by Melissa Blue
“Marcus.” The condemnation got tangled up with her moan. She arched her back. Her body pleaded with him to do more. So much more.
He balled his hand to keep from sliding his fingers down her torso, and up her skirt to confirm just how wet his words had made her. “If left up to me, I won't make the right or kind decision. You've waited this long. You should have someone who will make your first time matter. You'll like everything I'd do to you, but there won't be romance. The choice is yours, lass.”
Her breathing was unsteady. “I'm wondering if this is what the serpent said to Eve.”
“And you've already taken a bite of me.”
Her focus had shifted to his mouth and she'd leaned forward. For a tense moment he was sure Ivy would jump him.
She swallowed, shifting back into her own space. “What do you do exactly? For employment?”
Shark. “Why are Americans so obsessed with occupations?”
“Well, I'm just trying to figure out if you're one of the devil's henchman or a salesman.”
He chuckled. “Not the first time I've been accused of the former.”
“I don't find that surprising.” She glanced around, blinking as though she just realized they were still sitting outside. “I should, um, do some work.”
She didn't give him time to waylay her escape. Ivy bolted for her house. He frowned after her, but at least the lass was smart. She knew when to run, but she hadn't turned him down either. And that was... Fuck. His dick hardened as all the things he wanted to do to her flashed in his mind. It was in her best interest to keep running, and even then he just might chase her.
“I'm not hiding from him,” Ivy growled at her phone.
Her voice sounded louder, harsher in her home's basement. She stood in front of her work table. White and pink roses, ribbon and paper wire covered the wooden space. She had needed to do something with her hands as a restless edge in her gut kept her from sitting still for more than five minutes.
And when the worse case hit, she'd broke and called her sister.
Adeline snorted, and that too, echoed through her phone's speaker. “In the last ten minutes you've complained about needing to go grocery shopping. That involves going outside and maybe running into your hot neighbor. The neighbor who pretty much promised to defile you in the best way. You'd rather go hungry than face him. Yeah, you're hiding.”
Of course her sister was right. She glared at the phone. “Why did I call you?”
“I don't know. I'm just going to talk you into it. If you want to keep your virtue intact you should have called Grandma Val. 'Don't let temptation guide you away from your path.'” She said it in a perfect impression of their mother of the church, Southern Baptist grandmother.
Ivy laughed. “I hate you.” She picked up a white rose and began to pluck off thorns before cutting off half the stem at an angle. “I remember why I called you. I have a wedding coming up in like two and a half months. It's about an hour from where you are, but I know how crazy your work schedule is. Can I crash on your couch? We'll veg before I head back home.”
“You're always welcome. With that said, if in two weeks you still haven't slept with the neighbor, you might want to stay elsewhere. I'm going to beat the subject to death, revive it and talk it to death again. Just FYI.”
It wasn't an idle threat either. Though Adeline didn't preach purity, she had her own favorite subjects that got her blood going. Ivy's staid life was one of them.
She rolled her eyes. “Why are you so invested in what I do with my lady parts?”
“Because my little sister says things like lady parts. Vagina.” She let out an exaggerated gasp. “Pussy. Or goodness forbid, meat curtains.”
She made a face at the last one. “Meat curtains is gross.”
“It is, but I got you to say it.” Adeline cackled.
“You're a twelve-year-old boy.” She laughed anyway. “So I'm staying on your couch. You will take the day off from work. You've already given your job your soul; it can't have every weekend too.”
Adeline made a disgruntled noise. “And now there are whispers we're getting a new guy at the helm.”
Her sister worked as a personal assistant for one of the top managers at Bain Corp., a separate set of higher-ups than the CEOs and CFOs. Adeline would know the best rumors.
Ivy asked, “What happened to the last CEO?”
“He's still there but the last few takeovers have cost more than they earned, which is a death knell for any CEO of a company like ours. They play with a lot of money, invest a lot of time into a company. It's not for the goodness of their hearts. It's that they know their profit margin is going to be insane. And in America it's much more regulated.”
The fact her sister didn't disagree with the “bought her soul” quip said more than enough. In small doses maybe private equity firms were good for the economy, yet she couldn't help but compare them to people who flipped houses for a living.
They came in, fixed up the house enough to make it more marketable and sold it for a song with the next house in their sights. Maybe she was idealistic, but buying a house should have more meaning than making a profit. That was a rant for another day.
Ivy said, “Hopefully the new guy won't be horrible.”
“I'm not going to hold my breath. I'm sure they'll parade someone around soon enough. Then I'll get the deets. I just don't want to get the ax because someone is throwing their weight around. I've invested so many years here.” Her sister went silent. “Okay. Why aren't you humping your neighbor?”
“Bye.”
“No. I'm serious. If I thought you were waiting, for yourself. You know, you made that decision without any bias from people you loved, I'd drop it. You listened to your grandmother with wide-eyes as she told you about how she met your grandfather. After reeling you in with true love is only found with virtue, she made you promise to wait. And unlike most teens, you actually listened.”
Was that really how she got here? “So I'm a virgin because I didn't want to disappoint my grandparents?”
