Total pages in book: 21
Estimated words: 18893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 94(@200wpm)___ 76(@250wpm)___ 63(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 18893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 94(@200wpm)___ 76(@250wpm)___ 63(@300wpm)
“Take me back,” she demands.
“There is no way to do that,” I tell her honestly. “Not until the gods allow. Here is where we will remain forevermore.”
Ivy jerks her head around, eyes blazing. “This is—”
“This isn’t real,” she says, almost to herself. “None of this is real.”
“If it’s not real, then let me enjoy you,” I offer. Desperate to kiss her. Desperate for her to stop fighting and fearing me.
She pauses, her chest rising and falling as she calms right before me. Her eyes drift down my body and then back to my stare. Please. Let me help you remember.
“Enjoy?” She plays as if she doesn’t know what I’m suggesting.
“Touch you,” I say, taking a step forward. “Kiss you,” I add. My feet stay planted though, not wanting to push her too much too quickly. “If it’s not real, there should be no harm.”
Ivy only leans against the sill, her heart racing fast enough for me to hear it pound and see her pulse fluttering in her neck. I breathe in deep, getting as much of her scent into my lungs as I can. It’s been weeks of following her through that rainy city, with storms that constantly try to wash her away, and I won’t take this closeness for granted.
“I promise you’ll enjoy it, too.” She will. I wouldn’t do anything less for her. She doesn’t have to believe me now, but I’ll show her.
“Do I know you?” she finally asks in a murmur.
“Yes,” I answer, hope cracking that vice.
“What do you want with me?” she asks.
“To love you.”
“This isn’t real,” she whispers again. When she smiles, the muscles in her throat tighten and my gaze is drawn there, my desire to kiss her just behind the shell of her ear intensifies. She loves it when I do that.
I move across the floor to her, closing the distance between us. Ivy stiffens at the windowsill, but there is truly nowhere else to go—she can only lean as far as the glass, and she’s not even doing that. I knew it. I knew part of her remembered me. Part of her craves my touch the way I have been craving hers. Her fast breaths tell me how much she’s wanted this and how she told herself she was afraid.
She can be afraid, if that’s how she feels, but she won’t be afraid for long. She’ll feel so much more than fear now that I have her with me.
So much more.
I lower my lips to her neck, bending slowly and deliberately, and at the last second, Ivy lifts her chin and gives me more access to her tender skin.
She gasps when my lips touch her neck, her heart beating hard just underneath her skin, and I groan into her heat when her back arches toward me.
My heart pounds with hot blood and desire like I’ve never known.
My Ivy.
“Ivy,” I murmur with devotion.
She makes a needy sound in the back of her throat and presses closer. Every inch of my skin remembers her touch. My entire body feels the need to hold her, to love her, to be enveloped in her scent.
I can feel how conflicted she is and at the same time how relieved she must be. This is not the touch of a woman who considers me a stranger. “Give in to me,” I whisper as if it's a demand, but instead it’s a plea.
Ivy throws her arms around my neck and pulls herself in closer, her breath warm on my cheek. It’s fucking heaven. She’s my heaven.
I drag my lips up her neck until I capture her sweet mouth. And then I lick into her, tasting her deeply. Her body is warm and soft under my hands, and her arms flex around my neck as I run my palms over her curves. I remember every bit of her body.
She makes soft noises into the kiss that don’t sound like protests at all.
I know that she likes it when I run the pad of my thumb under her breast and tease at one of her nipples. She likes it when I pull her in by the waist so she can feel how hard I am under my clothes. She likes it when I slip my hands under her clothes and take them off one by one, like I’m unwrapping her. Like she’s a precious gift, which she is, even if she’s being used to torment me, even if she’s being tormented herself for no reason I can fathom.
I expose her curves to the light of the underworld, lifting her nightgown up, and dip my head to kiss her collarbone.
Ivy throws her head back and lets her eyes flutter closed, clearly relishing the sensation, even if she’s too afraid to watch me give it to her.
It doesn’t matter if she can’t look at me yet. I don’t care. If she concentrates on feeling, she’ll remember. Every touch will help her remember. I have to keep my mind on that goal—every touch will bring the Ivy I know closer to the surface.