Page 53 of I See Red

“Promise?”

“Always.”

First Snowfall

“To uncondition, one must recondition. Maybe I will never truly master the art.”

—Ivy

Fall passed rather quickly this year. The New England weather is mysterious like that, never truly knowing when a season will come to an end or the next will begin until you wake up one day and it’s here. The chronicles of my fucking life. I always thought I’d run away to a brighter and certainly warmer state the first chance I got, but the desire eventually dissipated as the years went by and my company grew. My soul connects with the seasons; we have certainly become one, especially these last few months. With Red gone, I feel like I can breathe a little easier at times; in others, I feel suffocated and on the verge of a mental breakdown. I know there can never be a content and happy Ivy living a mundane life if Red is involved. That’s like mixing oil and water and hoping there is no separation. It will fail everysingle time, no matter how you mix them together. Since her exit, I’ve been manipulating my thoughts over and over, trying to convert a truth to a lie.I miss her. Our relationship was healthy in many ways, toxic in others, but a life without her feels like I have lost a physical part of me, a core connection in my circuit board. Obviously, pieces of my life before were mundane, but she’s allowed me to live outside those barriers and truly explore the part of me within that carried me, created me, and protected me all those years. She’s had a huge hand in making me successful, and it is her I should be thanking for all we built in this world. Lately, I’ve been slacking without her. The torment of not having her anymore has thrown me off my game, and I am questioning if her eradication was the right thing or the beginning of my company’s undoing—my own undoing. The guilt eats me alive. What I miss most about her is the freedom, the lack of constantly needing to be in control over everything, the lack of perfect calculations, although yes, she was very calculated. It was with freedom and happiness in mind, not structure and consequences from improper thought processes. I’ve fought my whole life to be normal, and it doesn’t feel as I thought. I feel bored, trapped, suffocated. She loved me and gave me everything the world took from me; in ways, she showed me it’s ok to be different and off-centered. Most days without her, I can’t seem to find my center at all. Her biggest gift ever was the sense of security she brought me, and maybe her way of not fighting back that night was her saying I am finally ready to have that within myself within just Ivy. The sun came up an hour ago. I’ve just been lying in bed twiddling my thumbs and thinking, running so much through my head. Liam is still asleep as I should be, but the nightmares have been holding me hostage. Not just the usual, new ones, new memories, new terrors, new trauma she safely guarded me from. I’m not surprised he isn’t up yet after his long day yesterday helping a fellow townie withsome carpentry work. He’s never been an early riser, plus he got in super late last night. I haven’t been sleeping well; my vivid dreams every night are getting worse and worse; possibly, it’s Red trying to communicate with me. Regrettably, today is no exception. Things have been good since the night Liam and I had our long conversation, and I truly am happy, I think. I wish I knew how to be comfortable with happiness, okay with simplicity, and fulfilled with just him, but I’m not. Maybe I’m still just adjusting to it all. You can’t undo years in a few months. Tayden still hasn’t reached out. It’s not that unusual for us, but this time feels different. I can’t shake the unknown waters we are charting. A feeling as if we both knew that it would be the last time we’d be face-to-face. We live our own tragic sonnet on repeat; it’s poetic really. That’s what poetry is at its core: words laced with tragedy by the hand that inscribes them, the mind that replays them, and the heart scared by its letters. Slowly sweeping over our weighted blanket, I finagle my way out of bed quietly. Like clockwork, my L.L. Bean fur-lined slippers are waiting to hug my feet, sliding both in always my right before my left. Some Red traditions die hard.I find solace in the warmth as I shuffle from our bed, quiet as a mouse, not to wake him. It’s extra chilly this morning. Grabbing my robe hanging from our bedpost, I swiftly wrap it around me.I need to check the pellet stove.I secure my robe with my signature half-knot when suddenly, I catch a glimpse of something out of the corner of my eye.Could it be?Cautiously, I walk over to the window facing the back of our property; slowly, my fingers slide the gray curtains apart fearfully.It is.Kisses from above flow and glide in the wind, the tall pine trees lightly coated with winter fairy pixie dust. It’s beautiful how the snow brings such dimensionto the trees, unlike other seasons. Usually, they are three-dimensional, but when the snow coats them, I see them in fourth-dimension. It’s breathtaking. The way the morning sun makes them glistenlike they were strung with hundreds of Christmas lights overnight. Standing here, I soak up its beauty. My mind begins racing, and I know what I’m thinking is wrong, but the urge is too strong as I look out, captivated by the view of the cold. Sliding my feet from their cocoons of warmth, I place each foot on the hardwood floors. They are freezing like I had hoped, and in that very moment icicles, course through my blood while crashing with the warmth of my skin, and I can feel him inside of me, all around me and beneath me. I am frozen and surrounded by the cold once more. A gasp releases from my mouth, my eyes lost in the dark, taking in the sting from below. I fight it, but the urge is too powerful, and flashes start racing through my mind; his chest, my bare skin, the arching of my neck as he comes up for air, grazing his lips across mine, his eyes gazing into mine like the world could melt away and he wouldn’t even blink twice. My hand laying over his chest, the beat of his heart vibrating, devouring my soul, my fingers running through that jet-black hair. The memories of diving into the car together, the cabin, and my chest buried into the edge of the tub floor as he destroyed me in all the best ways. The rage of the glass against my back as he feasted on me, and the excitement in his eyes as he looked onto his two loves. The feel of the RPMs as I taunted him, and his tone when he says,I love you, Ivy Sage Rutledge. Cascades and floods of images and noises flash before my eyes, every moment of us replaying over and over. Snapshots of our history penetrate my every thought. His hand sliding down my body, slowly yet firmly teasing as he stares at me—God, those brown fucking eyes—making his way centimeter by centimeter, enjoying the angst it creates in me, pausing just as he reached my throbbing clit that yearned desperately for his touch. Then, he does the one thing that sends fire coursing through my veins, and I’ve lost all control.Gliding his frozen fingersdown between my lips, slowly going in and out inch by inch, teasing andtaunting me, looking up to watch as I quiver and relishing inwhat his hands do to me. Taking his time,turning the warmth inside of me into the glacier of him, I am now consumed by the cold, and he owns me. Goddamn, Tayden. Fuck me, take me now. I am yours, I beg.

