Start Again Series: A Billionaire Romance Box Set

by J. Saman

  “Turning twenty-one then?”

  She shakes her head with a wink, before bringing her mouth to my ear.

  “I’m really only nineteen, but you won’t tell, will you?”

  I can feel just how big I’m smiling. It’s the first genuine one since Tuesday and today is Friday.

  “Promise. Your secret is safe with me . . .”

  “Ivy Green.” She shakes my hand, and I almost want to laugh at just how adorable that is.

  “Is that meant to be ironic?” Her brows furrow for a moment before she rolls her eyes. “Because Ivy is green.”

  “Yes, you’re a bloody brilliant one, aren’t you? I’ve never heard that before,” she says sarcastically, widening her eyes as she waits for my name, which really isn’t much better.

  “Luke Walker.”

  And then she bursts into laugher. “Really? Is your middle name Sky?”

  “I’ve never heard that one before, either.”

  She shakes her head taking a sip of her drink, which looks to be a Manhattan.

  “So, we’re both unfortunate in the name department.”

  “Looks that way.” I scroll down to her perfect legs that are minimally covered by the short dress and then back up because I really can’t stay away from those eyes for all that long. “Happy birthday, Ivy Green.”

  “Thanks, Luke Walker.” She holds her glass up to mine, before we each take a long sip, eyes locked as we do.

  “So I take it you’re a transfer. What made you come here for school?”

  She shrugs. “I’m not really. I’ve been living in the states since I was thirteen or so. California is similar in climate to Australia—at least this part of it anyway—and my older sister Sophia lives here. Seemed like a good place.”

  “Freshman or sophomore?”

  “Junior.”

  “Beautiful and brilliant.”

  She scoffs. “Hardly. Besides, isn’t everyone who goes to this school brilliant?”

  “Nope. Smart is a decent bet, but I wouldn’t go so far as to say brilliant.”

  She leans into me again, her fingers touching the back of my chair. I wouldn’t have pegged her as the forward type, but she is, and I like it. I like it a lot.

  “Which one are you then?” Her eyes sparkle, and I find myself leaning in to them.

  “Me? I’m as stupid as they come.”

  She laughs again, and it’s the sweetest sound, almost melodic.

  I wasn’t lying, though. I really am stupid. And arrogant. The epitome of hubris for thinking I was untouchable.

  “That’s a shame.” Ivy shakes her head slowly, only about a foot away from my face. “I don’t tend to like stupid blokes. You’re lucky I think you’re cute; otherwise, I’d go back to my mates.”

  “Cute? That’s it?”

  She shrugs a shoulder. “Are you a decent dancer?”

  “Hell yeah. I’m an awesome dancer.”

  “Well, if you prove that to me, then you may be elevated to handsome. No promises, though.”

  “You want to dance with me?” I point to my chest.

  “I thought you’d never ask.” She winks, tossing down the last of her drink, and I do the same, because there is no way on earth I am not taking this girl into my arms on that makeshift, tiny, pathetic excuse for a dance floor.

  “Lead the way, gorgeous.” I take her hand, appreciating the warm soft skin against mine and allow her to walk ahead of me so I can watch her flawless ass, because that’s just the sort of chauvinist I am.

  Once we reach the edge of the dance floor, she turns into me. Tall in her heels, she doesn’t have far to go to meet my eyes. Dragging my hands around her waist, I pull her into me, not bothering with gentlemanly pretenses. Ivy doesn’t resist as her hands snake around my neck, her fingers finding the back of my hair that is too short for her to twist her fingers into.

  We start to move and sway to the music.

  It’s not a slow song. It’s not exactly fast either, but the way we’re dancing and holding and grinding is not even close to being in sync with the beat. I don’t care, and she doesn’t appear to either.

  My nose glides down the top of her head into the crook between her shoulder and neck, which just so happens to be one of my favorite spots on a woman.

  She smells incredible.

