He entwines his fingers with mine. “Couldn’t wait to fuck someone I didn’t care about? Ivy, you knew me better than that.”
Tears slide faster down my face. “Why wouldn’t you just explain? I still don’t understand why you let me go to Chicago thinking you cheated on me.” Anger, sadness, regret—they all resonate within me. None of them taking control. I’m mad that he let me believe a lie for so long, I’m sad that I didn’t confront him before I left, and I regret letting my own insecurities cloud my judgment—overshadow what I knew we had.
He squeezes my hand and I squeeze back. He catches my chin between his thumb and finger with his other hand and caresses it. “Because it was the easy way. I had to let you go . . . you had to get away from your mother, and that was the only way. I had so much other shit going on in my head. I couldn’t go with you, baby, even though I wanted to so badly. My mother, my brother, my sister—they needed me.”
My tears are out of control and I push him back. Anger finally takes over. I turn and head for the door, my voice rising as I cross the room. “I needed you.”
He follows on my heels, clutching my hand and twisting me to look at him. “I know,” he says in barely a whisper. “I know. But I knew you were stronger than you thought. I wanted you to make it. To become the powerhouse singer that you deserved to be. And you did it. I had so much going on in my head then, I couldn’t think straight, and at the time it was the only way.”
I stare at him and he doesn’t falter. More anger clogs my throat. “You shouldn’t have decided that on your own.”
“I didn’t know any other way. I was struggling with so many emotions, emotions I still struggle with. Things about my father I can’t seem to forget.”
“I was there for you. I would have been with you.”
“That’s why I let it happen. You couldn’t stay and I couldn’t go.”
“But I missed you every day. When I started singing, every performance I thought of you, I looked for you, not for congratulations but for support.”
He steps into me and any buzz I was feeling from earlier is gone. He brings his hand to my face and wipes away my tears and I let him. Silence falls between us as we communicate with only our eyes for a few seconds. He draws even nearer and the attraction can’t be denied and neither can the love. He kisses my forehead and again I let him. I want him to. I want to feel his touch. I love him. Yes, I love him. I always have.
Pressing his forehead to mine, he whispers, “Baby, I was always there for you. I watched you. I never forgot you. I sent a piece of my heart to your first show and even though you never responded, I didn’t give up for the longest time.”
I’m breathing so fast my heart can’t keep up. “What do you mean? What are you talking about?”
“The plants. I sent ivy plants with a card that said this.” He points to his side, to the beautiful letters.
“I never got any of them. I promise. God, if I had gotten them, gotten one—I would have responded.” Did Damon circumvent them? Did he keep them from me?
Cupping the back of my neck, his strong fingers press against my skin. He pulls me even closer and grazes the very corner of my mouth with his lips. With just that one simple touch, a need that’s been buried for years surfaces, in the most out-of-control way. I lift my mouth toward his, sealing us together, and his response is immediate. His lips are warm, full, inviting. It’s a forceful kiss, and when we both pull away, breathless, his eyes are simmering. My fingers tremble as they dance across his abs over to the letters. He takes a deep breath.
I bend down and drop my mouth to his tattoo, tracing the letters with my tongue. I peek up at him and see his eyes close and his head fall back. I lick his skin, taste the ink, inhale his sweet scent. His muscles tense under my lips with every touch. Once I reach the ivy leaf, I slowly stand up on my toes and bring my mouth to his ear. “Remember after our first performance when I fell on the bus stairs and you whispered, ‘I want you’?”
“Uh-huh.”
I slide my hand to rest on the button of his jeans. “All you had to do was take me and I would have been yours.”
“Fuck,” he breathes through his teeth and his hands slide down my back to my ass. “Well, I want you now, and I’m not asking.”
“You don’t have to.”
His lips part and form an incredible smile. He clenches my hips in his strong hands and turns us around. Pushing me against the wall, he grinds into me with his hard cock, and everything in the world as I know it is gone—I have all I want, all I need, right here. His lips are at my ear and he says my name over and over. I skim my hands along the bare skin above his jeans, this time unbuttoning them.
He pulls me close to him—as close as he can—and holds me. Just holds me, for the longest time. Then his lips brush my ear and in his sexiest, huskiest voice, he says, “Fuck, you feel incredible. I want you, now.”