Surviving Ice (Burying Water, #4)(86)

Ivy groans, but her tiny smirk tells me she’s not mad. “Get used to it, as long as you’re staying here. She does it to me almost every day.”

“That’s . . . weird.”

“That’s Dakota.” She hesitates. “As long as you don’t pull the curtain open to invite her in, we won’t have any issues.”

I wrap my arms around her body. “Are you jealous?”

“No!” she throws back instantly, tension coursing down her back. I’m guessing being jealous would be as unappealing as being needy in Ivy’s book.

Dakota’s hot, I’ll give her that, but I need more than just looks. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

Her hands run over my chest and down to my stomach as if memorizing the curves before her sharp, dark eyes peer up at me. “I’ve never let anyone do that before.”

She doesn’t have to spell it out. I smile. “I’ve never wanted to do that with anyone.” That’s the truth. I haven’t come inside a woman since my ex-fiancée, and with her, it was more laziness than my own need. But with Ivy last night . . . I wanted to fill her with me. I wanted to mark her, in a way.

Just the idea had me rock hard.

I should have asked first, but . . .

Ivy inhales deeply and then releases. “Hopefully you’ll get this plumbing issue fixed soon, and we can stay at your place once in a while.”

She’s watching my expression to see if she can read something from it. She still probably thinks I have a girlfriend hiding back home, even though I’ve told her that’s not the case. “Yeah, hopefully.” I checked out of the shit motel yesterday morning. I’m going to have to find a short-term rental somewhere, so we have some privacy while I’m here. Which could be a while, because I’m not going anywhere until I figure out exactly why that car was parked outside her uncle’s house yesterday.

Ivy averts her gaze, but I sense the tension lifting. “So . . . lemons and Greece.” She reaches up to touch the still-green one hanging.

“Yeah. Do you wanna go?” I blurt out.

Her eyes dart to my face. “Where? Greece?”

I nod.

“With you?”

I smile and nod again. The idea hit me last night. It’d get her far away from Scalero and this city and her uncle’s death. She loves to travel, and she has no issues picking up and going. Would she go with me, though?

She looks to be considering it. But then she sighs, and I know the answer. “I wish I could. But my cousin’s relying on me to get the house and the shop sorted out for selling. I can’t just take off.” Very quickly, she adds, “But I would, if things were different.”

I accept her decline with a nod.

“Does that mean . . .” She frowns, hesitating. “Are you leaving? I remember you saying that you were going after I finished your tattoo.”

“Do you want me to leave?” I already know she doesn’t. I’m just wondering if she’ll actually say it out loud.

She purses her lips and shakes her head no. Admitting that was a big step for her. Admitting that she’s falling for me last night was an even bigger one.

I smile. “Then I’m not going anywhere.”

Her shoulders sag with an exhale of relief. “Yeah, you are.” She checks her phone. “To Black Rabbit, with me. I have to see what they’ve done to the place.”





THIRTY-THREE


IVY


“How bad do you think it is?” I ask, watching the technicolor of buildings pass by.

“I’m sure it’s fine.”

I sigh. “I don’t know.” Fausto phoned me last night to say they would be finishing up this morning and that Black Rabbit—or, as he jokingly called it, “White Rabbit,” much to my annoyance—would be ready. I’d love to hire him to paint Ned’s house, too, but we don’t have the money after I bought the materials to repair the walls.

Sebastian pulls up alongside the curb, where the same rabid rabbit that stared down at me when I was five stares down at me now. I can’t imagine it not being there, but I guess that day will come.

“I’m just going to stick my head in and see what it looks like,” I mumble, hopping out of his car. I step onto the sidewalk with my stomach churning. After what Bobby said about my paint color choice, I’m dreading this, and I don’t necessarily want Sebastian witnessing my breakdown.

“Remember, this is for resale value, not immortalizing your uncle,” Sebastian says, rounding the front of the car. Ignoring my request completely.

I shoot a glare at him, but he ignores that, too, slipping a hand onto the small of my back. He still has that cool, aloof bodyguard aura about him, but more and more he’s taking any opportunity he can to touch me. I guess spending the last few days and nights together has helped inspire that. Whatever the reason, every time he’s near, I find myself leaning into him, craving his touch.

Even now, when I can sense that something is still bothering him. I catch glimpses of it—a furrowed brow, a distant look. He’s distracted. As distracted as a guy like Sebastian, who takes in everything, can be anyway.

The door to the shop is propped open. I hold my breath and step across the threshold. The shock of the glaring, cold white hits me around the same time as the paint odor. “Oh my God, what have I done?” I whisper under my breath, staring at the pristine walls.