Page 5 of The Claiming Series: Collection 1
And that's where things became muddled. I didn't want to be her fucking mentor. I wanted to be the man in her life, in her bed. But things aren't muddled anymore. They're clearer than they've ever been.
I constantly check Ivy throughout the night and the following day, ensuring she’s not sick. She barely stirs from the position I placed her in on the bed, and it's almost mid-afternoon the next day before she begins to stir.
It's time to explain that she's mine, and I'm not letting her go.
Chapter Five
Ivy
I crack my eyes open with a groan, vaguely aware that I'm naked except for my panties, my body covered by a single sheet. My head is pounding, and my mouth tastes like the inside of a sewer.
I move my head gingerly, trying to take in some of my surroundings. I'm lying in a strange bed, the mattress cocooning my body like a cloud of marshmallows.
I'm in a bedroom—a man's judging by the clothes folded neatly on the nearby chair and the items on the dresser.
"What the fuck?" I whisper to myself.
Where am I? And how did I get here? Have I been kidnapped?
The slamming of a door nearby makes me jump. I lie still, listening intently.
Should I call out? I shiver, exposed and vulnerable. Footsteps echo on hard flooring, and I hold my breath. Someone's coming. I pray whoever it is will keep walking. I need time to figure out where I am and get the hell out of here. The footsteps come to a halt outside the door. My breath is still trapped somewhere between my throat and my lungs.
Think, Ivy! What's the last thing you remember?
An image pops into my head as the door begins to open.
The last person I remember is… Ashton! Leaning over me after Brent tried to…
The door opens, and I close my eyes, trying to regulate my breathing. Hopefully, my kidnapper will think I'm still sleeping and leave me alone again.
My heart is beating a staccato against my ribs, and my chest rises and falls rapidly. I'm sure my kidnapper must be able to see the pulse beating at my throat.
"Don't panic, Ivy. You're safe," a deep voice murmurs.
I stiffen, and my eyes pop open along with my mouth. "Ashton?"
He frowns. He hates it when I use his full name, but I'm shocked to see him. No wonder I didn't recognize my surroundings—I’ve never been to his apartment.
"Yes, Ivy. It's Ash," he replies, stating the obvious.
My nipples harden beneath the thin sheet at the sound of his voice. His eyes drop, and I know he's clocked my body's betrayal by the tiny satisfied smile that pulls at his mouth.
"Why am I naked?" I demand. "How did I get here? What's going on?"
He moves to sit on the edge of the bed, reaching for the glass of water on the bedside table along with the ibuprofen he obviously placed there earlier. "Take these, and I'll explain."
I do as he asks, swallowing the pills and draining the glass.
He leans forward, smoothing his hand over my hair, watching with fascination as it sifts through his fingers. "Your friend, Brent, slipped a little something extra into your drink last night. He had every intention of forcing himself on you once it took hold," he explains, his face tightwith anger.
I look at him in shock. "He—I?—"
"Don't worry. I stopped him. Saw him follow you outside. God knows what the stupid fool thought he was doing, why he thought he’d get away with it. I took care of him, and your mom and I agreed you should come here while she's in New York. Your dress was ripped, so I stripped it off you. Then I left you to sleep off the drugs. I've been checking on you every hour or so since yesterday."
"Yesterday?" I look at him in disbelief. I pull myself into a sitting position, clutching the sheet to my chest. "How long was I out?
"Fifteen hours, give or take."
