Mended

CHAPTER 10 All I Want

Ivy

Everything is closing in on me—my mother’s constant calls for more money, Damon’s harassing texts about my career, Xander’s unyielding scrutiny. It’s all too much. Tossing back drink after drink, I let myself go. I surge into the crowd and sway my hips. And as the music starts to breathe life back into me, all I want to do is forget the world. I think about the outdoors—the sound of the never-ending rain, the strength of the wind, the ominous color of the sky—I focus on those calming things. But Xander’s features that draw together in a dark triangle whenever he looks at me tonight, that’s all I see and I want so much to be the one to smooth them out.

Leif moves close and together we find the beat. We dance to forget—two friends who need each other. We’ve been companions for so long, he’s really the only person besides Xander who I’ve ever really confided in. I’d have been lost without him to talk to these last few years among the stresses of album production, demands on my career, and the need my family has for more and more money.

I try to push all my stresses and worries away, but I can’t push Xander from my mind. I don’t want to. Spending this time with him has me questioning everything. I feel like we’ve grown close, reestablished that friendship we once shared, but I’ve kept it on the surface. I’m afraid to let it go any deeper. He’s tried to talk to me, but I can’t handle talking about him with another girl. I know he wants me and I want him so badly, but I can’t let go of the past. Whenever he gets close, I see him with her. And I also can’t handle a casual relationship with him. He seems to have that with Amy, and who knows who else— That’s not what I want from him.

Everything is hazy, the room is hot, and I’m sweaty, so I excuse myself to use the bathroom. I splash cold water on my face and try to wipe him from my brain. I found the strength to forget him before and I have to find it again. I have to fight these feelings I have for him that just won’t go away. But when I follow the crowd back into the room, I can’t help but look for him. I scan the area. I see people drinking, dancing, groping. I spot the band. But I don’t see him anywhere. My gaze flickers around and finally settles on Leif, who’s talking to Nix and Phoebe. Popping over to him, I stand in the circle, but don’t really listen to the conversation. Instead, I continue to search for Xander.

When a sweat-clad Garrett taps me on the shoulder, he interrupts the conversation. “Hey, there you are. I think it’s a good idea for us to get out of the club before everyone else starts to leave. To avoid the crowds as everyone exits.”

I nod at Garrett, and he motions toward the door with his chin and takes my elbow. “Come on, this way,” he shouts over the music.

I’m not really ready to leave, but since he seems to have decided it’s time, I follow him to the car. When we start to drive away, I become alarmed. Turning around toward Nix, I ask, “Where’s Xander?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since the band started playing.” His lack of concern just pisses me off.

But Garrett seems to know. He mutters something about him being in a shitass mood and leaving, telling him to stop by and pick up the materials for tomorrow’s show when we got back.

“Why? Is he not coming?”

Garrett seems annoyed and just throws his head back. “Who the fuck knows?”

Since I’m pretty sure Xander’s foul mood has something to do with me, I tell him, “I’ll stop by his room. I need to talk to him about something anyway.”

“You’re the one opting to walk into the ring of fire. Just remember, I’m not the one who sent you.”

I give him a halfhearted grin as I think about how Xander hasn’t changed. His temper, his mood swings—they’ve only intensified. I need to apologize to him for snapping when he asked me about Damon. I think I should explain my financial situation and how important it is that I work things out with Damon in an amicable way. And now is probably the best time. I can tell he doesn’t care for Damon or trust him, but that rush I felt over his protectiveness that first morning on the bus has kept me from discussing Damon with him. I don’t want him to make any trouble for the band because just like Xander, Damon can be hotheaded. And since Damon’s demands keep coming and his calls get more frequent, I’m just not sure what he wants from me, but I know he wants something.

As soon as the car parks in front of the hotel, we make a run for it through the rain, none of us waiting for the doorman or an umbrella. Leif and Garrett decide to hit the hotel bar for one last drink, and Nix and Phoebe head to their room. I ride the elevator with them and exit at Xander’s floor.

