by Amy Andrews
Ivy arched off the bed and cried out, wrenching her mouth away. He circled round and round it and things deep and low clamped tight. “Stop,” she panted as she grabbed his wrist and the circling motion ceased. “I’m going to come if you keep doing that.”
“I certainly hope so,” he said as he kissed the underside of her jaw and set his finger to action again.
“No.” She squeezed his wrist harder. “I want to…I want you in me.”
He looked down at her. His breathing was as heavy as hers. “Patience is a virtue,” he tsked.
It was fair to say Ivy’s virtue would soon be a thing of the past so it could go take a long leap off a short pier.
“Don’t make me wait any longer,” she pleaded. “You’re killing me.”
He grinned. “Did you or did you not choose me to be the one?”
Ivy blinked. He wanted her to process a question? When she was barely able to remember her own name? “I…did?”
“Then shut your eyes,” he said, kissing her eyelids, “and trust me.”
Ivy fought against the heavy droop of her lids and every nerve cell in her clit demanding she shut up already. This was important. “But I don’t want you just to make me come. I want to…fuck.”
He smiled and he was so damn sexy, his dark hair falling across his forehead like that, his sensuous mouth so close to hers, Ivy almost came from that alone. He was beautiful. And not just physically. Dean was touching her heart as well as her body.
“First you come, then we fuck.”
The words slammed into her pelvis as he shook off her hand and stroked her clit again—once, twice, three times—and Ivy shut her eyes on a deep moan, shifting restlessly against the mattress, giving herself up to the experience.
His mouth landed on hers and she opened to him, letting his soft kisses and his hard fingers take her closer and closer to the Promised Land. She was lost, gone, floating in the rainbow of pleasure he was feeding her through his mouth and his fingers, barely able to hold on let alone keep up.
She grabbed his shoulder with her free hand as the world started to shift and her sanity started to slide out of her control. Her other hand grabbed for the sheet but she moaned out loud as she found his erection instead, latching on to the long, thick length of it.
“Christ,” he groaned against her mouth, his shoulders tensing, but Ivy was not letting go. She wasn’t surrendering the tactile pleasure of its heavy girth. She squeezed it, kneaded it through the fabric as everything that had twisted tight inside her started to unspool. Slowly at first, then rapidly.
She cried out against his mouth as she came messily apart, thrashing against the mattress, bucking her hips wildly, calling his name, “Dean, Dean, Dean.”
Chapter Twelve
Seth’s eyes rolled back at her grip on his cock—hard just the way he liked it—as she came. He hated that she called him Dean. He wanted to tell her right then. Demand she call his name as she came.
Seth. Seth. Seth.
It hadn’t mattered before. It did now.
But despite it all he kept focussed. Kept up the pressure on the slick hardness of her clit, not relenting until she was begging him to stop, drawing her legs up.
Her blissed-out face, her hair spread around her head, her ravaged mouth parting as she struggled for breath got him even harder. He’d done that to her.
Seth Rodrigo. Not Dean Bennett.
And he wanted to do it again. Often. Lying here with her, her orgasm still echoing in his ears, her hand still wrapped firmly around his cock, it even seemed possible.
Her green eyes fluttered open, glazed for a few seconds before they finally cleared. “Wow,” she whispered. “And that wasn’t even the main event.”
He chuckled, falling onto his back, lifting his arm and scooping her closer. She settled her head into the crook of his neck. Wisps of her hair tickled his jaw and he could smell her shampoo and cardamom.
Jesus. It was such a frickin’ turn on smelling himself on her skin. If he let it, it could completely undermine his resolve to blow her brains with the best damn orgasm she’d ever had but leave her with her virginity. Because for damn sure he wanted to know what it felt like to be inside her, to hear her come right into his ear while he was buried to the hilt.
But that would leave his honor a pathetic trashed blip on the horizon and he couldn’t do it.
“I think my bones have dissolved,” she said with a sleepy-sounding sigh, her fingers stroking his pec.
He shut his eyes, reveling in the lazy caress, returning it as he trailed his fingers up and down her arm. “Then my work here is done,” he said.
She laughed but her fingers were slowing and her head was growing heavier against his shoulder. “I’m just going to need a sec to…”
She didn’t finish her sentence and Seth smiled at the ceiling. She was asleep. Not that he could blame her. Nothing like a truly spectacular orgasm to induce a coma. And it was easier this way than her demanding the main event and him having to spoil this special moment with denial.
That would come soon enough.
He was fine with putting it off as long as possible.
Her skin was cooling rapidly and he kissed the top of her head as he shifted, moving them both up to the pillows and pulling the sheet up over them. She stirred, mumbling something, her thigh sliding over the top of his as she snuggled back in, clinging to him in her half sleep as if she was frightened he was going to do a runner.
He should.
He should take off right now and have her remember him as some guy she knew for a few months, who saved her from a bullet and had briefly worshipped her body. Leave her with fond memories.
But he couldn’t abandon her either.
Seth stared at the ceiling, grappling with a dozen different scenarios revolving around her waking and wanting more. And he was totally up for that. But he couldn’t take this any further without her knowing who he really was. He had to tell her the truth first.
