Surviving Ice (Burying Water 4)

But I can tell by the look in his eyes now that this wasn’t a forgetful slip up in the heat of the moment.

He waits inside me, letting me decide what I want to do.

How safe I feel with him.

How much I trust him.

I curl my arms around his head and pull his mouth down. And push my hips into him.

He moans softly against my ear and then starts to move, the muscles in his body cording in such a beautiful way with each thrust, as they come harder and faster, and his pants grow louder, the bed creaking noisily with each one until the headboard is knocking on the wall behind us.

I don’t care about that, though. All I can think about is that Sebastian is about to orgasm inside me.

Just the thought of that brings me immediately to the edge. His own groans follow closely behind, and I revel in the feel of him pulsing inside me, my thighs squeezing his body involuntarily.

My chest swelling with warmth and adoration.

I’ve never trusted anyone this much.

Completely.

He rolls us over so that I’m lying on top of him, but he doesn’t pull out.

We fall asleep like that.

THIRTY-TWO

SEBASTIAN

The lemon falls from the branch with barely a touch of my fingers.

“I was thinking of making a lemon pie later today.” Dakota strolls into the greenhouse behind me, coffee in hand. “Do you like lemon pie?”

“I do.” I smile, counting out four more on the branches. “They remind me of Greece.”

“What’s in Greece?”

“A vacation.” My villa, for another week. Sitting empty.

Dakota hums softly as she plucks the other ripe fruit from their branches and drops them into the hem of a billowy white shirt. Hums, just like she did half an hour ago, when I was taking a shower and she strolled into the bathroom to pee. I didn’t think to lock the pocket door from her bedroom.

There really wasn’t much I could do. This is her quirky little house with only one bathroom.

“Thanks for letting me stay here.”

“Plumbing, right?” She says it like she knows I’m lying.

“Right.”

The sound of Ivy’s bare feet padding into the greenhouse turns my attention and, thankfully, ends that conversation. She’s fresh from the shower, her long black hair combed poker straight. I’ve gathered that she’s not much of a morning person, because I couldn’t get her up with me, even with the lure of a shared shower. She’s a deep sleeper; I know because I listened to her breathing for hours last night, while I watched the street and played through various scenarios, and then again when she went back to sleep, and I played through our conversation. Her words bring me comfort, but they’re just words, born of ignorance. She’d like to believe in me, that I only do good, with the best of intentions. Hell, I’d like to think that, too. And I did, up until this assignment. But the more time I have to dwell on it, the less settled I feel for having handed that video to Bentley.

The more I wonder if I’ve been lied to by the only man besides my father I trust unequivocally.

“Good morning, Ivy. The pot of coffee is almost brewed. I’ll get you a cup.” Dakota whispers something to her on her way by, earning Ivy’s confused look, and then her sharp gaze on me.

I force the dark cloud from my thoughts. “She brings you coffee, too?” I lean down to steal a quick kiss from her lips as she closes the distance, tasting the mint from her toothpaste. She’s already hidden her eyes behind dark makeup.

“And breakfast, sometimes. What were you two talking about out here?”

I shrug. “Lemons. And Greece.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” I frown. “Why? What’d she say?”

“That I’m a very lucky girl.” She smirks, her fingers coiling around my belt buckle and giving me a tug closer to her. “That usually only means one thing with Dakota.”

“Oh.” I shake my head but grin. “Might have something to do with the clear shower curtain and her walking in on me.”

Ivy groans, but her tiny smirk tells me she’s not mad. “Get used to it, as long as you’re staying here. She does it to me almost every day.”

“That’s . . . weird.”

“That’s Dakota.” She hesitates. “As long as you don’t pull the curtain open to invite her in, we won’t have any issues.”

I wrap my arms around her body. “Are you jealous?”

“No!” she throws back instantly, tension coursing down her back. I’m guessing being jealous would be as unappealing as being needy in Ivy’s book.

Dakota’s hot, I’ll give her that, but I need more than just looks. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

Her hands run over my chest and down to my stomach as if memorizing the curves before her sharp, dark eyes peer up at me. “I’ve never let anyone do that before.”

She doesn’t have to spell it out. I smile. “I’ve never wanted to do that with anyone.” That’s the truth. I haven’t come inside a woman since my ex-fiancée, and with her, it was more laziness than my own need. But with Ivy last night . . . I wanted to fill her with me. I wanted to mark her, in a way.

Just the idea had me rock hard.

I should have asked first, but . . .

Ivy inhales deeply and then releases. “Hopefully you’ll get this plumbing issue fixed soon, and we can stay at your place once in a while.”

She’s watching my expression to see if she can read something from it. She still probably thinks I have a girlfriend hiding back home, even though I’ve told her that’s not the case. “Yeah, hopefully.” I checked out of the shit motel yesterday morning. I’m going to have to find a short-term rental somewhere, so we have some privacy while I’m here. Which could be a while, because I’m not going anywhere until I figure out exactly why that car was parked outside her uncle’s house yesterday.

Ivy averts her gaze, but I sense the tension lifting. “So . . . lemons and Greece.” She reaches up to touch the still-green one hanging.

“Yeah. Do you wanna go?” I blurt out.

Her eyes dart to my face. “Where? Greece?”

I nod.

“With you?”

I smile and nod again. The idea hit me last night. It’d get her far away from Scalero and this city and her uncle’s death. She loves to travel, and she has no issues picking up and going. Would she go with me, though?

She looks to be considering it. But then she sighs, and I know the answer. “I wish I could. But my cousin’s relying on me to get the house and the shop sorted out for selling. I can’t just take off.” Very quickly, she adds, “But I would, if things were different.”

I accept her decline with a nod.

“Does that mean . . .” She frowns, hesitating. “Are you leaving? I remember you saying that you were going after I finished your tattoo.”

“Do you want me to leave?” I already know she doesn’t. I’m just wondering if she’ll actually say it out loud.

She purses her lips and shakes her head no. Admitting that was a big step for her. Admitting that she’s falling for me last night was an even bigger one.

I smile. “Then I’m not going anywhere.”