Chapter Thirty-Two Ivy

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Ivy

T he rustling of newspaper wakes me from the deepest sleep I think I've ever had. I don't even remember falling asleep. The last thing I remember is Wade cleaning me with a warm cloth after he took me again once we got out of the shower. Then, he scooped me up in his arms and kissed my forehead before sleep took us, with me molded under the crook of his arm like it was carved out just to fit me.

One eye flutters open, threatening to close again until I see him . Wade is sitting at the little table in our suite in the sun, wearing only a pair of light gray sweatpants and thin rimmed black glasses, his brow furrowed, hair disheveled and wavy, the scruff of his jaw a little more noticeable than yesterday. He's deep in a read of an article in The Tennessean .

My pussy aches at the sight. I'd never found glasses on a man attractive until I saw Wade Ashby wear glasses, but add in shirtless and the hazy morning sun? This sight is almost too much to bear. A smile plays on my lips as I stare at him when he doesn't yet know I'm awake.

The way his throat bobs as he swallows, the wide powerful spread of his shoulders, and arms. How he seems entirely too large for the table but fits somehow regardless. There is a dark and silent beauty to Wade Ashby I'm not sure anyone else in this world has ever really appreciated. Always the leader, always the one everyone relies on. But underneath it all? Under that gruff, rugged exterior lies the sexiest man I could ever dream up. The way his lips claimed me, how his body moved seamlessly and expertly with mine, sends heat to my core when I haven't even had my morning stretch yet. He lifts a steaming mug of coffee to his mouth, and wraps his full lips around the rim. I have no control over the tiny moan I let slip out.

The sound instantly brings his attention to me and his eyes flit to mine. A smile breaks out across his face and my breath hitches at the sight. He's fucking spectacular, and at this moment, cocky as hell, leaning back in his chair. He knew I was staring at him.

"Morning, Trouble. Coffee?"

"Please," I manage to croak out as I turn my head halfway into the pillow and grin, my cheeks heating.

"Too late, you're already busted." He smirks. "Don't worry, I did the same, but you slept through it when I was ogling you," he says, chuckling, and I start to giggle imagining Wade watching me sleep.

He takes his glasses off and sets them on the table, then places a porcelain mug that matches his own under the Keurig on the counter and fills it with coffee, while I silently scold myself for clawing up his back and shoulders the way I did. I would apologize but I think he liked it.

"You snore really loud, but you're cute so I'll forgive you," he says, handing me my coffee in bed. Working together has its perks. No need to tell my boss how I take my coffee after a one-night stand when he's brought me one on many occasions in the morning.

"I do not snore."

"You do, woke me right up." I can't tell if he's kidding or not.

I laugh, and run my free hand through my very messy, very knotted-up hair.

"Well, I'm going to blame you and that city bus full of passengers you're packing that you assaulted me with last night," I say as I set my coffee on the bedside table.

Wade laughs harder than I've ever heard him laugh as he jumps onto the bed over me like a tiger on the prowl and pulls me right down under him, before kissing me on the tip of my nose.

"I didn't hear you complaining last night. In fact," he says as his lips meet my neck, "I'm pretty sure your words were more like, deeper"— oh God , another kiss to my collarbone—"more"—another kiss—"harder, Wade, please."

… and now I'm wet again.

"Don't remember any complaining though," he says as I look up at him, stunned by the dark beauty of him.

"I didn't want to make you feel bad is all," I say.

"Uh-huh, so if I reached into these sheets right now, I wouldn't find you wet for me at all then?" he asks as my breathing increases.

I moan involuntarily as his hand slides under and cups my breast.

"N-no," I stutter. "Dry as the Sahara Desert."

He grins into my lips at the challenge.

"Mmhmm," he says as his fingers slide through my already-dripping slit.

"You're a terrible liar, and I'm hungry as fuck," he says as his lips move down my waist, to my hips, and my breathing increases.

Turning my head to the side, I notice the clock on the wall

"Wade!" I cry. "We have to be at the auction in an hour."