And there was no way to put a bow on that.
Sleep pulled at Seth’s eyelids and he fought it. He wouldn’t have thought sleep was possible given the jumble in his head. But he hadn’t counted on the seductive pull of a warm, naked Ivy plastered against him combining with the hard tug of exhaustion. Too many nights without sleep and the euphoria of safety was taking its toll.
Having Ivy wrapped around him was a bonus.
He let his eyes drift shut and surrendered to the dark.
…
Ivy woke with a start to a thundering knock. Dean was already bolt upright, displacing her in the process.
“Who the hell is that?” she asked, her heart belting like a train, her brain a jumble.
“Christ,” Dean muttered, swinging his legs out of the bed. “It’s seven o’clock. Must be the cops.”
Everything came back to her then as Dean stood in nothing but his underwear, then quickly climbed into his jeans. There was some kind of tattoo on his shoulder blade. Stars? She blinked, trying to clear the bleariness of heavy sleep from her vision.
She would have liked a moment to collect herself, to admire Dean’s body and let the memories wash over her. Hell, she’d have liked another half hour to pick up where they left off when she’d stupidly fallen asleep but the knock came again and she figured there’d be time for that later.
Dean threw his shirt over his head. “Coming,” he called as he bent to scoop something off the floor. “You need to get dressed,” he said, his gaze taking a detour from her face to her exposed breasts back to her face again, flaring every one of her hot spots to life.
He tossed her clothes at her. “Take these into the bathroom, I’ll let them in.”
Ivy responded to the note of command in his voice without thinking, rolling out of bed with her clothes as he made his way to the door. The last thing she wanted was the cops realizing what had gone on between them last night. She wasn’t ashamed, but she didn’t want to be the butt of any grubby sexual innuendo back at their
HQ.
Completely naked, she snagged a pair of jeans from her bag as she passed by, not wanting to talk to the cops in her pajamas. Her gaze met Dean’s as he stood at the door and she wished she could read his expression. He had his bouncer face on again and she was disappointed to not see something softer, something to let her know that despite their current predicament, last night was still on his mind.
She sent him a quick smile as she stepped into the bathroom but he was already turning toward the front door, the frown on his face detracting from the beautiful messiness of his hair.
Ivy leaned against the closed door, her heart beating hard in her chest as she listened to the muffled exchange outside.
“We get you up, Dean?” It sounded like Halliday’s voice.
“Yeah…sorry. I think we both just crashed for the first time in four days after your phone call.”
“That’s normal.” Another voice, this time harder to discern as they obviously moved into the main area.
The voices muted to just low mumbles and Ivy gave up trying to listen to them, glancing at herself in the mirror instead. She looked an absolute fright—stark naked, her hair a mess, a couple of red marks on the pale skin of her breasts, her mouth looking like it had gone ten rounds with the Bachelor.
She certainly didn’t look very virginal right now. Even though they hadn’t quite gotten around to that bit.
But they would. The thought made her smile.
Her hands shook as she climbed into her clothes thinking about what was going to happen after the detectives left. When they were alone again. She could almost feel his mouth on her. At her neck, her breasts, her belly. Lower.
Hot tingles erupted between her legs as she thought about him putting his mouth there. About the moment he’d thrust his cock into her and she’d finally cash in her v-card.
She shut her eyes. God. It couldn’t come soon enough.
Muffled laughter snapped her eyes open. “Pull yourself together,” she told her reflection. This wasn’t over just yet. They were waiting for her. The cops. And Dean. They had croissants and God knew she could eat the entire contents of a patisserie right now.
Sex was going to be hell on her hips.
The debrief was brief. It lasted about twenty minutes. The croissants lasted fifteen. Ivy ate three—one after the other—her growling stomach finally satisfied as she washed them down with some seriously good coffee. She brushed at the flakes of pastry that had fallen on her tank-top as she listened. Or pretended to, anyway. It seemed like a rehash of everything from the last few days and Dean’s thigh was infinitely more interesting considering it lead all the way up to his crotch.
Then the cops were standing, shaking hands and thanking both of them for their service and their patience. Wishing them well. Detective Bridges looked around the room at the unpacked bags and the belongings strewn around.
“Ring this number”—he pulled out a card—“when you’re ready to leave. A patrol car will drop you wherever you want to go. Checkout’s not till ten so there’s no need to rush.”
“Thanks,” Dean said, taking the card.
The detectives left a minute later.
“Alone again,” Ivy said, turning to face him.
He shot her an awkward smile. “Yes.”
She took a step toward him, determined to get back to where they’d been just a few hours ago. The mood had been shot to hell but she needed to finish what they’d started and God knew just looking at him put her in the mood. “It’s over two hours to check out. And we still have those three condoms.”
“Yes.”
Ivy frowned. He didn’t exactly looked thrilled. “Is something wrong?”
“No. I just—”
“You’re freaking out that I’m going to go all crazy ex-girlfriend on you in the cold light of day?”
It was clear Dean had already started moving away from her. From the first knock on the door he’d gone from the teasing guy who’d gotten her off to the serious bouncer who’d dragged her down in the alley.
