CHAPTER NINE
IT WAS THE SOUND of the shower that woke her.
She blinked her eyes open, and stretched in the bed, her gaze dropping to the window overlooking the Thames.
And she sighed.
Physically she felt as though she’d both run a marathon and been massaged for days, inside and out. It was blissful awareness. Every muscle twinged, but she was liquid too.
Her eyes dropped to the bedside table and, with a small flicker of curiosity, she reached for her phone.
Nine o’clock!
Ivy hadn’t slept in like that in years. Not since she’d been a teenager and Nanny Anderson had finally retired, leaving Ivy free to raise herself, more or less. She stretched again and flicked through the news app for a moment, a familiar burst of pleasure and pride mixing inside of her when it worked seamlessly, quickly and the articles covered broad, well-written content.
But it was only a cursory look.
Because there was a magnetic force at work, and while Rafe was in the bathroom, it was pulling her towards him.
She stepped out of bed, rolling her neck and then padded across the room. She poked her head around the door, the sultry good morning she’d about to issue sticking in her throat.
He was the epitome of brooding masculinity. His back was propped against the wall, his legs spread wide, so that she could fully grasp their trunk-like strength and the impressive sign of virility that had pleasured her all night long. Higher still, his muscular chest, covered in sparse, dark hair, and his face.
Brooding.
Lost.
And not in a good way.
His expression was thunderous.
She opened her mouth; but what could she say?
As if hearing the words stuck inside of her, his eyes lifted to hers and the dark emotions were gone.
“Join me.” A command, still rumbling with something she didn’t quite understand.
She nodded, strolling into the shower and crashing straight into him. Her body was on autopilot— he the fixed destination. His lips found hers and he pushed her back against the wall, under the warm jet of water. It powered over her, hot and relaxing. Her hair plastered down over her face like a pelt and his body on hers was strong, wet and soapy. Her breath rasped as his hands ran over her flesh, and when they reached her breasts, she made a deep noise of pleasure.
“I’m so sensitive from last night,” she whispered thickly.
He ran his mouth over her jaw, seeking her earlobe and pulling it into his mouth. Her knees almost buckled, and then, she let them. She dropped to the floor of the shower, so fast that he was instantly confused, but her eyes lifted to his and her intention seared him.
“Ivy,” he said, not sure why the word came out as a warning.
She dug her fingers into his thighs and pushed him backwards. When he connected with the tiled wall, she took him into her mouth and this time, she didn’t stop.
She felt him throb, and heard his low, guttural moan, and she rolled her tongue over his tip, tasting him, craving the power of making him come, just as he had done to her, again and again and again.
He swore in his own language and his body jerked.
“I …”
“I want to taste you,” she murmured, her fingers clamping around his length as her mouth took him once more.
“Jesus.”
And he surrendered to it, powerless finally to fight the tide of her sensual will-power. All restraint had an end point, and she’d found his.
She held him as he exploded, her fingers twisting around to his buttocks, and keeping him deep in her mouth when he might have pulled out. And then, when his trembling had stilled, and she could just tell he was looking down at her, she stood. Her eyes met his, a smile playing at the corners that he would never, in all his life, forget.
“Good morning,” she murmured, her hands on his hips.
“I’ll say.” He cupped her cheeks, his eyes sinking into hers. “How do you feel?”
“Like a sex-goddess,” she winked.
“That’s just what you look like,” he promised. And out of nowhere, he flicked her nipple, hard enough to make her back bow and press her closer towards him.
“Are my breasts ever going to feel normal again?”
He padded his thumb over her cheek. “That depends,” he said thoughtfully.
“On?”
“On how often you stay over.” His wink was pure flirtation, but the question was one she didn’t want to address. It spoke of a permanence and reliance that were anathema to her.
“Perhaps I’ll have to invest in a pair of nipple clamps for myself,” she murmured.
His laugh was throaty with disbelief. “And use them without me? I don’t think so.”
“Mmm, you’d never know,” she grinned.
He pressed his mouth to hers, lightly, and then lower, to her breasts. “I know everything about these now. In fact, I sort of consider them mine.”
