“No,” he exhales, meeting my eyes.
“Why not?” I bear down on him.
“Because there might be another way we can come at her.” Will bends down to recoil the hose. “Ben and I shared some interesting pillow talk last night.”
“Really?” I dig my nails into my clenched fist, desperately trying to remain calm.
“I think we have a common enemy. It appears the Prices got his brother fired from his job at the high school, and he might have some leverage we can use against her.”
“We’re not having this discussion,” I mutter, pacing around the giant puddle on the floor.
“Dude, I know he might have banged Cassidy but—” Will stops as I advance on him.
“Shut the fuck up, Carter!” I yell, tightening my jaw. “We don’t even know if that’s true or just more of Lauren’s bullshit. And until then, I’m not going to waste any time thinking about the past when Ivy could—”
“I get it, man. I do. You have other things to worry about. But you’re going to have to go there eventually. You can’t keep Ben in the dark forever. He’s bound to find out what Lauren’s saying about his brother. You know how this town is.” Will walks over to the panel of windows. His eyes are trained on Ben as he hitches the hay wagon to the tractor. “I just don’t want him to get hurt. He thinks the Prices got his brother fired because of him. He has no clue that he might have been involved with Cassidy.”
“No offense, Will, but right now Ben’s feelings aren’t my top priority.” I join him at the window, peering out as my dad leans up against the truck, chatting with Ivy. “Don’t get me wrong. It’s nice to see you caring about someone besides yourself for a change, but c’mon. You’ve known Ben for like a day? How do you know we can trust him when it comes to pulling one over on Lauren?”
“What do you mean?” Will asks, narrowing his eyes.
“What if, in the meantime, Lauren cuts a deal with his brother? Reinstates his job at the school? Pays him off? He’s going to say anything she tells him to say and we’ll never be able to separate her lies from what really happened between him and Cassidy.” I step closer, watching my breath fog up the glass. “Can you really consider Ben such a valuable ally?”
“Well, when you put it like that…” Will shrugs, lowering his head. “But don’t you want to know if it’s true? What if Cassidy’s baby wasn’t even yours?”
I grab the collar of Will’s shirt, shoving him up against the wall. “Don’t test me, asshole. Not today.”
“All right, dude. Chill’ax, okay?” Will urges, breathing heavily. “But you’re going to have to deal with this shit. I’m just trying to help. It’s not like you have a ton of people you can talk to about it. You need to get your head on straight for Ivy’s sake.”
“Let me be the one to worry about Ivy.” I release my hold on him and he massages his throat. “Stay the fuck out of it. Understand?”
“Bro, you’ve got some serious anger issues you need to work on,” Will remarks, adjusting his shirt. “Just saying.” He retreats, holding up his hands while backing away.
“You don’t think I know that?” I’m disgusted with myself for allowing him to see this side of me. I’m usually so good at keeping it hidden. But after today’s events, my willpower is starting to crack.
“Well, I wouldn’t advise getting back in that truck if you’re just going to go home and take it out on her.” Will’s stare is intense, even as he clutches his side, trying to catch his breath.
He’s right. I have to get a grip on my emotions. I can’t go out there like this. Ivy needs me. I have to be strong for her sake. I can’t let her down.
“She could die, Will,” I spit out, biting my lip to keep my emotions in check.
“I know, man. I know,” Will says consolingly. “But we’re not going to let that happen, right?” He slaps me on the shoulder, encouraging me to suck it up. “Just remember, Ivy isn’t Cassidy.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” I mutter. “I’m realizing that more and more each day. But if the same thing happens—”
“Ut uh, don’t even go there. Just turn yourself around and get the hell out of my sight. I’ve had enough of looking at your ugly mug for one day,” Will smirks at me, gesturing toward the door.
“Don’t you want a ride up to the house?” I ask over my shoulder.
“Nah, I’m gonna stick around here a little longer. See if I can work on obtaining that leverage I mentioned,” Will responds, and I don’t have to turn around to know that he’s staring at Ben. “Don’t wait up.”
