Dace laced his fingers through hers. “I hope I don’t let him down when I’m not in a lycra suit and shooting weird shit out of my wrists.”
“Nah. I don’t think you could let him down if you tried.” Ivy’s eyelids grew heavy, and her breathing quickened. “I think he’ll like the leather jacket and boots thing.”
There was that feeling again, the one that surged through them each time they touched. The one that was electric and couldn’t be ignored. It was becoming more and more difficult to avoid that sense of need that brewed and the desire that flooded deep within each of them.
“What does he get from you?”
Ivy pulled herself together and shook off the sensual feelings that had been working their way in. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I carried him nine months and spent thirty-six hours in labor with a nine-pound giant, and the kid looks and acts nothing like me.” She laughed. “He’s all O’Reilly. He looks it, walks it, talks it, even has these expressions and posture that’s so you. I even see your brothers in him. He has Wylie’s big heart, Luke’s brooding, Dec’s old soul, and Liam’s brain. The kids so smart, like crazy smart. It’s…the weirdest thing.”
Ivy was caught in Dace's stare once more as he listened so intently to what she was saying. The grin he wore was wild. They were walking an extremely dangerous blurred line, and one of them was bound to step over.
He reached up and tucked the wild strands of hair behind her ear. “I’m sure he got something from you. I can’t wait to figure out what.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
“Shh. None of that.” With his hand behind her neck, he pulled her close and kissed her forehead. “This wasn’t entirely your fault. Not really.”
She raised her head to meet his stare. “I don’t deserve this. I made awful choices. You had a right to know – to try to protect us – to come with us. I just wish I realized that then, Dace. I really wish you could have been with us.”
Dace leaned in and took her mouth slowly at first, mindful of the injuries her body had sustained weeks before. He took the time to relearn her body, test her boundaries, and feel every emotion that washed over him. He was careful to guide them and control the intensity of the passion between them. With each stroke of her tongue, that intensity grew like she’d been starved of affection – of intimacy – and he was her sustenance.
Sliding his hands down her back, he let them roam until they were under her ass, and he was able to gently lift her and place her in his lap, so she was straddling him. Ivy broke their kiss, breathing heavily she stroked his mouth with her thumbs while holding his face – studying him – noticing everything that was both different about him and the same.
“Are you okay? Is this okay?” he asked.
Ivy bit her bottom lip, the glint in her eye both innocent and seductive. She was the devil and an angel, and he couldn’t resist either. She was taunting him with every lazy, heavy sweep of her lash and breathy moan while she began to move against him. Ivy was flirting with his wants and her needs.
“Yes, Dace. It’s more than okay.” And she took his mouth once more.
It was like the fog lifted between them, and old memories became new beginnings as his hands explored her body. Under her shirt, up her sides, he caressed every inch as he met her breasts and toyed with hardened peaks that lay just beneath. This was what she liked. He remembered how much she loved his touch – the feel of his large hands on her heated skin. He wanted more.
Ivy pulled her shirt over her head and arched her back, giving him better access – her way of telling him what she wanted. Some things were just meant to be, and right now, it was tasting her breasts and imagining what the rest of her would taste like. She was both familiar and new – still soft and sweet, but her curves were more defined, and breasts fuller. She still felt like home, and he wanted to show her she was safe with him there.
Her head had fallen back, and her moans grew louder. Dace wrapped his arms around her waist and took to his feet, moving them to the bedroom. Ivy pulled his shirt over his head then her mouth captured his once again, and he could feel the heat rolling off her causing his pants to tighten to a near discomfort. Her nails scratched at his back and neck as desire flooded her. He wanted Ivy like he needed air, but he needed her to trust him completely. They were good together once upon a time, and he was determined to find out if they could be in their second act.
Placing her in the center of the bed, he took the time to kneel between her parted knees and studied her as he slid the remaining remnants of clothing from her body. It pained him to see the shades of yellow and faint lavender that still remained in place of what was jarring purple and near-black weeks before. Dace glided his hand over every scar, every bruise, noting to memory how many marks he owed to whoever did this to her.
Ivy was suddenly timid – shy – insecure from the tarnished pieces of her body he was examining, he imagined. He understood why but was intent on showing her otherwise – to be confident in her beauty because no mark could muddle that. Not where he was concerned.
When his touch reached her ankles, he paused and waited for her to acknowledge his unspoken question. Was she ready? Did she want it? Did she want him? He gripped her ankles and raised his brow, to which she slowly exhaled and nodded as the corners of her mouth quirked up in a sirens grin. Some things never changed.
Dace pulled her ankles farther apart until her knees fell open, and he began to kiss her inner thigh leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake, marking his journey from who they once were to who they were meant to be…together.
With an arched back sensual moan, he quickened the pace his tongue set when he finally got his taste of her. He felt that moan, knew the pleasure it was derived from because this was his pleasure too, and he was taking every bit of it. Her taste enticed him and her cries so stimulating they drove him to her tantalizing bliss as he slipped a finger, then two inside matching the strokes of his tongue on her tight bundle of nerves that were causing her to tighten.
She was nearly undone, and he’d only begun. The things he wanted to do to her were too much for him to think about, or he’d be done before he even started. Tonight wasn’t about that. Tonight was about reconnecting with the who his soul desired — the only woman who ever held his heart. Tonight was about reminding her of that — soft, slow, meaningful, and full of purpose.
They hadn’t spoken a word, but heard each other's story and understood every word. It was apologetic. It was sympathetic. It was promising. It was nothing and still everything.
When Ivy came down in a violent quake, he took pleasure in watching her mouth form a perfect O after she called his name, and panted through the waves of ecstasy that followed. He took to his knees once more so he could undo his pants and kick them off at his feet.
Dace centered himself above her, careful not to put weight on her or cause issues to her healing body. “Is this okay?” he asked in a low sultry timbre.
“More than okay.” Ivy’s heavily hooded eyes were unfocused, and she gasped at the weight of his hardened length against her.
That made him smile with mischief. “Oh, the things I want to do to you. Soon,” he said.