Page 67 of My Sweetest Obsession
She holds my gaze for a few moments in the dark, but even without the lights on and only a thin sliver of moonlight filtering in from the window, it’s clear there isn’t any reservation there.
Just a burning need I’ve seen before.
Including that night that changed everything.
Ivy lured me in then with her sweetness, her innocence, her pure light that seemed to radiate from her across the yard, through the swaying branches of that willow tree. And once I spoke with her, once I saw her smile and heard that voice, I knew there was no hope for me to walk away that night.
There isn’t now, either.
And she sees it.
Ivy lifts herself slightly to capture my mouth with hers.
The simple press of her lips after all this time ignites a fire deep inside me. One I’ve tried so hard to put out over the last four years. That burning need for her, the bone-deep, searing desire to give this woman anything and everything, to possess her, to consume her the way flames do everything in their path, to make her come apart in my arms and on my cock.
And that voice that only moments ago was telling me I shouldn’t be doing this, that warned me that this is just another step back in my recovery by giving in to my addiction to her, that screams at me that she’s the worst kind of drug a man like me could ever get a taste of, it silences as her tongue sweeps along mine and I get my taste of her.
She presses her hand to my chest, directly over my rapidly beating heart, her fingers clenching the fabric tightly.
I groan against her lips, and she issues a little needy moan, trying to press closer, but her growing belly prevents her from getting me where she wants me. A whimper of frustration falls from her mouth into mine, but it acts as a momentary reminder that what we’re doing isn’t good for either of us.
Ivy is using me to ease her pain.
I’m using her to fuel my addiction.
I tear my mouth from hers, searching her face for any reservation that could end this right now. “Are you sure this is what you want, Ivy?”
Because one word is all it would take to stop this. To end this madness. To give us time to come to our senses instead of giving in to something that has only ever led to misery.
But instead of offering me that word, she nods, a frantic pant slipping from her lips. “Yes…”
That’s probably her hormones talking.
Everything I’ve read in the pregnancy and baby books I’ve spent hours going through since I found out about this baby tells me some women get incredibly hot during certain parts of their pregnancies.
It would certainly explain how easily she’s overlooking how much she hates me in order to get this.
It would explain why she can look at me and not just see the man who stole Drew from her.
But that doesn’t mean I won’t give it to her.
She might want this, might need it, in the moment, but I know she’ll regret it in the morning.
She’ll regret that she gave in to the hormones and the loneliness.
She’ll regret that she let me touch her like this.
She’ll regret the emotional fallout, just like I imagine she did last week when I walked out of here and left her in the shower.
There’s nothing I can do about that.
There’s nothing I can do to change how things worked out between us.
But at least I can give her a few hours away from those thoughts that plague her, from the agony that consumes her—and me.
Her fingers slide from my chest down to the hem of my T-shirt, frantically tugging at the fabric. I grasp it quickly and yank it over my head, letting it fall to the floor beside the bed. The cool air in the bedroom hits my hot skin, but the press of her palm against me sends a rush of heat through my body and straight to my straining cock.
I graze my lips along her collarbone, up her neck, and dip my head close to her ear as I reach between us to tug up her tank top. “Do you want me to fuck you, Ivy?”
