Page 14 of Corrupting Ivy

She opened the door and walked inside, ignoring my question, or silently answering it—I wasn’t sure which.

I followed her in and she shut the door behind her, flipping on the lights. The bulbs illuminated a loft so small it would make New Yorkers dance with excitement.

Ivy’s kitchen was nothing but a countertop with a makeshift stove. The queen-size bed sat in the open corner with space to walk around it on both sides. A small two-seater couch graced the middle of the room, along with a chair and small rectangular coffee table. Dining table and chairs were missing, and the bathroom was the only area of privacy.

The apartment was bare bones.

“It’s not much, but it’s all I need for the moment,” she said as if reading my mind or the minds of anyone walking in here, then tossed her key on the coffee table. “The bathroom is over there, the kitchen… well, if you need a drink there are sodas in the fridge.” She busied herself while I kicked off my boots by the door, grabbing a small Afghan blanket and a decorative couch pillow, then tossed them on the sofa. “I wish I had more to offer you, but I don’t get company… at all.” Placing her hands on her hips, she grimaced as a thought filled her haunted eyes.

Someone damaged the shaking leaf before I had a chance.

Picking up the blanket, I spread it out and placed it over the sofa.

She stuck a thumb over her shoulder. “Well, I have to work in the morning, so I’m going to hit the hay. Help yourself to anything.”

An open-ended invitation that had my mind soaring with wild ideas.

Backing up, she bumped into the chair, catching herself before she spilled onto her ass again as she kept her eyes on me. She turned away, ran her fingers through her hair as she walked into the restroom, cursing. “Goddammit.” It was silent enough for her to believe it was for her ears only, but loud enough I caught every syllable, and it made me smirk.

The bathroom door clicked behind her.

At least she locked that one, not that it would matter. She’d left the main door unlocked, and anyone could have gotten in. You’d think, after almost being abducted, you’d not invite a total stranger to walk you home and sleep inside. But not this girl. She either had a death wish, just didn’t care, or was too dense to realize.

Judging by the reflection I saw in her eyes earlier tonight, I’d say she had haunting memories on her mind, distracting her from the genuine terror before her.

I locked the front door before stripping off my shirt, then made myself as comfortable as I could on the small loveseat. They did not make this sofa for a large body to sleep on. Half my body hung off the edge of the couch while mylegs rested over the armrests, but it was still better than the rocking chair.

Ivy walked out moments later, closing the restroom door, wearing shorts that showcased the crease of her ass cheeks as they met the back of her luscious thighs. The need to sink my teeth into her pillowy ass clouded my vision and nearly had me jumping from my makeshift bed to do so.

She walked to the light switch by the door and plunged our world into darkness. Shadows crawled across the room as the moonlight spilled through the windows. Her pebbled nipples pushed against the tight white spaghetti strap top, barely covering the flat of her stomach, causing my cock to swell to an uncomfortable state.

A low growl vibrated my chest as her gaze drifted towards me while walking back towards her bed. I burned with hunger for a girl I’d just met. Her hair fell forward as she pulled the sheets down, making room for her to slide between them. I imagined how those sheets felt against her skin, how her skin would feel against mine.

Would she be soft and silky? Would she melt under my touch or tense up and run away? Could I mold her into absolute perfection, or would the pressure I imposed on her break her?

It was rare to meet someone that enjoyed my tastes, my particular appetites, and survive.

“Goodnight, Randall.” Her quiet voice drifted into the darkened room. “If you try anything funny, I sleep with a baseball bat by my bed.”

Her threat brought a smile to my face. “Next time, don’t give away your element of surprise.”

If I was the type of person to do something like that, her bat wouldn’t phase me. I’ve battled tougher women and men with more and came out on top.

She cleared her throat and pulled her sheets to her chin.

A grin tore across my lips. She used her sheets as a sort of comfort or protection, like one of those kids who hide from the boogeyman under the blankets.

Little did she know, I was the thing that went bump in the night, and no amount of protection would keep me from corrupting her.

The fear of havinga strange man on my couch kept me up with thoughts of my impending death.

What was I thinking? In the chaos that was last night, I must have bumped my head and forgotten all sense of reasoning. Inviting a man into my home that I didn’t know was stupid, especially after my stalker took things to a whole new level. But, somehow, I’d convinced myself that he was safe because he helped me, and he knew Remy. So that must count for something, right?

Then there were the thoughts of his hands on me. Even though it was innocent, I wanted him to touch me again. But just the thought of another man’s hands on me had me shivering with dread.

I was still raw from my last relationship—if I could even call it that. I don’t think I could handle someone who exudes power and control with every fiber of his being.

The man in the alleyway.

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