Had none of that happened, when the group of masked men that came into the jewelers this morning and started robbing the place, Ivy wouldn’t have whispered Lawson’s name when she saw those same eyes staring at her through a mask. And like the idiot she was, Ivy actually said his name loud enough for one of the others guys to hear her and decide that the fact that she knew who one of them was meant she was a liability.

  Now she was kidnapped and listening to a bunch of criminals argue about whether she was going to be killed or used as blackmail. It wouldn’t take long for them to figure out that there was no one in her life worth blackmailing and eventually they’d decide to kill her. All she could do was hope that she’d find an opportunity to escape before that.

  Ivy glanced up at Lawson. Until now he hadn’t said anything, hadn’t given his opinion of what her fate should be. He’d sat mute, staring at her. After they’d driven for what felt like an hour, he finally leaned over and yanked off her gag.

  “You weren’t supposed to work today. Why were you there?” He sounded furious, as if the current situation was her fault.

  “Marcie texted me last night. Her little girl was sick. She knew I had the day off and I didn’t mind taking her shift.”

  He sat back, seemingly satisfied with her answer but the look of resentment remained firmly on his face. Ivy was beginning to realize that any sort of connection she’d felt between them had been clearly one-sided and she couldn’t rely on him to help her out of her current predicament.

  Four months ago Lawson Trent started working as a security guard in the jewelry shop. He was one of those silent and brooding types, with rugged features to make the image complete. Emphasis on rugged. She could see why he’d been hired to work security with his massive build but he looked like he belonged in an underground cage-fighting circuit, not a mid-range jewelry shop where most of the clients were safe and boring middle-class members of society.

  But there he was nonetheless, with his broad shoulders and tree-trunk thighs, sinfully filling out his uniform and driving her to distraction. And his rough stubble that he seemed to maintain effortlessly that she imagined rubbing against the sensitive skin on her inner thighs. And the scar he had on his right eyebrow that she desperately resisted running her fingers over on almost a daily basis. It was all that and more that made her want to get to know him. That and the fact that she saw something underneath all that, something she thought was worth working for.

  On his first day of work, they ended up in the staff room having lunch at the same time. Ivy cut her cinnamon roll in half, after heating it in the microwave, and slid it across the table until it sat next to his sandwich. He stared at for a few moments before looking up at her. She’d already eaten her tofu and lentil salad and was picking off warm chunks of sugar-coated dough and moaning softly as she savored each morsel.

  “Didn’t I just see you eating tofu?”

  Ivy gave him a big smile after licking the sugar off the tip of a finger. “Yup. And lentils. I’m a big believer in the power of legumes.”

  “What the hell is a legume?” This was by far one of the least sexy conversations she’d ever had, but it was better than nothing. As far as she knew, he’d been monosyllabically polite with the rest of the staff.

  “It’s a class of vegetables. Lentils, peas, and beans. That kind of thing. Legumes are some of the healthiest foods you can eat.”

  He gestured to her half of the roll. “Do you realize the kind of crap they put in these cinnamon rolls to make them taste and smell like that? It’s probably been sitting on a shelf for two years. How else do you think they make it taste so damn good that you’re sitting over there moaning over it like you’re trying out for a porno?”

  The fact that hearing her moan made him think of sex was only a good thing, as far as Ivy was concerned. “Well yeah. Why else do you think I eat the legumes?” She gave him another big grin and took bite of her roll, resisting moaning again.

  He snorted in response. “You’re a bit of a contradiction, you know that?”

  She dropped her smile. Ivy hated when people pointed that out about her, especially since she already knew it was her biggest personality flaw. Being a contradiction wasn’t a good thing. It was a polite way to call someone unpredictable and while being unpredictable was occasionally fun because it meant she could be spontaneous, but really it meant unstable. And her life had been the definition of unstable.

  Shunted around from foster home to foster home, Ivy had grown up with the ground constantly shifting beneath her feet. To say she had a slight impulse control problem was an understatement. But she figured out early on that acting out didn’t do any good and managed to control her erratic behavior as best as she could.

  She realized quickly that grown-ups didn’t like kids who acted out. Grown-ups also didn’t like quiet kids who seemed so damaged they were gone beyond repair. So instead Ivy tried to be the happy, upbeat, yet slightly manic kid who did well in school, despite everything, and got along with everyone.

  Of course she couldn’t keep that up consistently. Her school record was smattered with months of perfect grades, then expulsions or suspension for acting out: breaking a cheerleader’s nose, knocking her desk over, and swearing at a teacher. She would go weeks getting along with a foster family until she snapped and ran away. She had endless examples of her inconsistent moods and her behavior drove her social workers crazy.

  As an adult, she was still trying to figure out how to be the mistress of her own destiny. And of course, how to not be an excessive people pleaser just to keep life simple because that one always came to bite her on the ass.

