"As clear as a damn glass window," I shot back, frustrated for a thousand and one equally important reasons.
His lips twitched. "What is your deal?" One of his hands dropped to my hip. He squeezed gently as he gave a little shake of his head. "Do you still love him?"
I stiffened as if I'd stepped under an icy downpour. "What?"
"Do you still love the guy you lost?" he questioned. "Is that it?"
A huge part of me couldn't believe he dared to even ask me that question, that he would even reference Shaun when we were this close. It seemed so wrong, as if we were spitting on his memory, but the words still tumbled off my tongue. "A . . . part of me will always love him."
"Meaning you aren't still in love with him."
Lowering my gaze, I couldn't respond to that. Losing Shaun had devastated me, and my role in his death had nearly broken me, but I wasn't still holding on to him. Not in that way, and I wouldn't lie and use that as a reason.
"I don't get it then."
"Why do you even want me?" My voice shook. "You barely know me."
He stared at me a moment, incredulity etching into his features. "What I know is that there is no guarantee of tomorrow. There is no promise there will be another day or week for us. When you want something, you go for it. I don't need to know your life story to want you. And don't twist that back on me. I see it already building in those pretty blue eyes. I want to know your story. I want to know you. I want—oh, fuck it."
Ren cupped my cheek, his hand gentle as he tilted my head back, and before my heart could take another beat, he kissed me.
It was no slow or seductive kiss.
He claimed my lips as if he were laying claim to my body, to my soul, and every part of me. His mouth was demanding as he tilted his head, his lips moving over mine, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips, willing them to part, and I . . . I opened for him. My lips parted, and he made this sound, this deep animalistic groan that sent flames lapping over my skin. The kiss deepened, and his tongue slid over mine, along the roof of my mouth. He took me with his mouth, tasted me and claimed me.
When he lifted his head, he was breathing deeply as he stared into my eyes. They swirled in a multitude of greens as he dragged his thumb along my lower lip.
"I . . . I've never been kissed like that," I whispered, awed by the way my lips tingled.
"Oh, fuck, Ivy," he groaned, and then his mouth was on mine again.
This time, he explored leisurely, as if he were mapping out the contours of my lips, and I . . . kissed him back.
The hand on my hip tightened as I flicked my tongue along his lip, and he moaned into my kiss. His hand slid down my hip, over my thigh, and then under the hem of my skirt. Those deft fingers glided over my dagger, and a fierce heat built, overshadowing all thought. I didn't understand why. I didn't care. His hand curved over my rear. He lifted me onto the tips of my toes, his hips fitting with mine, and I felt him against my core. Sharp spikes of pleasure shot through me. My arms circled his neck, and that kiss . . . oh God, it went to a whole new level, and what I said moments before was true. No one had ever kissed me with such reckless passion.
His hand worked under my skirt, kneading my flesh, urging me on, and I went. My back arched, my hips pushed against his as I clung to him. He said something against my mouth, between the kisses. I couldn't make it out, but I felt a tremor rock his hard body. I was lost in him, surrendering to the feelings he was creating inside me.
Breaking the kiss, he rested his forehead against mine, but his hand still moved along the curve of my bottom. His voice was thick. "I'm going to try to be the good guy here."
A shaky laugh burst out of me. "I think . . . you are failing at that."
"Nah. If I wasn't trying, I'd have these tiny panties . . ." he trailed his hand up, under the band along my bottom, causing me to gasp, "down by your ankles, and I would be so deep inside you, right here, against a goddamn cement beam."
I shuddered. Part of me was down for that. Lots of parts of me were totally down for that.
"I was raised a little better than that," he added quietly.
The statement surprised me, but he kissed me again, and this time it was different. Our lips brushed once, twice, the act infinitely sweeter and yet as shattering as the deeper, hotter ones. Shivers raced up and down my spine. Ren kissed me gently, tracing the pattern of my lips, and the pressure of his mouth consumed me, awakened me, and it was all I could think about. Deliciously wicked warmth slipped down my neck, spreading across my chest, and then lower.
Laughter suddenly echoed around us, from the entrance of the garage, alerting us that we were no longer alone. With one last lingering kiss, he lifted his mouth from mine and patted the cheek of my bottom and then withdrew his hand. Setting me flat on my feet, he fixed the skirt of my dress. Then he cupped my cheeks with both of his hands.
"Let's not rush forward, but don't let us take three steps back from this. Okay?" His voice was soft, and God, I wanted to yield to it. "Let's just see where this takes us. That's all we've got. That's all we can promise each other."
Staring into dark, forest green eyes, I found myself nodding. I couldn't believe it.
One side of his mouth creeped up and he kissed the center of my forehead then the tip of my nose. "Let's get out of here."
