Torn
Page 10

I was okay.
I had to be.
I was still Ivy Morgan. I was still the girl who fell in love with Ren. I had no idea if he felt that strongly about me, but I was the same girl he cared for—the same girl he wanted.
I kissed him, sliding back on track. Shifting slightly, I spread my legs and reached further down, wrapping my hand around him. He made that incredibly sexy sound again, the deep rumble that never failed to make me hot. His finger slipped through the wetness gathering and my entire body jolted.
“I haven’t forgotten how much you like that, but damn if it doesn’t feel like the first time.” He slid that finger almost all the way out and then thrust it back in, causing my back to arch.
We’d done this before. Once. Not in bed, though, but on the couch at his place. The second time we’d actually had sex, so I wasn’t counting that. So this was kind of like the first time.
I started moving my hand, remembering the way he seemed to like it, and I guessed I was doing it right, because his back bowed and his finger started moving faster in me. He lifted himself up, somehow managing to push down his briefs while not even taking his hand away, and that took amazing talent. Our breaths mingled as the bedspread tangled around our legs. I wanted him in me, thick and hard and wonderful, but we weren’t going to make it that far. Oh no.
He added another finger, and I cried out. My senses twisted with each hot dip of his fingers. “Fuck, Ivy, I. . . .”
I could feel him swelling in my hand, and I all but face planted into his chest when the orgasm hit me. I came, my hips riding his hand as I moaned against his skin. He came in my hand, his cock swelling and then jerking. My name was a heated curse on his lips.
“Christ,” he grunted after several moments. “I can’t even . . .”
“Me neither,” I murmured, easing my hand away. A part of him was left behind, on me, and I didn’t even care. Sweet aftershocks still rocked my body.
A sexy chuckle radiated out from him as he slipped his hand away from me. I immediately missed it and wondered how inappropriate it would be to keep it there for, like, forever. “I can’t believe I came that fast,” he said. He lifted his chin and kissed the corner of my lip. “You got a magic hand.”
I laughed at the absurdity of the statement. “I always wanted to excel at something. Who knew it would be hand jobs?”
“I’m a lucky man.” He rolled away and stood. “Be right back,” he said, and a second later, the light from the bathroom came on. He grabbed a towel and turned the tap water on while I glanced at the clock he’d been blocking. It was a little after three in the morning. The light turned off and Ren returned. He sat on the bed. “Give me your hand,” he said.
Doing as he ordered, I smiled as he moved the warm, damp towel over my hand. In those quiet moments, those three little words bubbled up, but I kept quiet.
Ren disappeared again and returned quickly. This time he rolled onto his side and tugged an arm around my waist, pulling me down so I was nestled against him.
“How’s your ribs?” he asked once he appeared satisfied with where he had me.
“Fine. They barely ached all day.”
“You telling the truth?”
I grinned as I wiggled in closer to him. “Yes.”
“Hmm.” He fisted the front of my shirt. “I just realized I didn’t even make it to your breasts. That’s like a huge sex fail. Those beautiful babies most definitely feel abandoned.”
Giggling, I folded my hand over his. “It’s okay. You can make up for it next time.”
“Oh, you better believe I will. I’m going to shower them with so much attention I might have to name them and take them out to dinner.”
I laughed outright at that. “How was work?”
“Boring as being forced to sit through New Moon repeatedly,” he replied.
“You better not let Tink hear you say that,” I warned. “Or he’ll find new ways to torture you with how he’s convinced Jacob and Edward should’ve gotten together. He’s into something called slash fiction now.”
“You know,” he said slowly, “I’m not even going to touch that with a twenty-foot pole.”
“I wouldn’t.” I paused, closing my eyes. “So, no fae? Nothing?”
“Not a damn thing.”
I traced the outlines of his knuckles. “That is so freaking bizarre.”
“Yep.”
A couple moments passed while I thought about what I wanted to do tomorrow. “So I was thinking . . .”
“That’s what I smell.”
“Geez.” I rolled my eyes. “You and Tink have more in common than you want to admit.”
“I might have to kick you out of the bed for that.”
I snorted. “Um, yeah, you can’t kick me out of my own bed. Sorry.”
“Whatever,” he replied. “What were you thinking about?”
I drew in a deep breath. “I was going to go out tomorrow—not to work. Just to get back out there.”
“Sounds good. I got the evening shift again.” His hand flattened against my belly. “You can come out with me.”
I opened my eyes and winced. “I kind of wanted to just go out and do my own thing.”
“Why?”
My wince turned into a frown. “Does there need to be a why?”
“Yeah, I like to think so.”
I stopped tracing his knuckles. “I just want to get back out there. It’s not a big deal.”