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The moon hangs low in the sky, casting an eerie glow across the whole ranch and making the fresh paint job on the bunkhouse look like it’s drenched in blood.
Funny thing is, the longer I’m here, the more I can admit how fucking much I missed this place. This is my home. My turf. Now, don’t get me wrong. Angel Harbor and the Reckless Souls were a great experience. But it’s not home. Ma and Dad were right. It was time to come home.
Boots scuff the dirt behind me, pulling my attention from the starry night, and I turn to see Ivy. She’s so fucking beautiful, it makes my chest ache. She’s effortless about it, too. The last word anyone would use to describe Ivy is high maintenance, yet even in jeans and a plain old t-shirt, she puts most women to shame.
“Hey,” I manage, resisting the urge to scoop her up in my arms. Hell, maybe she’s already made her choice, and it’s not me.
“Hey, yourself,” she begins, folding her arms across her chest as she draws closer to me. “What are you doing out here?”
“Waiting for you,” I answer simply. “Where else would I be?”
Her blue eyes flicker and then dart away before I can get a read on what she’s thinking or feeling.
“Are you all right, Ivy?” She’s more shaken up about Gray than I want to believe.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” she answers softly, but she still doesn’t look at me.
“You wanna talk about it?”
She shakes her head. “I’m not in the mood for conversation.”
“Oka-a-a-a-y,” I reply, drawing the word out to five syllables. “What do you need from me, Ivy?”
“Nothing,” she says, her expression blank as she steps forward. “I don’t need anything from you, Stone.”
“Okay, got it. Message received.” I push off the side of the bunkhouse and look at Ivy. “If you want to talk, you know where to find me.”
“No,” she says a little more forcefully as both hands fly to my chest to stop me in my tracks. “I don’t need anything from you, and I don’t want to talk.”
“Yeah, I heard you. You know where I’ll be.”
The pressure of her hands against my chest disappears for the briefest of moments, and then they’re back with a hard shove that slams my back to the bunkhouse wall. “You heard me, but are you listening to me?”
“Ivy. Stop fucking with my head. Okay?”
“I’m not fuckin’ with you,” she says, her voice suddenly soft and vulnerable.
“Good,” I growl.
“Like I said. I don’t need or want anything from you, Stone.” Her hands cup my face, and she looks up at me. “I want you. I choose you.” Her blue eyes are clear and sharp, and the pulse in her throat beats wildly as she says these words.
“Say it again.”
Her lips tilt into a slow grin. “I choose you.”
“You choose me.” The words rush past my lips like a tidal wave. It’s what I want to hear, but still, I’m having a hard fucking time making sense of it.
“Yeah, Stone, I do.” She’s watching me, waiting for a response. “You,” she says again before jumping into my arms, giving me no choice but to catch her. “I choose you. Right here. Right now.”
“What about Gr—” Before I can finish my sentence, Ivy’s lips are on mine, raw and hungry as she devours my mouth. Slowly at first and thoroughly, and then with every pass of her tongue, the kiss deepens and intensifies.
Her hips grind against my dick, teasing me beyond all good sense while her fingers spear through my hair, gripping me tight enough to cause a sting on my scalp. I don’t give a fuck, not when I finally have Ivy in my arms. Not when I can savor the taste of her mouth.
I turn us around so she’s up against the bunkhouse, looking up at me with hazy blue eyes and swollen lips. “You taste even better than I dreamed about.”
She blinks and then licks her lips. “You’ve thought about me?”
“Only every fucking day since I’ve been back.” My hand brushes across the soft skin of her midriff, drawing a shiver from her. “There’s so much I want to know.” I flick the button on her jeans and tug on the zipper. “I need to know, so if you don’t want this, it’s up to you to tell me. Feel me?”
