Page 35 of Saving Ian Pope

My answer seemed to placate her, and my kisses had calmed her, reducing her tears to a few sniffles. She still stayed glued to my side, her hand in mine for the rest of the ride home, and I had no complaints about that. The lie had been worth it.

As Nick glided the behemoth to a stop in front of Ivy’s place, I rapped on the glass partition and Nick rolled it down. “Somewhere else?”

“No, this is good. Just wanted to thank you, mate, for what you did back there. It helped.”

“No problem. I’ve encountered those guys before, total pricks. They’re gonna get someone hurt one of these days.” He jerked his thumb to the back seat. “Your girl okay?”

“She’s fine. Do you ever do any bodyguard work?” The guy had biceps as big as grapefruits and a chest that could probably repel a bowling ball.

“I haven’t done.”

“If you’re interested, give me your card. I have a lot of friends out here that could use someone trustworthy. I’d give you a good reference.”

“Thanks, yeah.” Nick reached in his suit jacket pocket and handed me a card. “I’d be interested in that.”

As we walked to Ivy’s front door, she said, “That was kind of you.”

“No, I’m serious. Did you see how that guy was built? And he knows how to handle himself. Charlie lives out here part-time, and he’d be chuffed to find someone like that he could trust.”

Chloe had gone to San Diego for the weekend, so we had the place to ourselves, and my mind was still buzzing with ideas, even after the encounter with the paparazzi. I’d meant what I said to Ivy. The photographer’s questions had been mild compared to some of the other abuse thrown my way. Did it bother me? I’d stuffed those kinds of feelings down so far, I probably couldn’t even identify them if they bit me on the ass. On some level, I almost felt as if I deserved the abuse, but Ivy’s defense of me had struck a chord. WhyshouldI accept that vilification?

Because you asked for it.You planned it.You invited it.

I pulled my laptop from the charger on the kitchen table and tucked it under my arm. “Would you mind if I stayed up for a while and did some work? I’ve had this song running through my head for two hours, and I want to nail it down before it escapes me.”

“I don’t mind.” She yawned and then downed a glass of water. “I’m going to bed. Do you want a snack or anything?”

“Do you have anything unhealthy in this house? I don’t want fruit. I don’t want nuts. I don’t want Greek yogurt.”

She opened a cupboard, reached in, and dangled a bag of crisps in the air. “These are Chloe’s potato chips. I don’t think she’d mind if you ate the rest. You’ve kinda grown on her.”

“Thank, God.” I snatched the bag out of her hand. “I’ll buy her another before I go home.”

The words hung between us awkwardly, and Ivy sliced a hand through the air as if swatting them away. “She probably won’t even notice.” She hooked her arms around my neck, and I put down my laptop and the crisps so I could hug her back. She said, “I’m sorry about those horrible paparazzi. Hope they didn’t spoil our night out for you.”

“It would take a lot more than a couple of rude questions to spoil any night I spend with you, Tink.” I kissed her and said, “Go to bed. Can’t wait to see what you have in store for me tomorrow.”

She sauntered off to her bedroom, and I planted myself on the sofa, my computer in my lap and the bag of crisps by my side. My fingers flew across the keyboard, as I spewed out all the words and phrases I’d collected during the show.

Once I had the words down, I organized them into coherent thoughts and grouped them into verses. Certain lines jumped out at me that would work as the chorus, and the phrase that ran through my head had already suggested a tune.

By the time I emerged from the cloud of creativity that had enveloped me, over two hours had passed. I saved my work and rubbed the stiffness from the back of my neck.

I tiptoed into the bedroom and slipped into the bathroom to brush my teeth and undress. I turned off the bathroom light before opening the door to the bedroom. Ivy hadn’t moved an inch since I’d come into the room, and I didn’t want to wake her, although the idea of sleeping right now seemed like something on a distant planet.

As I slid between the cool sheets next to her, she murmured and rolled toward me, turning me on with her naked body. I smoothed her hair back from her face, and along with the lust that tightened my balls, an ache of tenderness throbbed in my throat. Had I almost told her I loved her tonight? That was crazy...wasn’t it?

I wanted her to come home with him, but I didn’t feel as if I had the right to ask her to uproot her life. She hadn’t brought it up, either. Was she waiting for me to make a move? I didn’t quite know how I was going to function without her, but I didn’t want to saddle her with that burden.

For all her cheeriness, I caught a look in her eyes sometimes—fear, dread, angst—something that didn’t match up with her outward sunny disposition. But, while my life was an open, messy book, she kept a tight lid on her background and experiences. A little worm niggled my brain, telling me to run, or at least start demanding some answers, but if she wanted to tell me about her past, I just wanted to give her a clear path to do so without pushing her.

Her fingers found my lips in the dark, and she traced their outline. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

I drew her thumb into my mouth and sucked on it while she slid her other hand across my abs to my cock, already hard for her.

Skin to skin, I moved against her body. She opened up to me like a petal after the rain, and I made love to her. If I couldn’t tell her I loved her, if I couldn’t tell her I was sorry for tonight, if I couldn’t tell her I wanted her to come back to England with me—I’d just have to show her.

***

---