Page 32 of Ivy

“Oh, you are on, babe.”

I break and pocket two balls. Ivy smiles at me from her position against the wall. I pot another one but miss the next. I stop her with a hand to her flat stomach and kiss her gently as she walks past me towards the table. To my absolute surprise, she clears the table, one ball at a fucking time.

“Fluke, Peaches.”

“That’s crap and you know it. Don’t hate the player, hate the game,” she says in a shitty American accent. I burst out laughing and she giggles with me, before taking a sip of her drink.

“Okay, fine. Let’s place a bet.”

“What kind of bet, Beast?” I think about things I can do to her, or she can do to me. This needs to be a fair winnings, where we both technically win. There is something I think we would both agree on.

“Okay. The loser gets any tattoo the winner chooses,” I state, folding my arms across my chest and widening my stance, making myself just a little bit bigger. Well, she does call me Beast, after all.

“Tattoos?” she squeaks.

“Damn, you sounded like a penguin just then. But yeah, it will be fun. Or are you that scared you will lose to me?”

“Oh, Luke, I never lose.”

“Bring it on, Peaches. Bring it on.” I smirk at her and set the balls back up for the next game. I see a few lads watching Ivy as she moves around the table. When she bends over to take a shot, I growl at two guys that are standing close to us. They take the hint and piss off. I take the opportunity to step up behind her and put my hands on her hips, pulling her flush against me.

“You planning on making all the dicks in the room hard for you, babe?”

She straightens and pushes back into me. I’m sure she can feel how hardmydick is for her. My peaches is turning into a little minx.

“Are you jealous, Luke Baker?”

“Hell yeah, I am. You’re mine, Peaches.” She chuckles and bends back over to take her shot, potting the ball in the top corner pocket. She is a fucking pool shark, I tell you.

“Welcome to my world,” she says, and walks around the table to pot the next three balls before her words sink in and I register their meaning.

Well, fuck me.

“You know I didn’t sleep with them, right?”

She nods. “Yep. But it still hurts to see.” She misses the next ball and it’s my turn. I plan on clearing the table.

“Shit.” I line up my shot, when a whistle sounds in the room as Ivy leans over the other end of the table, watching me take my go. Ivy turns her head and smiles at the bloke. What the fuck? The cue slides over my hand and scuffs the ball, sending it bouncing around the table and not where I want it.

“My turn. Time to end this game,” she states. I shake my head at her, still slightly pissed that she smiled at the bloke by the bar. I take it this is Karma being a fucking bitch and getting me back. I lean against the wall and finish off my beer while she finishes off the balls on the fucking table.

I fucking hate pool anyway.

The guys clap when she pots the last ball, but I stay brooding against the wall. She can come to me if she wants a something. Fuck, why does she make me feel like this? She curtsies to the men and makes her way over to me. She pulls her phone out of her back pocket and checks the time.

“We should be going. It’s eleven-thirty. I have to get Carter up in the morning for school.” I nod.

“Okay, let’s go,” I say, and we walk to collect our coats. The silence is killing me, but I’m pissed at her for flirting with men while I was standing there.

“So, I win,” she mutters as we wait outside for a taxi.

“Yeah. I guess so,” I say, looking up and down the street. I can feel her eyes on me, but she doesn’t say anything at first.

“You are a class act, Luke Baker. A bloody class act.” My head snaps in her direction, but I only see the back of her, walking down the street.

“Where the hell are you going?” I call after her. I jog up to meet her, but she doesn’t stop walking. Clearly my broodiness has pissed her off. The street lights are on and some frost as settled over the parked cars on the street. Shop windows have their display lights on, showcasing different things. We walk a few streets before she says what she’s been wanting to say but didn’t.

“Tell me something, Luke.” Fucking hell, she’s calling me Luke, not Beast. She hasn’t called me that since we left the pub. “Are you pissed that I beat you? Or are you pissed that other men were paying me attention? Because, I have to say that you are acting like a bloody toddler if it’s for either reason. You set the bet, Luke, not me.” She stomps away, but I catch up with her and grab her arm.

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