by M. K. Gilher
I open the door, and my belly hyper-twists like I'm careening down the inverted Raging Bull roller coaster at Great America.
My tiny doorway is dwarfed by his immense figure in a black, tailored tuxedo. As he raises his head, the porch light catches in his eyes, and they gleam against his tanned skin. The sooty shadow along his angled jaw thins to a fine line up his chin and widens again under his bottom lip.
Sweet Jesus. With that narrow tie, he looks every bit the suave mobster, his tattoos hidden beneath his polished exterior.
His gaze drops to my shoes and scours my ensemble—adorned calves, bare knees, sequined hips, exposed cleavage.
"Hi," I say softly, bending one knee and leaning my head on the door.
He's silent, his icy stare fierce on my thigh that has popped out between the panels.
"Fuck me." He rubs his crotch and licks his lips. "I shoulda picked a less revealing dress."
With one step, his fingers glide through my hair at the nape of my neck, and his mouth lands on my face. His tongue parts my lips and curls around mine. He angles his head to deepen the kiss, our tongues tangoing in perfect rhythm. The fifteen minutes Kimber spent on my lips have been erased, but I don't care. He's kissing me and lighting me on fire. He could rip this dress off me and mess my hair, and I'd love every second.
He pulls away and skims his lips to my cheek. "No woman more ravishing than you has ever walked the earth." His deep, husky voice rumbles in my ear.
I wipe the smudged lipstick from the corner of his mouth. "Thank you."
"Now, let's go before I fuck you in the doorway."
"Kay. Oh, my coat."
"Yes. Good idea." He clears his throat and holds my coat open for me.
As we walk down the stairs to his Ferrari, the slight press of his hand on my lower back sends a shudder through my spine.
He slides on his shades before opening the passenger-side door for me. I glance down and notice he's wearing Italian leather shoes, similar to the ones he wore the day I met him.
The shoes… the shades… the glossy green enamel of his car…
My college graduation.
Uncle Bernie and Aunt Helen squinted into the setting sun as we emerged from the auditorium. Bryn and Greg laughed behind us. A gusty wind blew my hair and gown. I squeezed my diploma tight and held my robe down, but my cap blew off and clunked in front of me, rolling away in some weird kind of square-tire motion. My heels clicked down the cement stairs as I clambered after the wayward royal-blue cardboard and tassel. The cap stopped, wedged against the buffed tire of a sleek sports car—a hunter green Ferrari.
I blocked the sun with my hand and took in the sight of a tall, hot guy in a black suit perched on the driver-side door, arms and ankles crossed. He stared down at me through midnight Ray-Bans.
"I'm sorry. Excuse me. My cap flew right under your tire."
A haughty smile formed on his lips, but he didn't respond.
"Ivy! Come back here!" Uncle Bernie chased me into the parking lot.
The man in the suit stiffened and stood tall. His lips frowned. He folded into his car and fired the engine. I jumped back as he gunned it out of the parking lot.
Back on the sidewalk outside my apartment, I pause inside the door of the car and catch his eye.
"Have you always driven Ferraris?"
His shoulders tense, a chord straining in his neck. "I have other cars. You've seen them."
"But did you have another Ferrari before this one?"
"Yes." He digs his finger in his collar and tugs at his tie.
"Was it dark green?"
He grips the top of the doorframe and crowds me with his body. "Get in."
"Did you come to my college graduation?"
"Get in." He pushes my shoulder, forcing me into the car.
He closes my door and strides around the front to the driver's side. Worry creases his brow.
He raises his shades and purses his lips. "Yes. I was there. Bernard waved me off from behind your back. He was furious, but I had to see you graduate. You'd fought hard for it. I was proud of you. And you looked hot as fuck in that blue gown with pink heels."
I swallow hard, the sequins of my dress rough against my hand. "Were you going to tell me?"
"No." He speeds onto the street and heads north.
I lose track of where we are when he zooms down two alleys and onto a busy street. He pulls to the side and parks in a reserved spot.
I gawk out the window at an iconic red marquee. "Wrigley Field?"
"Yep." He climbs out and walks around to help me out of the car.
