Page 18 of I See Red

“I…uh, I need to change out of this robe.” I stumble through my words, placing space between us. Breaking eye contact with him, I look around the beautiful library that’s mine now—and forever. Questioning him as my eyes roam. “You said I didn’t…I didn’t, um, need anything, so where can I change?”

“Your closet is off the master. You head down, and I’ll join you shortly.” His tone deflated. Surely this moment didn’t turn out how he had hoped. I’m sure if this was a movie, it most certainly would have, but we aren’t actors, and this is our true story.

“It’s always been her but never us. tonight, that changes—not because she owes it to me, but because we owe it to ourselves.”

—Tayden

I want to give her space to change. I know this is a lot to take in, but fuck is it hard when all I want is to see her reaction to all that welcomed her in that closet. If I were a dumb man, I would have had the contractor put a security system in here where I could at any moment. Luckily, I am a smart one, and there is no fucking way I would invade her like that, especially after all I have come to know. I fall deep into that thought, taking a swig of scotch, wondering what it was like for her all those years to be under video surveillance in the facilities she was placed in. To always be watched and medicated, with no exit door to escape. That’s why, here in her peace, I chose windows of wonders, stretching tall and wide, so she never has to feel confined here unless she wants to. I think the sickest part of it all for me was the recordings that I assume her father had taped. Fucking disgusting. If he wasn’t already dead, I’d kill him myself, and if not me, then Liam for certain. Hell, I’d invite him along. We may love the same woman, but that would make us the perfect fucking duo. He doesn’t even know I exist, though—well… I like Liam. He is perfect for her, and I am so grateful for his love for her, but I’ll never let her go unless she asks me to—not fully anyway—and as long as he understands that if the time ever does come where she shares me with him, then there is no issue on my side. If he ever hurts her, though, then we will have a massive problem, and I will make my presence known to him more unconventionally, but he doesn’t strike me as thattype of man. I think he has Ivy’s best interest at heart, and I’d be willing to bet he is her end game. For now, Ivy and I continue to keep our relations out of the knowledge of our partners because, up until this point, it’s only words and a connection they would never understand. Our relationship would only bring them sorrow and self-doubt. I think it’s safe to say that’s the last thing we’d ever want to do to the people we love. She does have permissions that I do not, but I highly doubt I am on Ivy’s Liam-approved hall pass list. Setting my drink down, I head towards the closet, certain she has already changed and is just exploring at this point. I reach the cracked doors, peeking through the seam between the hinges and the frame.

God, she’s beautiful.

Watching on, her fingers trail through the aisles of clothes, touching each item one by one. Her robe still hugging her gently, as she begins unwrapping it, allowing it to fall at her feet. I feel my cock harden. I know I should walk away, but I can’t take my eyes off her. Clearing my throat, I watch as her hands push her hair from her shoulders, directing it to trail down her back. I’ve seen her naked in photos, but in person…fuck me, she’s a masterpiece, and I need her hanging on my throbbing cock. Letting reason fall away, I close the distance between us, my feet light, my breaths ramping up, my urges selfishly controlling my body.

“Tayden?” she questions, her naked body frozen before me, her head tilting down towards her feet. Swooping in from behind, I scoop her chin up with one hand, sliding my arm across her skin, wrapping it around her neck, my other trailing down her thigh, my whisper cascading into her ear in reply, “Yes, Amor?”

The breath she’s been holding releases across my elbow forcefully, without recoil, like she has no desire to take another.Her hand moves up, grasping my forearm, still holding her neck hostage, in what I hope is our path to least resistance.

“We… We can’t, T. I need to shower,” she pleads, but not this time. We aren’t having a repeat of last time. In this position, in this moment, we are past ‘we can’t.’ We can, and we will. In hopes of shaking her worry, I slide my hand from her thigh towards her sweet spot. The squirm in her intoxicates me. The unspoken desire between our two bodies is extraterrestrial, and I’m ready to fly to the fucking moon with her. Swirling my finger around up and down between her folds, I know she wants this too. I have barely touched her, and she is already soaking wet.

