With Jamison pinning her down, Ivy had no chance of escape. The kiss left her lips parched, and she could only mumble a reluctant admission. “Yeah… maybe a little…”
“What was that? I didn’t catch it.” Jamison cupped her face, his smile wickedly playful. His hands were large, strong, long-fingered—enough to almost cover her whole face. Ivy felt like a doll in his grasp, toyed with and helpless. The indignation mingled with the charged intimacy was almost too much. She remembered they’d have to share a bed tonight. If he kept teasing her like this, things would spiral out of control fast….
Weighing her options, Ivy gave in, repeating, “I said… maybe a little.”
“A little what?” he pressed.
She glared up at him, her striking, cat-like eyes shining with both embarrassment and irritation at his relentless pursuit. “Do you really get a kick out of making me say I like you?” she shot back, her voice sharp.
“I do.”
Ivy was speechless. Men really did have two faces. On the outside, he was dignified and inscrutable, the model of restraint—like some untouchable gentleman. But behind closed doors, he was shameless, almost roguish.
When she fell silent, Jamison’s handsome face dipped lower, clearly intending to kiss her again. Ivy leaned away, blurting out in a rush, “Fine, I like you! Are you happy now?”
He paused for a moment, then grinned, mischievous as ever. With one smooth motion, his big hands drew her back and he captured her lips in another deep, lingering kiss.
Clutching at his shirt, Ivy could barely get her words out between his insistent kisses. “I—I already said I like you… Why do you… never stop…”
“If you like me, then I have even more reason to kiss you,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous, eyes smoldering with promise.
Ivy felt her pulse race, her mouth dry, her resistance melting away. Now that she'd confessed, refusing him again would just seem childish. She could only surrender. But tonight… tonight was definitely not the right time.
Thankfully, Jamison showed remarkable restraint. Despite the hunger in his eyes and the tension in his voice, he finally managed to pull back.
“You go ahead and wash up first. I need to make a call—just remembered a patient I should check on.” His voice was tight, gaze burning as he lifted her off the bathroom counter and set her down, then quickly left the room.
Ivy watched his retreating back in a daze. He left so abruptly, she barely had time to process it. But after a moment, she realized—he must’ve reached his limit. If he’d stayed any longer, he might’ve lost control.
The thought made her cheeks burn hotter. Covering her face, she replayed everything that had just happened. Her mind was a mess of embarrassment and nervous excitement. She could only hope that after tonight—once all this was over—she’d finally be able to let go of those old shadows in her heart. Otherwise, this would be torment for both of them.
Wait a minute. Was she actually starting to worry about Jamison? Was it because she pitied him… or was it because she was just as drawn to him as he was to her? Or maybe it was both?
Ivy groaned inwardly, palms pressed to her flushed cheeks. She caught sight of herself in the mirror—rosy-cheeked, eyes bright and brimming with shyness and longing. She knew then: she was done for. Jamison was too much. In just a few short months, he’d broken through every last defense she’d built around her heart.
Was she really ready to let herself fall in love again, with no reservations?
She asked herself this, but realized with a start that she didn’t have any other choice. They were married now. They were husband and wife. All she could do was try her best to love him. There was simply no turning back.
With that thought settled, later that night, after they’d turned out the lights, Ivy shifted closer to him, her fingers seeking his under the covers—silently, but deliberately intertwining them with his.