I still find it weird that the two guys I was envious of are actually into each other, but I shake my head and let it pass. Whatever makes them happy, I suppose.
Darkness is falling as I approach the truck. Ivy already has the headlights on and the engine running, waiting for me. It appears my father went back inside with Shep. It’s getting colder out, and I rezip my jacket before getting behind the wheel.
“You were gone long,” Ivy comments. The heater’s cranked up full blast and country music is filtering through the speakers.
“Yeah, some things needed sorting out.” I hate keeping things from her, but now is not the time. I’ll fill her in when she’s feeling better. She looks so worn out sitting there, shivering. “Are you still cold?”
“I’m freezing. I feel like I can’t get warm.” She has her hands pressed up against the vents, trying to soak up the heat.
“Come here.” I stretch my arm across the back of the seat, inviting her to curl up next to me until we get home. “I’ll warm you up.”
“Mmmm, just the thing I need,” she giggles, nestling herself against me.
I reach down to take one of her hands in mine. “Ivy! Your hands are like ice.” I hit the brake and lower my arm to rub her tiny hands between mine to get the circulation going. “Is that better?”
“Almost,” she says, looking at me from beneath her eyelashes. “But you know what would really help?”
“What?” I ask, ready to give her whatever she wants.
“Having you in the shower with me,” she responds playfully. “Doctor’s orders.”
“Ivy,” I moan, turning my attention back to the road.
“You seem tense,” she says, studying my reaction. “I don’t know what went down between you and Will back there, but just let it go.”
“Already forgotten,” I reply, smiling down at her.
“Good,” she chuckles, sliding my arm around her shoulders. “Frank is going to keep Shep at his house for a while, so we’ll have the cabin all to ourselves.”
“Ivy, you heard what the doctor said. We can’t—” I protest.
“Have sex. I know,” she grumbles as I pull up to the porch. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy each other.”
“You need to relax,” I admonish, getting out to help her down. “I have no problem helping you wash up, but that’s it. No fooling around.”
“But I want you in there with me,” she demands as I lift her out of the truck, carrying her in my arms. “Naked,” she whispers in my ear, and I immediately feel my dick stiffen.
I climb the porch steps, trying to ignore what she said. She’s already reaching into the front pocket of my jeans, and my arms start to tremble. “Ivy, don’t—” I manage to utter as she fingers me.
“I’m just reaching for your keys, silly,” she feigns innocence. “We have to get in the house.” She draws them out slowly, making sure the jagged edges graze my length along the way. The sensation causes my knees to buckle, forcing me to brace myself against the doorframe. “Don’t drop me,” she laughs, hanging on to me tightly as she slides the key into the knob.
Finally, we’re in and I don’t waste any time, kicking the door shut. So many memories are racing through my head. Straddling her on my lap the first time I kissed her. Pinning her up against the wall the night I rescued her from behind the pizzeria. Tearing her out of her dress before I slipped inside of her. It’s killing me that I can’t
do any of those things to her now.
It’s chilly in here. The fire is out. I’ll have to build another one. But first, I have to warm her up. Striding up the steps, I enter our room. The bed is unmade after our abrupt departure this morning. I’m afraid to go in the kitchen. There are probably bloodstains all over the table. I’ll clean it up later. I don’t want Ivy to be reminded of what almost happened, and it strengthens my resolve to keep my hands to myself as I move into the bathroom.
Lowering her gently, I turn on the shower to get the hot water going. She stands before me with a pout on her face. Instead, I bend down and unlace her sneakers. Next, I concentrate on removing her sweatpants as she places her hands on my shoulders. She’s wearing a pair of high-waist briefs the hospital gave her, not one of her sexy thongs. I would normally tease her about her new granny panties, but I’m terrified. What if she’s still bleeding? I gather my courage and start pulling them over her hips. Her breathing increases as the pad that was wedged up against her comes into view. There’s a bright red stain on it, but it’s moderate, nothing heavy. The flow has eased since this morning.