Walking down the hall, I notice the slide bar of his dead bolt holding the door ajar. I knock lightly and swing it open. “Xander, it’s me. I don’t want to fight with you. And there are some things I think you should know . . .” I’m stunned into silence. I stop for a heartbeat as my gaze tumbles over him. He’s standing in the hotel room, his long, lean body turned to the side, as he shrugs out of his unbuttoned shirt. My eyes graze his body—he is still the most beautiful man I have ever laid eyes on. My breath catches at the sight of him. Seeing the lines in his muscles makes my heart beat so fast, and watching the flexing of his biceps has me biting down on my lower lip. The way his abs ripple down into the waistband of his jeans causes my body to clench with need. My memory of him isn’t nearly as powerful as the real thing.

I savor the sight, trying not to pant. I make sure not to deflect my stare, but rather I make it clear that I’m studying every single inch of him. I even notice the fraying of his shirt, which on most men would make me think they should mend it or buy a new one, but on him the imperfection only makes him all the more appealing. When that shirt drops to the floor, I watch it intently, and as the hem skims the ground, a small noise escapes my throat.

His eyes sweep to mine and our gazes lock. He turns, leans slightly forward as if considering picking up the shirt, then decides differently. “Ivy.” He says my name not as a question, not as a statement, not in surprise. It’s sensual, full of longing; it’s a sound I remember from him, from before, and one I could never forget.

I feel pummeled by his rugged good looks—God, he has a face that would melt any woman’s heart. His pale but intense hazel eyes, the sprinkling of stubble across his chin, the lushness of his lips, and the wave of his thick brown hair that always had me itching to run my fingers through it—all features any woman would pine for. I take a step in, letting the door slam against the slide bar behind me. Neither of us says a word. The burn of his stare has me longing to escape the intensity of the moment. I let my gaze slip but feel my lips part—and his do the same. I lower my lids and immediately notice the way his jeans sit so low on his hips, and a shiver runs down my spine. Then something more beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen catches my attention. At first it looks like a tribal design running vertically down his right side, but as I narrow my eyes on it I can see it’s a straight line of black inked letters.

Gasping, I slowly cross the room. I stand in front of him, trembling. I touch my shaky fingers to his bare skin, to the R right at the apex of his rib cage. It’s warm beneath the pads of my fingers, and my body is electrified at the feel of his skin against mine. Xander looks down at my hand, and I peek up at him. His face is completely unreadable. It’s filled with an emotion I’ve never seen. But when he nearly loses his balance from the contact, I think he’s feeling what I’m feeling—euphoric. Shuffling his feet, he recovers quickly. His head remains bowed and his chest rises and falls rapidly as I carefully trace each one of the letters. Every letter is a work of art, forming the phrase—

Tears fall and sobs I can’t control escape me as I place my trembling finger on the tiny ivy leaf, the mark used instead of an accent to stress the E. It’s only then that his gaze falters. His eyes flutter closed when I touch him there. Then I drop my hand and his eyes open.

“When did you get this?” My voice dips low, but I manage to get the words out.

He’s gazing down at me. His voice is deep and sexy in the dim room. “Right after you left for Chicago. If I couldn’t have you, I wanted to always have a part of you.”

“Why? Why would you do that?” My voice quavers as I ask.

He inhales a deep breath and sighs. “Because I loved you and knew I always would.”

All the tension I’ve been feeling. All the pain and anger I’ve held on to. I blurt it all out in what I believe to be the truth. “No, no you didn’t. You didn’t want me. You wanted her. This”—I say, drawing a line down his tattoo—“doesn’t make any sense.”

His hand grasps my waist. “Ivy, I have something to tell you.”

I pull away and he lets me. “Tell me what?”

“It wasn’t me that night.”

“Xander, this is why I didn’t want to discuss our past. Please don’t lie.”

Everything about him goes rigid. The intensity in his eyes grows even stronger. He pauses for a moment, then almost hisses, “I’ve never lied to you, Ivy. Ever. And I NEVER will.” He puts emphasis on the word never.

I take a step backward toward the door. Afraid—afraid he’s lying . . . afraid he isn’t. Everything about that night suddenly comes crashing back—everything I’ve fought so hard to forget.

His fingers tuck a piece of hair behind my ear as he says, “I was an asshole then. I let you believe things I shouldn’t have.”

“Things like what?” I squeak out.

He pauses, then asks, “What did you see that night?” The question comes out quiet, sounding almost sad.

I move back. Certain about what I saw, but suddenly unsure about the facts, trying to remember everything. “I saw your car parked in the driveway, and when I went around back I heard voices. I looked in the window and saw Tessa’s face almost staring back at me, so I turned and ran.”

