Page 20 of Saving Ian Pope

“Do any of the other guys have issues with alcohol? Let’s see if I can remember. Charlie, Sam, Javeed, and Conor.” She tapped my arm as she mentioned each of my Five2Go bandmates.

“Not really. We all dealt in our own ways. Had our own issues.” Truth was, I didn’t know how the boys were doing these days. I sat up and thrust three fingers in the air. “This is number three for me. I’ve tried rehab twice before. What do you Yanks say? Three strikes and you’re out?”

“We also say, third time’s a charm.” She grabbed my fingers and kissed the tips. “I’m sorry I offered you that booze. Are you still upset with me?”

“Why didn’t you just tell me this morning that you knew?”

“Didn’t want it to ruin the moment, honestly.” She clambered into my lap, straddling me. “And I wanted you to tell me yourself. Why didn’t you mention it yesterday? Would’ve been the perfect time when I offered you the wine.”

“To echo you, I didn’t want to ruin the moment. I don’t want to put any pressure on you, but for the first time in a really long time, I didn’t have any cravings yesterday. The only craving I had was for your body.” As I kissed her mouth, I dropped back onto the bed, taking her with me.

She stared into my face, her nose almost touching mine. “All this doesn’t change the fact that you’re leaving tomorrow, right?”

I placed my hands on her bum and squeezed her soft flesh. “Do you want me to stay?”

Her eyelashes fluttered. “Could you?”

“Would you want me to if I could?”

“If I wanted you to, would you want to? If you could?”

“This is getting confusing.” I smiled as I kissed her kissable lips. “I could stay for another few weeks, and I want to. Stay. Here. With you.”

“Good.” She held my face in her hands and kissed me back.

I felt a surge of excitement that had nothing to do with her naked body lined up on top of mine—well, almost nothing. I just hoped I hadn’t made another big mistake in my life...in a long line of big mistakes.

***

When I got out of the shower, I put on my clothes from yesterday. I didn’t have a choice, but Ivy planned to drive me to the hotel to pick up my bags. Before agreeing to an extra few weeks in LA, I’d made sure I could stay with Ivy. There’s no way I could stay at the Beverly Hills Hotel with Jack gone. I hated staying in hotel rooms, had been in too many of them.

My manager had not been thrilled to learn that I’d decided to spend the next two weeks in LA with a woman I’d just met yesterday. Jack knew my pattern with women all too well—dive in deep, fast only to wake up months later with the realization that I didn’t even know these people, didn’t have anything in common with them, was bored in their company, and worse, I’d been functioning as their personal piggy bank and prop for clicks and likes on social media.

Meeting Ivy had sparked something different in my soul. Yeah, the sex was out of this world, but maybe it had been so hot because I felt this special connection with her—or maybe because I was sober.

I tied my shoes and looked for my T-shirt, then remembered Ivy had ripped it from my body in the other room. I poked my head out the bedroom door and heard Ivy singing in the kitchen. She really did have a nice voice, even if she wasn’t singing one of my songs.

I made a beeline for the chair where I’d draped our shirts last night.

“Oh, looking for this?” Ivy danced forward, holding out the hem of my shirt that fell to her mid-thigh. “You can have it back when I take a shower.”

“Looks a lot better on you, anyway.” I stepped into the kitchen and took her in my arms, kissing her sweet lips. “You taste like strawberries.”

She held up one finger. “There’s a reason for that. I made you a smoothie—strawberries, bananas, pineapple, spinach, and some other healthy stuff. Hope that’s okay. It’s what I usually eat for breakfast. I’m making toast, too, so you don’t starve.”

“You shouldn’t have gone to any trouble.” I pivoted in the small kitchen. “I can make my own toast.”

“Sit down.” She tapped the kitchen table set with placemats, a green concoction in a glass at the corner of one of the placements, and a vase of pink flowers in the center. “This kitchen is too small for multiple cooks. Coffee? Tea? I don’t drink coffee, but Chloe has a single-serve Keurig.”

I stood behind one chair and picked up the smoothie. “Tea, please.”

Ivy flitted around the kitchen and a few minutes later, she set a yellow plate in front of me with toast and handed me a mug of tea. “Sugar or...” she gave a shudder “—milk? Both?”

“Black is good.” I dredged the teabag in the hot water a few times before taking a sip and then sat down once I did. “This is all very domestic.”

She jerked her head up from her smoothie, a green moustache on her upper lip. “You don’t like it? You would’ve preferred to go out for breakfast. You probably wanted to eat breakfast at the Polo Lounge at the hotel.”

“No, no. Stop. This is fine. Thank you.” I tapped my lip.

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