“That’s the last thing I want, Ivy. I never want to hurt you.” I soak in his scent of sugar and scotch and his rugged citrus cologne, terrified the answer to my next question could rip me to pieces. “What do you want then?” “I want my wife.” A single tear spills down my cheek. “Like you …” I squeak. “You want me for real?” His nose brushes against mine as he lifts his face to answer, “Yes, Little Storm. I want you in every imaginable way.”
