Page 31 of Fighting

“How is my pop princess today?” I’m cheesing hard; I can’t help it.

“Obsessed with this playlist and, actually, kind of relaxed.” She sighs, her lips tipping up, but before I can respond, she snaps straight and says, “And that is not because of your cheap gag gift sex toys. Don’t even.”

“Of course not, princess. Only the best for you.” I glance her way and give her a wink.

“Oh no. No.” She groans, turning the music down. “Princess will not be the nickname you use.”

“All right, how about cutie?”

She cringes.

“Babydoll?”

“Hell no.”

“How about I just stick with Ivy?”

On that, she relents and then does a double take. “Wait. You didn’t.”

“What did I do?” I keep my eyes on the road as I merge into traffic. “Or not do?”

“You didn’t buy that five-figure vibrator you texted me, did you?” She hides her face in her hands. This is so cute. She’s afraid of what I might say.

“No way. I’m far too economical for that. I am much better at hunting for subtle luxury.” I can’t help but let that last part slip. The anticipation is killing me.

“What?” she asks, fast and sharp.

“What?” I reply, brow cocked. “I guess you’ll find out.”

Much sooner than she realizes.

It takestwo hours for Nessa to come pounding on my door like the four horsemen of the apocalypse have arrived.

Like a predator, I’m ready to go in for the kill.

The first thing she’ll see is my wardrobe change: light gray sweatpants slung low so the waistband of my boxer briefs is on display. No shirt. The nervous energy had me doing pushups to keep myself busy, and it got too sweaty.

Slowly, I pull the door open and rest an arm against the frame.

“Fancy seeing you here.” I can no longer contain my smile, knowing that dimple she pretends not to love is on full display.

The tiny tornado I’m met with is adorable. With one arm around a cardboard box, she pushes me back into the house and stomps in behind me.

“What… the… fuck?—”

I steal the words from her mouth with a kiss as fiery as her entrance. After waiting seventeen weeks and a day—not that I’m counting—to kiss her again, I can’t resist any longer.

She must feel it too, because she kisses me back just as fervently. I graze her lower lip with my teeth and lightly nip. She swipes back with a press of her tongue, and we continue to devour each other in a frenzy.

She’s terrifying in the best way. I cannot keep my wits about me with her. She’s soft and pliant, yet she fights me for control with her own intensity. Powerful and so fucking beautiful.

“Tell me what’s on your research list, Ivy.” I press open-mouthed kisses to her neck, then nip at her earlobe. From there, I kiss and lick and bite my way down to the pulse point at the base of her throat.

Back pressed against the closet door, she wraps one leg around me. I palm her ass and lift, and she clutches the back of my head. The way her fingers comb my hair and mix between soft scratches and yanks sends electricity through me.

“You. Infuriating. Immature. Insufferable. Man,” she says between kisses. “You think you can just send me a full catalog of products, and then what?”

Without breaking contact, I stumble to the living room. She slides down my body, slow enough to slightly rub herself over the growing tent in my pants.

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