  To protect herself, she kept a firm emotional distance with the rest of the world. Friendships took a lot of work and could turn bad fast, so she minimized them. That’s not to say that she wasn’t pleasant and warm. Any of the girls at work would describe her as reliable and considerate. She’d just baked cupcakes for Elaine’s birthday last week, because she was that kind of friend. But none of them knew where she lived, or what her background was like. Only a few of them had her phone number and she rarely saw them outside of work.

  She knew she was full of contradictions, and she hated hearing it from a guy she was crushing on pretty hard. The fact was Lawson was one of the first guys she’d let herself even think about in a non-platonic way for a very long time. And describing it as a crush was putting it lightly. She was having a hard time not constantly fantasizing about ripping her clothes off and impaling herself on the ridiculously large cock he could barely contain in his uniform khakis.

  When it came to men, Ivy learned that she tended to give in pretty quickly, and as such she stayed away from them. She knew she was attractive. Her delicate features, long blonde hair, and curves most women worked hard to get because they probably hadn’t discovered the secret of the dual power action brought on by cinnamon roll consumption and legumes, ensured that she got plenty of attention from the opposite sex. But like everything, it usually came at a price. There was always a balancing act to figure out and she wasn’t all that good at getting it right.

  That’s not to say that she didn’t like men and sex. Ivy liked sex, although she hadn’t had a lot of good sex. Just a lot of mediocre sex and a healthy commitment to her vibrator. Both of which always left her wanting more. She didn’t really know what that was. Just more.

  She wanted them to hold her tighter and longer.

  She wanted the sex to be rougher and harder.

  She wanted his hands around her throat while he pounded into her, making her feel like he would never let her go.

  That’s why she had to keep to herself. There was no way she could turn over that kind of power to a man. At least none of the men she’d met. The few times she’d come close to even experiencing that with a guy, it always turned sour quickly since he thought she wanted to be controlled.

  Again—another one of her contradictions.

  It wasn’t about a guy taking control, it was about finding that space where she could let go and lose herself. The distinction was vague and she wasn’t even sure there was one, but she just knew when it felt right, which it never had. That kind of indistinctness led to chaos and Ivy was trying her hardest to avoid chaos. And basically any situation that smacked of ambiguity.

  Until Lawson.

  She could tell he obviously lived a hard life and as such he looked older than thirty. She knew how old he was because Elaine, who worked in the office with their sleazy boss, had seen his file. He didn’t look like he drank or smoked too much. Just that he’d seen his fair share of hardship.

  Just like Ivy.

  But he was still always polite. It went against the brooding, silent thing he had going on. And that’s why she was drawn to him. He was a contradiction. And that’s why she was confident that he’d accept her cinnamon roll because despite keeping to himself and maintaining a certain distance, he was polite.

  Just like Ivy.

  But then after that moment together at lunch, probably sensing that she was interested in him, he worked hard at keeping a distance between them.

  However, like a moth to the mother of all erotic flames, Ivy was drawn him to him. And she was getting close to admitting the attraction was probably one-sided, despite catching him looking at her on almost a daily basis, and despite the comment about listening to her moan, until he saw her ring tattoo.

  The tattoo had been one of her more spontaneous decisions, naively made when she was younger and didn’t realize how hard it was to get a job with a visible tattoo. Thankfully, it was easily hidden with a real ring and no one at work even knew she had it. Until Lawson walked in and saw her washing sticky sugar off her fingers. She’d removed the cheap silver-plated ring she wore to hide it and he took her hand from under the running water and touched it, almost like he couldn’t control himself. Grabbing a paper towel, he dried it off and just stared at it.

  “Does it mean something?”

  Her stomach flip-flopped as his coarse fingers caressed her hand and she tried to keep her voice calm. “Of course. Don’t all tattoos?” It wasn’t really an answer and they both knew it. His eyes swept up to meet hers and she swallowed audibly. He didn’t look happy. “It’s a reminder. Just a little reminder.”

  “Of what?”

  There was no way she could explain all it reminded her off, not sitting in the staff room where it still smelled like reheated macaroni and cheese and stale coffee.

  “Everything,” she whispered.

  The next day Lawson sat down while she was having lunch and asked her to dinner at his place. Just like that. And being a lust-struck young woman, she enthusiastically accepted.

  Ivy showed up at his apartment, which was in a neighborhood just as bad as hers, something that didn’t really surprise her. Most men, at least on a first date, would hide living in such a dump. But Lawson wasn’t the kind of man to hide who he really was, Ivy told herself.

  He fed her gorgeous heavy calorie-laden lasagna and poured cheap red wine but she didn’t care because the whole thing was perfect and amazing and she knew that Lawson was dark and beautiful and by far the most exciting man she’d ever met.

  After dinner, they stood side by side doing the dishes. And she did that thing that all women do at some point when they’re connecting with a man: she pretended they were a real couple and she pretended that after cleaning their tiny kitchen, he would sweep her up in his arms, walk into their bedroom, and take her hard and rough, and she pretended he would tell her how much he adored her before they fell asleep with their arms around each other.

  And it actually happened. Sort of.

  Having finished drying the last plate, Ivy turned to him and was about to tell him how lovely the dinner was when his mouth descended on hers and he kissed her.

