“It’s just me,” Levi mumbles drunkenly as his hand slides under my shirt to rest on my stomach. “I fucking missed you, Ives.”
“Your breath smells like a distillery.”
“Drank a lot today.” He pulls me flush against his hard chest. “No more leaving me.”
My heart beats quicker and warms at the affection and need in his words. I’m about to insist he get up and go to his own room when a little snore escapes him. Instead of waking him like I should, I turn to face him. It feels so right, having him wrapped around me. The heat from his skin seeping into mine is comforting. He smells like sweat, sunscreen, and bonfire smoke. I tuck in under his neck and drift off to sleep.
Several hours later, I wake up to my alarm blasting and a sweaty furnace at my back. After swiping my alarm off, I roll out from under Levi and grab a practice suit. After changing, I pause by my bed and nudge Levi.
“Levi, you need to go to your own room.” I shake him again, a little harder this time.
He rolls over, and one of his eyes opens, apparently surprised by where he is. “How’d I get in here?”
“You crawled in here drunk and passed out cuddling me.” I arch an eyebrow at him.
“Huh,” he tosses the sheet off and sits on the edge of the bed, scratching his chest, which looks bigger than a few months ago. In fact, his entire torso, shoulders, and arms all look more defined and bigger. A slow grin tugs at his lips as we hold each other’s gazes. “It was a good call.”
He stands, and I make the mistake of looking down. He has a hard on tenting the gym shorts that hang off his hips, highlighting his v-cut muscles. I’m locked in hot stepbrother sensory overload and unsure where to look and still be able to maintain my composure. It’s not easy. I know how good that body feels under, over, against, and inside mine. Liquid heat pools between my thighs, and I clench them together to soothe the ache. He chuckles and moves right in front of me, forcing me to tilt my head all the way back to see him.
“I’m really happy you’re home, Ives.” He leans down and gives me a lingering kiss right on the corner on my mouth. Then he walks out the door, dick jutting out shamelessly. “Grab me when you’re done with your work out and cleaned up,” he tosses over his shoulder.
10
LEVI
I vaguely remember walkinginto Ivy’s room last night and collapsing in her bed. It was such a long day I’m surprised I even made it back home. The summer has been fucking hell for Con with his mom bolting and dragging his sister baby sister Claire away with her.
Now he’s obsessed with getting rid of the hot as fuck blonde living under his roof. I already see the beginning signs of his possessive nature with her. It’ll be interesting to see those two fight it out this year. She seems like the type to not take shit lying down.
I am even more obsessed with Ivy than I was last year. I made the painful mistake of letting her date another guy, and it cut me deep every fucking day. This year no one gets close to her. If I don’t have her, no one else will either. I don’t care the lengths to which I have to go. I’ll be the one she’s turning to, kissing, and fucking.
I watch Ivy swimming laps from my window like the creepy stalker that I am. There is something crazy sexy about watching her cut through the water with such ease and grace, then add in her competitive drive, and I’m fucked. I love her so much that there’s this hallow ache in my chest all the time. Last night was the first respite I’ve had from it since this time last year on that fucking magical night where she let go of her concerns and lowered the walls around her heart.
After her rejection, I went on a fuck-anyone-available bender. I was balls deep in almost every girl in the junior and senior classes, along with a few sophomores. Lessons learned: you can’t fuck your soulmate out of your system with random hook ups and girls are crazy.
I know without a shadow of a doubt that Ivy Bane is my soul mate. There is no one who knows my dreams, my goals, and my secrets like she does. It’s effortless to spill my soul to her. She knows things that I’ve never even told Con or Griff.
I tear myself away from the window and go turn on my shower. I smell awful, a combination of whiskey, smoke, and sweat. I’m a little surprised Ivy let me sleep in her bed last night with the stench wafting off me. It just goes to show she missed me as much as I did her. I shampoo my hair and scrub the funk off my body.
I glance out the window after I dry off and get dressed to see if she’s still down at the pool. She’s not out there, so I let myself into her room to wait for her. She’s got a pink fuzzy chair that looks like three Muppet babies were killed to make it or her bed to lounge on. I decide to stretch out on the bed and scroll through The Ridge, see what’s going on.
Griff and I spent the better part of yesterday at Con’s pool party spreading the word about the new girl, Lilith, being off limits. Con made some sort of devil deal with Margaux, handing over the majority of the tormenting to her. I wouldn’t trust that viper to hand me a tissue, let alone make an actual deal with her, but he’s a big boy. We’ll be there when shit inevitably goes south.
Ivy’s phone buzzes on the nightstand beside me, and when I glance down, I see it’s a text from Oliver. Her lock screen photo is of the two of them in front of Big Ben this summer. She’s smiling at the camera, and he’s looking at her with her love practically erupting from his eyes. They’re pressed up against each other like magnets.
I unlock her phone, shaking my head at the fact that her passcode is the same as it was three years ago. I hesitate over invading her privacy like this, but I have to know what I’m up against with fucking Oliver in the picture. I go into their text chain and scroll through all the messages until I come across him saying “I love you.” Fuck if my heart doesn’t seize up in my chest seeing some other asshole saying that to her. I scroll through and see it several other times, and the only thing she ever responds with is a heart emoji. I drop the phone back on the nightstand when I hear the bathroom door open.
She steps out into the room in a pink terrycloth robe and her hair up in a towel. She does a double take, noticing me sprawled out on her bed again.
“Make yourself at home,” she drawls sarcastically and giving me the side-eye.
“Su casa es mi casa,” I say with a smirk.
“That isn’t remotely correct.” She walks into her closet and closes the door partway over. “What are we doing today? How should I dress?”
“I figured I’d take you out for brunch, then chill around town for the day. Since we’ll be out in public, I guess you should wear clothes. Although, as far as I’m concerned clothing around me is always optional.”
“Har har,” she mocks from the closet. “I still need about fifteen minutes to do my makeup.”