Page 17 of Saving Ian Pope

Running my hands over my face and body, I said, “Same face, same body.”

After my day with Ian, I expected to see something different. I puckered my lips, which seemed plumper, and ran my fingers down my jaw, a little red with scruff rash from all the kissing we’d done. Things looked pretty much the same on the outside, but my insides had experienced a massive shift.

I got ready for bed and left a red toothbrush in its package on the sink. When I returned to the bedroom, Ian was sitting up, going through his phone, a slight downturn to his lips.

“Everything okay?” I picked up the glass on the nightstand.

“All good. Do you have that toothbrush?” he held up his phone. “And a charger?”

“Toothbrush is on the counter in the bathroom. I’ll get you a charger from the kitchen. Do you want any more water?”

“No, thanks.” When he hopped off the bed, he grabbed me around the waist and kissed me before heading to the bathroom.

I scurried out of the bedroom, plucked the gum from the wall, put the glass in the sink, and yanked a charger from the outlet by the kitchen table. When Ian had been out here before getting the water, he’d placed my keys in the basket by the door and hung our shirts over the back of a chair along with my purse.

I tiptoed to my purse and retrieved my phone stuck in the side pocket. I scanned a few text messages—one from Chloe, asking about the bookfair, one from another author, asking the same, and one from Matt, which I deleted without reading.

When I got back to the bedroom, Ian was still in the bathroom with the water running. I slid between the rumpled sheets and plugged my phone into the charger I kept by the bed, leaving it on the edge of the nightstand.

Ian stepped out of the bathroom and flicked off the light. As he approached the bed, I dangled the charger in front of him. “There’s a USB port on the lamp you can use.”

“Thanks.” He plugged in his phone and joined me under the covers. Wrapping his arms around me, he pressed his naked body against mine. “Mm, I was hoping you hadn’t put any nightclothes on.”

“Little late for modesty, wouldn’t you say?”

“I would.” He covered a yawn. “It’s barely eleven o’clock, and I’m exhausted. You wore me out, Tink.”

“Ditto.” I pretended a yawn of my own and rolled onto my side.

He cuddled up behind me, slinging a heavy arm over my hip, cupping my body with his. “This feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Uh huh.” I twisted my head back and kissed his shoulder, burrowing against him. Too good to be true. Too good to last.

Several minutes later, Ian’s breathing deepened, and I closed my eyes and waited. I’d felt at a disadvantage all day, not knowing Ian’s recent history, especially as I’d practically vomited up my own. When his hold on me slackened, I peeked over my shoulder and lifted his arm from my body.

Scooting away from him, I grabbed my phone from the charger and ducked under the covers with it, using my body to shield the light from Ian, although he seemed completely out of it.

I Googled his name, and his handsome face popped up on my screen. He was more breathtaking in person. I scrolled past a partial discography, a few links to his social media, the requisite Wikipedia entry and then nearly dropped my phone at the first article headline:Drunk and Disorderly—Ian Pope Tossed Out of Miami Bar.

Typical popstar behavior, right? I rolled my shoulders, and Ian murmured in his sleep. My finger swiped up the screen.

Ian Pope’s Incoherent Red Carpet Rambling

Former Boy Bander Breaks Paparazzi’s Camera

Five2Go or One2Gone—Ian Pope’s Drunken Antics

Boy Bander Ian Pope Spotted at Ritzy Rehab in London

I put my fingers to my lips as Ian’s warm breath stirred the hair at the nape of my neck. Seemed like I’d just fallen hard for someone who had as many problems as I did. Maybe more.

Chapter 7

IAN

Light pressed against my eyelids like a weight. Typically, I didn’t even feel like opening my eyes in the morning, preferring the absolution of sleep, but this morning a different feeling pricked my consciousness. I peeled one eye open, and memories and feelings flooded my senses as I pushed the reddish-brownish hair out of my face.Ivy.

I'd had just about the best sex of my life last night, fueled by my craving to make this woman all mine. I did a quick check under the covers just to make sure the mermaid on my pelvis hadn’t come to life in my arms. Or, wait, I’d called her a fairy, not a mermaid. God, she must think I’m a right git.

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