Beth Hyland - Fall Into Forever

She rises onto her tiptoes and pulls my head down to hers. Her lips are soft against mine.

I’ve ignored her for weeks. Stopped calling and texting. Even ignored her in the one class we had together. By all accounts she should be disappointed in me, but she’s not.

“Ivy,” I choke, grabbing fistfuls of her hair as I draw her to me as tight as I can. “I—”

“Shhh. Just kiss me and stop trying to argue.”

I lift her in my arms and her legs go around my waist, then I carry her up the stairs to my room.

* * *

Ivy

Jon slips into bed, the mattress briefly dipping under his weight. This close to him, alone, here in his bedroom, my heart races out of control. It’s pounding loud enough that I’m certain he can hear it.

I stare up at the darkened ceiling, surprised I don’t have a headache right now. I figured it was inevitable, given what happened tonight to Maddy. Although I’m tired, I’m headache-free. “Thanks for everything. Coming to get me. Bringing me over here.”

“Sure,” he says, rubbing my hip. “No problem. I hope you’re not still scared.”

“I’m not.” I nestle in closer until my body is pressed to his, our contours matching. He feels like a man should feel. Strong, but respectful of those who aren’t. Protective, but not smothering. And capable of so much good. His hand slips over my hip to rest on the bare skin of my belly. His lips are in my hair. I shift slightly and… There. I feel his erection against my butt. A thrill skitters along my spine, then outward to my fingers and toes. Our contours don’t quite match anymore.

“Ivy, you need to stop moving around.”

“I’m just trying to get comfortable.” What I really want is for him to slip his hand into my pajama bottoms. A delicious warmth gathers low in my abdomen at the thought.

“You’ve been through too much. It’s late. You need to get some sleep.”

It’s like he can read my mind and thinks he needs to put a stop to my desire. I turn in his arms and kiss him. “Jon, I…I want this. With you.”

He groans, the sound vibrating through his lips against mine. I can tell he wants this as badly as I do. The ache between my legs is almost unbearable. Just when I think I might have to take matters into my own hands, he pushes my pajama bottoms down, runs his hand down my belly, and slips a finger inside me. I gasp in surprise. It’s so sudden. His finger strokes me intimately. I bend my knee to open myself to him and, oh my God, his thumb starts rubbing against me, shooting electricity throughout my body.

With his free hand, he guides mine to his erection. It’s velvety smooth and hard like a pipe. I stroke it, trying to match the rhythm of his hips. Suddenly, he produces a condom from somewhere and quickly sheaths himself. I know this is a really lame time to be thinking of one’s ex, but Chase used to lie back with his hands behind his head as I put it on him, but toward the end of our relationship he’d get impatient and do it himself. Just another way Jon is different.

He nudges me onto my back and showers kisses along my neck and collarbone. Then his head dips lower and he takes one of my nipples into his mouth. I suck in a breath and arch into him.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” he says, then moves to the other breast.

I want to ask him why he stopped calling, why he suddenly removed himself from my life, but I’m too caught up in the moment to think about any of that. I’ll ask him later, when we both have clothes on. Right now, this is what I need from him.

I bend a knee and let my leg fall open. He eases on top of me, careful to keep his weight on his forearms, and pushes my legs even farther apart. “Are you sure, Ivy? Because if you’re not, we can stop.”

I slide my hands along his muscular back. “Yes, Jon, I’m one hundred percent sure.”

The warm, broad tip of him rubs my inner thigh, getting closer and closer. And then it’s there. Right at the center of me. He hesitates a moment longer, even in the dark room, I can feel his blue eyes searching mine. I know he’s giving me a chance to change my mind. But I don’t. I can’t. I need him to quell the ache inside me. Rolling his hips, he slowly enters me.

I bite my lip to keep from crying out, not wanting him to think something’s wrong. He’s heavy and thick, but it doesn’t hurt. Not quite.

Once he’s all the way in, he stills himself and props up on his elbows, his face inches from mine. “Are you okay?” His brow is furrowed as he gauges my reaction.