“Do you really want to get into this?”
Ivy smiled. Her sister's frankness was probably why she didn't blink at Marcus's blunt speech. She was used to getting the unvarnished truth whether she wanted it or not. He at least gave her a choice. “No.”
“You,” her sister started anyway, “have trouble telling people to fuck off. Your dad is awesome. So is mom. But you played mediator...a lot. You have this aversion to people being miserable, and you torture yourself more when it's directed toward you.”
Ivy could practically hear the wince in her sister's tone. Her first instinct was to tell Adeline it was okay, which proved her sister's point.
“I'm not sleeping with Marcus until I'm sure I should. That could be in the next ten minutes or the next ten years. My choice.” She sucked in a breath. “So fuck off.”
“I would be proud, but if you're waiting to be sure, you might be waiting a very long time. Even the nicest guy can be an asshole sometimes. The better question you should answer: will you regret never being with him?” Adeline sighed then added, “But if sex turns sideways and you get feelings and he's a dick to you, I promise to help you damage his car or house. It's what sisters do.”
Ivy laughed, her heart warming. “And now I feel bad for cursing at you.”
“It was practice. I didn't take it personally. But if I ever cross a line don't be afraid to tell me. I mean it.”
Ivy pursed her lips for a moment before nodding. “I'm not sleeping with him until I'm sure. Fuck off.”
Adeline laughed. “One of these days I'm going to have a kid and that kid will go off and be something amazing. Still this moment will outshine it. I probably shouldn't have kids.”
Ivy could only shake her head. “You have your moments.”
“All right. I've given you enough sisterly advice to hold you over for a few weeks. Make something beautiful with the bouquet and with the man.”
She smiled. Her best
friend was her step-sister. This was probably why she had an idealistic view of the world. “Later, asshat.”
Her sister's gasp sounded happy. “I'm beaming. You should see me.”
“Bye, Addy.”
For an hour after the call Ivy managed to ignore her sister's words, but that restless edge refused to die down. She wanted to blame Adeline, but it was all Marcus's fault. He had to come along right when she was questioning her life choices. He had to be sexy and make her want reckless and trouble with two legs and a wicked smile. Damn him. Now she could only ask herself: how well should you know a man before you slept with him? Time didn't seem to be a factor. One meeting could easily tell her all she needed to know about someone. Once she made her choice that didn't mean she couldn't change her mind later.
If one time with Marcus was more than she needed, she could move on. She could move on and not have to have that awkward you-should-know-I'm-a-virgin conversation. That, and that alone, almost made her want to jump over their shared fence, naked.
Ivy leaned against her work table and admitted the truth. If she knew Marcus six months from now she'd still have this waffling self-debate. She was still facing down the hype of sex, of love as though those two things were ever simple. Sitting on the sidelines had given her enough knowledge to know that sex and love were never simple. Rarely did boy ever just meet girl and fall in love.
She liked him. He made her laugh. He was smart as hell and could hold his own in a conversation. When his neighbor screamed out the window for help he didn't pull out his phone to record the mishap but jumped up to help. His mother passed away. His father abandoned him. He'd done his best for his brothers.
What more did she really need to jump off the bench? Here she was practicing a wedding centerpiece in her dank basement when a man, sexier than sin, wanted to...hell, do all the things to her. Working when she could be living. Being an outsider to someone else's big event when she had her own right there in her reach. That didn't seem right. Didn't seem sane or even logical. She should have sex with Marcus.
Her chest tightened, restricting air flow, and her hands wanted to join in on the fun and tremble. She would go next door and lose her virginity. From the sounds of it, Marcus would do most of the seducing. Ivy only had to show up.
She rested her head on the workshop table and kept telling herself the lie everything would be fine. If she could believe it, then maybe she'd get the courage to live a little.
The porch light flipped on next door. Marcus shifted his focus to the living room's bay window. He could only see Ivy's veranda then Ivy as she stepped out. The quarterly reports for Bain Corp. on his laptop's screen faded away. Even at a distance he could make out that the black dress she wore hugged every lush curve. He squinted. She held a dish in her hands as she shuffled to the edge of her porch then looked up at the sky.
Night had settled in and brought wet weather. A few raindrops smeared across his window. His heart kicked though. She was coming to him. Dressed for the occasion, if not for the rain. He rose from the couch, anxious and edgy, his blood pumping harder. She scuttled back to her door.
“Come on, lass.” He was cheering her on like he was watching one of his brother's old rugby games.
She set her shoulders back and walked to the edge of her stoop, glancing up and then throwing a look toward his house.
His heart climbed into his throat. “Aye. Come to me.”
She shook her head and went back to the safety of her door and leaned in for support. His stomach fell to his feet. She wasn't going to do it. Not that he blamed her. His little speech warned her of what she should expect. What woman in her right mind would want her first to consider her just a bed mate? The words had been honest, aye, but it was the roses with extra sharp thorns.
“Fuck.” He tugged a hand through his hair.
He shouldn't hope for this. If all he needed was to get his dick wet, he should find a more experienced woman who wouldn't mind one night of something raunchy. But the taste of Ivy was seared on his tongue and no other woman would do until he had her mouth again.
