Chapter 67 Ch. 39.2
As she leaned her head against the window, humming quietly to herself, he wondered how long he could keep this going. How long he could keep pulling memories from her mind before she noticed the gaps, before she put together the pieces he thought he had taken from her.
And worst of all, he wondered how much longer he could keep lying to her face, knowing that when she smiled at him, it was built on a truth she wasn’t allowed to see.
They pulled into her driveway a little before sunset. Dylan killed the engine, then turned to her. His eyes softened as he studied her face, the little smile that curved her lips as she leaned back in the seat. He reached for her hand, brushing his thumb across her knuckles.
He leaned in and kissed her slowly and his chest tightened in a way he didn’t want to name, but he couldn’t deny it anymore. He had never loved anyone before especially in the way that shook him when he was around her.
He wondered if it was obsession, if that was all it was, but then she smiled against his lips and his mind told him it had to be more than that.
When they pulled away, she laughed softly. “Come on. Let’s go inside before the neighbors start staring.”
He grinned and climbed out of the car, circling around to grab the flowers and cookies. She unlocked the front door, and they stepped into the familiar warmth of her living room. Dylan set the box on the coffee table, then glanced at the shelves lined with notebooks and loose papers. His eyes lingered on them longer than he meant to.
“What are you looking for?” Ivanna asked, slipping off her shoes.
“Nothing,” he said quickly. He walked toward the shelf and picked up one of the notebooks, flipping it open. “Just curious. I love reading your drafts, the things you pen down. It’s like looking into your mind.”
She raised a brow but smiled faintly, tossing her bag onto the couch. “They’re mostly nonsense. Half-written sentences and coffee stains. You’d be disappointed.”
He chuckled and flipped another page, but inside he wasn’t laughing. He scanned every line, every scribble, his thoughts racing. If she had written something down—if she had found a way to anchor the memories he’d compelled her to forget—it would be here. But there was nothing. Just story ideas, quotes, fragments of thoughts that led nowhere.
He set the notebook back in its place, forcing a smile. His chest tightened again. Where could it be? How had she remembered? Humans couldn’t wear off compulsion. The only ones who could resist were those who used vervain, and he knew Ivanna had no access to that.
“I’m going to take a shower,” she said, stretching her arms above her head.
“Oh,” Dylan said, snapping back from his thoughts. “Okay.”
She headed down the hall. He stood in the middle of the living room, staring at her laptop on the table. After a moment, he sat down and opened it, his fingers moving quickly across the keys. He searched her files, her notes, even her drafts for work but there was nothing.
Not a single thing that explained how she had remembered what he made her forget.
He closed the laptop with a quiet sigh. He leaned back on the couch, pressing his palms over his face. His thoughts spun in circles.
This wasn’t supposed to be possible.
The sound of running water drifted from down the hall. Dylan pushed himself to his feet, unbuttoned his shirt, and began to undress as he walked toward the bathroom.
He pushed the door open and stepped inside, steam rolling out to meet him. Ivanna glanced over her shoulder, her hair already wet, her skin flushed from the heat.
“Why do you bathe with water that can boil chicken?” Dylan said as he slid into the shower with her. He let the hot spray hit his chest, wincing a little. “This is why I don’t shower with you.”
She laughed and reached for the knob, turning the heat down. “Sorry. I like it hot.”
He shook his head and smiled, even though worry still gnawed at the back of his mind. He reached for her, pulling her closer under the spray of the shower, trying to drown out the questions that wouldn’t leave him alone.
They pressed against each other in the bathroom and she pulled even even closer and planted a kiss on his lips. He latched onto her and deepened the kiss, their mouths moving, her back against the tiled wall. He kissed her again, and she clung to his shoulders, the steam still curling around them. After a while, he pulled her with him out of the shower, both of them dripping water on the floor, not caring as they made their way to the bed.
He pushed her down gently and hovered over her, brushing his lips against hers.
"Condom?" he asked, searching her face.
"Forget it," she said, catching his mouth again.
He paused, kissing her lightly but pulling back just enough to speak.
"But you're not on the pill? Or are you secretly on them? I told you the side effects can be bad for you."
She shook her head and slid her hands down his back.
"Chill, no. I'm not. But let's go raw."
His brows lifted, and for a second he just looked at her. Then a small smile curved his lips and he bent down to kiss her again. He moved against her, sliding into her wet pussy as her breath hitched, her fingers gripping him tighter, and the sound of her soft gasp filled the quiet room.