Hold Me Tight

by Faith Sullivan

He wastes no time in depositing me in the middle of our unmade bed, kicking off his boots in the process. He hovers over me, his eyes flashing like he knows he’s being naughty but doesn’t care. His lips crash onto mine, the intensity of his kiss igniting my entire body.

  I want to bring him closer, feel him on top of me, but he stops when I start loosening his belt. We’re both out of breath as he looks down at me stretched out before him.

  “I want it off,” he says, yanking at the sleeve of Tim’s flannel shirt. “And I never want to see it on you again.”

  My cheeks flush. I don’t know what he’s thinking as he places his hand in mine, pulling me up. He doesn’t even wait for me to undo the buttons. Instead, he rips open the shirt with his bare hands, popping them off. My breathing increases over the suddenness of the move. My breasts rise and fall as he helps guide the sleeves from my shoulders before balling up the shirt and tossing it aside.

  His ferocity is such a turn-on, just like our first time together when he tore me out of the dress I was wearing. I feel myself clench down below. I sigh, briefly closing my eyes. But that’s the thing. I don’t know if I’m supposed to be responding like this. Dr. P. said no sex—or anything close to sex—and what Eric’s doing is bringing me pretty darn close.

  “Eric, I—” I start, but I can’t finish when I feel his fingers sliding under one of the straps of my cami.

  My eyes, which were starting to close, fly open when I hear a metallic click as he unsheathes his pocket knife. My heart takes on an erratic beat. What’s he doing? He wields the knife expertly, bringing it under the strap and cutting through it with one swift stroke. Before I can even breathe, he does the same thing to the other side.

  The cami immediately falls down, exposing my swollen breasts, which are just aching to be cupped by his big, strong hands. But the element of danger he’s introduced has my eyes riveted on the knife as he guides the dull edge of the blade down my chest. He’s never tried anything like this before. But it’s working. I’m completely attuned to the sensation of the cold metal running across my overheated skin.

  I remain completely still as he guides the knife from my body, slicing it through the seam of my cami before closing it and shoving it back in his jeans. With his finger, he retraces the path he just took with the knife, and the contrast it evokes is maddening. I toss and turn against the sheets, unable to stay motionless any longer.

  He strips away what’s left of my cami before I feel his hands reach for my hips. I barely notice what he’s doing as he removes the rest of my clothing. I’m completely naked before him when he pauses, unsure of what to do next.

  We both want this, but we can’t have it. At least, not the way we’re used to.

  My eyes flicker as he plays with my breasts before uttering my name with a groan. “Ivy…”

  “I know,” I respond, looking up at him mournfully.

  “I don’t know where to go from here,” he sighs.

  I try to stay focused on what he’s saying as his thumbs find my nipples. “Yeah, we should probably stop,” I say, throwing an arm across my face, hating myself for having to put an end to this just when it was getting so unbelievably hot.

  “I’m sorry, Ivy. I didn’t mean to freak you out. I wasn’t sure if you’d…” His voice trails off uncertainly.

  Shit. He thinks I didn’t like it, but he couldn’t be more wrong. I freakin’ loved it.

  “Eric, look at me,” I implore, sitting up on my elbows.

  His hands travel to my baby bump, massaging it gently as he glances up at me from beneath his lashes.

  “That was amazing,” I assure him. “What a ‘welcome home’ present!” I giggle as he comes to rest between my knees, a hint of a smile on his lips.

  “I’d never hurt you. I just wanted to—” he stammers, getting embarrassed.

  “Try something new?” I finish, and he nods. “Eric, you make me feel so safe.” He lowers his shoulders, visibly relaxing. “I’m willing to go wherever you want to take me.”

  His eyes connect with mine, strengthening the bond of trust between us even more.

  “There’s just one problem,” I remark, getting all serious with him.

  “What? What is it?” he asks, a worried expression crossing his face.

  “While I do enjoy the adventurous side of our relationship, I like it even better when I can reciprocate.” I grin at him devilishly, pushing him away from me as I get off the bed.