“Come over,” he urged, nerves knotting in his gut.
This time when she stepped away from her comfort zone, her steps were sure. Better still, she kept planting one foot in front of the other. Ivy flinched at the drops of rain but continued toward his home. She was actually coming. He stepped away from the window in case she looked up and spotted his lurking shadow darkening the curtains.
Still he held his breath until her hesitant knock came at his door. Despite common sense telling him to not give her time—she might lose her resolve and scurry back home to safety—he waited for the second round of knocking before opening his door.
One look at her, damp and trembling, Marcus wanted to drag her into his home, peel off her clothes without a word and get started on the promises he'd made. That for sure would scare the lass.
“Ivy,” he said with a calm he didn't feel. His skin was too tight, his heart beating hard from anticipation. Had I ever felt this way before sex?
She wet her bottom lip. The flash of pink over her full lips made his scalp tingle.
“I—um—you—It doesn't seem fair that you worked so hard on my garden today and all I paid you with was sandwiches and a kiss.” She winced and tried again. “I brought you dinner.”
“What is it?” he asked.
“Stew. I know. It's spring but I cut the roast in half. Made sandwich slices and then made stew. And if I don't share, I'll be eating beef for two weeks straight.”
Any other time, any other woman he might have pointed out she wore the kind of heels that begged to be worn while fucked. Feeding him food was the last thing on her mind, but this was Ivy. He'd seen only a portion of her indecision. He wanted her to stay and needed her to feel comfortable.
That wasn't romance or being soft. If a business owner felt wary about handing him the reins of their company, he'd change his usual tactics and assuage their fears. So if she needed to act like she was going to feed him, he'd go with it.
He pushed the door open wider. “Come in.”
“Thanks,” she said and stepped inside.
The scent of roses and rain filled his home. The light hit her in the right way or maybe it was because he knew she was a virgin, but Ivy looked innocent, finally. Added with the heels, the dress...He put his back to the door to watch her strut toward his kitchen. Her hips swished left and right. She might kill herself with squats if she knew that slight movement made her arse jiggle, but men like him—he lived for it.
He went to her. She placed the Tupperware on the table and then balled her fist down at her sides before facing him. “It's better with cornbread or crackers but I was being lazy.”
The way she leaned against the table was like a siren's call. Legs, thighs, hips and breasts. His for the taking, if only he could get her to relax. Nerves would make her run through all the reasons why she shouldn't stand in his kitchen wearing a dress that clung like wet paint. The moisture had created a silhouette of her nipples against the thin fabric. She was cold or aroused. Didn't matter to him as his mouth watered for a taste of her.
She swallowed and looked away, so he turned from her to dig out a spoon. When she stopped looking like a deer in headlights, he moved to her side and tried the stew.
His groan of pleasure wasn't for show. “You're an incredible cook. What did you do before you were a floral designer?”
“Corrections Officer.” She smiled.
Impressed, he looked her up and then down. “You, wee thing, kept hardened criminals in line?”
“I can take down a man twice my size. The problem was I kept falling for the sob stories. I'm a softie. Thankfully, my grandmother, on my mother's side, had and still has this beautiful garden, massive really. I'd help her make arrangements around the house. After a while I wasn't happy with just roses and baby's breath. It became my haven when I worked at the men's prison. I needed something beautiful, simple to offset the ugly.”
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br /> If he were a good man, he'd thank her for dinner, walk her to the door and push her out if he had to. He'd ignore the fact she was there for sex. Men were supposed to be clueless, right? He could play on that if it suited him.
She shifted into his space, her breast brushing against his arm. He tensed as heat sluiced down his stomach, hardening his cock. Her lips parted when their gazes connected.
“Marcus?” her voice had lowered an octave.
He had to look away this time. Her voice sounded ready but she wasn't. He took another spoonful and hummed an answer.
She said, “You're being sweet.”
Marcus cut his gaze to her at the insult. “You distracted me with food.”
She tsked. “I expected you panting or subtle worship while wearing this dress.”
If she could have heard the running commentary in his mind... “Don't tease. I'll win.”
Ivy took the spoon from his hand and slid in front of him, leaving an inch or two between them. “Do you know what it took for me to even knock on your door?” Irritation laced the words. “And you're standing there eating.”
He did know. He'd witnessed only a portion but his imagination worked just fine. It's also why he knew her sass was all bravado. The way her chest rose and fell in a harsh, fast pace only solidified his suspicion, but she was right. He was trying to handle her with kid gloves. That wasn’t the man she'd come for.
“What should I be eating?” Marcus raised a brow in challenge.
Her heels gave her a height advantage but still she had to tilt her head for their mouths to touch. She sucked on his bottom lip, slow, and held his gaze. Desire reflected back.
Ivy grazed her teeth along the soft flesh just as she pulled back and answered with, “Me.”
That was all Marcus needed to remember the man he was. He gripped the collar of her dress and dragged her up against him. If she wanted him to stop, he would, but if she expected him to be the cooler head, she was mistaken. His desire to take what she offered was too strong. It pumped in his veins, hardened his cock.