Tangled Word

Tangled Word
Chapter 59:

Ivy's POV

He disappeared into his room while I dashed back to mine. I threw together the essentials—pajamas, a toothbrush, and a bottle of lotion I definitely didn’t need—and tried not to think about what I was doing. My hands shook the whole time, and I had to stop twice to tell myself to breathe.

When I returned, he was already waiting by the door, dressed in gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt that did nothing to hide the way his shoulders stretched the fabric. His hair was damp from a shower and he looked positively delicious, that I found it hard not to stare. 

He stepped aside, letting me in without a word.

The room was dim, lit by the faint orange glow of the fire in the hearth. The bed was massive, like him, taking up most of the space, and the scent of pine and cedar was even stronger here.

“Nice room,” I said, pretending nonchalance. “Very… moody.”

He smiled faintly. “Did you expect pink walls?”

“I was hoping for at least one motivational poster.”

He chuckled quietly. “I’m sorry to disappoint you then.”

We moved around each other awkwardly as we got ready—him at the sink brushing his teeth while I tried to find space to change without looking like an idiot. More than once, we nearly bumped into each other, muttering apologies each time. Once, I turned and my shoulder brushed his chest; the heat that followed wasn’t accidental. His breath caught. Mine did too.

When we finally climbed into bed, it felt like trying to share a small island in the middle of an ocean. We both stayed as far apart as possible, with me lying stiffly on the right, and him on the left, the distance between us absurd for the size of the mattress.

The silence stretched until I couldn’t take it anymore.

“This is weird, right?” I asked softly.

He turned his head toward me. “A little.”

“But like in a good way,” I added quickly.

His voice was barely a whisper. “Always.”

I turned onto my side, facing him. “You don’t have to do this, you know. I’m not—”

“I want to,” he interrupted gently. “You can pretend I’m not here if it makes you feel better.”

I smiled. “Pretty sure that’s impossible.”

The fire cracked softly. For a while, neither of us moved. 

And for a moment, I thought that was it. That we’d just drift into an uneasy sleep. But then, as if drawn by some invisible pull, we shifted. Inch by inch, I moved closer–just enough for my hand to brush his arm. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he turned slightly, his eyes glinting from the light.

This time, it was his hand that brushed mine. Just once. Then again, slower this time, deliberate.

I looked at him. He was already watching me, his gaze tracing my face like he was memorizing every inch. “Ivy,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “Tell me to stop.”

I didn’t. Couldn’t do it. I wanted this like I wanted my next breath.

His hand found mine, fingers threading together, warm and sure. Then he leaned in, his lips brushing mine—soft, careful, almost unsure. The kiss deepened, slow at first, then hungry. His hand left mine to cup my jaw, thumb tracing the corner of my mouth. I gasped, and he caught it, swallowing the sound. The air grew heavy, hot, charged with something that made my skin feel too tight.

The kiss deepened, and for a second, the world outside that room didn’t exist.

Until he froze.

Breathing hard, he pulled back, his forehead pressed against mine. “I shouldn’t have…” His voice broke off, rough and unsteady. “At least, not yet.”

My pulse was still racing. “You think too much.”

He laughed quietly, the sound loud in the room. “And you don’t think enough.”

“Maybe that’s why this works.”

He brushed his thumb along my cheekbone, eyes softening. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured.

My pulse fluttered wildly, “Then, why did you stop?” I whispered before I could stop myself.

His eyes darkened, but instead of giving in, he exhaled shakily and forced a small, strained smile. “If I don’t stop now, I won’tbe able to hold myself back.”

Those words hit deeper than I expected.

For a moment, everything felt suspended in time, the warmth of his hand, the faint whoosh of his breath against my skin, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

And then, with visible effort, he leaned back, giving me space, though his hand lingered on my arm, thumb tracing circles against my skin. 

For a long time, neither of us moved.
Then he whispered, “Get some sleep.” His hand moved to the small of my back, rubbing soothing circles into it, “I'll be right here when you wake up.”

He lied. 

He wasn’t here when I woke up.

The space beside me was cold, the sheets rumpled, his scent still clinging faintly to the pillow. For a moment, I lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to convince myself that the night before hadn’t been a dream, the warmth of his touch, the way his voice had dropped when he’d said my name, the way everything else had fallen away.

But the emptiness beside me was proof enough.

I sat up slowly, pressing a hand to my chest. The fire in the hearth had burned down to ash, faint light creeping through the curtains. Morning had come, and with it, the familiar ache of uncertainty.

I ran a hand through my hair, trying to shake the feeling of sadness away. Maybe something urgent had come up. He was a billionaire, after all. His work didn't just revolve around me.

Still, the silence of the room gnawed at me.

Pulling on a sweater, I slipped out of bed and padded barefoot into the hall. The house coming alive with the faint sounds of footsteps, distant voices, the clatter of dishes from the kitchen. 

Maren looked up from the stairs as I passed. “Morning,” she said lightly, her eyes flicking to the direction I came from. There was a glint of amusement there that made my face heat up instantly.

“Morning,” I managed, trying to sound casual.

Her smirk deepened. “He’s in his office.”

I froze. “Who?”

She gave me a look that said ‘Don't insult me.’ “Who do you think?”

I swallowed. “Right. Thanks.”

The walk to Damian’s office felt longer than it should have. My heart beat faster with every step. By the time I reached the door, I could hear voices drifting from inside, muffled, low, but tense enough to stop me mid-step.

I hesitated when I heard Jason’s voice, “You shouldn’t have lied to her—” I burst into the room.