Page 56 of The Sexy Ex's Brother
“Show me,” I rasp.
My hands slide under her sweatshirt, her skin hot and bare beneath. We stumble toward the bed, stripping away weeks of fear with every breathless kiss. When I press inside her, her eyes lock to mine. It’s not just sex. It’s a vow. One we never said, but always meant.
“I love you,” she breathes.
I press my forehead to hers. “I love you more. And I’m never letting you go.”
Our bodies move in sync, slow and deep, a rhythm of reclaiming. Her fingers dig into my back, her mouth against my shoulder like prayer.
“You’re mine,” I whisper.
“Always,” she gasps, pulling me closer.
We come undone together, louder than whispers, stronger than promises. No more words. Just trust. Just love.
***
We don’t speak for a while. Our breathing slows. Ivy lies half on top of me, cheek to my chest, her fingers drawing lazy shapes along my ribs like she’s writing a memory.
I tilt my head to kiss her hair. “You’re safe now.”
She nods but doesn’t lift her head.
“I kept thinking,” she murmurs, “what if we didn’t get this chance? What if it ended before we even started?”
“You didn’t have to carry that alone.”
“I didn’t want to drag you into more danger.”
I wrap my arms around her. “You’re not a burden. You’re the reason I made it through.”
A long silence stretches between. I listen to the sound of her breathing, her heartbeat syncing with mine like we’ve done this a thousand times before. I stare up at the ceiling, tracing the path that led us here. Every lie. Every wound. Every choice. And still, we found our way.
I kiss her temple again, eyes closed. “We build from here. Together.”
29
IVY
The morning after the storm doesn’t feel like a morning at all. It feels like exhale. Sunlight spills through Jack’s penthouse windows in soft streaks, catching in the dust motes drifting lazily across the polished floor. I sit on the edge of the bed, wrapped in one of his shirts, coffee cooling in my hands, and for the first time in what feels like months, I let myself feel still.
Jack is in the kitchen, sleeves rolled to his elbows, speaking quietly on the phone with someone from Dawson’s team. His voice is low and steady, but there’s a sharpness beneath it that hasn’t faded, even now. We may have won, but he’s not done protecting us. Us. I’m still getting used to that.
I glance toward the living room, where folders still sit open on the coffee table, remnants of last night’s battle. The headlines came fast and unrelenting:Derek Wilson Indicted on Federal Charges. Wilson Foundation Under Review. Corporate Empire Built on Blackmail, Fraud, and Fear.
Justice didn’t just knock. It broke the damn door down, and the world took notice. News anchors replayed the footage on loop. Comment threads exploded. My phone lit up withtexts from people I hadn’t heard from in years, some offering apologies, others digging for the inside story. Investors began pulling out of Derek’s shell companies by midmorning. Jack’s inbox overflowed with press inquiries and statements of support. And yet, none of it felt quite real. Just images on a screen. Words on a page. Still, somewhere deep inside me, a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding finally let go. And yet, even now, there’s a tight coil beneath my ribs that won’t fully release. Maybe it’s the aftermath. Maybe it’s memory, or maybe it’s just the weight of everything we had to become to make it through this.
Jack walks over, phone tucked away, gaze searching. “You okay?”
I nod, but it feels shallow. “Getting there.”
He crouches in front of me, hands resting gently on my knees. “You don’t have to pretend, not with me.”
That breaks something open. I set the mug aside and take his hand, threading our fingers together. “Do you remember when we first met?” I ask, voice quiet. “When we met? I thought you were arrogant. Detached. But I watched you that night. The way you didn’t smile unless you meant it. The way you looked at your brother like you wanted to believe in him, despite everything.”
Jack doesn’t interrupt. He waits.
“I spent so long trying to make myself into the kind of woman who belonged in that world,” I continue. “I thought love meant compromise. I thought silence was strength. But I was wrong.”