“Good morning, babe, miss me that much already?” leaves his lips startling me.

My eyes shoot open, coming to the realization that Liam is awake.Fuck.He just caught me playing with myself, one hand down my pants rubbing and groaning while my other wrapped around my own neck to the thought of the cold—the person behind the cold, Tayden. The warmth returns to my body, but all I want to do right now is be frozen in time forever. I quickly secure my robe back around me, turning to him.

“There he is.” I giggle, avoiding any conversation about what just transpired. I’m mortified and embarrassed; shame starts to consume me, and guilt follows. It’s not that I am not happy with Liam. I am so in love with him. I know I should say something, but I can’t because this is the first time in months that I have succumbed to my urges, and I need to give myself some grace.You can’t change overnight. Years of doing takes years of detangling, and one failure is not enough for me to tell him. It would do more harm than good. I’m so tired of bringing harm to those whom I love. I deserve it, they don’t.

“I think the pellet stoves went out last night, babe; you know I hate the cold. Could you please fire them back up for me?” Another lie. I fucking love the cold, but lately, I’ve been trying to avoid it altogether, especially with winter rearing it’s ugly face. Judging by my actions a few moments ago, I need this house at ninety for the rest of the season. I find it sardonic that what once brought so much joy, the cold, is now enemy number one to my everyday happiness. I am not weak; it will not win. The cold always subsides, eventually.

Lessons

“Winter, fuck you. I hate you.”

—Ivy

“Hey, princess. Care to assist me in reigniting the fires?” Liam exhales, paired with a shit-eating grin that suggests he wants to light more than just the pellets.

Oh god, he caught me, and it turned him on…. Perfect, stupid girl.

Not that I wouldn’t absolutely love to be completely fulfilled by him. I mean, seriously, the body and power he exudes is exquisite. I’m quite ashamed I slept on him for so long, always looking at everything within him but never truly seeing him. Even then, I hit the nail so far from the head it is embarrassing and then some. How he knew me and saw me all along, keeping quiet, watching the cards fall, playing his game, not ever seeing it because I was so wrapped up in my own. It is truly exquisite, the hands he played never showing his tell, or rather, me never looking for it. He’s perfect for me, always has been. I was justtoo dumb to appreciate how well he truly gets me in his silence. For all these years, I’ve been so wrapped up in figuring him out, looking forthe howso much that it kept me from appreciating the beauty in—he just does. Not every answer needs to be found, nor does silence always mean secrets. He just loves me. That’s the onlyhowandwhyI need for now.

