The Ivy House

chapter 32

Chase found her, after dark, in the attic. Phoebe looked up, startled, hearing the tramp of steps and then was reassured when she heard his voice calling up the stairs. She had forgotten to lock the door again, and there was Chase’s head popping up into the opening of the attic.

She had turned on the light and plugged in one of the lamps that was lying around, so she hadn’t noticed it growing dark outside. Phoebe was annoyed that so much time had passed—she had meant to see what the light looked like in the living room around dusk. She felt herself filled with nervous anticipation when Chase fully emerged into the attic.

“You’ve been busy,” he said, by way of a greeting.

She looked at him, standing there with his hands shoved in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his feet, looking like his usual cocky, assured self.

“I brought dinner. Chinese, I guessed,” he said, still smiling, “Since you didn’t bother to answer your phone or reply to my texts.”

She shrugged. “Chinese is fine,” she answered coolly.

“What are you doing?” he asked, one eyebrow arching up.

She had to swallow to bring her body under control. Had she really thought that just once with him would be enough? That she could respond to him calmly, rationally.

“Just sorting through some old things. Savannah left a treasure trove of stuff here.”

He came over closer to her and she could smell him, his warm dusky scent.

“Is that a photo album?”

He took it from her. “You do look a lot like her, you know.”

Phoebe nodded. “My poor mom. She was dark, but my dad was light. I got all of the Ryan genes. Whenever I was with Savannah, people thought I was her daughter. She liked that better than being called a grandmother. Always concerned with what people thought.”

“Is that why you’re against using her name?” he asked.

“Savannah lived and died by what the public thought of her. She was obsessed with it. She let them paint her as a home wrecker, a bitch—a slut, even—if she thought it would keep them interested. She was always the actress, never herself, because she was always playing a part.”

Phoebe looked up at Chase, who was holding her tight in his arms. “I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to be someone’s publicity piece or be used to sell something. I want to be myself. The papers will take anything and turn it around. You’ll say it doesn’t matter, but if it starts to make you money, you feed into it, you let it happen because you think it’s for some greater good. And what’s more, people believe it. The most outrageous things, they’ll believe, and then you start to buy into it.”

“If they want a show, give it to them.”

“Exactly,” Phoebe said, looking down. Her hands were dirty and she probably had dust smudges on her face. “But I don’t want to be the show.”

“Hey,” he said, catching her chin in his hand, “what’s bringing all this on?”

“I told you I’m not an actress, Chase. I’m Phoebe, not Savannah. I’m not some sexy blond bombshell with a smart mouth and a plucky sense of courage.”

He smiled. “I like you just the way you are. Sure, I liked Savannah’s movies, but unlike all those Hollywood types, I can separate fact from fiction, and, Phoebe, I know the real deal when I see it, when I feel it.”

“No,” she said in frustration, “I’m just a private person. I don’t like being used.” She pulled out her phone and showed him the article from earlier, about her and Ivy House.

He glanced at it and shrugged. “It didn’t come from me.”

“That’s it.” Phoebe felt a flash of anger. “How can I be sure I’m not being used? You told me yourself that you do things all the time for publicity’s sake.”

“Used? You think I’m using you to further my business?” His voice rose a bit, and he put both hands on her shoulders and pulled her close to him.

“You’re the one who drew up the contract,” Phoebe pointed out, her voice sounding breathy even to herself.

“And I changed it. Before we had sex. So, I wasn’t using you then. Or would you like me to tell you that I am using you?”

Phoebe gasped as his lips brushed against her hair, nipped at her earlobe. “For your body, that is, ‘cause, babe, you have one hell of a body. And your hair. I can’t forget your hair. Or your lips,” he had whispered. “I know I am definitely using you for your lips.”

Phoebe felt her body respond to his words, the heat starting between her legs and spreading throughout her. It was just one article, one of the minor gossip sites, easy to forget.

“I guess being used isn’t so bad,” she said as his lips brushed along her jaw.

“Feel free to use me back. Whenever you want. Because what happened yesterday was pretty good, better than good. I would hate to see all that go to waste because you’re afraid I’m after your famous name or your house.”

“You’re not after the house?” Phoebe managed to breathe. “Or my name?”

“Babe, I thought you knew what I’m after,” he said, pulling her into him, nudging her legs apart as he pushed his leg in between them. She tightened over him, feeling heat lick through her.