He was already separating from her.
“It’s…complicated.”
“You don’t have to worry, you know. I meant what I said last night. I know the deal here. I’m not going to cling to your leg while you’re trying to walk away. I know this is just sex.”
Sure, she’d like more. In a different world. More sex. More time to explore the possibilities with him. But he’d been up front with her and she was determined to show him that she could be that person. He was going to walk away, go back to his life, and she was going to let him.
She’d show him she could do this.
But not until they’d burned through those condoms.
He shook his head. “It’s not that.”
“Are you telling me you’ve changed your mind? That you don’t want to?”
“No. Fuck, no.” He shoved his hands through his hair. “I do. I really frickin’ do.”
Relief coursed through Ivy’s system and she gave him a shy smile. “Well, okay, then.”
“But…I have to tell you something first.”
“Really?” She smiled at him, injecting some flirt into her voice. “Can’t it wait till after?”
He shook his head. “No.” He sat on his bed and looked up at her with suddenly bleak eyes.
The smile slid from her face as a chill crawled up Ivy’s spine. “Okay…you’re starting to freak me out now. Are you…married or something?”
Oh God. She’d fucking kill him if he was. Ivy’s pulse picked up, sick at the possibility.
“No.” His denial was swift and vehement and she believed him. A hot surge of relief fanned across her body.
“Tell me, then. What?”
“You might want to sit down.”
Ivy folded her arms. “Fuck’s sake, Dean, just tell me already,” she snapped, her heart pounding hard in her chest.
He lowered his eyes running his hands up and down his thighs a couple of times before he looked up again, piercing her with his solemn brown gaze. “My name isn’t Dean. It’s Seth. Seth Rodrigo. I’m not a bouncer. I own a security company here in Sydney. Your father asked me to keep an eye on you while you were at the Cross Bar. He was worried about you working there.”
Ivy blinked as Dean’s confession sunk in. What the fuck?
This was crazy. He was crazy. Her head spun at the enormity of it. Cold dread trickled down her spine. It couldn’t be true. But the look on Seth’s face left her in no doubt.
He was deadly serious.
And she’d thought him being married was the worst-case scenario.
Ivy’s legs wobbled as if they were made of dental floss and she collapsed on the couch before she landed on her ass. Her mind spun with questions and bubbled with rage.
Her father had been having her watched.
On this great, grand liberating adventure of hers. And Dean—or Seth apparently—had aided and abetted.
She’d been such a fool. Such a…dumbass to think her father was ever going to butt the hell out of her life. To think a guy like Dean could ever have been interested in her just for her.
Heat rose in her chest and flushed hot into her cheeks. Her hands curled into fists in her lap.
“Ivy…I’m so sorry,” he stood, walking towards her.
Sorry? She glared at him. Jesus! He was fucking kidding, right? The tears came, then, pricking hard at the backs of her eyes and needling at her nose. Her breath grew thick in her throat, clogging in her chest where an ache pushed at her ribs, growing and growing, looking for an outlet.
“Don’t,” she snapped, holding up her hand to ward him back. He halted near the coffee table. “Just don’t.” She wasn’t going to listen to any explanations from one of her father’s freaking minions. She hated knowing that Dean was only here because her father was paying him.
Hated it.
It hurt, damn it. So. Much.
Ivy had been prepared for feeling a bunch of things when she said goodbye to him today. She
hadn’t been prepared to feel betrayed.
She blinked back the threatening tears. “So your name’s not Dean Bennet. It’s Seth…something?”
“Rodrigo.”
Ah. Portuguese mother. Now that made much more sense. “And you’re not really a bouncer.”
“No. I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you who I was and what I was doing that night after the alley shooting but…”
She quirked an eyebrow waiting for him to go on. “But?”
He looked down into her eyes and shook his head. “The reasons don’t matter. It was the decision I made at the time.”
Ivy frowned. He was seriously going to be evasive. Now? Jesus, he was just like her father. She should never have trusted him the minute she knew he was ex-military. Another freaking guy walking around in jackboots giving her orders.
Which made her think about what they’d done only a few hours ago in his bed. Fuckity fuck.
She’d been such an idiot.
“Oh no.” She shook her head. “You don’t hold out on me now. This is the time for the truth. I need the truth now. It’s cards-on-the-table time.”
“I felt it was better for your safety.”
He looked her right in the eyes but she could tell he wasn’t being honest with her. Why? She thought back about what she knew for sure. Her father had Seth on his payroll. And then suddenly she didn’t have to go any further.
“I see,” she said as it all dawned. “My father didn’t want you to tell me, did he?”
Her father had been paying Seth to look out for her covertly because the Colonel knew she’d have never agreed to it. So of course he would have demanded absolute secrecy.
She almost felt sorry for Dean. Almost. Her father on one side demanding he do the job he was paid for and shut up, knowing Ivy would be furious and probably never speak to him again. Her on the other trying to tempt him out of his honor.
He’d really been between a rock and a hard place.
Dean—Seth—didn’t say anything and anger roared in her chest. He had the perfect opportunity to mitigate, but he wasn’t going to rat on her father. Because a soldier didn’t sell out a comrade.