” She tips her head up. “But don’t bother lying to me. I only want the truth, no matter what it is.”
“No matter what?”
“Yes.”
“You do realize I never stood trial, right?”
“Yeah, but I need to know—”
“No,” I cut her off. “I mean I never stood trial, Ivy. There’s no double jeopardy for us. We never went to trial, we were never found innocent. So if you ever leak this shit I could be in a lot of trouble.”
“Who would I tell? And you said you didn’t do it, so what do you have to hide?”
“I didn’t do it. Not what they accused me of anyway.”
“What?” Ivy’s eyes go wide, wide, wide.
“But I did something else. Would you like to see it?”
She freezes. Her whole body goes stiff. “What do you mean, see it?”
“I’ll draw it for you, Ivy. You wanted me to draw you?”
I turn into the water and douse myself, then start washing my body and hair. Ivy stands perfectly still—watching, waiting—until I’m done. “I’ll take that as a yes?”
“I don’t understand,” she says.
“I’ll draw you and show you why I need to keep secrets.”
“Because you draw them nude.”
“No,” I say. “That’s not what I told you, remember?”
“You choke them. You draw yourself choking them.”
I smile and walk forward until I’m close enough to take both of her hands and lean into her ear. “That’s the PG version, Ivy Rockwell.” And then I lean back and look at her. All naked and afraid. Shivering from the cold she hasn’t even noticed yet. “So be very sure you want my secrets. Because secrets are dangerous things, and once you know them, you can’t unknow them.”
I turn to the door and walk out, dragging her with me by the hand. I point to the front of the bed. “Lie down on your back. Right in the middle. And put your hands above your head.”
Ivy looks at the bed, then me, then back at the bed.
“Do it,” I say. “Or we’re done. You asked for it, Ivy. Now you’re gonna get it. And since I came this far, I’m going all the way with you. So get on the bed or get the fuck out.”
I fully expect her to walk out because I sound like a class-A dick right now.
But she doesn’t. She walks to the bed, still wet, lowers her hands forward onto the white down comforter, crawls to the center, and lies back. Hands above her head.
I walk calmly to the bedside table. My heart is racing with ideas. How far should I go? How much can she take?
I open the drawer and take out the neatly coiled length of bright yellow, double-braided nylon rope and unfasten the end.
“What’s that for?” Ivy asks. “You never said anything about rope.”
“Live a little, Ivy. Stop asking questions, stop taking so damn much, and just… live a little.”
“You’re going to tie me up?”
I kneel on the bed and straddle her hips, my cock already hard again when I ease down and rest it on her stomach. And then I say, “Press your palms together and put them out in front of you.”
“No,” Ivy says.
“Are you sure?” I ask. I’m not mad. I don’t care if she says no. I just want to make sure. “Because this is what you have to do if you want me to tell you the whole story.”
“Did you rape her or not?”
“I already told you no.”
“Did you tie her up?”
“You’ll have to give in to find out.”
Ivy takes a deep breath, struggling with her decision. Should she give in to me, put her fear aside, even though everything in her body is telling her I’m dangerous? Or should she get up, walk out, and never look back?
Truthfully, I’m not sure which answer is right for her.
She exhales and lowers her arms in front of her. Palms pressed together.
I smile. “I like the double braid because it’s soft.” I start wrapping it around her wrist, lining each pass up end to end, so it’s flat, and elegant, and strong. “And I like the yellow. I have a thing for yellow, Ivy. Which is why I really liked that bikini you were wearing at the pool yesterday afternoon.”
“What are you going to do?” Ivy asks, her voice slightly panicked now that she’s given me control. I’ve already got the rope the way I like it and I tuck the loose end underneath, near her wrist to fasten it.
“If you ever get stuck, just FYI, the rope stretches. I don’t put it on tight, it would cut off your circulation. So if I ever leave you for some length of time and you become afraid, think I won’t come back, or you’ve had enough—just wriggle around until it loosens. It might take a while, but you’re not stuck, Ivy. Got it?”
She swallows hard and nods.
“Good. Because I’m going to leave you right now.”
“What? Nolan—”
“Stop,” I say. “I’ll be back.”
I get up before she can say anything else and leave the room.