His hands slid around her shoulders.

“Then we should give them something to talk about, don’t you think? Give them a real show, ride this little thing to the end,” she said, wanting it, wanting him.

Unbidden, Phoebe wrapped her arms around Chase, and he pulled her close, his hands fisting in her hair.

“I missed you,” he said when he came up for air, and his sapphire eyes held her, turning her into liquid on the inside.

“I was right here,” she told him, and then words and thoughts left her as his hands found the tender flesh of her breasts through the thin fabric of her t-shirt. She responded to him as he touched and tugged and pulled.

“Do you have a bed yet?”

“Second floor,” she managed to breathe out, as his hands cupped her bottom and he swung her around.

Suddenly, she found her feet leaving the floor as he lifted her up and over his shoulder. In a flash, he was down the attic ladder, and she had a vision of her hallway swirling before her as he found the right door. They were in the bedroom now, where all she had was her bed, a dresser, and boxes.

Chase had found the master bedroom with ease, the only door on the second floor with light spilling out of it. He nudged the door open with his foot and headed for the bed, just a lumpy futon. He lowered Phoebe onto the comforter and stepped back. She reached for him, but he stepped out of the way, surprising her.

He let his eyes roam over her, from the way her red-gold hair spilled over the pillows, the way he could see her nipples ready for him underneath the thin fabric of her t-shirt, to the way her jean-clad legs seemed to stretch on for miles.

Her blue eyes were bright, alight with desire and her hands reached for him again. He took them, held them, holding and kissing her long, elegant fingers one by one.

“We have no need to rush this time,” he told her.

“I thought you had dinner waiting?” she teased.

“I plan on feasting right now,” he said as his hand circled her belly button and brought on a shiver of pleasure. Chase wanted to take his time with her, and savor every moan, shiver, and bit of pleasure he could give her.

“Last time, it was fun.”

“Fun?” Phoebe sat up, ready to be offended.

“Fun. But I don’t think I got to take my time, really figure out what makes you tick.” His hand brushed in between her thighs, and even through the thick fabric of her jeans, he felt her body respond.

“That works,” Phoebe managed to say, as his hand hooked the waistband of her pants, and he pulled her towards him. She tried to reach for him again, but he moved out of the way.

She sat up and he lifted her shirt off and tossed it on the floor. His hands cupped the lacy fabric of her bra and he brushed his hands over them. Phoebe’s back arched and Chase unhooked her bra, tossing it to the side. Her breasts sprung free and he lowered his mouth to feast on them, feeling her come alive beneath them. Her hands held him close, and he started on the button of her jeans.

He took a moment, breaking free, and peeled them off one leg at a time, until she was naked except for her lacy cream underwear. He touched there, felt the evidence of her arousal, and peeled those off too. She was naked before him and he stroked her, watching as her head fell back and her hips rose to meet him.

Phoebe had never felt so wanton, so full of desire. So far, Chase had used nothing but his mouth and his hands on her, but her whole body was alight, tingling from his touch. Her hips angled up to him, as he stroked her sex, while his other hand brought her nipples to attention and his mouth ravaged hers, his stubbled skin brushing against the sensitive surface of her cheek.

Her fingers found the buttons of his shirt and she managed undo them, and she let her hands roam along his back, his chest, and his flat abdomen, and then she dipped below, found that he was aroused, hard for her, but still he kept up his assault, demanding that she do nothing but let herself be taken, and she did, riding the waves of pleasure until he slipped inside her and she wrapped her legs, pulling him deep inside of her, clenching around him, matching his rhythm as she moaned his name and he answered with hers. Then, she tumbled down into darkness, her body releasing as she felt his release wash over her.

Phoebe lay still, very still. Chase was on top of her, a dead weight that did not seem to want to move. His arm was on her stomach and she gently tried to wiggle free.

“Sorry,” he said and rolled over to the side, pulling her close to him. His hand stroked her hair and his mouth nibbled on her shoulder.

“I suppose that was worth the wait,” Phoebe said after a moment, after her heart stopped thudding quite so fast and the blood had receded from her ears.

His arms encircled her, pulling her in tight and close and, for a moment, Phoebe felt that she could stay like this forever, in the circle of his arms, happy and satisfied.

“It was for me,” he said, his teeth nipping at her ear.