Mine.
The tiny little word was fingernails on a blackboard.
She’d never be anyone’s again.
He dropped a hand to her feminine core, his finger pressing against the cluster of nerves that were already stretched so thin, so taut. The nerves that had been tingling all night. He kept her pinned against the wall with his body as his hand moved her to new heights of awareness, pushing her harder, faster, making her head spin and her eyes water until finally, she came crashing back down to earth, her body weak and her brain fried.
“God, you’re good at that,” she muttered.
His smile showed he knew exactly what he did to her. “Hungry?”
She nodded. “I have never been so hungry in my life.”
“Sex’ll do that for you.”
She nodded, but it hadn’t been that way for Ivy before.
Then again, she’d already decided her former sex life didn’t bear examining, and comparisons were certainly unreasonable.
“Take your time,” he murmured. “I’ll get breakfast ordered.”
“You’re ordering in?” She asked in disbelief. “Don’t do that. I’ll cook something.”
He grinned. “Sure. I’ve got olive oil and apples.”
“Bread? Eggs? Bacon?”
“No. No. And no.”
She looked aghast and he grinned.
“What can I say? Domesticity isn’t my strong suit.”
“Mmm,” she nodded thoughtfully, a mock sombre expression on her face. “Just as well you have other ways to prove your worth.”
“Oh, really, Miss Hennesy?”
She grinned, her nod just a small movement of her head. “Fine. You order and I’ll be out soon.”
He disappeared, and she leaned against the wall, a smile locked to her lips, her head tilted as she re-lived each delicious moment of the night before. Maybe actually staying at his apartment did have some advantages. It wasn’t as though that made them a couple. It just made sex more accessible.
Then again, she stifled a yawn with the back of her hand, she wouldn’t be able to function at work if they kept this up.
And they couldn’t.
How long would this go on for?
It was the sharp edge to the blade. The pointy end of the conundrum.
She didn’t want to go through another ‘break up’. Ivy wasn’t sure her heart would cope. So what if Rafe decided, one day, that he didn’t want her in this way? This kind of sex and passion faded, didn’t it? So? Would she keep letting her own addiction to him grow even as there was a risk his would wane? Would she turn up to his apartment one day only to have him prepare her for ‘the talk’? Worse, might he just simply disappear one day, back to his home in Spain with the vines and the sea, leaving her bereft all over again? Experience had taught her she wasn’t good at reading the signs. So how would she know?
She made a sound of disbelief.
She wanted, so badly, not to over-think it. To be more like Lisette and just go with the flow, enjoying the relationship, not worrying about the inevitable end.
But the scars were too deep. Steve had wielded his scalpel with great impact. Not only their break up, but the complete dissolution of the life she’d known. So much of who she was revolved around who she’d been with him. The weekend trips to the markets in Barnes. The runs around the river. The dim sum feasts at Wagamamas, and the way they’d read the Guardian, pulling it apart section by section then swapping pages like a well-oiled machine.
Her throat was hoarse now with unshed tears and she blinked them away angrily.
Steve hadn’t just ruined life as she’d known it, he’d taken away hope.
Trust.
Belief, both in herself and others.
She flicked the water off and stepped out, reaching for a towel and wrapping it around her body. As it grazed her nipples fresh desire pooled in her gut.
She tied the towel beneath her arms and then walked out into the lounge, in search of Rafe. He was out on the balcony. Another pang of awareness trickled through her as she remembered the way they’d spent the night, her back against the wall and then her body wrapped around his.
He heard her approach and turned, his eyes linking with hers and doing strange knotty flip flops to her stomach.
“I feel like you’ve flicked a switch and done something to my body,” she said frankly as she moved to face him.
“Yeah?”
“I can’t move without being aware of a need I didn’t even know existed.”
He arched a brow. “How is it possible that your ex was such an asshole?”
She frowned. “He wasn’t … that bad,” she said.
“He was obviously selfish as hell in bed.”
She suppressed a smile, deliberately not responding with any number of the unkind comments she could have made about Steve. A defensiveness towards the man she’d spent a huge amount of her life loving kept her quiet.