“Let me cleanse your soul, baby, then I’ll cleanse your body,” I breathily declare, my words forcing her ass to roll up my hardened cock, her bottom lip folding in between her teeth as I watch her bite down, her eyes only seeing the back of her eyelids as I lift her chin, wrapping my hand forcefully around her neck, pulling her up and into me. She climbs to the tips of her toes as I roll a finger into her, slowly taunting her with the chill my fingers offer, the touch I know she’s craved her entire life.

“Fuck babe, your pussy is so warm.”

With what air my hand hasn’t claimed, she exacerbates, “Yet so fucking cold.”

“That’s just our souls colliding for the first time. It’s fucking beautiful, you’re fucking beautiful, Ivy Sage Rutledge,” I reassure her. She’s never been one to be comfortable in her bare skin. Fuck, asking for a mild selfie from her is as if I asked her to ride the front camera of her phone while recording. I admit her reserve is cute, but it’s not who she is. It’s who she’s built around her. Fragile and afraid of the world, afraid of the power she wields. The idea of sex for her has always been one I’ve tried to comprehend but have failed miserably at until two years ago in my father’s office. In this moment, for at least tonight, I want her to know what love is. I need her to feel safe and confident inher skin.I want to see the power exude from her as she rides my cock, in control, free of all reserve.

Flipping her around; forcing her to look at me, my hand makes its home in her hair, tangling the strands between my fingers, her exposed body pressed to mine, our lips touching as our breaths make a melody so intoxicating. I command her eyes to mine with force, pulling her further into me, and I can tell by the sound of the whimper she makes that she’s waited a lifetime to just fully let go and be owned by me, and tonight, I fucking plan to. Tonight, she is Mrs. Bergess, a name I never plan to give to anyone, not even Anastasia.

“Do you trust me, Ives?”

“With everything I have, T.”

“Good girl, we’ve had our cake all these years; it’s time we eat, baby.”

Her lips crash into mine, her tongue parting my lips, giving me the green light.

“You fucking hungry baby?” I growl.

“Starving T, more than I’ve ever been.”

Our lips devour one another, never splitting connection as she ravages at my clothes, ripping the buttons off in one stride, aggressively shoving it off the back of my shoulders until it slides down my arms, reaching its destination—the floor. As much as I would love to just fuck her right here and now, this moment is too sacred. I want it to transcend beyond time and reason in every lifetime we have together in this one and all to come for eternity. Releasing my hold on her, I step back. Slowly unbuttoning my belt, pulling it out in one tug. Confusion covers her face, but desire overpowers that emotion in a second as she stands there, not moving an inch, yet saying everything with those beautiful brown eyes. The fucking high I get when she looks at me this way is unlike any other woman has ever looked at me before, naked or clothed. They were nothing. Ivy, she’s myentire world, and I would burn it all down for her if she ever asked me to. Sadly she never will, nor will I.

Unbuttoning my slacks, I pull them off, her hands slowly moving to cover her breasts and pussy.

“Fucking stop,” I bite.

“What are we doing? You want to stand here naked just staring at each other?” she questions, a chuckle trailing off her sentence.

“Yes, baby, I want to stand here bare and naked for a moment.”

“Why? It’s weird.”

“Amor, there is nothing about us naked in front of one another that’s weird. It’s what you’ve dreamed about all these years, is it not?”

“Yes, but I’m scared. What if it’s nothing like we have imagined, and the dream was better, and we should just leave it there, in our heads as it is–perfect?”

Her response angers me. For years, she’s been saying this. I don’t know how many ways I can tell her that it will only be better than the dream we have; it will make us stronger, but she still believes her weird, unloved reality is more powerful than what would happen to our souls once they have fully united. What she’s really saying is, what if we can’t fucking stop? What if we want more after we fuck than what we have always settled for? Her pride would never ask that though; no, she is the queen of self-control. Truthfully, I’m not certain we can ever pack it all back in once we open our Pandora’s box. Causing us so much future rife, yet pleasure if we do. There is no pleasure without painthatwe have come to know.Thatwe have lived every day since we were eight.

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