I grip his hand and he leads me through metal doors into a long, dark tunnel. We emerge to a quiet stadium. No cheering fans, no players in the dugout. The retiring sun shines off empty rooftop bleachers on the buildings surrounding the ballpark.
He motions over his shoulder to a square dinner table set for two. Candles flicker next to brilliant crystal glasses. A heat lamp creates a warm glow around the intimate setting that looks out of place in this outdoor arena.
"No way! We're having dinner in the outfield!" My hand covers my mouth.
"Yes, ma'am, we are."
"Are you kidding me? This is so…" I choke on my words.
He leans in and places a tender kiss on my cheek. "Have dinner with me." He pulls out my chair and sits opposite me.
"Bonjour." An older gentleman wearing a black suit with a towel over his forearm appears from behind me. He pours us each half a glass of Merlot.
"I'm Pierce. I'll be your server. Tonight we'll be starting with a Maine lobster bisque followed by grilled filet mignon in brandy mustard sauce accompanied by caramelized fennel and Persian figs. Finally, a coffee-caramel crème brûlée."
"Thank you, Pierce," Jacade says.
Jacade swirls his wine and takes a sip. I focus on his tongue darting out to lick a bead from his lips.
"No one has ever done anything like this for me." I wave my hand in the air. "Thank you."
"Get used to it, dear. You're the boss's woman now. For the rest of your life, you're gonna be spoiled beyond your wildest dreams."
The rest of my life? Is he going to propose? No… The fancy outfit, the Hershey's Kisses, and now a candlelight dinner at Wrigley Field?
What if he does? Would I say yes? It's only been a handful of months… but I love him to the depths of my soul. I risked my life to save his. I know he'd do the same for me.
"Ivy?"
I glance up and Jacade's staring at me. Oh no, what did he say? I was too focused on the possibility of becoming Mrs. Hot Ass Doc.
"Yeah?"
"Your soup's getting cold." He points with his spoon.
When did the soup come? I dip my spoon and sip. Mmm, buttery and warm. "So, I thought you said no spontaneous events."
He raises his eyebrows. "I've had this planned since the first night I came to your apartment."
"Really?"
"Yep. Had to postpone it while you recovered, but I've wanted to bring you here since I saw the pennants above your bed in your room. I figured if you hung them over your bed, it must be important to you."
"It is. I love the Cubs. Gotta have faith in the underdog."
"I like the Cubs too, and I've always wanted to come here."
"How come you've never been?"
"Not much time or purpose for leisure in my life. Not until now."
Pierce delivers the main entrée. The filet mignon melts in my mouth.
"That's very observant of you to notice the pennants over my bed."
"I notice everything."
Jacade sits back to allow Pierce to set an expertly burned crème brûlée ramekin and two spoons in the middle of the table. Does he think I'm sharing this with Jacade?
"Thank you."
"My pleasure." Pierce ushers off with our dirty dishes.
My spoon taps on the top layer of burnt sugar and breaks through with a snap. The chocolate caramel custard with the crunchy sugar top explodes in an orchestra
of flavor to my taste buds. "Mmm."
"I could watch you eat that for centuries." Jacade's eyes are transfixed on my mouth.
"Aren't you gonna have any?" My spoon digs in for the second bite.
"My attention is elsewhere at the moment."
"C'mon. It's so good. Try it." I reach my full spoon to his face and dab the custard on his cheek, making sure to coat the dimple. He sees it coming but lets me smudge it on his face anyway.
Rising from my chair and leaning my hands on the table, I move toward him and lick the indentation that has starred in my dreams for weeks.
He stays still and stares at my boobs for a second, then turns his head to catch me in a kiss. He wraps his palm behind my head and pulls me closer.
Take me, Jacade. Right here on this table.
He pulls away and coughs, looking up at the night sky.
I didn't even realize the sun had set and the sky had turned a pristine peacock blue.
He stands and takes my hand. "Come. I have something to show you."
"Okay. Let me take off my shoes first." I toss my napkin on the table and bend to remove my shoes.
He guides me out to the pitcher's mound and stands behind me, his hands over mine at my waist.