“And clearly he didn’t appreciate you,” Rafe pointed out.
“Clearly.” She murmured. “But how many women could say the same about you?”
Rafe’s frown was a deep line. “I’ve never encouraged a woman to believe herself in love with me.”
Ivy rolled her eyes. “You’re saying you’ve never had a relationship?”
“I have many relationships. Relationships with my parents. My friends. Women. But not lingering romantic relationships.”
Curious at his attitude, she asked, “Why not?”
He answered as though it should have been obvious. “I’ve never wanted more from a woman than I could get in a night or two.”
Ivy sat down, perplexed. “So you just sleep with someone and forget all about them?”
“No. I don’t forget about them. But it’s casual. Easy. No big deal.”
She frowned, so he leaned forward and explained. “The woman I’m with want what I want. A casual fling.”
“Like this,” Ivy said with a slow nod.
“Not exactly.” His eyes were watchful. “Did he cheat on you?”
The change of topic caught her off guard. She answered after a beat. “No.”
“So what happened?”
The doorbell pierced the silence wrought by that question. Ivy expelled a grateful breath, leaning back in her chair, staring broodingly at the grey morning beyond his windows.
But Rafe wasn’t a man to be easily put-off. He placed a tray between them and then took the seat opposite.
“Ivy?”
She flicked her eyes to his. What was the point in lying about it? “He didn’t love me.”
Rafe lifted the lid on the tray and began to scoop eggs onto a plate. He handed it to Ivy. “For what reason?”
“A reason?” Ivy murmured, lifting her fork but leaving it dangling in mid-air. “What reason is there? He just woke up one day and decided he didn’t love me.” She shook her head angrily.
“That makes no sense.”
Her eyes narrowed and her heart thumped. The sense that they were moving towards dangerous conversational ground grew inside of her.
“Yeah, well, I can’t explain it. It’s how he felt.”
“And you,” Rafe pounced. “You were still in love with him?”
Ivy stabbed the eggs but she didn’t lift the fork. “I don’t know,” she said finally, the truth difficult to process. “I mean, yes, I was. That night was… one of the worst of my life,” she said honestly, a shudder dancing down her spine. But it’s more complicated than that.” She sighed. “I loved him, and he was a part of me, and I was used to him. It wasn’t love like…” she searched for words. “It wasn’t a passionate, romantic love,” she said finally, feeling disloyalty clog her. “It was deeper than that.”
“Deeper than passion?” Rafe pushed, his disbelief obvious.
“You wouldn’t understand.” Ivy breathed out.
“Perhaps not.” His smile was perfunctory. “In any event, his loss is my gain.”
“I guess so.” She stood without eating, cast a look in Rafe’s general direction. An unease was taking hold of Ivy. Perhaps it was talking about Steve, or maybe it was the fact that she and Rafe had shared so much that felt special and unique and the knowledge that it was temporary and short-lived made her feel hollowed out somehow.
“Excuse me.” She turned away from the table, making her way through the apartment with her head dipped forward.
Rafe watched her disappear and linked his fingers behind his head, exhaling angrily, tension making his eyes narrow. He’d never known a woman as contrary as Ivy Hennesy. When she was in his arms and his bed, she was his. Utterly and completely. But the second they sat down and tried to have a conversation, she pulled away from him.
He stood up restlessly, strolling towards the glass that faced out over the Thames. The morning was bleak. Grey and cold.
He thought of his home in Spain with a wave of home sickness. The beach would be clear, the sand white, the grapes spindly and heavy with their offering, ready for harvest. Even now in Autumn, the sun would have enough warmth to heat his skin.
And then, Ivy was there. In a bathing costume, on the beach, her smile broad, her eyes laughing.
Christ.
Was it just the allure of the unattainable that was driving him crazy?
Or was it her? Ivy?
He turned as she entered and everything blew out of his mind.
The negligee.
“I didn’t bring any other clothes,” she said with such magnificent shyness he wanted to rush to her and pull her into his arms. To kiss away the doubts that furrowed her brow and made her drop her eyes to the ground.
“Your coat?”