“Well, I was thinking, you know, I could go down and assist,orI could simply warm up the shower and have it ready for you when you get back?” I tease, gliding across the hardwood floors, slowly dragging my feet from the tops of my toes down like a ballerina floating across the stage in Swan Lake. Lowering my robe just enough, forcing the bottom to glide behind my footfalls, exposing his favorite side boob shot, I glare at him with intent and will, egging him on, refraining from making full eye contact. I only give him a split second before my eyes revert to the floor, knowing it drives him wild.

“Ivy,” he shouts, my head snaps, his tone demanding my attention as he sits up from the covers, his chest bare, smooth with all his intricate tattoos exposed, my favorite that of crows like a painting. I don’t dare look at him just through him, for agitated Liam is the Liam that feeds my every desire, punishes my every sin, and renews my chances of entering Hell if and when my maker calls me.

My right hand trailing along the white crown molding trim as my body floats, crossing the entryway of the bathroom. Dropping my robe down, exposing my smooth, desirable skin. I reach my hand out, teasing him as I toss the robe back into the room, letting him know I am declining his offer and heading for the shower.

I pursue further into the master bathroom, reaching for the door, sliding it left, slipping in. I grasp the controller, and turn it on, changing the settings to start the perfect shower before heading back to the sink to wash my face. I hear him shuffleout of bed, angst taking over my emotions, wondering if he will skip relighting the pellet stoves to rush to me or not. Selfishly, I hope he doesn’t. The last thing I need after a steamy hot shower is a hug from the cold—from him.Fuck do I crave it though.Stepping back in, steam already filling our massive terrarium-like shower that he custom-built for me based on my design from a dream I had one night. It feels so nice, and exactly what I need this morning. It’s beautiful, like an escape to a remote island; the stone walls run from the floor to the ceiling on two sides, with glass wrapping the rest of the way. He perfectly placed the glass side in front of an overly large picturesque window that looks out into the tree line, currently blanketed in snow.It’s stunning.

Plants are encased in the shower, with ledges formed out of the stone at different heights to hold things, although I do prefer them holding me.

There are so many different shower heads in it. My favorite is the one that creates a waterfall effect down the side of the stone to my left. It truly is the perfect place to get all warm and fuzzy inside, and that’s exactly what I need this morning.

The steaming water hits my body, and I can instantly feel the war raging between the cold that I am and the warmth flowing down my body like it is wrapping me in its blanket, reminding me just exactly how much I do love the warmth. Standing here, taking it all in, my eyes close as my breaths steady. I feel an intense rush as if I am being watched. Opening my eyes, my hands smear the steam off the glass. Peering out, I find him completely naked, his body a work of art. Every curve and muscle chiseled to sheer perfection. Not in the ‘I go to the gym seven days a week’ kind, in the ‘I’m a blue collar man type that naturally has that physique’ kind. His tattoos trail from his chest all the way down his body to his ankles. The bulge of his veins running through his neck are so strong, I can almost feelhis pulse, the look on his face inviting yet reminding me to be cautious because I have been a bad girl, and he doesn’t forgive as easily as God. Stretching one arm up through his hair, his other streams down his body, touching himself. Pulling on his already throbbing hard cock, releasing a grunt, he bites on his bottom lip as if he’s sending a warning signal to me. God, the tingles consuming my body right now feel like I’m being stung a million times over, and I like it. No. Ifuckinglove it.

“You look wet, princess.” His words a mere taunt.

Obviously, I’m in the shower.

“More than you know, sweet man.” Looking away from him, allowing the water to consume me once more, I hope the forbidden words put a spark in his ass to come join me. Stepping in, I feel his hand brush across the small of my back; chills pulse in both directions, releasing themselves at my clit. I physically feel it bounce like it was actually touched. Circling around the front of me, his finger lands on my chin, inching it upwards, requesting me to look at him. Opening my eyes, I drink him in, his emerald greens stealing my soul. Water slowly dripping down our faces, beading at the curl of my top lip before rolling off.

“What did I tell you about calling me sweet man, princess?”

His hardened cock brushing against my stomach.

“I… um… I…”

“I, um, I, what? Use your words. I’d hate to make my own assumptions about your thoughts and leave you with zero input into your punishment,” he growls, squeezing my cheeks together, making my lips pout out, knowing damn well I want all of his punishments.

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