Page 47 of Ivory's Ruin Romance

“Didn’t scare you off from riding the bike, did I?” he teased.

She looked down and laughed. “No, well…no more than I already was. Bikes and I don’t usually mix. As in never—we never mix, and I didn’t think I’d ride one again after…” She sucked in a quick breath. “After causing all those problems at the party.”

Something similar to sadness, maybe longing mixed with guilt, flashed in her downcast eyes. One day, he’d make sure to chase away all those doubts, replace them with the pride she owed herself and with confidence that would let her shine even brighter.

“We’ll have to remedy that someday,” he said, lifting her chin with the pad of his pointer finger. “Get you and the bike more acquainted with one another.” She didn’t look thrilled at the idea but didn’t refute it either. “Maybe you can teach me more about the stars, too?” he offered.

At that, she smiled. “Sure, I can do that.”

“Sounds like a deal. Have a good evening, Iv.” He nodded, expecting her to show herself out. Retreating to his bedroom, he set the brushes down and accidentally nudged the side of the mouse, waking the computer screen.

The police report flooded his vision and took over again. Now more than ever, he had to end this and find closure. No more digging until it was time to bury the past for good. He couldn’t waste any more time in limbo.

Taking action was the only option left.

Skimming the details over again, one in particular stood out. One person had noticed a silver ring on the shooter’s finger. Could’ve been a flash of the gun. Witnesses weren’t the most reliable, but that didn’t mean there was no credibility to it, either. How big would that ring have to be to be so noticeable? Hadn’t he seen something like that before?

Sliding open the drawer, he grabbed the pack of cigarettes as familiar tension rose inside him and snuffed out Ivory’s lingering effects. Damn, it would feel so good to let all the darkness out. To give it to the person who earned it instead of using cigarettes as artificial suffocation. To breathe in order to live instead of chasing death.

He snatched a lighter and walked out of the room to the porch but came to a stop mid-step as he closed the bedroom door.

Ivory was still here, looking at him as she shuffled on her feet.

TWENTY-THREE

“Need something else?” he asked, torn between wanting her to stay and knowing she probably shouldn’t.

Her face scrunched and then bloomed bright red as if he’d caught her doing something wrong. “I—uh, no. Unless there’s something I can do for you? I mean—” She sucked in a breath, fiddling with the bottle of conditioner. “Let me start over. Can we be friends instead of not-strangers?”

From her guilty expression, she looked like she had just asked for his left kidney. He almost chuckled. Only a fool would turn down an offer like that. Then he groaned inwardly. He had been that fool. That’s why she’d been nervous to ask.

“Yes, we can call it that,” he answered and closed some of the distance between them, hoping the expression he wore looked nothing like the rejection or anger she’d expected. “As long as you know, I don’t want, or intend, for it to stay that way.”

If possible, her face flushed a shade brighter. “Yes! I don’t, either—want it to stay that way. If that’s okay with you.” The rush of her words was too cute to bear.

His fingers tightened around the pack of cigarettes and crushed them. Why did he have to be trapped like this, unable to embrace her the way he desperately wanted without mixing her up in his shit?

Taking one dangerous step closer, he clarified, “I’ll never be mad at you for asking a question or saying what you want. Don’t hold that back from me, okay?”

She nodded. “Okay.” Then she smiled. “I only want you to be as happy as you make me.”

He froze. The air in his lungs vanished. Nothing could have prepared him to hear that.

He tried to regain the ability to function, unaware until after the fact that his thumb idly traced over her bottom lip. So plump and pink. Unimaginably soft.

Not touching her wasn’t an option, apparently. But it wasn’t helping—her silky skin and that expression written on her gracious features, the delicate dip of her cupid’s bow in the sweetest strawberry shade—his thoughts rapidly collapsed into an utter train wreck, and worse, he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

But the next thing she did incinerated the last of his restraint. Her tongue swept out to lick his thumb, tasting his skin before it disappeared back into her mouth.

The effects were intense and immediate. He’d never gotten this hard so fast. His gaze snapped up and honed in on hers, the same delicate jade doe-eyes he’d seen roaming over him much too often to be ignored. She knew exactly what she’d done, and it pleased him to see no trace of regret this time.

He tsked and whispered, “Soon, I’m going to put that tongue to good use.” His tone deepened, low and measured. “But first, let me make one thing clear, sweetheart. Open your mouth.”

Her eyes widened, pupils dilating, and ever so slowly, she parted her lips until that troublesome tongue of hers came into view. Fuck, if he got any harder, his dick was going to tear through his pants. And if he wasn’t careful, he might just let it.

“This mouth was made for me, so perfect,” he mused, pressing his finger inside and gliding over the back of her tongue, careful not to make her gag but intrusive enough to make her drop her jaw. She felt hot and slick, the ultimate temptation wrapped in the most beautiful form. “Made for my pleasure, just like the rest of you.”

Her expression melted as he continued. “You already make me happy, sweetheart. I could spend hours listening to you tell me about the little things you think are insignificant. Watching your smile, seeing you get all hot and greedy for me—I’d gladly do it every day for the rest of my life. You could tell me I’m a piece of shit, and I’d thank you for it.”

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