Ким Карр - Mended

“Ivy,” he yells out, pounding into me at an unrelenting pace. “Look at me.”

Opening my eyes, I delight in watching him, but I can’t hold it off another minute. Lifting my hips, I grasp hold of his arms and move with him. Leaving no space between us—we come together, shouting each other’s names in unison. When he stops moving, he buries his face in my chest, practically panting. He licks his way up and I can feel his warm breath near my neck and hear his heart pounding against mine. Stepping back slightly, he slips out of me and I feel a sudden, overwhelming loss.

I pull him to me. “Don’t leave.”

He drags his teeth along my jawbone, sending a shiver down my spine. “I’ll be right back,” he says as he pulls me off the desk, and then he goes into the bathroom.

I stand there watching him—the boy who made love to me over and over is now a man that I don’t think I can ever get enough of. The feeling of having him inside me is something I’ve never forgotten, and I never thought I’d feel it again. It’s a feeling I now know I can’t live without. When he comes out of the bathroom, he rakes his eyes down my body in a way that makes my heart skip a beat. I stare at his tattoo as he walks back into the room and grabs the door handle, pulling the slide bar back and letting the door close on its own.

I start laughing uncontrollably, and he looks at me, then does the same.

“It might not have been so hysterical if Garrett had walked in on us,” he says, crossing the room with a confidence that makes my stomach flutter.

I bite my lip and stare into the depths of his eyes as he stands in front of me. Wrapping his arms around me, he inhales a deep breath. He runs his hands down my body and I relish his touch. When he presses his cheek to mine, his soft stubble makes me shiver. His body moves flush with mine, and I brush my fingers down the length of his side, blindly tracing the letters.

“I must be dreaming,” I tell him, leaning back and looking into his intense greenish-brown eyes. My voice is hoarse, but not the least bit weak.

He places his fingers under my chin and lifts it, tilting my face just enough to press his lips to mine. “No, baby, it’s not a dream. This is real.” He plants sweet kisses around my mouth, and his words undo me.

He walks me backward until the backs of my knees are touching the bed. “This time I want to take it slow. I want to make love to you, and I think the bed is a better choice than the desk.”

I open my mouth to agree, but he pushes me back and I fall with a laugh onto the soft mattress, looking up at him. The pulse beating in his throat makes me smile. We stare at each other for the longest time—me lying on the bed, with my feet on the floor, and him standing over me, with the corners of his mouth turned up in the sexiest grin. Then suddenly the mood seems so serious and my laughter stops.

“I missed that smile,” he tells me.

I don’t say anything because I know if I do I’ll just cry again. He could always make me smile—not the fake one I have to put on for the sake of my career—and the mention of everything we once had together swells my heart. He licks his lips and I back up slightly on the bed, inviting him to join me. The mattress dips as he crawls onto it and settles beside me. I trace my finger around his moist, full lips, he smiles, and I whisper, “I’ve missed yours too.”

Tucking his head into my neck, he kisses his way down my body, then rolls us around. We touch, stroke, and lick every inch of each other for what doesn’t seem nearly long enough. Both breathing heavily, we’re tangled in the sheets and he’s hovering over me—his eyes roaming every uncovered inch of my body. The lights are still on and I’m glad, because I want to watch him, see him, make up for all the days that have passed that I never got to see his beautiful face.

He hovers over me and hesitates for a moment. He presses his forehead to mine, and I ask, “What’s wrong?”

“I want to feel you. Really feel you—like I used to.”

I stare at him, knowing what he wants but not sure he wants to hear what I have to say. “Xander, I’m on the pill, but I haven’t been tested since—”

Lifting himself up, he cuts me off. “I’m clean, Ivy.”

“Make love to me,” I answer, giving him the go-ahead not to wear a condom.

With a soft groan, he centers himself and heat floods me. His face smolders when he looks down at me, and I can feel my need for him all the way down to my toes. His teeth clench and he bites his lower lip as he slowly pushes into me. His cock—long, thick, and hard—fills me. Skin to skin—the feeling is magical, and both of our bodies tremble with the intimate contact. My arms circle his back and my fingers press hard into his muscles as we move together in the same rhythm.

I pull his mouth to mine and softly kiss him. Returning my kiss with the same tenderness, he pulls out of me and I search him for an answer as to why. My question is answered when he rolls onto his back, bringing me with him. Straddling him, I guide his cock back inside me and he lets out a guttural groan. My legs squeeze his body as I sit up and press my hands to his chest for support. His hands find my breasts, and he rolls and fondles the nipples into hard peaks. With his hands on me and his cock inside me, I just close my eyes as bliss washes through my veins.

When his fingers stop massaging my chest, I open my eyes and look into his face to see that it’s full of desire. I gasp when his hand slides between my legs and his thumb rubs circles around my clit. “Do you like this?” he asks.

Moaning, I arch my body and throw my head back. “Yes,” I scream, moving my hands behind me and clutching his knees. I want to wait for him, but the higher I lift myself off his cock and the harder I slam down on him, the more intense the feeling. When he rubs my clit harder and harder, moving his thumb in smaller and faster circles, my body starts to tremble and I can’t hold back any longer. “Oh God. Yes!” I scream, and everything in the world seems to stop except for this feeling of pure heaven.

“Fuck, Ivy, yes!” he yells.

