Page 81 of Ink Me Three Times
"Yeah? You’re just going to swoop in and save me from all this?" she says, the sarcasm clear in her tone, but there’s a softness in her eyes too. "Good luck with that."
I can’t help but smirk. "I didn’t say I was saving you. I said I’vegot your back. There’s a difference."
She snorts, shaking her head. "Right. Like you’ve been doing such a great job of that so far."
Her voice is dry, and there’s that familiar bite in her words that’s so damn addictive. I can’t help but lean in a little closer. "You act like I’ve been ignoring you on purpose. You think I like staying away? I don’t."
Ivy’s eyes flicker with something I can’t quite read. She crosses her arms, a little defensively. "So what, now you’re a ‘feelings guy’ all of a sudden?"
I want to laugh. Not because it’s funny, but because it’s easier than admitting how close to the truth she is.
No, I’m not a “feelings guy.” That’s the whole damn point. I’ve spent years perfecting the art of staying closed off, keeping everything neat, controlled, inside the lines. No mess, no pain.That’s how you survive places like this. People in Coyote Glen eat feelings for breakfast and spit them out in whispers behind your back. I’ve seen what happens when you let people in. I’ve lived it. And it doesn’t end well.
But Ivy, she’s something different. She doesn’t just crack the surface; she digs her way in without even trying. And I hate that I can’t stop it. I hate that some part of me doesn’t want to.
So when she throws that line at me, like it’s just a joke, like I’m still the guy who can brush everything off with a grunt and a glare, I realize I can’t pretend anymore.
"No," I say, shaking my head. "Definitely not that. But I know how to deal with Coyote Glen drama, don’t you worry."
She looks at me for a moment, her expression softer than usual. I can see the weight lifting just a little. Then she breaks the tension with a little laugh.
And damn it if that sound doesn’t hit me right in the chest.
"You know," she says, her voice teasing, "for someone who’s been so good at ignoring me since that night, you’re really bad at pretending you don’t care."
The jab stings more than I want to admit, and the guilt hits me all at once. I look away for a second, running a hand through my hair. "Ivy, I…"
She cuts me off with a smirk, her tone light but pointed. "Oh, don’t get all serious on me now. You’re the king of ‘I don’t do feelings,’ right?"
I let out a frustrated breath, leaning against a nearby post, staring at her like I’m trying to figure her out. "It’s not that. I just didn’t know how to handle all this. You. Us. It’s all been messy as hell."
She studies me for a second, a small smile creeping onto her face. "Yeah, no kidding."
I reach up without thinking, brushing a strand of hair from her face again. My fingers linger a little longer than I mean to, and I can feel the heat of her skin under my touch.
I can feel the heat between us, thick and undeniable. Her eyes are still locked on mine, and there’s that tension in the air, building. Her breath quickens, just enough to make my chest tighten, and before I can stop myself, my hand is on her chin, tilting her face up to mine.
And this is the part where I’d normally shut it all down. Turn away. Say something sarcastic or cold just to keep the wall up.
But I don’t.
Not this time.
Because I’m tired. Of pretending I don’t care. Of acting like I didn’t feel something the second she walked into my life again. Every part of me has been clawing to keep distance, to stay in control, but when she looks at me like this, like she sees all the chaos I try to hide… I can’t keep lying to either of us.
She deserves the truth. Even if I’m terrified of what she’ll do with it.
Before I can stop myself, my hand is on her chin, tilting her face up to mine. My thumb brushes her skin, slow, steady, like I’m trying to memorize the shape of this moment.
"I want you, Ivy," I say, the words coming out darker than I expect. "But it’s your choice. I know Freddie and Timothy want you too."
And it nearly kills me to say it. To name the other men I know she could turn to. But I’d rather give her the truth than try to trap her in something built on denial.
This isn’t about winning. It’s about standing still long enough for her to see me, finally see me, and decide for herself if I’m worth the risk.
Her lips part slightly, and the look in her eyes, this mixture of curiosity, hesitation, and something else, I see it all. She’sweighing me, this, the whole damn thing, and I want to scream out to her that I’m not going anywhere. That I’m here. But I’m not going to rush it.
I’m giving her space. Giving her the control.