Click!
Blinding lights fill the shadowy space. The massive ivy-covered outfield walls are lit with bright spotlights.
"This is what I feel when I'm with you."
"What do you mean?"
His gaze peruses the twinkling ivy leaves.
"You're mine. My Ivy, the beacon guiding me back when I'm lost in the darkness of my life."
"Oh, Jacade." My breath hiccups as I stifle a tear.
He turns me to face him and wipes the moisture away with the pad of his thumb. "Hey. No crying."
"I'm sorry. They're happy tears." I sniff and dab at my eyes to keep my makeup set.
He presses his fingers to his phone and slips it into his suit jacket. The sultry song "Let It Be Me" by Ray LaMontagne hums from his pocket. His left hand intertwines with my right, and he rests our hands against his chest. We sway cheek-to-cheek to the music.
I'm slow dancing with Jacade on the pitcher's mound at Wrigley Field! Is this a dream?
The melody ends, and he lays his forehead on mine.
He presses a chaste kiss to my lips.
Oh no. Is this the moment? Is he going to get on one knee? What should I do?
"Race ya!" I take off running toward home plate.
He laughs and his shoes crunch on the gravel as he chases me.
I round home plate and head to first base. Oh shit! He's right behind me!
He tickles my waist as he passes me.
Between second and third, he turns and runs backward. "Hey, babe. You gonna catch up soon?"
Darting around third, I stumble over my own feet. "Ow!" I hop on one leg, holding my knee.
Jacade runs to me. "Are you okay?" He crouches to inspect my knee.
"I think so. Probably shouldn't have run without shoes on." I test putting weight on it and walk past him.
As he's examining my gait, I full-out sprint home and stomp on the plate. I whip around and point at him. "Ha! You fell for it."
He watches me do a lame running man on home plate.
"I won. Suck on that, Dr. Jordan!"
"Cheater. I demand a rematch." Jacade jogs to me.
"Nope. You lost."
He gathers me in his arms, and our ragged breaths mix in the cold air.
"No. I didn't." He smiles and kisses my lips.
"This is wondrous," I whisper.
"Only because you're here."
"Don't make me cry again."
He pulls back to look at me. "What if I make you scream instead?" His mouth turns up at the corners.
"I always want that."
"I'm taking you to the suites."
"I want you to take me to the suites." I press my hands to his chest and give him my weight. I peek up at him through my lashes. "On one condition."
He chuckles. "What's that, my love?"
"Take me to suite D. I want to try the spinner."
His fingers dig into my hips. "The spinner was already on the menu. You game?"
"Yes." I am. I'm ready for this. With him.
Oof! The air rushes out of me as he scoops me up in his arms.
"Ah!" I laugh as he carries me back to the tunnel.
I point to the table. "But my pretty shoes!"
He kicks the door open. "I'll buy you more."
"Jacade!" You don't leave Louboutins behind for any reason.
He growls. "Fine." He spins, and my hair flies behind us as he runs back to the table. He puts my feet down but keeps one arm around me.
"Here." He hands me the pretty shoes. "Now let's fuck."
Chapter 19
Ivy
Jacade whips his car into the parking lot behind the mansion housing Ellis Suites. He arches his neck to look into my eyes. "Ready?"
Hell yes, I am!
"Yes, I'm ready."
He climbs out of the driver's seat and struts around to my side. With my hand in his, he leads me to the back entrance of the old brick building. He holds the heavy wooden door ajar, and I duck under his arm. His hand grabs mine, and I follow him through a noiseless yet spotless kitchen and into the bar.
He pulls a barstool out for me and then sits down next to me. He waves to a handsome Latino male bartender at the end of the bar.
"A scotch and a white wine," Jacade says to the bartender.
The bartender places two napkins in front of us and sets our drinks down.
Jacade types a quick text on his burner phone and slips it back in his slacks. He swivels to me on the barstool, and our knees clinch together like the teeth of a zipper.
"Jude's going to assist me with the spinner. He's teaching a class upstairs. We'll wait here for him."
A class? What kind of class would they have here?
