I just told – no, I demanded – that Ivy stay with me, at my house, for the entire weekend until we could get her house fixed. If I thought that Breanna was pissed at me before, now she was likely to actually grow horns and kill me. She’d probably send me straight to hell, but my heart had spoken before the rational part of my brain could catch up, and now I was stuck.
Not that I was really complaining.
Ivy and me, at my house, like old times…yeah, I was more than eager.
When I opened my door earlier and saw her standing on my front porch with wet hair and clothes clinging to every curve of her body, I almost passed out. My dick all but jumped to action and my mouth was as dry as the Sahara Desert.
She was beautiful, but also looked so sexy that she could have been on the cover of Sports Illustrated. Her brown locks were darkened and framed her heart-shaped face; her emerald eyes were wide and pulled me in so fast that I couldn’t have held onto anything to keep me from being swept up in their twinkle. My eyes traveled down her frame and I could see every single round curve of her body. I could see the color of her bra through her soaked, sheer blouse, and the skirt she wore…it was hugging her hips like a boa constrictor cutting off someone’s circulation. Gorgeous tan legs led down to her cute bare feet with toenails painted purple…she was adorable.
She was this perfect, beautiful, sexy woman who was standing on my front porch, soaked from head to toe.
I wanted to wrap her in my arms and drag her back into my house and never leave again.
Once I’d snapped out of my daydream, I managed to climb back into rational Dawson’s body and figure out what the hell was going on.
Which is what I was still doing.
Sure, I had a moment of relapse when I’d asked her to stay at my house, but I sent her on her merry way so I could get some of my employees over here to set up fans and start cleaning up their mess.
If I was jerk, I’d fire the men I’d sent to take measurements earlier, since they were the ones who’d made this mess, but I wasn’t an asshole.
They’d have to work after hours to fix the problem, but I realized that everyone made mistakes and that everyone deserved a second chance, so their jobs were safe – for now.
“Okay, I’m going to head back home,” I yelled back to the guys wringing out sopping wet rugs and angling fans towards Ivy’s soaked floor.
I was still only wearing jeans and although I was a hot-natured guy, I was beginning to feel cold. Oak Hill’s fall was always crisp and chilly, just the way I liked it, but standing here almost naked, my nipples could cut through glass.
On the walk back over to my house, I tried to come up with a rational explanation to give Breanna regarding the fact that Ivy – the person who drove Breanna into acting like a possessive psycho – would be sleeping in the same house as me.
Our last conversation was me basically informing her that we needed some time apart to think, and here I was, doing the complete opposite of thinking. I was doing.
I brought my gaze to my porch before even crossing to the right side of the street.
Ivy was sitting on the front stoop of my house, still wearing the same clothes as earlier, and although they weren’t hugging her body any longer, she was still just as compelling.
My brows crinkled the closer I got to her. Her head popped up when she heard my scuffle on the sidewalk, and her eyes grew wide.
“Why aren’t you inside?” I questioned, closing the distance between us.
She said nothing. She only drove those forest-green eyes into me.
“When did you do it?” Her voice was as soft as a whisper but still demanding.
“Do what?” I asked, eyeing her suspiciously.
Ivy stood up and crossed her arms over her chest. She walked over and leaned against the porch pillar and then jutted her head at the front of the house.
“Did you do this? Did you build this house? Did Lanning Construction build it?”
So, my suspicions were correct. She really hadn’t seen it yet. I figured she hadn’t, or she would have said something, and I honestly could not believe that Becca had never told her. But, then again, Becca lived on the complete other side of town. She might not know, either.
I climbed the steps and leaned against the rail on the other side of the porch, crossing my arms over my bare chest, still feeling the cool evening air brush along my exposed skin.
I narrowed my eyes. “How have you avoided this street for so long? Have you been taking the long way into work since moving back?”
She swallowed and averted her eyes down. My heart ached a little in my chest but I pushed it away.
“Yeah…” she whispered, then looked back up at me. Her eyes burned with such heavy truth that it rocked me to the core. The hurt was still there. It’d been six years since her parents passed but it still hurt her just as deeply. Which hurt me. “I know it’s been awhile, but the pain is just as bad. Just because I’d grieved and moved on, that kind of pain doesn’t leave you, ya know? I just didn’t know if I could handle seeing some different house in the spot that my house used to be. I didn’t want to put myself through that.”