I’m touched by his concern. I have no doubt that if I wanted him to stop, he’d stop. “Um, yeah. I’m… You’re…” God, I can’t even think straight. “It’s perfect.”

He kisses my neck, right under my earlobe. Goosebumps skitter along my arms and legs. “Good, because you feel awesome to me, too.”

With long, smooth strokes, he begins to move inside me. Almost instantly, an intensely wicked pressure builds in my lower belly, turning every nerve ending into molten lava. I cling to him, my nails digging into his back. His tempo increases as if he knows exactly the effect his body is having on mine.

“Are you close?” he asks, not breaking his rhythm.

How could I not be? “I…I think so. Why?”

“Because I am, but I want to make sure you go first.”

Me? First? And before I can think of anything further or utter another word, my inner muscles tighten around him. Without warning, the pressure explodes, shooting into every corner of my body. “Oh my God, Jon!”

His mouth is on mine, devouring me. With every thrust, every kiss, Jon Priestly consumes me. My body. My soul.

“Ivy!” he groans, his muscles straining. He shudders. I feel him pulse inside me.

When he finally collapses on top of me, a thin layer of sweat covers both of us.

“Wow,” he says breathlessly. “That was incredible.”

And that’s when I know that I have consumed him, too.

I stroke his back, feeling every hard muscle. “Same. I can honestly say that I’ve never felt anything like that before.”

“Mmmm. Good.” His voice rumbles through his chest and into mine. He lifts his head and tenderly kisses my bruised lips. “Because we’re going to do it again in the morning.”

Jon

Ivy is still sleeping, her hair spread out in soft waves over my pillow, when I enter the room. I set the two plates of waffles on the desk, stroll to the window, and open the blinds. Cool February sunlight streams through the single-paned glass, frosty with condensation.

Last night with her was nothing short of amazing. There wasn’t that awkward getting-to know-each-other stage, where you’re trying to figure out what the other person likes. Is this right or too much? Does this hurt or are you okay?

No matter how I touched her, she responded like a finely tuned instrument under my hands. Just thinking about it now is enough to make me hard all over again. I can feel the front of my sweats tenting outward.

She stirs under the covers.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” I say, leaning over her.

One green eye opens. Then the other. Keeping the sheets over her chest, she pushes herself to a sitting position and looks around, confused. Her hair is sticking up and she’s got sheet marks on the side of her face.

God, she’s gorgeous.

When her gaze lands on me, her cheeks redden. I’m guessing she’s remembering what we did last night. “What time is it?”

“Almost eleven.”

“Eleven? That late?” Her voice, raspy and low, is so damn sexy.

Let’s see if I can make her blush again. “Must’ve been all the awesome sex we had last night.”

Yep. It worked. Two bright spots of color appear on her cheeks. She’s trying not to smile, but she’s not doing a very good job. “Do you see my T-shirt?”

I look around but don’t see it. I grab one of my old PSU football jerseys and hand it to her instead. “It’s clean.”

“Thanks.” She pulls it over her head and gets up. It hangs to mid-thigh as she walks across the hardwood floor toward the bathroom.

“Don’t be in there too long or the food will get cold.”

“I’ll be out in a sec.”

When she comes out a few minutes later, her hair is piled into a messy bun on top of her head. Even without a stitch of makeup, she’s beautiful.

She tugs the hem of my jersey as she crosses the room. “So you played football?”

“Yeah, my freshman year.”

She sits next to me on the bed, and I hand her a plate. “So why aren’t you still on the team?”

“I was a decent player in high school, but college turned out to be totally different. They wanted me to stay on the practice squad, but I decided it wasn’t worth sacrificing my grades for.”

“Is that when you started working for the campus radio station?”

“Yeah. I’ve always loved music, so it was a good fit.”

She nods thoughtfully, then takes a bite. “Um, these are even better than the Waffle Stop. You made them? They don’t look like they’re from the freezer.”

“Waffles of Insane Greatness.”

She laughs. “What?”

“That’s the name of the recipe. Got it from one of my mom’s old boyfriends, who found it online. That’s about the only thing he was good for, too.”

She takes another bite. “So, have you heard if they’ve caught the guy who attacked Maddy?”