  Like vanilla and cinnamon. Like a cookie I would love to devour.

  She feels so absolutely glorious in my arms and against my body.

  I can’t stop myself from placing an open-mouth kiss in that spot, and I hear her breath hitch, and so I wait for the impending stop sign. But she doesn’t raise it. She’s into this. Into me. And I plan to ride this train as far as it will go.

  “You have the most beautiful eyes,” I whisper into her ear, enjoying the way her body shivers against me. “They’re like glaciers.”

  “And I’m a sucker for dimples, and though you only have one, I guess I’ll count that.”

  I’m completely and utterly mesmerized by this enticing creature in a way that I have never been before with anyone. And I only just met her.

  I pull back, cupping her jaw in my hand, our faces so close that our breaths mingle.

  “What can I do to make you more sure of me?”

  She blinks at me, a small smile curling up the corner of her lips. “I’m sure you can think of something to sway me.”

  Without thinking of the consequences, I lower my mouth to hers, just for a taste.

  I tell myself that it will just be once, and then I’ll stop.

  But the moment my lips touch hers, I’m a goner.

  There’s no going back. I have to have more. I need to have more. Her lips are soft and malleable and fucking delicious. Like nothing I’ve ever experienced or tasted before, and suddenly, I’m ravenous for this girl.

  Ivy opens for me without my asking, and with that one swipe of her tongue, all reason escapes me.

  I’ve never had a woman kiss me like this. So openly. So possessively. It’s like she’s offering me a piece of herself in this exchange, and it’s heady. A soft moan passes her lips, reverberating into me.

  “Ivy,” I whisper against her and she smiles against me.

  I’ve seen her around campus before, though we never had any classes together. I noticed her from afar. Also, I dated Ronnie for the last year.

  But I did notice Ivy.

  She’s impossible to miss. And I’m kicking myself for not having made the effort to speak to her before, because I can already tell that one kiss, one night, won’t be enough.

  I’ve never hated myself more than I do in this very moment. I’ve officially blown all chances with this girl before we’ve even begun.

  “Okay.” She licks her lips as she draws back with heavy-lidded eyes. “I think you’re officially hot. Way past handsome.”

  I chuckle, dropping my forehead to hers. Her stripper heels make her only a couple of inches shorter than me.

  This is it. My one and only chance with her.

  Do I take the high and noble road and let her go, or do I do the selfish asshole thing and try to take her home? Decisions, decisions.

  She solves my dilemma for me.

  “Do you want to get out of here? Have a drink at my flat?”

  My eyes shut, breathing in her scent and feeling her warmth against me.

  It’s the purest form of heaven I’ve ever known, and I don’t know how to say no.

  But I have to try.

  “I do, Ivy. I really do. You have no idea how much I want you.”

  She smiles. I can’t see it because my eyes are still shut, but I can feel it.

  “I’m the wrong guy for you, though. I lead to nothing good.”

  She shakes her head against mine.

  “The wrong guy wouldn’t even have given me the warning. You’re a good guy, Luke; you just might be a bit confused with how to go about it.”

  “Maybe,” I sigh. “I like to think I’m not as horrible as it feels I am.”

  Her fin
gers run up my jaw until her palms are flat against my face, and another sigh escapes my lips, this one involuntary.

  “You feel it too, don’t you?”

  I don’t have to ask her what she’s talking about. I felt it the moment I grabbed her wrist to stop her from leaving. I felt it the moment I saw her hair fly by my face, and before that when I noticed her walking across campus. She’s different, and we could be something different together. Something astounding. Something you encounter once in a lifetime, if that.

  It’s been five minutes, and I can already tell that.

  But I’m going to prison, and she’s going to graduate.

  I’m headed in the wrong direction, and she’s headed in the right direction.

  Life is sort of messed up like that.

  “Take me home, Luke. I’ve never done this before, and it’s certainly not my style, but I think I want to break all the rules with you tonight.”

  “Lead the way, Ivy. Who knows, maybe we can make our own.”

