Lost in Paradise (Paradise Club #2)(56)

We both hiss our appreciation at being joined again.

Ivy shifts forward, her hands on either side of my face as she begins to ride me. Her hair falls around her, and I push it away from her face as I hold her between my palms and continue to thrust into her. This morning the sex is hot but intimate with our eyes never leaving each other as we both continue enjoying the moments together.

I’m not sure if I can stop what’s happening between us.

I don’t want it to stop.

I know I’m falling down that rabbit hole of Mr. Romantic again with my thoughts moving at lightning speed, but Ivy’s different.





“What are your plans for the day?” I ask again as I get out of the shower and wrap a towel around me.

“I was going to go grab some brunch and do a bit of shopping,” she tells me through the steam of her shower.

“Do you mind if I tag along?” I ask.

The shower turns off, and Ivy pops her head out. “You want to come?” she asks, seemingly surprised.

I nod quickly. If it means I get to spend more time with Ivy, then I’m in.

“Okay, let me dressed,” she says, stepping out of the shower. I hand her a towel which makes her smile, and I leave her to it to get ready. Thankfully, I have some spare clothes in the trunk of my car, so I grab a new shirt and fresh underwear—I find it handy to have spare clothes in the car, especially for after the gym. So by the time I’m dressed, she is too.

Ivy’s wearing jeans with boots and a chunky white sweater, no makeup, and her blonde hair is pulled up into a messy bun on top of her head.

“You sure you want to come?” she asks me again as we step outside, and she closes the door.

“Yeah. Means I get to hang out with you some more,” I tell her, holding out my hand for her to take. Ivy smiles as we head out onto the cobblestone sidewalk where her home is located. The air is crisp, and it’s overcast, but thankfully it doesn’t look like rain is coming. I tug Ivy out onto the busy street and stop as I’m not sure which direction she wants to go. She tugs my hand to the left, and we merge with all the other Sunday morning shoppers enjoying King’s Road.

“I’m starved. We should grab something soon,” I tell her, rubbing my stomach. “You’ve made me work up an appetite,” I whisper in her ear, making her giggle.

“Come on then, can’t have you dying of starvation,” she says with humor lacing her voice as she picks up her pace and heads further into the Sunday morning shoppers, dragging me along with her. We find a café and take our seats in the side courtyard that looks over the street. It’s all girly and pink with roses growing over the front of the building. The tables and chairs outside are Parisian with their white metal intricate frames.

“Ivy, it’s so good to see you again, it’s been too long,” the waitress greets Ivy warmly.

“I know. Work has been crazy,” she explains. The waitress then turns her attention to me and gives me a smile.

“I’ll have my usual, please,” Ivy tells her.

“And for you?” the waitress asks.

“Just a black coffee and whatever she’s having,” I add. The waitress scribbles it down on her pad and disappears. “Please say your usual is something good like bacon and eggs and not granola or something equally as awful.”

Ivy chuckles. “You’ll have to wait and see.” She gives me her scheming smile.

Please a full English breakfast, I pray to the brunch gods.

“How do they know you here?”

“A client who has turned into a good friend, Verity, owns this place. I helped her design it,” Ivy tells me proudly.

“It’s pink.”

Ivy giggles. “That was the brief … gorgeous, girly, pink café. Think I nailed that right?” she states, giving me a wink. “I’ve designed a couple more of her cafés around London and overseas. I was in Dubai for her latest one that opened a few months ago.” Impressive. “Also, my office is around the corner, and Verity delivers me coffee every single day.”

“Your office is around here?” I ask, looking out onto the street, hoping to catch a vision of where she works.

“You want me to show you?” she asks.

“Yes, I’d love to see it … the inner sanctum of Ivy Starr.”

She shakes her head and smiles.

Moments later, our coffees arrive, and just as I’m about to take a sip, my phone rings, and I look down to see it’s my mother. Yeah, not going to happen.

“You can get that if you want?” Ivy states, looking at the ringing phone curiously.

“It’s my mother. She’s calling to remind me about my father’s birthday next weekend, and to ask if I’m bringing a date,” I say on a groan.

“Are you?” Ivy asks as she sips her coffee.

“No, not yet,” I answer, my eyes falling on her. Ivy’s brows pull together, but she hides her discomfort by taking another sip of coffee. “Because I’m waiting for my date to get back to me. She said something about checking her schedule,” I add, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

“Me?” she says, raising her brows.

Yep, I have her attention now as she places her coffee cup back on the table.

“Remember how you told me you’d help me become son of the year?” I grin over my coffee mug. “You’re my present to her. Plus, Pierre will be there,” I tell her.