I open my eyes as my orgasm rolls through me. Watching him, I know he’s coming too. His eyes close and with one final thrust I can feel him filling me. When he opens his eyes and looks at me with that look I could never resist—I melt.

“I love you.” The words just tumble out without any advance thought. I regret saying them immediately. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” I shift my eyes away from him, knowing the words were automatic and true, but it’s too soon to actually say them. I roll away and throw my legs off the bed, but before my feet hit the floor his hands clutch my waist and his hard chest nestles against my back.

“Where are you going?”

Without turning toward him, I answer, “To the bathroom.”

“Not yet. Turn around, Ivy. Look at me.”

He sits down on the bed and pulls my legs off the floor and lifts me back on his lap. “Okay, now we’re going to do this again. You start by saying ‘I love you.’ But this time when you say it, keep looking at me and don’t turn away as soon as the words come out.”

“Xander, I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know why I did.”

“Look at me, Ivy,” he commands, and I do. “You know why you said it—it’s because you feel the same way I do. Look, we could play the game—pretend we both didn’t feel what we felt the minute we saw each other at the pool, but I’d rather not. I loved you when I was fourteen. I loved you when I was eighteen and had to let you go. I’ve loved you for the last twelve years. And I love you now. Ivy—I love you.”

Hearing those words from his lips seems surreal. My stomach flutters and I throw my arms around his neck. “I love you, Xander. I love you,” I tell him, holding him and wanting to never let him go.

He holds me close and I don’t even question his words, not for a second. I don’t need to. I can feel it. I can hear it. I can see it. It’s written all over him—it’s even etched on his body. It’s real and right. It’s everything I’ve been missing and everything I want. He’s mine, and this time I’ll never let him go. We were always so much alike. We covered up our feelings, pushed them aside, wore a strong armor to face the world, but with each other we were bared—no shields, no masks—just what was real and what was true. And the emotions I’m feeling between us right now tell me that hasn’t changed—they tell me I’m home.

He swats my ass a few minutes later. “Now let me get up and get something to clean us up.”

I lean back and smile at him. He bends down and bites my lip. “Or come with me and we’ll take a shower.”

Tightening my grip, I let my body answer for me.

“Shower it is,” he says as he moves off the bed with my legs wrapped around his waist.

Thirty minutes later we’re lying in bed in the pitch-dark room. I’m spent, sated, and happier than I’ve been in such a long time. Pulling me to him, he hugs me like he used to—arms and legs wrapped around me, squeezing so tight.

“I love you, Ivy Taylor,” he whispers.

“I love you, Xander Wilde,” I whisper back. And then I close my eyes, feeling so full of raw emotion I could burst with happiness.

Xander

Daylight threatens to break at any moment. We’re lying here together, and it seems unreal. I can hear our heartbeats in the silence between us. In all the years we’ve been apart I’ve never found anyone that makes me feel like she does. It’s as if my heart closed off after our breakup and it took her letting me back in to reopen it. Hearing her say those three words to me last night and telling her I felt the same—it was the truest and most honest feeling I’ve ever shared with anyone.

I’m rubbing circles along her back and she’s tracing the lines that are inked down my side. We slept only a few hours, but I feel more rested than I have in weeks. I woke up this morning ready for her, so I put my hands between her legs and did everything to her I’ve wanted to do over the past month.

Now she’s lying on my chest and the sapphire earrings are still in her ears. “My grandmother would be happy that you still wear the earrings she gave you.”

She clutches one and twists it in her ear. “I never take them out. They’re the most special gift I’ve ever received.”

My hand catches the back of her neck and I tilt her head toward mine. Her statement makes me equally as happy and sad.

“I loved her too, you know. I’m sorry I didn’t make it to her funeral.”

“Yes, I miss her, and my grandfather. At least they didn’t have to be apart long. The six months my grandfather was alive without her, he was lost. I moved in with him when his depression took over. Really he just didn’t want to live without her. And at eighty—who could blame him? He had been with her for so long and he just really loved her.”

Silence takes over and we lie here together.

“Tell me something?” she asks, flipping onto her back and staring at the ceiling.

“Anything.”

“How do you see this going?” she asks, motioning between the two of us.

My lips twist into a sad smile as I pull her onto my chest. “We’ll take one day at a time together. Twelve years is a long time and we have a lot to learn about each other. But I’m not planning on spending any more days apart.”

“Do you think relationships can work that way?”

“What way is that?”

“That something once broken, irreparably, like us, can be so easily mended?”

I shift to hover over her, taking her wrists and pinning her arms to her sides. Kissing her neck, I slide my tongue up to her mouth before answering. “I think all relationships are different and each one has its own dynamics. There are no rules to follow. So, yes, I think if we both want this bad enough there’s no reason we can’t have it.”

Her eyes flicker from my eyes to my lips, and I take that as a sign not only that she agrees but also that she wants me to kiss her, which I most happily do.

* * *

We’ve spent the morning naked in bed, ordering room service and just talking. We talked about my brother and his decision to leave the band. I even told her about the difficulty I had accepting his decision. She told me about her years in Chicago and that she hasn’t seen her family in some time. She told me why she stopped singing last year, and I was really proud of her for taking a stand and trying to gain control of her own career. Then she finally told me about her money worries and why she doesn’t want to piss Damon off. We got lost in so many conversations that when I finally pick up my phone to check the time, I bolt straight up. “Shit, it’s almost eleven.”