  I give him a playful shove and he falls into the space I just vacated. He’s right where I want him as I stand over him and hold out my hand.

  “Give it to me,” I order, and he blinks a few times, trying to comprehend my request. “Or do I have to take it from you myself?” I reach for the bulge in his front pocket, and his fingers encircle my wrist as I draw out the knife.

  His breath starts coming in uneven spurts as I extend the blade. “Ivy, be careful.”

  “Always,” I respond, enjoying this immensely.

  I don’t know where to start. There are so many ways I can go with this. He’s already trembling and I haven’t even touched him yet.

  His t-shirt is tightly hugging the curves of his chest, itching to be removed. His jeans are already riding low on his hips as I ease the blade under his shirt, exposing the v-shaped pelvic muscle that’s as sexy as hell. Deftly, I begin to slice through the fabric, intending to take my time in torturing him, but the blade is a lot sharper than I thought and it melts right through the cotton all the way to the collar.

  The tip stops right under his throat, and I gasp, realizing just how close I came to cutting him. I do everything I can to hide my surprise, not wanting him to see how startled I am. He’s definitely better at these kinds of things than I am. My klutzy side always manages to rear its ugly head at the most inopportune times.

  But I’m not fooling him. He cautiously takes the blade from my shaking hand and places it on the bedside table. I feel like a complete idiot until he guides my hands back onto his chest, urging me to finish what I started. His t-shirt is split in half, hanging open, practically inviting me to remove it from his chiseled body.

  “I guess I deserved that,” he chuckles. “After destroying half your wardrobe.”

  I make quick work of what remains of the shirt, easily freeing his arms as it comes apart in my hands. His gleaming pecs are all that fill my vision as I grip his broad shoulders, drinking in every inch of him. But it’s not enough. I want to see all of him.

  As I scoot down his body, he flinches when I start again on his belt. I look up at him, puzzled, and he shifts on the bed when my fingers reach the zipper. I’m so close. Why is he tensing up now?

  “Ivy, I think you should keep my pants on,” he says, running a hand across his forehead.

  “Whatever for?” I ask, getting mad.

  “If I get as naked as you are, I’m not going to be able to stop,” he groans, reaching down to rezip his fly, batting my hand away.

  “Eric, c’mon. You can’t be serious,” I retort guiltily. “I won’t let it get that far. I promise. I just wanna—”

  “It’s not gonna happen, Ivy. So don’t even think about it,” Eric exclaims, sitting up. “Whenever we fool around from now on, one of us needs to keep our clothes on—or at least some of them,” he restates, glancing at his shredded t-shirt. “It’s too tempting. You know how things get between us. We’ll get carried away. We’ll forget. And I’m not putting you in any more danger than you’re already in.”

  “I still think you’re making too big a deal out of this,” I pout, sticking out my bottom lip.

  “I’d rather err on the side of caution if it’s all right with you.” He tries to console me by kissing the top of my head, but it’s not enough.

  “Well, if that’s how this is going to work, I’ll get dressed and you can be naked instead.” I glance at him, a glint in my eyes.

  Before he even has a chance to ponder my suggestion, he’s on top of me, pressing my back into the mattress.


  “I’d rather look at you for a little while longer if you don’t mind,” he teases, his hands traveling down my body, caressing my skin.

  I’m powerless to withstand his attempts to seduce me. He knows exactly what to do and where to do it. I dig my heels into the bed, delighting in his touch.

  “Besides, I think making out with my girlfriend can be pretty darn hot,” he breathes against my mouth after exploring every inch of me with his hands.

  “You better believe it,” I respond, kissing him passionately as we roll in the sheets, not even bothering to come up for air.

  Chapter Twelve

  Eric

  I’m so ready for this. Today’s the day.

  Carefully, I pull the blanket away from Ivy’s body and place my grandmother’s ring on her stomach. When she wakes up, I want it to be the first thing she sees when she opens her eyes. I watch the sunlight stream in from above as it reflects off the gold band, giving it a warm glow. It’s like my grandma is smiling down at me from heaven, giving me her blessing.

