Ivie certainly has less experience with hand-to-hand than she does firing a gun. We spend an hour just going over the basics.
She’s sweaty and panting when I give her the order to go ahead and punch Curt in the face.
“No.” She turns to me in horror. “I’m not going to actually punch him.”
“Yes, you are.”
“It’s okay,” Curt assures her. “You can’t hurt me.”
Ivie’s eyes narrow at the challenge, and I see determination fill them as she takes the stance we’ve been teaching her, stomps on his foot, then follows through with a right hook to the jaw, sending Curt back on his ass.
“Oh, yeah?” Ivie asks, staring down at him.
“Okay, I was wrong.” He cradles his jaw in his hand and shifts it back and forth. “That hurt. Nice one, Miss Ivie.”
“Thanks.” She grins and offers her hand to help him off the floor.
But Curt doesn’t like to be touched, so he just shakes his head and climbs to his feet unassisted.
“One more time,” Curt says.
“I really don’t want to hit you again,” Ivie says and turns pleading eyes to me. “Don’t make me.”
“You’re too nice,” Curt says and approaches her from behind. Wrapping his arm around her neck, Ivie immediately slips into defensive mode. She slips out of his hold, knees him in the balls, and jams the heel of her hand into his nose, making it bleed. “Never mind. Not too nice.”
“Oh, God.” Ivie covers her face with her hands. “I’m so sorry.”
“You did exactly what you were supposed to do,” Curt says and dabs at his nose. “I provoked you on purpose. A few more lessons, and you’ll be able to kick both our asses with a blindfold on.”
Ivie’s smile is wide and proud. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Curt replies. “Good job.”
“Why won’t Curt talk about himself?” Ivie asks when we walk into the house, and I start making us sandwiches for a late lunch.
“I told you, he has some baggage. He doesn’t like to be around people.”
“He can’t be more than thirty-five,” she says.
“What does his age have to do with anything?”
She shrugs and bites into a potato chip. “I don’t know. It just seems sad. He’s so young.”
I stop opening the mayo and slowly turn to her. “Ivie, are you telling me that you have a crush on my ranch manager?”
She scowls and then laughs. “No. No, he’s not the one I have a crush on at all. I just feel bad for him because he seems kind. And he’s young and handsome and—”
“If you keep singing Curt’s praises, I’ll fire him.”
She laughs in earnest and crosses over to me. She wraps her arms around my middle and lays her cheek on my chest. “I just like him. And maybe I feel bad for him.”
“Don’t.” I kiss the top of her head. “He’s where he wants to be, doing what he loves.”
She sighs and then tips her face up to mine. “I’m glad you’re his friend. I’m hungry.”
“If you stop singing Curt’s praises, I’ll finish making lunch.”
She grins. “Deal.”
She pulls another handful of chips out of the bag and munches happily as she watches me build sandwiches.
“Are we ever going to have sex?”
The turkey falls out of my hand and onto the counter as I spin and stare at her. “What?”
“Sex. You and me. Is it ever going to happen, or are we just going to flirt and kiss and drive me crazy forever? I just want to know so I can plan accordingly.”
“What if the answer is no sex?”
She shrugs. “Then I need to order a vibrator or something because a girl can’t be with a sexy guy like you forever and not touch the goods. Is that how it’s going to be?”
“Fuck, no.” I shake my head and return to the sandwiches. “You were a little upset last night, Ivie. And we had things to do this morning.”
“So, you’re a planner when it comes to sex.”
I cut the sandwiches and deliver them to the breakfast bar. She immediately digs into hers as if we’re discussing the stock market. I take a bite, as well.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You just said—”
“I know what I said. And it didn’t include plans for sex. It just wasn’t…shit, I don’t know. I want you so badly that I ache with it. I’ve wanted you naked and under me the minute I saw you at Annika’s wedding, for Christ’s sake. Keeping my hands to myself has been the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
“Cool. Let’s not do that anymore, okay?”
“Do what?”
“Keep our hands to ourselves. I’m sleeping in your bed. I haven’t told you no, and I don’t plan to. I’m on the pill, I’m healthy, and I want you, Shane. I’m not playing games here. This also isn’t a Stockholm syndrome thing. I’d want you under any circumstance. So now you know.”
“Are you about done with that sandwich?”
She grins and sets it on the plate. “Yeah.”
“Good.”
I circle the breakfast bar and take her face in my hands, staring down into her fierce, blue eyes. “If there’s anything you don’t like, you need to tell me.”
“I’m not shy, and I don’t think you could do much that I won’t like.”
“Jesus, I don’t deserve you.” I kiss her long and hard and then take her hands and pull her quickly through the house to my bedroom. I close and lock the door.
“Expecting someone?” she asks.
“I’m not taking any damn chances.” I shuck my boots and yank my shirt over my head. “Now that I have you here, right where I want you, I’m not taking any chances that someone could fuck this up.”
“Good plan.” She smiles and pulls the band out of her ponytail, setting her hair free, letting it tumble around her shoulders. Then, she calmly pulls her pink shirt over her head and lets it fall to the floor. With her eyes on mine, she unclasps her bra from the front and drops it with the shirt.
I swallow hard. Jesus fucking Christ, she’s gorgeous. Those full breasts that I can’t wait to get my hands on are on full display, her nipples already tight and begging for my lips.
When she reaches for the waistband of her yoga pants, I shake my head once and then step forward.
“Let me,” I whisper as I take her hand in mine and draw it up to my lips. “Let me unwrap the rest of you. I’m going to worship every damn inch of your gorgeous body.”
“It’s good, then, that I have lots of extra inches for you to enjoy.” Her lips twitch, in both humor and a little insecurity.
“Every bit of you is stunning. And I’m going to show you, slowly and methodically, just how much I want you. All of you. Every bit.”
“Oh, that sounds like a good idea.”
Chapter 8
~Ivie~
Has anyone ever looked at me the way Shane’s gazing at me right now? Like he wants to eat me with a spoon?