Xander let out a low, shuddering breath. “It wasn’t me with Tessa that night. That wasn’t me in the pool house. River took my car. He was the one with Tessa.”

I look at his face now, into his eyes—and truth is all I see. “Why would you let me believe it was you?”

He shrugs. “Fuck, I don’t know. I was confused. I didn’t know what to do and I was mad.”

I’m shaking from head to toe. “You were mad? Why would you be mad?”

He steps forward and runs his fingers down my arm. His mouth thins. “Why would you automatically think I cheated?”

“Because we were apart for so long. I just thought you couldn’t wait.”

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.”

His whisper floats into the air and shivers run down my spine. Oh God, I want him so much. “Xander, yes!”

I’m frozen in anticipation of what’s to come as he grins down at me before sealing his lips over mine. This time the kiss isn’t as forceful, but it is equally as breathtaking. His mouth is wet and soft . . . just like I remember, and his tongue probes deep inside my mouth . . . just like I remember. We seem to dance a familiar dance with our tongues. I’m so hot for him, I moan with every touch. Pulling my dress up, he reaches between my legs and I writhe against him with a primal need. He cups my sex with one of his strong hands and cups my breast with the other. And then I finally get to bury my fingers in his hair. I am done pretending. I want him and he wants me. I pull on his hair to make sure this is real, and he grits his teeth with a strangled gasp. My dress keeps sliding down and he keeps pulling it back up. His fingers are back in my panties and the moment they circle my clit, I call out his name. “XANDER!”

His lips and tongue are everywhere. I’m lost in the feeling of him. My dress drops again and I don’t even notice.

“Take it off,” he growls.

I lift the dress over my head and before I have it completely off, his hands smooth down the bare skin of my abdomen. I’m wearing a simple white bra and matching thong. He stares at me with such intensity—I don’t even remember kicking off my shoes and pulling my hair down.

“You’re gorgeous,” he tells me.

I see the appreciation in his eyes and touch his hair again. “You’re all wet.”

“I walked back from the club,” he tells me, running his mouth down my neck.

“Why did you walk back?” I manage to say with shaky breaths.

He pushes my hair over my shoulder and his tongue slides up and down my neck. “I needed air,” he mumbles.

I start to ask why, but he silences me with that mouth I’ve wanted all over me for so long. And it works, because all I can think about is him.

“Take your panties off,” he says in a hoarse, low voice.

I nod and shimmy them down with trembling hands. I’ve never let anyone tell me what to do during sex except him. Never since him have I allowed anything but mutual dominance, but with him I love it when he takes control.

When I move to unhook my bra, he whispers, “Let me.”

His soft but callused hands first cup my breasts, then slide around my back and with the precision he always had, he quickly unfastens my bra. I gasp when his cold, wet mouth finds its way to my breast at the same time his hands slide the straps down my arms. With his mouth still sucking one of my nipples, his hand caresses the other one. He takes a step back and I swear I blush from the look he’s giving me. I extend my hands to unbutton his jeans, but before I can tug his zipper down, he pulls out the desk chair next him.

“Sit down,” he says, chewing his bottom lip.

He’s watching me, his jaw relaxed, relieved of all the tension he’s possessed since I first saw him at the pool. I slouch back and spread my legs like I know he wants. I want it too. When he drops to his knees, the anticipation of what’s to come has me squirming with an uncontrollable need to touch him. He draws a line with his tongue up my inner thigh and when he reaches my sex he circles it just one time before moving right to my clit.

“Oh, Xander,” I call out, and his eyes flare to mine.

Watching me, he kisses, licks, and sucks me in a way no one but him ever has. The feel of his stubbled face against my sensitive skin is like heaven. I completely lose control when he inserts first one, then two fingers inside me. My head falls back and I arch my body as I come hard and fast, shattering into what I can only think are pieces of the last twelve years of missed time.

Lifting my head to look at him, I can see he’s got a huge grin on his face. He wipes his mouth on his arm and toes his boots off before pulling his pants down. I watch with a ravenous hunger as his thick cock springs free. The tip glistens, and all I can think about is tasting it. I don’t wait for him to kick out of his jeans before I lean over and lick the precum off of him.

“Fuck,” he says, pulling me up out of the chair. He claims my mouth with his and a groan escapes his throat when I take his throbbing cock in my hand. Pulling away, he removes a condom from his wallet and rolls it on.

