The door to the nursery creaks open, and I glance up at Eva as she sneaks inside.
"What are you still doing up?" I ask her. "And what is on your face?"
She tiptoes closer, smiling down at Elena in my arms as I'm rocking her back to sleep.
"I heard the baby crying, and I couldn't sleep. I was playing around with some ideas for a Halloween costume."
"A skull face?" I arch a brow at her curiously. "Halloween is still a long way off."
"I wanted to be like you," she answers softly.
Something pulls in my chest, and I feel another piece of my ice shield shattering. She really is a little psychopath, but I think I love her. In fact, I know I do.
"Santiago?" She digs her toes into the carpet, shifting around nervously. "Are you going to send me away soon?"
"Send you away?" I frown. "Why would I do that?"
"I don't know." She shrugs a shoulder. "You have the baby now, and I just keep thinking at some point you'll probably get tired of having me around. Especially if another baby comes..."
I stop rocking, staring up at her as I try to determine the right words. This feels like a test. Something I might face many times as a father in the coming years. And I think about what my own father would have said. There would be no words of comfort. No assurances. His word was law, and there was no defying it.
I am not my father. And I want Eva to know that. I want Elena to know it. I want them to feel something I never did.
Love.
But I'm still fuzzy on the rules. How to express it. How to receive it. In many ways, I'm like a toddler, fumbling through this new existence without a guidebook. But I try, and I think that is all I can do.
"I think I can safely say for your sister and myself, we don't ever want you to leave, Eva."
She offers a small smile. "Really?"
"But someday you will."
Her smile falls, and I rush to get the words out.
"Someday, you will probably go to college and then get married," I tell her. "But only to someone I approve of. If he's an asshole, it's not happening."
She giggles at the expression on my face, which I can only imagine is murderous, and then nods with tears in her eyes.
"You'll always have a home with us," I add quietly. "Always."
She leans in and hugs me carefully, and then kisses Elena on the cheek.
"Now you better get to bed," I say. "Or your sister's going to move your bedtime up."
"Alright, I know." She rolls her eyes and then heads for the door, pausing to look over her shoulder. "Good night, Santiago. Love you."
She leaves before I can say anything, but my quiet words follow her down the hall.
"Love you too."
"Is Elena okay?" Ivy murmurs sleepily as I ease myself back into bed.
"Yes, she's asleep now," I assure her. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."
"It's okay." She blinks up at me with soft eyes, illuminated by the bedside lamp.
Upon our return, I had Marco assist Antonia in installing lights in most of the rooms again. The lighting is softer, and there are still parts of The Manor kept dark—for the moments I feel I need to escape again—but I think I am learning to live in the light now.
"Thank you for taking care of her." Ivy reaches up to stroke my stubbled jaw as I pull her against me. "I don't mean to sleep through the night, but sometimes, I’m so tired I don’t even hear the monitor.”
"Don't apologize." I kiss her forehead. "Your body is still recovering. You've been through so much with the car accident, the coma, and giving birth to our daughter. I still can't believe it sometimes. You created her inside you."
"I had some help." She laughs. "I think I remember vividly how determined you were."
My face pinches, and I close my eyes, and Ivy's softness does not falter as she brushes her fingers over my scars.
"Hey, don't," she whispers. "Don't go back there."
"I'm trying not to.”
"Our past is what made us strong. With everything we've overcome, we can conquer anything now."
She sounds so certain, and when I open my eyes to meet hers, I can see she means it.
"I hope you'll still feel that way tomorrow."
She nods in understanding, and then her other hand moves beneath the covers, stroking the bulge in my briefs. "You know what I think would help?"
I frown and shake my head. "It's too soon. You're still recovering—"
"It's been too long," she argues, her frustration evident.
We've had this same argument for many nights now. The doctors told us four to six weeks, and I've been determined to wait the full term out even though I've been close to giving in. The truth is, I'm terrified anything too rigorous could send her back to a sleep she won't wake from.
"Santi," she pleads. "I need this from you. I need to feel you again."
Tears cling to the edges of her eyes, and it pierces me. How can I deny her when she isn't playing fair?
For a long moment, I consider all the potential risks. The consequences. And then... the benefits. My mind is torn, but my hands are not. I'm already groping her breast, unconsciously aware of it until she releases a soft sigh of approval.
"Please," she urges, legs falling apart as my other palm slides down her hip between her thighs.
My lips fall to hers, and she cradles the back of my head in her palm as she begins to devour me. I'm trying to be gentle, but every time she moans, my fingers start to move faster, harder. And then she's sliding her fingers into my briefs, wrapping them around my cock, and I can't think straight anymore.
It seems to be intentional, this distraction, and to my annoyance, it works.
She comes around my fingers with a sharp cry that I promptly swallow, and then I'm fumbling to get my briefs off, burning with the need for my release. I'm planning to finish off myself so she can rest, but Ivy has other plans.
She pulls herself free, moving down the bed, and takes my dick back from me as she peeks up at me with heavy-lidded eyes.
"Ivy—" My protest is cut short when she sucks me into her mouth, and it's all over from there.
I watch her take me, my cock gliding over her tongue and deep into her warmth. My hand comes to rest on her head as I try in vain to harness my restraint.
"It’s okay," she murmurs around me. "I know how you like it. Don't hold back."
God, she's going to fucking kill me.
There's a protest on my lips, but she glares up at me. "Do it, Santiago. I'm not made of china, and I want you to stop treating me as if I am. I miss this. I need it. So just give it to me, please."
Well, when she puts it like that...
I cup her head and slide my dick between her lips, deeper and deeper until she digs her nails into my thighs. My eyes shutter closed, and my hips move, rolling and thrusting as I fall into a familiar rhythm. Ivy moans around me, and my balls draw tight, and every muscle goes rigid as I slide in and out of her mouth, skating the knife’s edge of my release and trying to draw it out. Nothing has ever felt so fucking good.