Rectify (Return to Us Trilogy #2) (12 page)

Ivy

I collapse on my couch after a tense Tuesday at work. Ten minutes before 7:00 pm and no word from Jacade. On impulse, I text him.

Me: Did you forget about me?

My phone buzzes as I'm lowering my hands to my lap.

J: Never.

Oh my. A one-word text from this man, and I'm flying in the clouds. The familiar ache pings in my stomach. A day and a half without him, and I miss him to the point of pain.

The rumble of his deep, raspy laugh. His stethoscope slung casually around his neck. His voice as he explains medical procedures. His presence when he sneaks up behind me and crowds my backside to remind he's there. All of it. All of him.

Me: Haven't seen you.

J: Come see me now.

Right now? He sends another text before I can reply.

J: Shane will bring you to me. Leave cell at home.

Well, I guess I'd better shower and change for a rendezvous with my sexy doctor.

***

Jacade

"Thanks for meeting me here, T." Jett pats my shoulder as I lean on the bar. He slides onto the barstool to my right with a quick glance at the nightly news on the flat-screen monitor.

"No problem. What's up?" I grip the crystal tumbler and swirl the amber liquid. The whiskey hits my taste buds and coats the tissues in my throat until it dies in the pit of my stomach.

"Word on the street is Boothby's put a price on Viktor," Jett says.

"Good. You gonna get him?"

"Guaranteed."

He smiles at our too-young-for-him-but-he-doesn't-care bartender, Sierra, and points to my glass. "Same thing, doll." She blushes and grabs the premium whiskey from the shelf. She slides the full glass across the polished wood. He catches it with a practiced hand.

I bow my head and chuckle.

"What?" He downs his entire drink. So much for savoring the top-shelf liquor.

"How many times have you hit that?" I nod in Sierra's direction.

He sighs and shakes his head. "Too many times to count, little brother. Too many times to count."

I sip my whiskey. "Any appointments tonight?"

"Mahoney is in suite F with his regular." He motions to Sierra to fill his empty glass.

"Must be a mighty fine hooker if he's willing to drop twenty-five large on her. Where's Dixon?"

"Dix had to see to a situation at Mogul, and since I was here anyway, I said I'd watch the shop for him till he gets back."

Jett nods at Sierra as she slides him another drink. "Thanks, hun."

"Anything for you, Dr. Ellis," she says, her voice breathy. He could lay her out on the bar if he wanted.

"And you were here because?" I ask.

He grins. "Lindsey and Lizzie have requested my attention this evening."

"Mmm." It's twins for Jude tonight.

"Fucking Bernard messed up my plans though, and I have to cut it short."

"What's he got you doing this time?"

"You know Bernard. He gave me a grocery list of orders. Like I don't know how to do my job." He looks up at the news. "The shit I've done for him."

"I hear ya." I roll the tip of my tongue over the whiskey-covered ice.

"I'm gonna get out of it."

"How's that?" I ask.

"I've been doing this a lot longer than you, Trip. Let's make a bet. If my smooth talking gets Bernard off my back, you drink five shots of whatever poison I choose."

Jett and his stupid bets.

"And what if I win?"

"You win, you get to take Lindsey to suite E. I keep Lizzie." He winks at me. He has no concept of my fidelity to Ivy.

"No. If I win, no pussy for one week." I feign shooting him with my finger.

"Oh, fuck no! Come on, man. What have I ever done to you?"

"Plenty. Up to you, big brother. Those are the terms. Take it or leave it." Got him. He can't go a day without sucking cunt.

"Fine. Deal. But you're a fucking dick." He thinks he's gonna win.

"True. And you're a fucking poon hound."

"Touché."

I'm winning this one.

Bernard won't fall for his weasel excuses.

***

Ivy

Shane gestures to the building on my right as I hop out of the Escalade. "He's at the bar."

"Thanks for the ride, Shane. Again."

"Anytime, Ms. Summers." I guess we're back to Ms. Summers after my little trip to see Bryn by myself. I don't blame Shane for ratting me out. He was only doing his job. I hope we can still be friends.

My heels grind into the sidewalk paving stones in the ritzy historical district. Old family money resides here, and the trees hanging over streets conceal dark family secrets. I stare up at the front of a magnificent mansion twice as large as any other on the street. You can't usually find one house for sale, let alone two, in this neighborhood. Unless you know someone who knows someone who knows someone... or you have enough money to wipe your butt with hundreds.

Wrought iron railings lead the way to a plank wood door three times my height. I pull my jacket tighter, but the chill still finds its way up my skirt. This white chiffon dress is impractical for fall in Chicago, but the sheer panels accentuate my boobs. Plus, the little bows on the empire waist match the bows on the ankles of my new Louboutin Mary Jane platform pumps.

I turn the oversized brass doorknob hoping I'm not barging into someone's home. The scale and opulence of the interior overwhelm me. An elegant chandelier hangs high above my head in a charmingly lit foyer. An enormous area rug with a modern inter-linked circular pattern carpets the black-and-white marble tile. Two massive gilded staircases frame the view of the glistening old-world wooden bar.

My stomach floats up in my chest at the sight of him leaning with one elbow on the lip of the bar, the other holding a shot glass of dark-brown liquid. I drink in the striking image before me like an oil painting in a museum gallery. He slouches with his left leg crossed over his right, his olive skin and slate-black hair contrasting starkly with his taupe three-piece suit and ivory dress shirt.

My fingers yearn to touch the painting to see if he's real, to feel his textures even though I shouldn't. What if I touch him and he smears and disappears from my vision completely?

He looks up and laughs a hearty laugh with his companion. His turquoise eyes gleam under the gold lighting.