  And just for once, I can pretend like everything will turn out okay. Even when I know it won’t.

  6

  Luke

  * * *

  Ivy Green. Are you kidding me?

  It’s that old Humphrey Bogart line, right? Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world.

  Yeah, she walked into mine. Twice.

  I’m sitting on a bench across the street from Ivy’s apartment building. I’m a goddamn creeper. I know I am. But in my defense, I’ve only ever done this with her. And I did, in fact, tell her I’d be back early.

  I stayed up all night, thinking about what she said and what I said and her situation and my situation and everything else I could have possibly thought about.

  It was a lot to go through and as I sit here in the early morning, I’m exhausted, and I have one hell of a headache. But I don’t want to go home. Not yet anyway.

  I want to talk to her just one more time. Spend the day with her if I can. I can’t explain what it is about her that I find impossible to turn away from.

  Not a good thing, considering she’s leaving in a month.

  I get that it’s fast, but it doesn’t feel that way. It feels like a long time coming, and until I see her some more, I can’t let go.

  So I pull out my phone, open the message window, and send a text. Yeah, I might have stolen her number from Claire. Stop judging!

  Me: Good morning, sunshine.

  I get the message bubble almost instantly.

  Ivy: What? Who is this?

  Me: Luke. Who else would text you that? You looked really pretty last night. I think I forgot to mention that.

  Ivy: What are you, six? Who says really pretty? And who texts at this hour?

  The fact that she’s texting me back has me smiling like an asshole.

  Me: You’re right, but if I said you looked hot in that shirt you wore and that I was dying to strip you out of those jeans, I’d get sued for sexual harassment or something, and I make it a point never to get sued.

  Ivy: Probably wasn’t too brilliant on your part to have typed that to me then. You know, incriminating evidence and all.

  I might in fact love this girl. Seriously. She’s fucking awesome. Maybe I am six. Who calls a woman awesome?

  Me: If you read that more carefully, you will see that I used the word IF. You’ll note that at no point did I specifically say that I was thinking those things in reference to you. It was more of a general statement.

  Ivy: Semantics, Luke. Purely semantics.

  Me: Does this mean it’s too late for me to offer up friendship? You know, so I can avoid that harassment suit?

  Ivy: I suppose I’m willing to hold off on legal action for now, and maybe friends is an acceptable alternative. Not so sure on that yet, seems like it won’t work. But you should be aware that my lawyer has already been notified should the harassment persist.

  Now I decide to call her because I feel like it’s super sketchy to text that I’m outside her apartment. Some things have to be heard and not read. Especially after what she told us about that fuckwad of an ex last night.

  “Why are you ringing me, Luke? It’s bloody seven in the morning on one of my very few days off. You said early, but the rules of common courtesy say after nine is an acceptable hour to ring.”

  “I’ve never been particularly adept at following rules or being told what to do—and I’m definitely not courteous. No sense in changing that now. Was your accent always this sexy? I think I’d like to hear that accent in my ear every night and morning.”

  “I’m sorry?” she asks. She sounds confused, and rightfully so. “Have you been drinking?”

  I can’t help but laugh my ass off at that because no, I haven’t been drinking. Not since last night at dinner.

  “No, Ivy. I’m merely proposing we spend time together so I can make you speak to me with that sexy-as-sin accent whenever I want. It may be one of your best attributes.”

  “I’ll just hang up on you now. You should get some sleep or eat something or see a doctor other than me.”

  It’s actually the sweetness of her voice mixed with that accent. It’s doing something unnatural to my already fucked up brain. Maybe she’s just not getting my cracked-out, sleep-deprived humor at the moment.

  Or maybe I’m officially insane, and this is just the tip of the mental break.

  “Whatever the hell you want, darlin’, but I’m outside on the bench across the street from your place.”

  “Sorry? Where are you?” She’s a little alarmed, and I get that. Maybe I’m pushing my luck here. I should slow down so I don’t scare her off.