  I already screwed this up once so I’m determined to do things right. Last time, I was an idiot, jumping the gun like that. But when Ivy left, I came to realize that every second I spend with her is special. One doesn’t stand out from the rest. Just being around her makes me happy. I don’t need a fancy location or flowery words to let her know how much she means to me. I told her that I love our child just as much as I love her. That’s all she needed to hear. The truth.

  I can’t keep putting it off, thinking that some perfect moment will magically present itself. I’ve been building it up in my mind, putting pressure on something that should be as easy as breathing. I love Ivy. She loves me. We both love our child. There’s nothing standing in the way of making her my wife and us becoming a family. It’s as simple as that.

  I’ve so got this.

  Until she rolls over on her side and the ring falls off her stomach. I freeze, wondering if she’s awake and if I just blew yet another opportunity to make her mine. I don’t move, listening to her steady, even breaths. Gingerly, I fold back the covers and get out of bed, not wanting to disturb her as I get down on my hands and knees to find the ring.

  But it’s nowhere in sight.

  It must have picked up momentum when it hit the floor. It probably bounced and spun underneath something. First, I feel around beneath the bed but come up empty. Next, I skim the bottom of every piece of furniture in the room, only to find one of Shep’s mangled dog toys. Starting to panic, I run my foot alongside the baseboard of the floor. Nothing.

  I’m in trouble—big trouble. Now I don’t even have a ring to propose with. I’m in worse shape than I was in that McDonald’s parking lot. I can’t afford a replacement, not to mention the priceless sentimental value attached to this one. This is the ring I wanted Ivy to wear for the rest of her life, not some cheap imitation that won’t even compare.

  I sit with my back turned and stare glumly out the window, trying to think. At first, I don’t notice her moving. It’s only when I hear a sharp intake of breath that I whirl around to see her holding the ring aloft, the tiny diamond sparkling out at me.

  This is not how I wanted this to happen, but it’s too late now. I officially botched it again, and there’s no going back. The first time, she didn’t even take it out of the box. But there are no more do-overs now that she’s seen the ring. This is it. My last chance.

  I crawl over to her, wishing for some divine spark of inspiration, my mind firing on all cylinders. That’s when I remember my mom suggesting that I tell Ivy the story behind the ring. All is not lost. I can still salvage this if I try.

  “Do you like it?” I ask, my eyes trained on her face.

  “Is this what I think it is?” she inquires, calm as can be, even though my heart is racing.

  “Yes,” I respond, my voice thick with emotion. “It is.”

  She stares at the ring, not even blinking, until a smile slowly starts to spread across her face, lighting up her eyes.

  “It’s beautiful,” she whispers reverently.

  “It was my grandmother’s,” I reply, watching her examine every facet of the intricate scrollwork. “You’ll be the only person to have worn it since she took it off her finger.”

  Ivy’s eyes search mine, immediately grasping the meaning behind my statement. It was never Cassidy’s ring. It’ll belong solely to her.

  “Then I want you to do this right,” Ivy proclaims, holding it out to me.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I tease, getting down on one knee before the bed.

  She’s positively glowing as she draws the sheet around herself, her hair spilling over her shoulders. She’s awake, naked in my bed after I kissed her to sleep in my arms. There’s no better scenario than that. It’s everything I could have dreamed of and more.

  “Ivy, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” They’re the words I’ve longed to say from the moment she looked up at me with those dazzling green eyes. I might’ve carried her off that dusty road that day, but she’s the one who lifted me up. I felt it then. I feel it even more now. Deep down, I know she’s all I’ve ever wanted. She’s the one for me. There’s no one for me but her.

  She bends her head, succumbing to her emotions.

  “Ivy,” I repeat gently, bringing my fingers to her chin as she slowly lifts her eyes to mine. “Will you marry me?”

  She reaches out to touch my face before whispering, “Yes! A million times, yes.”

  I take her hand in mine, sliding the ring onto her finger. I breathe a sigh of relief when it glides easily over her knuckle. Bringing her hand to my lips, I kiss the symbol of our love. Beaming with joy, she slips her hand behind my neck, drawing me close.