Once it’s in place, he growls, “I want to be inside you, right now.”

He pushes me back onto the desk and in an instant he thrusts into me, filling me in one swift motion. His hips jerk and mine follow. He brushes his lips along my collarbone, up my neck, and to my ear, where he whispers, “You feel so good.”

My fingers dig into his skin as a feeling of complete satisfaction takes over. The passion between us is so fierce that my muscles are convulsing around his cock way too quickly. I don’t want this to end. I try to slow my impending orgasm, but when he rolls my nipples with his fingers, I can’t hold back any longer. Instead, I just close my eyes and get ready to experience the joy I haven’t felt in so many years.

“Ivy,” he yells out, pounding into me at an unrelenting pace. “Look at me.”

Opening my eyes, I delight in watching him, but I can’t hold it off another minute. Lifting my hips, I grasp hold of his arms and move with him. Leaving no space between us—we come together, shouting each other’s names in unison. When he stops moving, he buries his face in my chest, practically panting. He licks his way up and I can feel his warm breath near my neck and hear his heart pounding against mine. Stepping back slightly, he slips out of me and I feel a sudden, overwhelming loss.

I pull him to me. “Don’t leave.”

He drags his teeth along my jawbone, sending a shiver down my spine. “I’ll be right back,” he says as he pulls me off the desk, and then he goes into the bathroom.

I stand there watching him—the boy who made love to me over and over is now a man that I don’t think I can ever get enough of. The feeling of having him inside me is something I’ve never forgotten, and I never thought I’d feel it again. It’s a feeling I now know I can’t live without. When he comes out of the bathroom, he rakes his eyes down my body in a way that makes my heart skip a beat. I stare at his tattoo as he walks back into the room and grabs the door handle, pulling the slide bar back and letting the door close on its own.

I start laughing uncontrollably, and he looks at me, then does the same.

“It might not have been so hysterical if Garrett had walked in on us,” he says, crossing the room with a confidence that makes my stomach flutter.

I bite my lip and stare into the depths of his eyes as he stands in front of me. Wrapping his arms around me, he inhales a deep breath. He runs his hands down my body and I relish his touch. When he presses his cheek to mine, his soft stubble makes me shiver. His body moves flush with mine, and I brush my fingers down the length of his side, blindly tracing the letters.

“I must be dreaming,” I tell him, leaning back and looking into his intense greenish-brown eyes. My voice is hoarse, but not the least bit weak.

He places his fingers under my chin and lifts it, tilting my face just enough to press his lips to mine. “No, baby, it’s not a dream. This is real.” He plants sweet kisses around my mouth, and his words undo me.

He walks me backward until the backs of my knees are touching the bed. “This time I want to take it slow. I want to make love to you, and I think the bed is a better choice than the desk.”

I open my mouth to agree, but he pushes me back and I fall with a laugh onto the soft mattress, looking up at him. The pulse beating in his throat makes me smile. We stare at each other for the longest time—me lying on the bed, with my feet on the floor, and him standing over me, with the corners of his mouth turned up in the sexiest grin. Then suddenly the mood seems so serious and my laughter stops.

“I missed that smile,” he tells me.

I don’t say anything because I know if I do I’ll just cry again. He could always make me smile—not the fake one I have to put on for the sake of my career—and the mention of everything we once had together swells my heart. He licks his lips and I back up slightly on the bed, inviting him to join me. The mattress dips as he crawls onto it and settles beside me. I trace my finger around his moist, full lips, he smiles, and I whisper, “I’ve missed yours too.”

Tucking his head into my neck, he kisses his way down my body, then rolls us around. We touch, stroke, and lick every inch of each other for what doesn’t seem nearly long enough. Both breathing heavily, we’re tangled in the sheets and he’s hovering over me—his eyes roaming every uncovered inch of my body. The lights are still on and I’m glad, because I want to watch him, see him, make up for all the days that have passed that I never got to see his beautiful face.

He hovers over me and hesitates for a moment. He presses his forehead to mine, and I ask, “What’s wrong?”

“I want to feel you. Really feel you—like I used to.”

I stare at him, knowing what he wants but not sure he wants to hear what I have to say. “Xander, I’m on the pill, but I haven’t been tested since—”

Lifting himself up, he cuts me off. “I’m clean, Ivy.”