"Like a master class for sex?" I whisper.
He chuckles and lifts the tumbler to his lips. I focus on the coarse black dots of stubble on his Adam's apple as he swallows. He leans close to my ear, and his warm breath tickles my cheek. "Jude is a master dom. Couples pay top dollar to train with him."
Say what? Oh my god, Jude is hard-core. And how hot would it be to have him as a teacher? I wonder if that whip engraved with the word Dominus was his?
Jacade's caress of the bare skin behind my knee sends a tickle of heat down my leg. "Have you ever taken one of his classes?"
He laughs. "No. Not my thing."
Well, now that makes sense. Jacade doesn't need any training.
"Are you a master dom too?"
"Nah. Jude takes everything to extremes."
"Have you ever had a sub?" Do I want to know?
"I've never collared a sub. If I couldn't have you, I didn't want anyone to be mine."
"Have you been with a lot of women as a dom?"
"Not as many as you'd think. Med school and fighting took most of my focus. There were a handful of women, but that's it. It wasn't fulfilling for me. The council forced me to be with Kara, but I always wished I were with you."
"So, if there were only a handful, you must have had women you were with regularly?"
"Yes. A few I could trust and that trusted me. Inevitably and understandably, they would get attached to me. I cared for them but never wanted anything permanent. I stopped coming here after I rescued you three years ago. If it couldn't be you, I didn't want to be here."
My bangs flutter in my lashes. "Did you ever sleep with Amber?"
His lips form a thin straight line. "No. I don't fuck hookers. No woman should ever feel desperate enough to sell sex for money."
"I didn't know she was a hooker. How's she doing?"
"She's good. Recovered. She's off the streets. Conroy convinced her."
"Conroy? Or you?" I bet it was him.
"Both. Amber's a good girl. She's gonna go to school."
"You're her benef
actor."
"Please, Ivy. Stop making me out to be a good guy. I'm not."
"You are."
I bend and angle my neck for a kiss. He leans in and presses his magic lips to mine. His index finger drifts across my forehead, separating the bit of my bangs from my lashes. He trails his finger down my cheek.
"It's a huge turn-on how naturally submissive you are. Nothing sexier than my strong woman allowing herself the pleasure of letting her guard down."
"It felt natural to give myself to you." I hungered for him to take control of me, body and mind. I gave him all of me, all at once. I didn't have to make decisions because I trusted him to know what's best for me. It was freeing. Probably why I'm back here tonight with the man I love.
"Since that first time, I've pushed your limits, and you've risen to the challenge. I like that you're still adventurous and brave like you were at eighteen."
His fingertips graze up my inner thigh, rousing heat from my belly. He grips and squeezes my leg much too high for a public place, but we're close enough no one can see. He gently sucks on my bottom lip. He sits back in his chair waiting for me to ask another question. I have no questions. Touch me again. Press your velvet lips to mine again. This time bite and growl and pull.
Jude jogs up and slaps Jacade on the back. "Little bro! How're you doin' on this fine evening?"
Jacade coughs and removes his hand from my thigh. The impression tingles like his hand is still there.
Jude's dressed like a teenager who threw on random clothes because his parents pulled up in the driveway while he was screwing his girlfriend. He gathers his sun-streaked mop in his fingers, but it flips back to just-fucked.
"Ivy, good to see you." His eyes skim my outfit. "You look striking, as always." He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses my fingers, his gaze darting to my cleavage.
"Hi, Jude."
He holds my hand in front of his lips, and the corners of his eyes crinkle. "Are we in a hospital?" he asks oddly.
"No."
"Are we strangers?"
"No."
"Then you call me Jett," he decrees in a dangerous tone.
Huh. "And you call me Jane, Tarzan?"
Jude's muscles stiffen, and he blinks twice.
Jacade coughs and narrows his eyebrows at Jude. "Let go of her hand."
Jude—uh, Jett—swivels his eyes to Jacade but keeps his head pointed at me. A wolfish smile unfurls on his face. "Lighten up, brother. I'm just getting acquainted with your girl." He kisses my fingers again. "I can see why she's captured your attention."