“Eric, I think I need to sit down,” Ivy says, grasping her head. “I feel a little dizzy.”
I shift my weight, putting one arm around her waist to hold her steady. I back her up slowly, placing her onto the toilet. I step away to give her some space while sliding the briefs over her ankles. There are goose bumps covering her legs. The sooner I get her in the shower, the better.
“I have to pee,” she says weakly. “Do you mind waiting outside the door?”
This is one of her little quirks. No matter how intimate we’ve become, she doesn’t like me in the bathroom with her when she has to go—and vice versa. One time I nonchalantly came in to urinate while she was brushing her teeth at the sink and I thought she was going to castrate me on the spot. It’s one of her pet peeves, but now I’m not so sure I should give in to her.
“What if you pass out and hit your head?” I ask, not wanting to leave her side.
“Eric, please. I’m begging you. I can’t hold it anymore,” she whimpers, pushing me away.
Dr. P. said her hormones might be out of whack, especially with that new prescription he put her on. One minute she’s horny, the next she’s crying. Talk about being on an emotional roller coaster. Nothing’s more erratic than the mood swings of a pregnant woman.
I get up without further argument and stand just inside the bedroom. I can just about hear her steady stream over the noise of the shower.
“Close the door!” she yells, mortified.
“Then how I am I going to know when you’re done?” I question her.
“I’ll tell you!” she shouts back.
I know better than to argue with her extreme modesty when it comes to her bathroom habits. There’s no changing her now. She is the way she is. I’ve never really lived with a girl before. I don’t know if they’re all like that or if it’s just her. All I know is that guys could care less who they pee in front of.
A few seconds later, I hear the toilet flush, but I wait for her signal.
“I’m done,” she calls out, so I slip back in. She’s already trying to remove her sweatshirt and I help her pull her arms through. She’s now completely naked as she stands in front of me, self-consciously crossing her arms in front of her chest.
“You don’t have to cover yourself,” I reassure her. “It’s just me.”
“I know, but I feel like some kind of invalid now,” she mutters.
“Hey,” I reply, lifting up her chin to meet my gaze. “You are beautiful.” I kiss her lips softly then bend down to kiss her belly. She runs her fingers through my hair, playing with the ends. I sit back on my knees and look up at her. “Beautiful,” I whisper again.
I see tears glistening in her eyes as I grip her waist and run my thumbs over her thighs. Steam is filling the room as the running water continues to pound against the tub. I better get her in there before the hot water runs out.
I stand up, kicking off my shoes. Quickly, I uncinch my belt and lower my fly. Stepping out of my jeans, I fumble with my socks before yanking my shirt over my head. My face is on fire, knowing she’s watching my every move. I pull back the shower curtain and offer her my hand.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” she sniffles.
“My boxers are staying on,” I inform her. “As an insurance policy.”
“Well, don’t think they can’t come off,” she says, smiling at me begrudgingly before stepping under the spray.
I follow her in, making sure to keep an arm around her waist for support. I guide her beneath the faucet, smoothing her hair back with my hand. I reach for her shampoo, working up a good lather. The citrus fragrance is so intoxicating, and it’s the scent I most associate with Ivy. I massage her scalp with her fingers, trying hard to ignore my throbbing dick as she moans with pleasure.
“That feels so good,” she murmurs, grasping my hips.
My hands seem so large against her head as she shimmies against me. I back up a little and start rinsing the suds away. I can’t let her get too close, no matter how much I want her. She’s off limits until April.
What if we never have sex again? I try to shut my mind off, but I’m assaulted with a barrage of questions. What if the placenta detaches? What if she dies before giving birth? What if I never know what it’s like to come inside of her again? What if she never experiences an orgasm for the rest of her life?
I can see why she’s so willing to take such a risk now. This could very well be it. This is as intimate as we’re going to get. I can’t put my hands on her. I can’t put my mouth on her. I can’t be inside of her. Bottom line, I can’t take her anywhere close to fulfillment. Nothing that could—how did Dr. P. phrase it? Traumatize the uterus?
