Chapter Five
Ivy
I crack my eyes open with a groan, vaguely aware that I'm naked except for my panties, my body covered by a single sheet. My head is pounding, and my mouth feels like the inside of a sewer.
I move my head gingerly, trying to take in some of my surroundings. I'm lying in a strange bed, the mattress cocooning my body like a cloud of marshmallows.
I'm in a bedroom—a man's judging by the clothes folded neatly on the nearby chair and the items on the dresser.
"What the fuck?" I whisper to myself.
Where am I? And how did I get here? Have I been kidnapped?
The slamming of a door nearby makes me jump. I lie still, listening intently.
Should I call out? I shiver, feeling exposed and vulnerable. Footsteps echo on hard flooring, and I hold my breath. Someone's coming. I pray whoever it is will keep walking. I need time to figure out where I am and get the hell out of here. The footsteps come to a halt outside the door. My breath is still trapped somewhere between my throat and my lungs.
Think, Ivy! What's the last thing you remember?
An image pops into my head just as the door begins to open.
The last person I remember is… Ashton! Leaning over me after Brent tried to…
The door opens, and I close my eyes, trying to regulate my breathing. Hopefully, my kidnapper will think I'm still sleeping and leave me alone again.
My heart is beating a staccato against my ribs, and my chest rises and falls rapidly. I'm sure my kidnapper must be able to see the pulse beating at my throat.
"Don't panic, Ivy. You're safe," a deep voice murmurs.
I stiffen, and my eyes pop open along with my mouth. "Ashton?"
He frowns. He hates it when I use his full name, but I'm just so shocked to see him. No wonder I didn't recognize my surroundings—I’ve never been to his apartment before.
"Yes, Ivy. It's Ash," he replies, stating the obvious.
My nipples harden beneath the thin sheet at the sound of his voice. His eyes drop, and I know he's clocked my body's betrayal by the tiny satisfied smile that pulls at his mouth.
"Why am I naked?" I demand. "How did I get here? What's going on?"
He moves to sit on the edge of the bed, reaching for the glass of water on the bedside table along with the ibuprofen he obviously placed there earlier. "Take these, and I'll explain."
I do as he asks, swallowing the pills and draining the glass.
He leans forward, smoothing his hand over my hair, watching with fascination as it sifts through his fingers. "Your friend, Brent, slipped a little something extra into your drink last night. He had every intention of forcing himself on you once it took hold," he explains, his face tight with anger.
I look at him in shock. "He—I—"
"Don't worry. I stopped him. Saw him follow you outside. God knows what the stupid fool thought he was doing, why he thought he’d get away with it. I took care of him, and your mom and I agreed you should come here while she's in New York. Your dress was ripped, so I stripped it off you. Then I left you to sleep off the drugs. I've been checking on you every hour or so since yesterday."
"Yesterday?" I look at him in disbelief. I pull myself into a sitting position, clutching the sheet to my chest. "How long was I out?
"Fifteen hours, give or take."
"Fifteen hours!" I squeak, trying to keep up.
He nods. "And one other thing. While you were sleeping in my bed, I jacked off in the shower, imagining I was fucking you raw."
My mouth drops open in shock as color runs up my neck and into my face. "I—I don't understand."