Like one of the humans from the club, recently fed from, I moved like I was in a daze, walking through water. And as I followed Ren to his truck, I no longer knew what was more dangerous to me—the fae or Ren, because both had the power to drag me under.
Chapter Fourteen
Things were weird for me Sunday morning. Well, weirder than normal. I wasn't even sure what I could categorize as normal when I came home last night from the club and discovered that Tink had set up his own Twitter account and was engaged in a heated argument over which actor made a better Dr. Who. Since I'd never watched an episode and frankly couldn't care less, I didn't even want to touch that conversation with a ten-foot pole.
When I woke up, all I could think about was Ren's touch, his kisses, and I refused to cave to the aching desire. I got up and immediately went for a run, and I ran harder than I ever had before, but the twisty motion in my stomach wouldn't fade. The sensation wasn't unpleasant. A mixture of excitement and confusion, it actually made me feel . . . normal, and that was so stupid. My priorities were goofing off on the wrong playground. I should have been stressing over where the gate was and how we were going to stop the fae when we were only days away from the equinox. I still wanted to go to David, to try and explain what we had discovered, but Ren had been adamant on the drive back to my apartment that it was too risky. It was then that I made up my mind. If I couldn't talk to Merle on Sunday, I was going to David, with or without Ren's approval.
And then my thoughts had pranced right back to Ren.
I knew what the problem was. I hadn't talked to anyone about him, and that was what I needed—to get it out of my head so I could move on and focus on more important things, like stopping a mass slaughter that was bound to happen if one single gate was opened.
But Val bailed on our Sunday coffee and book buying tradition. She had texted that she couldn't make it today, and I was willing to bet it had to do with the guy she was breaking beds with all across the city. I called Jo Ann, and we ended up at the coffee shop near the cemetery.
Dressed in loose sweats and a t-shirt with my hair pulled up in a messy knot, I knew I looked like a hot mess compared to Jo Ann's straight and shiny hair, her skinny jeans and blouse. Looking at her, I didn't get why she was so damn shy when it came to boys. She was really pretty, and she was sweet, smart, and kind.
As she sipped her latte and I chugged sweet tea like it was a college drinking game, we chatted about our classes, and then I finally made myself do it. I didn't know why it was so hard or how red my face was, but I did it.
"I met a guy," I blurted out around my straw.
Jo Ann's brows flew up. "You did? When?"
"A couple
of weeks ago. He . . . um, he works with me. From Colorado," I told her, feeling bad that there was a lot I had to keep secret.
She smiled as she sat back in the wicker chair, eyes glimmering with happiness. "Is he cute?"
"Cute?" I repeated, wanting to laugh as I toyed with my plastic cup. "I don't think cute is a strong enough word to describe him."
"Oh! Okay, then he's hot?"
I nodded as a small grin pulled at my lips. "Like really hot."
"Okay." She waited as she picked up her latte. "I have this feeling there's more to it. He must be a jerk then?"
"No," I admitted, glancing up at her. "He's actually nice . . . and kind of charming. He's aggressive—not in a bad, creepy way," I quickly added when Jo Ann started to frown. "I mean, he's the kind of guy that when he wants something, he lets it be known. He's not shy about that at all."
"All right." Taking a sip, she studied me. "So, he's hot and he's nice. He's a take charge kind of dude, but not in a creepy way." When I nodded, she asked, "Do you like him?"
My mouth opened, but again, I found it hard to find the right words. They were there, but there was a plug in the back of my throat.
"You like him," she teased.
I snorted. "How do you know?"
"Well, you've never mentioned a guy once to me, so that's a dead giveaway," she explained. Propping her elbow on the table between us, she rested her chin in her palm. "So, you totally like him. Just admit it. Say it. Say it for me, Ivy."
I laughed as I shook my head. "Okay. God." Letting my head fall back, I groaned. "I like him. I don't even know why, but I like him."
"You like him because apparently he's hot, nice, and charming."
"And smart," I muttered, rolling my eyes.
Jo Ann giggled. "You sound like that's a bad thing."
"It is." Lifting my head, I exhaled loudly. "I don't really know him."
She stared at me, expression baffled.
"I've only known him for a couple of weeks, and yeah, I have a mad case of insta-lust when it comes to him, but in a way, we're kind of strangers." I shrugged one shoulder. "So it just feels weird."
Her mouth opened, closed, and then opened again. "You know, I'm probably the worst person to get relationship advice from."
"True." I laughed.
Jo Ann's eyes narrowed. "But you do know that people usually are strangers when they meet and then they get to know each other through, I don't know, dating."
"The word 'date' hasn't really come up in conversations."
"Oh." Her nose wrinkled.
