Jamison let out a helpless sigh. “You’re a woman, can’t you take better care of yourself? Maybe try being a little less rough?”
Ivy pressed her lips together, feeling the gentle warmth of the boiled egg as he rolled it across her bruised cheek. The sensation sent her thoughts spinning.
She used to be delicate, even a bit spoiled–always dressed in the finest clothes, never settling for less. But after those three difficult years, she’d grown rougher around the edges.
This little bruise was hardly worth mentioning; she barely noticed it, and if she didn’t look in the mirror, she’d forget it was even there.
But Jamison noticed. He didn’t just worry aloud–he showed it in everything he did, caring for her in ways that went beyond words,
Ivy stayed silent, her heart fluttering as she thought again about his impulsive proposal.
When she didn’t answer, Jamison pressed on, firmer this time. “Did you hear me? You’re not allowed to treat your body like this anymore.”
“I heard you. I just can’t promise I’ll always remember.”
He scoffed. “You’re giving me lip now?”
“No, I mean… maybe you could help keep me in check?”
His hand paused, egg hovering above her skin. His eyes, warm yet deep, fixed on her. Then, with a slow smile, he said, “Alright, I’ll keep an eye on you. And if you mistreat my girlfriend’s body again, I’ll have to punish you.”
“Oh? What kind of punishment?”
Jamison could tell she was different tonight–a playful glint flashed across his
handsome features.
He leaned in, the teasing in his voice unmistakable. With a gentle hand, he tipped up her chin. “Like this,” he murmured, and before she could react, his face was close, his lips finding hers in a soft, precise kiss.
Ivy didn’t resist. In fact, she’d seen it coming, and after a brief moment of shyness, she parted her lips, hesitant but receptive.
This time, it was Jamison who was caught off guard.
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He froze for a second, then all at once his eyes lit up, a smile breaking free on his lips.
“Ivy…”
He whispered her name, sweeping her into his arms and pulling her onto his lap, wrapping her in a secure embrace.
Flustered, Ivy gave his shoulder a light smack. “Careful, you’ll break the egg!”
“There’s another one in the pot.”
She had no words for that, her hands clutching his shoulders as she curled up, unsure how to respond.
Jamison kissed her again, both of them needing to shift angles for their features to fit together just right. Ivy felt the heat and restraint in his touch; even with her unspoken permission, he was gentle, never pushing too far.
He explored softly, taking his time–gentle, patient, attentive.
So this was Jamison without his cool, reserved mask: tender, caring, unexpectedly sweet. Maybe his warmth and devotion were reserved only for the woman he loved. Ivy’s heart trembled, tempted to throw caution to the wind and say yes to everything he wanted. But thoughts of what marriage would bring, the old shadows that lingered, held her back.
When it came down to it, being together meant exactly what she feared. He’d spent so much to win her over–surely he didn’t want a wife who was just a pretty
ornament.
But how could she even begin to explain that?
Jamison swallowed hard, cheeks flushed, his hand drifting up to rest warmly between her shoulder blades. He wanted more, but when he sensed her hesitation–her mind drifting, a touch of tension in her body–he suddenly remembered something she’d once confided in him, back when he’d chatted with her online under the username “Dr. Handsome.”
Clarity snapped him back. He forced himself to stop, pulling away to look at her. She was just as breathless and flushed as he was.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured roughly, “I got a little carried away…”
Ivy bit her lip, eyes flickering up to meet his several times before she finally frowned and said quietly, “Jamison, I’ll say yes–but on one condition.”
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