Ivy

by Willa Nash

And in the center of it all, there he was. He sat on the largest couch with a tumbler of amber liquid in hand as he surveyed his club. A king on his throne. Zain.

This was why she came to Treason. Not for the music. Not for the crowd. Not for the dancing. She came for him. What would Ivy say if she knew Elora was fucking her older brother?

“Oh, and, Ivy?” Ivy turned. “Touch my things again, and I’ll burn your pretty manor to the ground. You’re not the only person in this house capable of being cruel.”

She’d come to the cottage with Zain last spring. Before the chaos of finals, he’d invited her away for a weekend of sex. They’d fucked on the white couch in the living room. They’d thoroughly debauched his bedroom. Elora had spent her mornings with his cock in her mouth and her nights with his tongue in her pussy.

Maybe if she stayed here, in this exact spot where her problems seemed so small compared to the vastness of the world, she’d be able to make sense of this new reality.

A first kiss smelled like a man. Like clean soap with spicy undertones. Like temptation and anticipation. When Cassia closed her eyes, when she thought of the scent she wanted to inhale before a man’s lips touched hers, it was Edwin’s.

The guy didn’t even put up an argument. Wimp. Ivy’s eyes wandered up Tate’s chest, a curl of desire pooling in her lower belly. His white button-down shirt was tailored to perfection, showcasing those shoulders and flat stomach. The sleeves strained at the bulk of his biceps. He leaned in close, bending to speak into her ear. His lips brushed the shell, sending a wave of tingles across her skin. “Stop drinking. Baby.” “Why? Worried I’ll go home with someone else?” “Because I won’t fuck you if you’re drunk.” She gulped. “Is that why you left last weekend?” He leaned away, his chocolate gaze swirling with lust. “You’re my friend’s sister. If I had stayed, I would have fucked you in Zain’s house, and I needed to talk to him first. There are boundaries.”

Another rejection. Another person trying to steal her control. God, she couldn’t even fuck the guy she wanted to screw. “Then leave me alone.” Ivy spun toward the bar, wrapped her hand around his wrist and lifted it off her shot glass. Then, before he could stop her, she poured the tequila down her throat. It barely burned. “Fuck,” he muttered. “Not tonight, remember?” she quipped, shoving past him, her knees wobbly. But she regained her balance once more and leveled him with a glare. “Good luck with those boundaries.” Ivy sensed him behind her as she walked for the exit. She knew he’d keep watch until she was in her car. So she held it together, using every breath to keep her emotions in check. They raged inside of her, pounding fists against her ribs to be set free. Hurt. Anger. Disappointment. Everyone wanted something from Ivy. Money. Status. Her father wanted her to be someone else. They wanted the façade. They wanted the rich, beautiful bitch. She’d thought last weekend that maybe Tate had wanted her. The real Ivy Clarence. Who was she kidding? There was no real Ivy. That Ivy was dead, killed in a car crash years ago. With Kristopher.

“Because I want you to crave me just a fraction of how much I crave you. Because I want you so worked up you can’t see straight.”

“Next time, we’ll play.” He leaned up, his gaze locked on hers as he hovered above her. “But you feel so fucking good that I won’t last.” Yes. If it was anything like this, oh, she would let him play.

it was like she’d been standing in the rain and he had the only umbrella. “Hi.”

“I might not know your favorite book or the best memory from your childhood, but I’ve got a decent read on you, Ivy. You fight me at every turn because it makes it interesting. You crave control, and when I steal it, part of you gets angry and part of you loves it. Not that you’d ever admit that to me or yourself.”

“You and me, we fit,” he said. “We fit so fucking perfectly it shouldn’t be real.

nothing can compare to you and me.” He pressed his hand over her heart. “Two hearts.” “One beat,” she finished.

Those labels sounded so trivial, even in her head. She wanted to be more. She wanted to be his entire world. She wanted to be so wrapped up in his life that no one would be able to tell where he ended and she began.

“What’s with you and good today?” “Just calling it like it is.” His lips coasted against hers, his tongue dragging along the seam of her smile. “Because, baby, this is going to be so fucking good.” No, this was going to be great. This was going to be the love of her life.