7. CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER SEVEN

Holland

Slate hangs his head out the truck window, cracked enough for him to put his paws and head outside but not enough for him to jump out—that's a lesson I learned the hard way.

We're parked outside of arrivals, waiting for Ivy to walk out those glass doors. She texted about twenty minutes ago, saying she was waiting for her luggage.

I can't wait to see my girl. It's like Slate knows we're waiting for her because he's howling, in public, causing quite the scene—not the first time and won't be the last.

Between keeping the offer a secret and my routine being turned upside down with Ivy traveling for work, it's like my bones don't fit my skin. I told my therapist and she again reminded me of the anxiety and how keeping secrets is not in my best interest.

Believe me, I know.

Ever since I told Ivy about Hazel, the terrible trip home where I heard the news that would change my life forever, in detail, it's like a small door has opened, and I find myself sharing more. It might just be with Ivy, sometimes Bea, but each time makes me feel a little lighter—a little more like I can comfortably fit in my bones .

Slate tries to jump out the window and I know that he sees her. I hurry to the passenger side, before Slate chokes himself, open the door, grabbing the leash at the last moment.

She kneels down, on the questionable sidewalk, and let's Slate run into her arms. People walking past her are looking at us with a mix of what the hell and how cute. I've got one foot in each camp.

"Slaaaaate," Ivy croons and hearing her voice is like a cozy blanket—one that brings relief from a constant chattering of your teeth.

I take in the moment; it may not be soothing, like Hazel always taught me, but it's one I want to remember. The sound of travel and traffic are in the background but seeing Ivy and Slate together like this, squeezes my heart.

I feel like when you date someone, there's supposed to be those moments of doubts, questions you may or may not be able to answer. Truthfully, once she found her way into my soul, closed off and ice cold on its best day, it was over.

There's no one else for me. And I fucking love it.

When she stands up, her green eyes are filled with tears, because she wouldn't be my Ivy if it wasn't a tearful hello.

Instead of saying anything, I reach for her hand and pull her close to me. Her lower lip shakes as she tries to smile and I put an end to that by putting my mouth on hers.

Her lips, soft as ever, feel like home. The grin taking over my lips is inevitable, and she laughs as I smile into our kiss. She wraps her arms around my neck, pushing her hips closer to me—Slate jumps up and down, getting both of our thighs.

I almost forget we're in public until I hear someone whistle as they walk by. We're those people. Never in a million years did I think I'd be someone who elicits that kind of reaction outside an airport—both with Ivy and the stranger passing by.

"I missed you," she says, looking up at me.

"I'm glad you're home," I reply, kissing her forehead and wrapping her up.

Slate, exhausted from the overstimulation and car ride, sprints into the house as soon as I take his harness off. He finds his bed, does some lazy circles, and plops down.

"The hardest life," Ivy jokes as we step inside. "I'm going to put all of this away."

Not surprising—she's the quickest unpacker I think I've ever met. Ivy takes her bag and heads for our room. I sit at the small table in our kitchen, thinking about the folded up check and offer sheet tucked away in a drawer. Having her and this piece of paper in the same place makes my skin hot.

I can't do this another minute. I have to tell her—come clean.

As soon as I make the decision, her voice cuts through my guilt trip. "Holland, why are you still downstairs?" she asks, her voice suggestive.

Fuck.

Taking the stairs, two at a time, I walk into our room to find Ivy wearing lingerie, kneeling on the bed, with her legs tucked under her ass. The emerald lace is a contrast to her milky skin and almost a perfect match to her eyes—the ones I could get lost in.

She stands on her knees and does a come closer gesture with her finger, the other hand propped on her hip. My dick twitches in my joggers .

I close the space between us and immediately take both hands, weaving them through her hair, the nape of her neck, and pull her lips to mine. Her mouth parts, letting my tongue graze hers. Ivy bites my lower lip, setting the tone.

The groan I let out is unplanned and the most visceral of reactions.

"Did you miss me?" she teases.

My response is a series of quick kisses and nips from her jawline down to her neck. I take my time as she lets out these little laughs and moans.

"I could live off those sounds," I say before peppering a line of kisses on her collarbone.

The emerald lace is bunched at the top of the bra, letting the fabric lightly touch the tops of her breasts. After a playful hair pull, my fingers walk a line from the nape of her neck to the heavenly spot where the lace meets skin.

"New York isn't all bad. It has things like this for me to bring home," Ivy laughs as I take her in.

I put my face between her breasts and she leans back, giving me a bit more access. I take my tongue from the top of her cleavage over to one of her perfect tits.

I catch her eyes and kneel on the bed with her, needing to be closer.

"Were you thinking of me when you bought this?" I kiss the bulge of her breasts, almost spilling over the lingerie top—the curves I've desperately missed.

"Only ever you, Holland." She yips as I pull the fabric down, enough to put a nipple in my mouth. Flicking it with my tongue, I take in as much of her as I can. "I was especially thinking of how you'd need to be gentle with these panties. No ripping. "

Her telling me what to do makes me want to scream. I put my hands under her armpits, her arms wrapping around my neck, as I pick her up, off her knees.

She wraps her legs around my hips, while I'm still kneeling. My hands move to her back, unclasping her bra. No ripping…

When her tits spill out, I lightly push her on her back. The friction of her rubbing on my pants, my dick hard, is heaven and hell. The pleasure of any touch, feeling, the one I've missed but am aching for more.

She extends her legs and all I can stare at are those delicate fucking panties. I hook a finger on the band and pull them down just a little. I kiss the sensitive spot underneath her belly button before hitching a leg up and kissing up and down her inner thigh.

Those thighs. Fuck, I've missed them.

I lightly bite when I get close to the edge of her panties and Ivy squirms beneath me. My girl loves being teased. I lightly lick up and down before placing the softest of kisses, while my other hand grips her ass.

"I need, fuck. I need more," Ivy says, voice hoarse and breathless as she bows off the bed.

"What do you need more of?" I love making her tell me exactly what to do.

She moans as I pull her panties down an inch further, kissing closer to her center.

"You know what I need." Her words are quick as I lick closer and closer to where she needs but I won't go there until she says it. "I need you to make me come."

I grin as I move kisses to the top of where the fabric meets her skin. "How do you want to come, baby? "

"Use your mouth and your fingers," she says as she moves underneath me, trying to find the pressure and pace that works best for her.

When I feel her eyes on me, I tilt my face up to see her watching me. Fuck, why is this so hot? I give her a devilish grin before torturing her with the slowest pull of her panties, all the way down.

"You told me to be gentle."

Ivy puts her hands in my hair, still writhing her hips, and presses enough for me to know she's trying to be in control. So, I let her.

I kiss her clit and am rewarded with a sweet, sweet whimper.