Nothing about this is fair. Not for me, and especially not for her. I feel like a jerk now, thinking that I might have somehow prevented this. We were having sex a lot during her first trimester, probably more than we should have. I didn’t stop and think about the potential danger to the fetus. I didn’t think I could possibly be hurting Ivy by making love to her while she was pregnant.
She must be getting tired because she leans into me, placing her head underneath my chin. I stroke the side of her face as the water pelts her back. Her skin feels so silky soft under the shower, like dew on a rose petal. I kiss the top of her head before picking up her loofah. Squirting some body wash onto it, I start rubbing it along the length of her arm. Slowly drawing her away from me, I position her in the middle of the tub and get to work.
I run the loofah under her arms, over her shoulders, and across her breasts, taking care not to linger too long in one particular area. My thumb dips into her clavicle as she elongates her neck for me. I continue a trail down her stomach, leaving her bellybutton filled with suds. I bend down, cleansing each leg from thigh to ankle. She holds on to my shoulders as I pick up each foot, running the loofah between her toes. She relaxes as I glide it up her back and between her shoulder blades.
I swirl my thumbs against her hips, preparing her for what I have to do next. It’s time for the most sensitive area. I place my hand on her inner thigh, spreading her legs apart. She groans slightly but doesn’t resist. The nurse did a pretty good job cleaning her up down there, but I’m going to take my time until she’s immaculate. Roughing the loofah up against my palm, I create a mountain of soapy foam. Kneeling before her, I start with her thighs and work inward. The water flowing off her body starts to turn pink, but Dr. P. said that’s normal.
I look up at Ivy and her eyes are closed.
“Are you okay?” I ask, blinking as droplets from my hair roll down my face.
“Uh-huh,” she hums, not opening her lips.
“Ivy, tell me what’s wrong,” I urge, halting my progress until she answers me.
“Nothing, Eric,” she responds, finally opening her eyes. “I just never thought…” She pauses to collect herself, taking a shuddering breath. “That
a man could be so good to me.”
I feel myself choking up as she looks at me so tenderly. Doesn’t she know she means the world to me? I would do anything for her—anything.
“I love you, Ivy,” I say simply. My voice sounds rough because I never said those words to her with so much emotion before.
“I know,” she sighs, causing her belly bump to rise and fall. “I hear it in every word. I feel it in every touch. I see it in every look. How did I get so lucky?”
“No, I’m the lucky one,” I admit, standing up to nuzzle her nose. I glide my lips across hers, kissing her softly.
“I love you, Eric,” she utters, and I know it’s coming from the depths of her soul.
I fold her in my arms, holding her close. Even while she’s pregnant, my callused hands are still able to span her waist. Reaching behind her, I turn the water off and pull back the curtain. Shaking out the last folded towel on the shelf, I wrap her in it, letting myself drip dry.
I plug in her blow dryer and quickly get to work on her hair. She can’t go to bed with a wet head. I sit her next to the sink, and we don’t say a word for the next ten minutes or so. We just look at each other, and it’s enough.
I wipe away the condensation on the mirror when I’m done and she laughs when she sees how frizzy her hair is. She normally styles it so that it’s straight and sleek, but I kind of like it wild and untamed. It looks good on her—natural.
She can barely keep her eyes open as I carry her into the bedroom. I dig through the bottom drawer for her flannel nightgown. She starts to protest when she sees it.
“Ivy, you’re not going to sleep wearing just my shirt. It’s too cold for that now. You need to stay warm,” I tell her, patting her dry with the ends of the towel.
“But I want something of yours. Not this old thing.” She tosses it back at me. “I want something that smells like you.”
“You’re nuts,” I tease her, although my cheeks redden at her request. Something about it is incredibly erotic. I unzip my suitcase and root through it. “How about this long-sleeved t-shirt and my pajama pants?”
“Perfect.” She smiles at me, the towel draped haphazardly around her.
Meant for Me (Take Me Now) Page 16