  We share a tender yet fervent kiss, realizing just how special this moment is and how we’ll always remember it. How we’ll tell our children and our grandchildren about it. How I’ll never forget how she looks right now as long as I live.

  “I think I’m going to like being called your fiancée,” she murmurs, holding out her hand to admire her ring.

  “I’ll like it even better when I can call you my wife,” I counter, nuzzling her behind her ear.

  “But being engaged… There’s just something so romantic about it,” she sighs dreamily as she reaches for my arm, resting it atop her stomach. “It’s such a fleeting time in a couple’s life, and I intend to enjoy every single moment of it.”

  “That’s the way my grandpa felt too.” I lower my head onto her shoulder as I recline against her.

  “Oh, tell me about him,” Ivy begs, tilting her head next to mine.

  “There’s quite a story that goes along with that ring,” I confess as I play with it on her finger. “My grandma loved my grandpa, but she didn’t want to marry him.”

  “Why ever not?” Ivy exclaims, outraged, and I can’t help but chuckle.

  “Because she thought he’d take her for granted once they got hitched. She was afraid he wouldn’t try as hard and the spark between them would fizzle out over time. They’d get too used to each other and fall into the same old routine just like everyone else,” I relate as Ivy’s hair tickles my chin as she nods in agreement.

  “That makes sense. But she really turned him down for that?” Ivy asks incredulously.

  “Well, I think she was angling for something more from him, and she got it.” I can’t help but smile at my grandma’s tenacity. It reminds me so much of Ivy’s.

  “So what did he do to win her over?” Ivy asks as I feel the steady rhythm of her pulse increase next to my ear.

  “He came up with a plan. He said that he’d take her on a hundred dates before they got married. That way, if he ever turned into what she feared, she’d still have a hundred great memories to look back on.” I breathe in the familiar citrus scent of Ivy’s hair and close my eyes, relishing having her next to me again.

  “And did she agree?” Ivy inquires, squeezing my hand.

  “She did,” I answer, reflecting on their life togethe
r. “But my grandpa didn’t have a lot of money. Times were tough. He worked his father’s farm most of the day then got in a few hours before the sun went down on his own land. It wasn’t easy. It was backbreaking work, but somehow he managed to pull it off and make a go of it.”

  “How?” Ivy’s curiosity is definitely piqued. She knows how much the two of us have to struggle in order to get by. She wants to know how they did it, how they were able to sustain their romance in the face of everyday life.

  “He knew her heart, inside and out,” I say simply. “He knew all of the little things that would make her happy. He didn’t go to extravagant lengths on these dates because he didn’t have the means to. Instead, he focused on her. When they went out, he gave her his undivided attention. He didn’t complain to her about the price of corn or how the wheel on his tractor was busted. He kept things light. They’d talk about their dreams for the future and where they’d travel if they could honeymoon anywhere they wanted. He created a dream world they could escape to by just being together.”

  “I love that,” Ivy whispers, stroking my arm.

  “I thought you would.” I smile against her hair.

  “So did they go on a hundred dates?” Ivy questions as she gazes thoughtfully up at the skylight, rolling the idea around in her mind.

  “They did,” I affirm, watching her smile widen. “No matter how busy my grandfather was, he always set aside Saturday evenings for my grandma. That night of the week belonged to her and her alone. He’d always made sure to gussy himself up for her, even if he only had time for a cold shower and a quick shave. And she’d always wear the newest dress she had made and a hint of her mother’s perfume. They looked forward to their Saturday nights alone together. It’s what got them through the week and ultimately through a two-year engagement.”

  “Wow. They were engaged for two years?” Ivy whistles under her breath.

  “Unbeknownst to my grandma, my grandpa set up a deal with the jeweler in town. The only way he’d be able to afford a diamond ring was if he were allowed to pay it off a little at a time. When the jeweler crunched the numbers, it was apparent that my grandfather would need to make a lot of payments—a hundred in fact.” I pause for effect, and Ivy nestles her face closer to mine.