Wade's unfazed as his lips meet the inside of my knee, and he lifts his chin to eye the clock. "How much time do we have before you absolutely need to start to get ready?" he asks, a deliciously devilish grin playing on his lips.

"We need twenty minutes to get there," I say as I try to think. I really try, but his tongue is moving dangerously close to my core and it's killing my brain cells the closer he gets. His tongue flicks over my clit and my eyes roll back. "Fuck," I moan.

"Come on, Ivy, focus. How much time?" His voice is doing that thing again, deep, bossy, commanding.

"I can't … think when you're doing … that."

"I seem to remember when I met you that you said you were really good at multitasking …" Fucking hell.

His teeth graze my clit and I nearly fold in half.

"Well … I need a shower, so … I maybe have ten minutes," I finally manage to breathe out.

Wade settles between my legs and looks up at me.

I almost cry at the beautiful sight.

"So much time …" And then he disappears, burying his face in my pussy as I cry out in response. Strong arms hook around my thighs and pull me down the bed, pressing me further into his face as he laps me up like I'm his favorite flavor of ice cream. His expert tongue goes between fucking in and out of my pussy and sucking my clit into his mouth as two fingers push into me, curving to hit the spot I'm now in love with. Wade doesn't move slowly this morning, he gives me no reprieve, begging me to lose control, begging me to come, which I do within what feels like seconds because Wade Ashby was put on this earth to eat pussy and I never even stood a chance.

"Holy fuck … Wade ," I scream as I grip his hair between my fingers, my legs spasming around him as he burrows his face in further so he doesn't miss one drop of what I offer him.

He kisses my clit gently as I try to remember how to breathe properly. A dizzy haze overtakes me.

He smirks between my legs.

"Breakfast of champions, and still got time to spare," he says as he rises and taps me twice on my ass.

Is this real life?

The yearling auction is sensory overload. A sea of people, agents, ranchers, corporations. The chatter is off the charts by the end of our second break. We're small potatoes in this world, especially having been out of it so long. My new phone buzzes in my back pocket. I pull it out right away.

MRS. POTTER

She's ok, was still sleeping, her phone was dead. I left her a note with your new number so she knows it's been you texting her. Going to go back later and see if she wants to get cleaned up and go to the market with me.

You're a godsend, thank you.

MRS. POTTER

I don't mind helping out. One of these days she's going to come around dear, you'll see.

I sure hope you're right.

MRS POTTER

Don't give up on her. I'll let you know how the day goes.

"Everything okay? Wade asks with concern, taking in the face I'm wearing.

I worry about her so much I'm sure it's obvious.

"I've been trying to get in touch with my mother all morning with no success. Every time that happens, I fear the worst. I think maybe she drank too much and hit her head, or she left the stove going and burned the place down, or any number of other terrible things. So I did what I always do, I reached out to her neighbor Mrs. Potter, to pass on my new number and to make sure my mama is okay," I say with a small smile.

Wade nods, reaches over and tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. I turn my face toward his palm, already craving his touch again.

I have to wonder if somewhere in there he hates the thought of her in some way, knowing that his best friend's parents died at the hand of a drunk driver. If he does, he doesn't show it.

My phone buzzes again, interrupting the moment. I open the email and then turn the face of my phone to show Wade, lighting up the subject. I grin.

"We may just have our jockey. Not just any jockey. Rowan McCoy, the nephew of the jockey that raced for your dad in 2006. He wants to come to the ranch and meet with us after we secure our yearling," I say to Wade.

Wade nods, dividing his attention between me and the numbers that are now flying out of the auctioneer's mouth. I just know he's calculating the day's worth. The tally which they've been keeping today so we can guess just how much Rustling Winds will go for.

But Wade doesn't ignore me; he lets me know he hears me by resting a hand on my mid-thigh and squeezing gently. His fingers are so large they fall in between my thighs, and my core aches with just that simple contact alone before he returns his hand to his lap.

Part of me is glad he isn't freaked out about what happened last night; the other part is, well, freaking out.