Page 61 of Sawyer

I lean down until our foreheads touch. Her chest pushes into mine with every shallow breath she takes.

“When we were strangers, I watched you from afar. When we were lovers, I loved you with all my heart,” I half-sing, half-speak. I draw back a touch to find her eyes, to hold her gaze. Wesway to the music, our bodies flush, our faces close. “Because I’m still in love with you…I wanna see you dance again. Because I’m still in love with you…on this harvest moon.”

Suddenly, she blinks her eyes rapidly, her body losing the rhythm of our dance, and her hands unlocking. Her arms fall limply to her sides as she looks up at me, her face a mask of misery. I let go of her, and she bolts from my arms, beelining to the exit, and disappearing through the double doors.

“Damn it,” I mutter, chasing after her.

I find her on the boardwalk, several feet away from the entrance to the Parsnip, where a small group of folks are smoking and chatting.

“Hey,” I say, putting my hand on her shoulder to turn her around to face me. “Are you okay?”

Her eyes slam into mine, and she pauses for just a second before reaching for my face. Leaning up on tiptoes, she presses her lips to mine. As she whimpers into my mouth, my body finally catches up with what’s happening, and I grab her in my arms, holding her tight against me as our lips meet again. We gasp and pant, desperately trying to get closer. Her nails curl into my cheeks, and I turn us around, pushing her into the shadows, against the front wall of a business closed for the season. I press against her, wanting her to feel my hard cock, wanting to remind her of how it felt every time I slid inside of her. I reach for her face, threading my fingers through her hair, and she moans, rotating her hips into my erection.

“Ivy,” I whisper near her ear, licking the tender skin of her earlobe, then dotting kisses down the column of her throat. “Come home with me. Please, princess…”

“Wait,” she pants, lowering her hands from my face and flattening them against my chest.

“Come with me,” I murmur, my lips still skimming her warm skin. “Come with me.”

“N-No!” she manages to choke out, pushing me away.

I stumble backward, dazed and confused.

“We can’t! I’m—I’m not a-a…a cheater. I don’t…” She backs away from me, clearly horrified by what we were just doing. “I—I’m sorry. I’ve got to go! Don’t follow me, Sawyer!”

She turns and runs away from me, in the direction of her aunt and uncle’s house.

I stand still, my lips slick and my body on fire. I watch her go until I can’t see her anymore. Then I walk to my truck, swing my body into the driver’s seat with a frustrated grunt, and drive myself home.

***

Ivy

While we were kissing on the stage, no matter how steamy things got, I could tell myself that it was all in pursuit of art. It wasn’t me and Sawyer—it was Catherine and Heathcliff. It was a convenient little lie that allowed me to indulge my feelings for Sawyer and kiss him within the bounds of propriety.

But the way I threw myself at him tonight? The way I mashed my face into his and ground my hips against his…his—ohmygod, it was wanton. It was desperate. Weweren’ton a stage. Weweren’tCatherine and Heathcliff. We were Ivy and Sawyer. And I was kissing him like my very life depended on it.

There’s no way around it.

I’m an engaged woman who just kissed someone who is not my fiancé.

I cheated on Clark.

I’m a cheater.

And the right thing to do—theonlything to do—is to break off my engagement. I can’t marry one man when I’m obviously in love with another.

Because I’m still in love with you.

Truer lyrics were never written, it turns out. I’m still madly in love with Sawyer Stewart. There’s no way I can marry Clark Rupert.

I check my phone. I was barely at the party for half an hour. It’s just seven-thirty.

Early enough to get this over with, I think.

I grab my phone and click on the text icon.

ME:

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