“Yeah.” She turned around, looking for where it had been discarded the night before. He saw it first, and lifted it, walking towards her and holding it for her to step into it.
“I’ll have Raul drive you,” he said, putting a step between them.
“I can catch a cab,” she responded bleakly.
His eyes narrowed. Was she upset? Close to tears? Damn it, why couldn’t he fathom her emotions?
“Fine.” His expression was masked, his features set. “If you’d like.”
Ivy didn’t want to contemplate what she’d like. She forced an overbright smile to her face. “Thank you again for last night.”
Rafe’s eyes narrowed. “No thanks is necessary.” He pressed his finger beneath her chin, lifting her to face him. “I’ll call tomorrow.”
She nodded, but her heart was splintering. No invitation to come over? Just the promise of the call? Was this the beginning of the end?
“Great.” The smile was so tight it was going to crack. “We’ll speak then.” She lifted up on tiptoes and went to press a kiss against his cheek, but he turned his face at the last minute, kissing her instead, his mouth on hers driving doubt and grief from her mind.
For a second, it was perfect. Everything. What they were, what he was.
And then he stepped backwards. And it was over.
*
When her phone rang the next day, Ivy reached for it as though it held the secret to everlasting life. She answered without checking the screen, swiping it and holding it to her ear with an urgency that controlled her entire body.
“Hello?” It was a husky, breathless query. She paced to the bay window of the lounge room and stared out, unseeing. It was a cold day – winter was making itself felt. Ivy would go for a walk later; she’d need to rug up.
“Ives.”
The voice was instantly familiar and heart-breaking. She gripped the phone in her hand as though it might shatter or explode.
“Steve?”
“Yeah.”
She squeezed her eyes shut but it was useless. Pain lashed her. Pain and anger and hurt and reproach.
“What are you--,”
She asked, at the exact same time he said, “How are you?”
So that they were both silent, letting the cards fall, waiting for the other to speak.
Ivy drew in a breath, and then sagged to the floor, sitting with her knees cradled to her chest, her face pale. “What do you want?”
A thousand and one memories stirred inside Ivy at the sound of his laugh; it was the laugh she’d grown up with, the laugh she’d been sure she’d hear until her dying day. “Good question.”
She toyed with a loose piece of fabric on the bright Moroccan rug that covered her floor.
“I’ve been… thinking about you,” he said.
“I gathered as much.” She cleared her throat. “I got the flowers.”
“I wondered…”
“Why did you send them?”
Steve was quiet and Ivy braced for whatever was coming. Her stomach hurt. “I wanted you to know that I … remembered.”
She snorted. “You shouldn’t remember. Our anniversary no longer has any insignificance.”
“Don’t say that.” His hurt was obvious. “It means something to me.”
Ivy froze. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare act like… like you…”
“Care about you?” He interjected, and her heart fell.
“Yes! You dumped me. You walked out on me, on us, on our life. You’re getting married to someone else. You don’t get to send me flowers. You don’t get to call me. You don’t get any part of me anymore!”
“But…”
“There is no ‘but’!” She disconnected the call and dropped her phone to the ground, flopping onto her back and staring at the ceiling as hot, salty tears fell from her eyes.
How dare he?
Her phone began to ring and she ignored it. She stared at the ceiling, listening to the ring tone, picturing Steve holding it to his ear and sadness seemed to engulf her.
It was all so useless.
She had loved Steve. She would have spent the rest of her life with him.
But now?
With a groan, she sat up once more and reached for her phone, prepared to tell him – she couldn’t have said what she wanted to tell him. But it was Rafe’s name that was flashed across her screen.
She answered on autopilot. “Hello?”
“What’s wrong?”
Her stomach lurched. “What do you mean?”
“You’re upset.”
How the hell could he tell that from one word? She sniffed, focussing her gaze on the window once more. “I’m fine.” She wasn’t. But she didn’t want to talk to Rafe about Steve.
“What’s happened?”
“I said, I’m fine. What’s up?”
“And I know you’re lying. What’s happened, Ivy?”
A small sob shifted in her chest. “He called.”
There was a silence but it prickled with displeasure. “Give me your address. I’m coming over.”