“Make love to me,” I answer, giving him the go-ahead not to wear a condom.

With a soft groan, he centers himself and heat floods me. His face smolders when he looks down at me, and I can feel my need for him all the way down to my toes. His teeth clench and he bites his lower lip as he slowly pushes into me. His cock—long, thick, and hard—fills me. Skin to skin—the feeling is magical, and both of our bodies tremble with the intimate contact. My arms circle his back and my fingers press hard into his muscles as we move together in the same rhythm.

I pull his mouth to mine and softly kiss him. Returning my kiss with the same tenderness, he pulls out of me and I search him for an answer as to why. My question is answered when he rolls onto his back, bringing me with him. Straddling him, I guide his cock back inside me and he lets out a guttural groan. My legs squeeze his body as I sit up and press my hands to his chest for support. His hands find my breasts, and he rolls and fondles the nipples into hard peaks. With his hands on me and his cock inside me, I just close my eyes as bliss washes through my veins.

When his fingers stop massaging my chest, I open my eyes and look into his face to see that it’s full of desire. I gasp when his hand slides between my legs and his thumb rubs circles around my clit. “Do you like this?” he asks.

Moaning, I arch my body and throw my head back. “Yes,” I scream, moving my hands behind me and clutching his knees. I want to wait for him, but the higher I lift myself off his cock and the harder I slam down on him, the more intense the feeling. When he rubs my clit harder and harder, moving his thumb in smaller and faster circles, my body starts to tremble and I can’t hold back any longer. “Oh God. Yes!” I scream, and everything in the world seems to stop except for this feeling of pure heaven.

“Fuck, Ivy, yes!” he yells.

I open my eyes as my orgasm rolls through me. Watching him, I know he’s coming too. His eyes close and with one final thrust I can feel him filling me. When he opens his eyes and looks at me with that look I could never resist—I melt.

“I love you.” The words just tumble out without any advance thought. I regret saying them immediately. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” I shift my eyes away from him, knowing the words were automatic and true, but it’s too soon to actually say them. I roll away and throw my legs off the bed, but before my feet hit the floor his hands clutch my waist and his hard chest nestles against my back.

“Where are you going?”

Without turning toward him, I answer, “To the bathroom.”

“Not yet. Turn around, Ivy. Look at me.”

He sits down on the bed and pulls my legs off the floor and lifts me back on his lap. “Okay, now we’re going to do this again. You start by saying ‘I love you.’ But this time when you say it, keep looking at me and don’t turn away as soon as the words come out.”

“Xander, I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know why I did.”

“Look at me, Ivy,” he commands, and I do. “You know why you said it—it’s because you feel the same way I do. Look, we could play the game—pretend we both didn’t feel what we felt the minute we saw each other at the pool, but I’d rather not. I loved you when I was fourteen. I loved you when I was eighteen and had to let you go. I’ve loved you for the last twelve years. And I love you now. Ivy—I love you.”

Hearing those words from his lips seems surreal. My stomach flutters and I throw my arms around his neck. “I love you, Xander. I love you,” I tell him, holding him and wanting to never let him go.

He holds me close and I don’t even question his words, not for a second. I don’t need to. I can feel it. I can hear it. I can see it. It’s written all over him—it’s even etched on his body. It’s real and right. It’s everything I’ve been missing and everything I want. He’s mine, and this time I’ll never let him go. We were always so much alike. We covered up our feelings, pushed them aside, wore a strong armor to face the world, but with each other we were bared—no shields, no masks—just what was real and what was true. And the emotions I’m feeling between us right now tell me that hasn’t changed—they tell me I’m home.

He swats my ass a few minutes later. “Now let me get up and get something to clean us up.”

I lean back and smile at him. He bends down and bites my lip. “Or come with me and we’ll take a shower.”

Tightening my grip, I let my body answer for me.

“Shower it is,” he says as he moves off the bed with my legs wrapped around his waist.

Thirty minutes later we’re lying in bed in the pitch-dark room. I’m spent, sated, and happier than I’ve been in such a long time. Pulling me to him, he hugs me like he used to—arms and legs wrapped around me, squeezing so tight.

“I love you, Ivy Taylor,” he whispers.

“I love you, Xander Wilde,” I whisper back. And then I close my eyes, feeling so full of raw emotion I could burst with happiness.