Page 48 of Worth the Rush
I walk up the stairs and out onto the deserted balcony. I let out a sigh, and a smile tugs at my lips. Tonight went well.Really well, and I’m proud. The moon is casting light onto the snow, and it makes it look like it’s glowing. I lean against the railing and take in the view. I’ve been in such constant motion for the last month that I haven’t taken enough time to really enjoy the environment I’m in.
“You were amazing tonight, and your speech was really good. I know it touched a lot of people,” a voice that I could and have conjured in my sleep says close to my ear. Too close to my ear. I meant what I told him at the beginning of the night. Alder is attractive. Gorgeous. And he’s kind and endearingly goofy. But it would never work between us. Dating men like Alder feels like too much, or rather, might makemefeel too much. Not only that, but he lives here. His whole life is here, and it’s a beautiful life. But it’s not mine. My life is in California, and as much as I wish I could run away from all the things I’ve left behind me there—I can’t.
I would never trust myself to be the kind of woman he needs. He’s too warm. I’m so cold I’d give him frostbite.
“Thank you, and thank you for being by my side tonight.” And I mean it.
“Anytime. It looks like Noah and Margot left early. Are you planning on being here a while? I’ll stay and help,” he offers.He’s so sweet.
“Yes, I’ll be here for a while. I should probably oversee the cleanup process and make sure everyone gets paid. You don’thave to stay though. You’ve helped me out enough for one evening.” I give him my sweetest smile.
“I don’t want to leave you here alone, Ivy. Not with that prick hanging around.” God, he is so protective over me, a woman he barely knows. I can’t imagine how he’ll be when he has a wife and kids one day. That thought hits me like a freight train.Kids. Just another reason it would never work between us. He’s going to make an amazing dad one day. I don’t even know if I can have kids after my surgery. That thought takes me back to darker days.
“Mrs. James? Are you awake?” a man’s voice asks.
“I think so.” I hear myself croak in return.
“The surgery was successful, Mrs. James. I would like to express again how sorry I am for your loss,” he offers.
“Ivy, please.” Being called Mrs. James feels wrong.
“There were no complications, but while performing the surgery, we discovered that you have a blockage in your left fallopian tube; it's no small miracle you were able to conceive at all,” he informs me.
“A blockage? What exactly does that mean?” Confusion is the prominent feeling mixed with only a bit of pain.
“It means that it’s not impossible, but it does make getting pregnant again unlikely. Now, there are treatments and procedures.” He continued speaking, but somewhere after the word “unlikely,” it started sounding like he was speaking to me from underwater.
A pain that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy washes over me, and I suck in a breath.
“Ivy? Are you okay?” Alder steps closer to me, but I hold up my hand. I don’t want to be comforted by him again. It feels too good, and I can’t let myself get used to his support, his easy-going kindness that I’m beginning to depend on. He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a crinkly plastic bag, and hands it to me. It’s peach rings. I look at him curiously.
“I know it’s not candied orange peels, but I wanted to have something on hand if you needed it,” he tells me simply. My throat begins to burn, starting from the base of my neck, and then traveling up to behind my eyes. He’s too sweet for me. He’s too kind.He’s too good.But I want him right now. I want to consume him and see if he tastes as sweet as he acts or if he tastes like the faint coffee scent that I’m always getting a whiff of when he walks by. This is absolutely a mistake, and I don’t really care about me, but it’s really not fair to him.
I kiss him—hard. I let all the pent-up sexual frustration he causes me out and throw it into this kiss. He opens his mouth, and I lick the inside of his lower lip before sucking it into mine and nipping it. He groans, then pushes me back against the railing of the balcony we’re on, kissing the ever-loving shit out of me. He matches me bite for bite, lick for suck. I’m panting and melting into him. I assumed it would be me devouring and spitting this man out when I was done, but I have a small fear I’m working hard to push down that’s telling me this kiss.This kissis going to ruin me.
“Alder.”
“Yes, princess?”
“You’re not my type, and I’m not what you want.” I pant and grind into him until I can feel his hardness through his suitpants. He opens his mouth to protest but I silence him with a look. I want to lay it all out there. He needs to know the facts. “I’m here for maybe two more months, then I’m leaving. I’m not nice, and I’m not good for you.” He rolls his baby blues, and his lips part, so I press my finger to his mouth, stilling his words. His eyes heat, and that heat stokes the fire I’m barely keeping at bay.
“If we do this.” He inclines his head. Just inches from mine now. “It’s casual,” I tell him. “No one catches feelings, and no one gets blindsided when I leave. Can you handle that, Lover Boy?” My question hangs between us. It’s heavy, and I’m ready to strip right here and now if he agrees to my terms.
“I can do this however you want, Ivy. But I need you to do something for me.” He reaches up and slides his hand around my throat till it rests in the hair at the nape of my neck, cradling my head and causing delicious tension between my legs. I want him. More than I will ever admit.
“What do you need me to do?” I ask, breathless and not caring.
“If we do this, however casual you want, it’s still exclusive. I won’t share you. I won’t have you and know you’re with other men.”
“Who else would I be with?” I ask him, confused.
“No one. You won’t be with anyone if you’re with me.”
“Are you a little territorial, Lover Boy? Are you going to throw me over your shoulder and drag me back to your cave?”
“If that’s what gets you going, I’ll carry a club too.” I let out a throaty chuckle at that. “I’ll do this your way, but it’s justmefor you, Ivy. No one else.” I think over his words. There’s no one else here I’d want to be with romantically or sexually, but I also don’t tell him that. I don’t want him to getthe wrong idea, and Alder is exactly the type to get the wrong idea.
“Fine,” I grind out while also grinding myself harder into him. He takes my hand and kisses the pads of my fingers. No one has ever done that, and it’s oddly erotic. Why aren’t more men kissing women’s fingers? My mind is a jumbled mess of horny and uncomfortably romantic thoughts that I want to explore with the man in front of me.