He raises the shot glass to his mouth, and our eyes lock. He downs the rest of his drink, never releasing my gaze. The empty glass clinks on the bar, and he pats his friend on the back. He shoves one hand in his pocket and stalks toward me, his lopsided grin expanding with each step. The index finger and thumb of his free hand rub the alcohol residue from his lips. No, I'll lick your lips for you, Jacade.

I'm fixated on him as he saunters to me. The moment his expensive shoes step into the foyer, I hustle to him the best I can in these crazy shoes. The six circles in the rug between us feel like the last meter in the hundred-meter dash.

I wrap my arms around his neck and our lips crash together. I devour his mouth as his hands grasp my hips, then slide up my sides to my shoulders. He slips my coat off and walks me backward to a coatroom off the foyer. He breaks the kiss and trails his finger between the rounds of my breasts, stalling on the bow at my midriff. He runs his palms up the backs of my thighs, fingering the lace at the top of my stockings. His warm hands wander up over my ass and investigate the triangle at the top of my thong.

With a feral growl, he clutches my behind and lifts me. I wrap my legs tight around him, and his belt buckle rubs against my panties as he carries me to the back of the coatroom. He crushes me up against the fancy floral wallpaper so hard I'll probably have fleur-de-lis embossed on my lower back tomorrow morning. He pins my arms over my head, holding my wrists with one hand and my waist with the other.

His cold tongue and alcohol-soaked saliva burn the membranes in my cheeks and only make me crave him more. I want to crawl in his mouth and set up camp. I savor every inch of him. A little over a week since our first encounter, and the electrical pyrotechnics still launch through my body when he's near.

"Let's say hello like this all the time," he says, his voice deep and rough.

I giggle and try to catch my breath. "Agreed."

He gawks at my mouth with a goofy grin on his face. He drops my feet to the floor but keeps his hand circled on my wrists above my head. His towering presence consumes my existence. His broad shoulders glow in the diffused lighting like Apollo sent to heal my brokenness.

I lick my lips. "You taste good. Like mint... and black licorice." He smiles, and his dimple makes an appearance. I arch my neck asking for another kiss, and he takes my mouth again. I break the kiss with a snigger.

"What's so funny, Ms. Summers?" He rubs the tip of his nose against mine.

"That time I tasted cigars?" I tilt my head.

He chuckles. "Perhaps." He skims his lips along my jawline and down my neck.

"Where am I?"

"In the coatroom. With me." He raises his head, slides one hand around my neck, and grips the base of my scalp in his palm.

"How much have you had to drink?"

"Enough." He pulls my head to his and sucks on my bottom lip. "I lost a bet which may have resulted in me being forced to consume Jägermeister."

"A bet, huh? You must have lost bad because Jägermeister is nasty." I scrunch my face thinking of the hideous night I threw up Jägerbombs in college. Never again.

His laugh morphs into a throaty growl. "Oh, Ivy..."

His breath warms my neck, and his nose tickles the outside of my ear.

Inhale. Exhale. Stay upright.

"You must be a temptress."

His grip on my wrists tightens, and he pulls his head back to stare into my eyes.

"Sent here to annihilate my sovereignty."

He sways his head from side to side.

"To feast on my very existence."

He tugs my sleeve off my shoulder and bends to lick the length of my collarbone. His teeth scrape and nibble up the side of my neck. So warm, so tingly.

"Because all I covet is your poison," he murmurs with his lips on my ear again.

Sweet Jesus.

His low chuckle in my ear is my undoing.

"My luscious yet poisonous Ivy." His tongue flicks the inside of my ear.

"Ungh." I can't form words. I growl and throw my head back, hitting the wall with a thud.

He nudges my head forward again. "Eyes on me."

His pupils have turned to dark obsidian. He kisses me with hunger and desperation I can barely absorb. I kiss him back for all I'm worth, our tongues battling for dominance. I evaporate into the kiss, letting the passion overtake all my senses. I'm lost in him.

He breaks the kiss and releases my wrists. He punches the wall next to my head and looks at the ground. He flops his forearms on the wall next to my shoulders and lowers his head to my chest. Can he hear my heart racing?

"I'm sorry, baby," he mumbles to my boobs.

"Sorry? What did you do?" I whisper.

"I wasn't there when you needed me. I deceived you."

"Oh god, Jacade."

"Forgive me."

"Shh. It's all right." His tortured words strike me in the gut. He suffers this despair because of me?

He shakes his head. "No, you have to forgive me. Please. Someday."

"Okay. I will." My blink pushes a tear down my cheek. Jacade. I wrap my arms around his head and hold him to my chest.

He lifts his head, and his unguarded eyes reveal pain, remorse, darkness, and eons of frustration. He blinks, and his stoic mask assembles piece by piece on his features until the ubiquitous Jacade blockade is locked in place. I want to ask him more, but he's drunk, and there's no chance of breaking through his defenses again tonight.

He crouches down and grunts as he rams his hips up against mine. His rock hard cock pushes me to my tiptoes.

"I need to fuck you," he growls in my ear.

My knees give out, and I slump onto him. He holds me up, but it's no use.

I've already fallen.

***

Jacade

I support her weight with my left arm and wipe the tears from her cheeks with my right hand. She angles her head into my palm and closes her eyes.

"Come with me." I grab her hand and lead her across the foyer to the staircase.

"Where are we going?" she asks. I stop with one foot on the bottom stair and turn to her.

"Wherever I want to take you." I should've put her on her knees and fucked her mouth. Then she wouldn't have so many questions.

After some fumbling, my key slips into the keyhole of the door at the top of the stairs, and I stride into the hallway with her behind me.