  “Where do you want me to be?” I ask, way more suggestive than necessary.

  Did I just forget my whole internal monologue about slowing down? Evidently I did. What the hell is wrong with me? I can’t even seem to curb it. Why didn’t I sleep last night?

  “I’ll be there in ten.” I get the hang up beeps and stare at my phone for a solid two minutes, trying to figure out if I should stay or go. And then The Clash’s, “Should I Stay or Should I Go” plays in my head. So very fitting. Of course I stay, even though I’m not entirely sure what I’m doing here so early or what I’m going to say.

  I just want to see her. It’s really that simple for me.

  Ten years of curiosity are definitely getting the better of me.

  When she sat next to me in the dark Friday night and Claire introduced her, I didn’t think anything of it. Many people have the name Ivy. But after I learned her name and heard her soft, sweet voice and that hint of an accent, I knew it was her.

  I can’t even describe the sensations that ran through me.

  Excitement, trepidation, amazement, curiosity, anticipation, they were all there, swirling around inside of me vying for top seed.

  So when the lights came on and she didn’t even look twice in my direction, I was both relieved and disappointed.

  I wanted her to see me. And I was terrified of it too.

  But I was desperate for that flash of recognition to blaze in her ice-blue eyes when she realized who I was and that we had been so perfectly intimate once upon a time.

  And that night, all those years back, was perfect.

  Fucking heaven.

  By far and away, the most unforgettable, amazing, earth-shattering, best sex of my life.

  Seriously. No joke.

  It was really that good.

  I couldn’t get enough of her that night, and she didn’t seem to mind it one bit.

  But I had to leave. There really was no choice in the matter, though it was absolutely the last thing I wanted to do.

  That night in the bar, she was a firecracker. So forward and confident, but when those lights came on at that party and she slipped to the back, far away from notice, I knew something had happened to her. I knew she was a different woman than the one I met all those years before.

  And my heart sank.

  Not because she was different than I remembered, o
r even that I wished she was how she used to be, but because I hated the notion that something had changed her, and I wasn’t there to prevent it. And maybe I’m just being arrogant here. Maybe I’m assuming too much. But I like to think I could have been her hero, her savior—instead of being the asshole one-night stand who walked out before the sun even came up.

  Exactly ten minutes later, she saunters out the front door of her building, wearing a black jacket that skims the spot on her thighs where I want to dig my fingers into, jeans, and Uggs. Her hair is down, slightly damp, and she has no makeup on.

  God, she’s gorgeous.

  Her eyes pierce through the dim light of the early morning, more blue right now than gray.

  She takes her time as she descends the stairs of her building and crosses the street to me, trying to appear apathetic, but the way her eyes bounce to me every few seconds betrays her calm.

  Finally, she sits down next to me on the cold, hard bench and I immediately take her hand in mine.

  She lets me, but I can tell from the heavy sigh that pushes past her lips, I’m trying the last of her patience.

  “I don’t know what to make of you, Luke,” she mutters after a quiet beat. “I really don’t. You are a mass of contradictions and mixed messages.” She studies our interlaced fingers for a second before turning her gaze on me with deep consideration. “This doesn’t seem like friends or even casual. You showing up like this…”

  “It’s not like I was out here all night. I showered and changed my clothes before I came.” She’s not amused, and I don’t blame her. “I told you I’d be back early in the morning.”

  She nods, but I really have no defense other than I feel like I was walking through my life by everyone else’s rules, and suddenly I wanted to live by my own. I’m involved in something bigger than myself and because of that, I’ve kept myself detached.

  But there is no other choice but casual with Ivy. She’s leaving, and though that sucks, I get it.

  I was half-joking last night at the idea of no-strings sex. I know it’s not possible.

  She’s an all or nothing girl. I knew that the moment she spoke to me that first time, which is why I chose nothing all those years back. I had to. My life was too uncertain and I was not about to drag her into that with me.