Page 32 of Undeniable

But our month together hadn’t just been about her wrapping her hand around my cock while on the back roads outside of town or me teasing another muffled orgasm from her while sneaking around our friends and family.

We’d found the secluded baseball fields and I’d taught her to swing a bat. On the sand volleyball court that had long been neglected behind the community center, she’d taught me the basic volleyball rules and techniques I hadn’t picked up watching all of her games. Neither of us excelled at the other’s sport, but we had fun teaching and learning together.

We’d also gone fishing a few times and drove into neighboring towns to eat together without garnering questions from the residents in our own.

We’d been to several parties and bonfires, showing up separately and spending time with our friends only to wind up leaving together. I’d been there for her first sip of alcohol—strawberry Boone’s Farm—and held her hair back after I’d left her for twenty minutes, only to come back and find the entire bottle empty.

But my favorite moments were the days like the one we’d just had that led into nights like tonight. We’d done nothing all day except talk, listen to music, and ride around with the windows down.

In the same field where nearly every party and bonfire had been held since our freshman year of high school, Ivy and I swayed to the low music humming from the truck speakers. I’d opened all of the doors and turned on only the running lights. The faint light from the truck and the moon guided our slow steps.

The tall grass brushed our legs and I held her closer.

Her arms were around my waist and her cheek pressed against my chest. Against my stomach, I could feel the steady rise and fall of her chest. Pressed against me, there was no way she missed the rapid pounding of my heart.

I rested my chin on top of her head and wrapped my arms over her shoulders. I loved the way she fit against me.

The soundtrack to our night was an old CD of my dad’s that held all of his favorite classic country songs that reminded him of my mom. I’d burned it for him years ago and it was the only thing he listened to when he drove the old truck.

The music didn’t matter, though. I would’ve danced with her with or without it.

But I found myself quietly singing along to Keith Whitley’s “When You Say Nothing at All.” Singing about the smile on a woman’s face and the truth in her eyes.

I hadn’t actually realized I was singing until I heard my own gruff and tone-deaf voice over the track. I immediately clamped my mouth shut, only for Ivy to squeeze me tighter.

I thought she was laughing until she muttered, “Don’t stop,” into my shirt.

My chest tightened at her request. “Really?” I wasn’t being self-deprecating. I really was tone deaf and could barely hold a note. But she nodded without looking up at me or pausing her steps.

Unable to deny her anything she wanted, I continued singing. Ivy seemed to relax further into me until she turned her head and pressed a kiss against my throat.

I brushed her long, red hair over her shoulders and cupped her face in my hands, urging her to look up at me. Her cheeks were slightly burned from our days in the sun, and I stroked my thumbs against the tender skin. Her freckles were more prominent, and I memorized her content expression and the hopeful look in her green eyes.

My voice didn’t falter as I gazed down at her. In awe and simultaneously terrified of what we’d developed in only a month together, I only stopped singing long enough to meld her lips to mine.

TWELVE

Ivy

Derek was fairly attractive,with dark hair and light-brown eyes. He was on the taller side, although his profile said he was over six feet tall, and with one look at him, I knew he was lying by at least a few inches.

But that didn’t bother me. I understood being concerned with what people thought or worrying about someone judging you before they met you. Especially based on something like your height. Something that you couldn’t control.

He also had good taste in restaurants and pulled out my chair for me when we sat down at the Italian place he chose.

Unfortunately, that’s all the good things I could say about him: he was decent to look at and had good taste in food.

I should’ve fled when his smile faltered upon seeing me for the first time outside of the restaurant. His less-than-enthusiastic expression was followed by a mumbled, “Hi, umm… you’re Ivy?”

I tried not to let his tone stifle my smile, so I nodded politely. “Yes. Hi, it’s nice to finally meet in person.”

He’d done a thorough sweep of my entire body, top to bottom, bottom to top, and when his eyes finally connected with mine once again, his smile was almost nonexistent.

But he’d waved toward the door and nonetheless led me into the restaurant. Too polite not to continue on, I did just that. Even if I could’ve guessed how the night would end.

My last relationship had ended months prior, and Derek was my first date since then. I was already nervous to start dating again, especially after years in a committed relationship, and Derek’s constant inspection from across the table made me itch to dart for the door.

“So, you’re a volleyball coach?” he asked after we ordered our drinks.

---