Page 6 of Solstice

“Well, good night,” she said, picking up her heels before walking barefoot toward the stairs.

“Wait,” I cut in, my chest tightening at the thought of her leaving me.

She turned and furrowed her brows. “What?”

“What are you doing with the rest of the night?”

She sighed and rubbed at her neck. “I just won an election I’ve been running for since I was born. Tonight looks like a bath, a bottle of wine, and a fistful of sleeping pills. Why?”

I cleared my throat and put my hands in my pockets, stepping toward her. “Do you want company?”

“To which part?”

I shrugged. “All of it.”

“Is this your desperate attempt to get me naked?” She rolled her eyes and flashed a playful smile.

I grinned. “If I wanted to do that, X, I could have a long time ago.”

“That’s what you think,” she replied with a scoff.

“There’s a drop cloth somewhere in Georgetown that says otherwise.” Memories of the day I fucked her in our former loft floated through my mind. We’d been heartbroken and drunk, and we swore we’d never mention it again. Even if I had photographic evidence that it happened. Even if I’d memorialized the entire thing on camera.

Ivy lifted her chin, a clear sign of a challenge, and ran her eyes over the length of me, assessing me, casting her judgment.

“Fine,” she said, pointing at me. “But no sex, and I get to pick the wine.”

There’d be no negotiating because she headed up the stairs to our rooms with little hesitation. I, the greedy prick with the worst intentions, happily followed her.

We stripped with no self-consciousness. We’d lived together for four years and practically another four before that. Besides, nothing said no boundaries like an orgy in the woods, so Ivy and I were beyond such trivial things as naked skin.

She turned on the faucet in the tub, grabbing a bottle of wine and two glasses from her room while I sank into the water. She climbed into the other side and handed me my drink.

“Now that the election’s over, we’ll announce the wedding by the end of the year.” She leaned her head back to wet her hair, the heat making her skin splotchy and pink, revealing the mark on her throat. I focused on it like a target, my fingers itching to caress that delectable skin. “Our parents are aiming for the first weekend of June.”

“June?” I blew out a breath. “That’s quick.”

“Mother wants a grandchild by the fall.” Ivy took a long pull on her wine, and I let out a small groan.

“Mother will be disappointed.” I relaxed in the water, resting my head against the cool tile.

“Now, now.” Ivy raised an eyebrow. “You’ll never spread the Fairfax family tree with that attitude.”

I returned her skeptical playfulness, grinning in spite of my reluctance to encourage her. “You’d have to let me between those Washington legs before I could do that.”

She laughed and splashed me before lying back against the tub, pressing her feet against a jet. “Ahh, that feels nice. Those shoes were beautiful, but hell on my toes.”

Working on autopilot, I grabbed her feet and put them in my lap, rubbing my thumb and my fingers over each ridge, massaging the muscles until I found the area that pained her. I thought she might try to pull away, but when she relaxed into the touch, I continued.

“All right, spill it,” she said. “What’s going on with you?”

I looked up. “What do you mean?”

“Something came out of you earlier. It felt like…” Ivy shrugged and sipped her wine. “Well, it confused me. And now you’re being all sweet and weird.”

“Sweet and weird.” I repeated her words, trying to decipher their meaning while I rubbed up her ankles and down again. Her skin felt like satin under my palm, soft and warm and decadent. “I thought that’s what you liked about Chicago.”

She chuckled. “It’s not your style.”

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