"Honestly, I haven't given him a chance to even get to that point, so I don't know if he's interested in . . . dating or just hooking up. I don't even know if I'm interested in dating," I admitted. The idea terrified me because I knew what it led to. A crap ton of heartbreak.
"Then what's the problem? If you both want it, go for it. Who knows? Maybe he wants to date. Maybe you do, and it becomes something serious." Glancing at the front door as it opened, she sighed. "I need to take my own advice."
"You do."
She grinned at me.
Tugging on the straw in my tea, I took a deep breath as my heart turned over heavily. "The last . . . the last guy I dated—the only guy I've been with—he died."
Her eyes widened. "What?"
Since Jo Ann knew about my foster parents' death, I decided it was best to stick with a half-truth. The three of them had died together. "He died with my parents in the car accident." I winced, mainly because that was so not how they died. "I loved him like anyone would their first crush, and I lost him."
Understanding flickered across Jo Ann's face, and I felt my cheeks warm. Talking about Shaun was never easy. "I get it," she said quietly. "You're not entirely ready to move on."
I glanced at her and then at the line of people at the counter. I really didn't see them. "It's been over three years, and I . . . I think I'm ready to move on, but does that . . ." Chest aching, I turned my gaze to her. "Is that wrong? Am I somehow betraying him? Because it kind of feels that way, you know? Like why do I get to move on and he's gone?"
"Oh, honey, that is not betraying him. I didn't know him, obviously, but if he cared for you, he wouldn't want you to never go out with another guy or fall in love again." She reached across the table and squeezed my hand. "Moving on is the right thing to do. Deep down, you know that."
"Yeah," I whispered, and that plug had turned into a messy knot, because in that moment, when I tried to picture Shaun's face, the details were all gone. He was blurry and so far away, and that hurt. But she was right. Deep down, I did realize that. "It's just overwhelming sometimes."
"Let me ask you a question," she said, leaning forward. "Do you trust him?"
The question bounced around in my skull. I know she meant it in a different way, since she had no idea what Ren and I did for a living, but her meaning was just as important. Did I trust him with my body? Potentially with my heart and all my secrets? A hard question to answer, not because I didn't know, but because it was what my answer truly symbolized.
Meeting Jo Ann's gaze, tiny knots formed low in my belly. "Yeah, I trust him."
~
A little after twelve o'clock, we said our goodbyes, and as Jo Ann climbed into the back of a cab, I pulled out my cell and called Brighton. When she answered and told me she was home, and that Merle was up for company, I almost hopped down the steps and did a little dance in the middle of the sidewalk.
I managed to control myself though.
Squinting from behind my sunglasses at the screen on my phone, I leaned against the wall surrounding the shopping center. I told Brighton I'd be over in a little bit, but that wasn't the only thing I'd told her.
I'd said that I might not be the only one paying a visit.
My thumb hovered over Ren's number. I trusted him, but this was a big step. Nervous, I glanced up and watched a trolley roll by. Then, without looking, I tapped on his name.
Ren answered on the second ring. "Ivy?"
I made a face. "Yeah. That would be me."
His answering chuckle was warm. "Sorry. I'm just surprised that you're calling me. I figured I was going to have to either wait until tomorrow to see you or hunt you down."
Struggling to keep the smile off my face, I paced in front of the brick wall under the oak trees. "Are you busy?"
"Never for you."
There was no holding back the giddy grin at that point, and I was grateful only strangers were walking past me at that moment. "Can you meet me at the shopping center on Prytania Street? There's something I want you to do with me."
A moment passed. "If I told you the images and thoughts flashing through my head right now, you'd probably hang up on me."
"Probably," I said, laughing.
"I can be there in about twenty minutes. Cool with you?"
I nodded and then felt like an idiot because I was on the phone. "Perfect."
The sleek, black motorcycle rumbled up to the curb about fifteen minutes later, and I didn't even want to think about the speed he was driving to make it to the Garden District that fast on a Sunday afternoon.
As I approached the back of the bike, he handed a helmet to me and lifted his. He smiled crookedly, showcasing one of the dimples. "Where are we off to, milady?"
I shook my head at him as I held the helmet. "It's just a couple of blocks down." Giving him the directions, I got on the back of the bike.
"By the way, you look cute today. Like the relaxed Ivy. Never seen her before."
My cheeks flushed and I wanted to kick myself.
"Careful with the backpack," he continued. "There'll be sharp and pointy things in there we can play with later."
That perked my interest in really bizarre ways. I slipped my helmet on and then circled my arms around his waist, careful not to press against his back. It took only minutes to get from the shop and pull up in front of the antebellum home. As he parked the bike and took his helmet off, I removed mine and was about to climb of
f the bike, but he turned around.
Clasping my cheeks with his large, calloused hands, he swooped in and tilted his head. He kissed me, right there on the side of