  He really kissed her.

  Lawson pushed his tongue into her mouth, giving her no option but to open up to him. He tasted like red wine and dark spices and she moaned against his tongue. God, he even tasted rugged. She threw her arms around his neck, needing to hold onto something since her legs were about to give out but also because she was afraid he’d pull away and she needed him to keep kissing her until she died, it was that good.

  In the back of her mind, Ivy heard a tiny alarm bell ringing, warning her that if the man kissed this well, she was going to have trouble resisting anything and everything he tried to take from her further down the line. But she didn’t care.

  Lawson’s arms wrapped around her waist and he effortlessly lifted her up. Ivy didn’t even need to think twice before she wrapped her legs around his hips. He moved his hands to hold her under her dress and it was his turn to moan as he discovered the bare skin of her ass, thanks to her choice of thong over panties.

  He walked them the short distance to the couch, still dominating her mouth, still making sure she knew who was in charge, and Ivy loved every second.

  Sitting down, with Ivy straddling him, he finally broke the kiss. His hands ran up and down her thighs, sweeping ever closer to her pulsing core. She leaned her forehead against his and swiveled her hips. There was no way she could ignore the stiffness wedged between her open legs. She wanted to see it, to taste it, to lick it and worship it, and then she wanted it in her.

  “Jesus, Ivy, you’re so fucking sexy. Do you know how hard it’s been to sit and eat dinner with you? When all I wanted to do was…” he stopped talking and pressed his face into her neck, licking and nibbling at her soft skin.

  “Was what? Please.” She wanted to hear it. She needed to know that it was just her who had been fantasizing about what sex between them would be like. He growled into her skin, making her shiver and grind her hips even harder.

  “Fuck. If I told you, I’d probably scare you.”

  Ivy shook her head back and forth. God, if he only knew the things she fantasized about him doing to her, he’d probably think she was some sort of pervert. “No, please, I promise, it won’t scare me.”

  He lifted his face from her neck and stared into her eyes. “I wanted to bend you over my kitchen table, flip up that pretty dress you wore for me, and pound into you. Every time you took a sip of red wine and I had to watch that little tongue of yours slip out to wipe your lips, all I could think about was getting you on your knees and face-fucking you until I came down your gorgeous throat.” Ivy closed her eyes and groaned. “Open your eyes, Ivy.” His hips were thrusting up to meet hers as they worked themselves into a frenzy through their clothes. “I’m not even done telling you all the dirty things I want to do to you.”

  “Yes, more, tell me more,” she managed to breathe out. She opened her eyes and kept contact as he started talking:

  “I want to get you on my bed, use my belt to tie your hands behind your back, while I take you from behind. And there’s nothing you can do but take it.” His voice was getting deeper and deeper, a gravely tone that in itself was enough to turn her on. He could have been reciting recipes and it would have gotten her hot.

  God, the belt scene—how could he have known that being bound with a belt was one of her deepest fantasies?

  “Yes, Lawson, I’ll take it, I will, like a good girl,” she whispered back.

  He chuckled as his hands came up, leaving her thighs feeling cool and she wanted him to put them back. That is until he roughly yanked down the sleeves of her dress, pulling her bra straps off her shoulders at the same time and ripping open the front opening of her bra, breaking the small snap. Her breasts spilled out but he kept eye contact with her as he started palming them, pinching and twisting the nipples, hard and then soft, driving her wild with each twist and turn of his thick fingers.

  “Do you know how many times I thought about seeing these naked? You wear that plain white blouse every day to work and all I can think about is ripping it down the middle, jacking up that tight skirt of yours and pushing you down face first over that damn display counter. I know you’ll take it. You’ll let me fill you up and then I’ll flip you over and wrap my hands around that pretty neck of yours.” His large hands came up and circled her throat. It wasn’t tight, it wasn’t meant to hurt her, Ivy knew that much. “I’ll hold on to you and watch your face as I push into your ass. And again—you’ll take me. For as long and as hard as I want.”

  That was it. The mention of her ass. She’d never done anal sex because that was something that even though she wanted to try it, badly, she knew it had to be with someone she trusted, and she never let a man get close enough for that. But the thought of Lawson doing that to her was too much. She needed him. The ache between her legs was now bordering on painful.

  Ivy’s hands moved to hold his face as she kissed him passionately, putting all her wants and desires into that kiss, hoping that she could convey the arousal she had no way of expressing without looking like a maniac.

  “Please, please, do it, do everything to me, but now. I’m going crazy here, Lawson. I need you.” She was begging, she knew she was but it was the first time she’d ever let go and she loved the way it felt. She loved that she needed him. And from the way he was acting, he seemed to need her as badly.

  “I know, baby, I know what you need.”

  Flipping them so she lay on her back on the couch, Lawson crouched over her, undoing his jeans and pushing them down just enough to release his cock. Ivy barely got a look at before it before Lawson slipped on a condom and moved to guide it in her. For a second, a split nanosecond, she thought they should slow down, but then he pulled her thong to the side and started to slide in.