Page 48 of Yours To Hold
“Mason?” Ivy’s voice breaks me out of my thoughts.
Get it together, you idiot.
“I’m glad you could come over tonight,” I say as I brush a lock of hair off her neck. Goose bumps break out over her skin.
“Me too.” She leans farther into my touch. “Where’s Willow?”
“Hanging out with her favorite aunts tonight.”
Ivy smiles. It’s genuine. One she always has when talking about Willow.
One of the many reasons I knew she’d be perfect for this job.
“I’m sure they’re eating ice cream and watching all her favorite movies by now.”
Laughter burbles out of me. “That girl eats way too much ice cream.”
“Maybe if you didn’t spoil her.”
“Like you don’t?” I quirk a brow down at her, stepping into her space.
I’ve got a solid foot on Ivy. Yet, she still somehow fits perfectly with me.
“I’m just following your lead.”
“Then why don’t you follow mine now?” Taking her hand in mine, I pull her outside.
String lights hang from the back deck. Dinner is already on the table with wine poured for her and a beer for me.
“Mason. This looks amazing.”
Ivy turns her back to the table, wrapping her arms around my neck. Cupping the back of my neck, she brings my mouth to hers.
She tastes sweet. So sweet. Her tongue brushes against my lips before pulling back.
“Why’d you stop?” I growl.
Fuck dinner. The last thing I want to do is eat dinner. All I want is Ivy.
“There will be more where that came from.” Ivy holds her hair back, taking a deep inhale of the food. “I’m guessing you got this from the ranch?”
I scrub a hand over my eyebrow. “What gave it away?”
Ivy’s smile does funny things to my insides. It’s like the moment we started this thing between us, a switch was flipped.
I’m letting myself take notice of her. The small things she does that I never noticed before are now driving me crazy with need.
“Mason. You are not known for your cooking skills. I tried the mac and cheese you made Willow for dinner last week. It was almost inedible.”
“Hey! It wasn’t that bad!”
“It’s from a box. How do you screw that up?” She takes a seat, reaching for her wine.
I stalk over to her, resting both hands on the arm of the chair, leaning into her space.
“I don’t see you cooking that often.” I nip at her jaw.
“Because the only request I get is for sandwiches. Nice try.” Ivy pushes me off her with a laugh.
