Redeem Me (Beckett Brothers #2)

24. Ivy

Chapter Twenty-Four

IVY

My back glides gently along the smooth, cool wall as Caelon slowly lowers me to the ground, until my feet are firmly planted on the floor. I’m without a stitch of clothing, yet I don’t feel naked until his hands leave my body.

‘Stay there,’ he orders, buttoning up his shorts. As he stalks towards the downstairs bathroom, I admire the view. The strong supple muscles of his back, the bold, dark patterns of ink on his sweat-sheened skin, the smooth globes of his ass in those shorts. His release is still dripping from me and I’m already wondering when I can get my next shot. I glance at the tiny blue light in the corner of the room and wink, just in case he really does watch this again.

Sex with Tortured is anything but torture. It’s devastating, in the most deliciously debilitating way.

For a hot minute afterwards, I thought he was about to freak out. I know he doesn’t like the idea of taking a woman in his family home, and I get that, but does he plan on staying single forever? It would be such a damn waste to womankind.

He wears his guilt like a badge – a badge I need to strip from him. He’s broken, and the need to fix him consumes me .

But who will fix me afterwards?

I’ve never met a man like Caelon Beckett before. I’m never likely to again. If I was smart, I’d end this between us right now, before one of us – me – gets hurt. But I already know I’m incapable of walking away from him, or his children, even if it means I’ll be the one who’s broken at the end of whatever this is.

He returns moments later with a hot washcloth and a bottle of still water. I reach for the cloth, but he hands me the water instead.

‘Are you sore?’ he asks, his voice both rough and gentle at the same time. He places the cloth between my legs and gently washes me down with a tenderness he doesn’t look capable of.

‘I – I can do that.’ I place my hand over his, attempting to prise the cloth away.

‘I want to do it.’ His black eyes bore into mine as he swats my hand away. ‘I told you before, I clean up my own mess.’

‘I like this mess.’ Heat pools in my stomach. His repetitive movements with the cloth over my clit aren’t helping. Yeah, there’s no way I can walk away from this chemistry between us. ‘In fact, if you keep stroking me like that, there could be another one really soon.’

He tuts, but his lips lift into a rare grin. ‘I knew you were trouble when you walked in.’

‘And there was me thinking I was the Taylor Swift fan.’ I arch my eyebrows. ‘Next you’ll be singing Love Story .’

The smile freezes on his face, and I realise what I’ve said. Me and my big mouth again.

‘This isn’t going to be a love story, Ivy.’ His voice is low but firm.

‘It was a joke.’ I wince internally.

‘You said you want a husband, a house filled with love and laughter. I’m not a love and laughter type of guy.’ His fingers still.

‘But—’

He raises a hand in a stop gesture. Normally, I’d never allow a man to silence me, but it’s the pleading look in his pained eyes rather than his hand that renders me quiet.

‘No buts , Ivy,’ he resumes stroking with the cloth. ‘We both know what we signed up for. You promised me you wanted my penis, not a proposal. Please don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind.’

‘You’re a good ride, but you’re not that good.’ It’s a lie. He is the best I’ve ever had. Or am likely to again. I’ve got it bad for him, but if he gets even a whiff of that, it’ll be game over.

‘Is that right?’ He tosses the cloth to the floor and drops to his knees, his face in line with my crotch. ‘Let me remind you exactly how good I am.’

I inhale a lungful of air and use my hands to steady myself against the wall as he sweeps his tongue languidly over my centre before taking it away again.

‘Don’t make me call Rian,’ I joke.

‘Don’t make me bend you over the kitchen table,’ he warns.

‘Pass my phone,’ I goad, and he springs to his feet. I shriek as he scoops me into his strong arms and carries me towards the dining room.

‘By all means, call Rian,’ he says smugly, placing me on the table. ‘He can watch while I fuck that smart mouth of yours.’

‘Now we’re talking.’ I reach for his cock again.

By the time Caelon leaves to collect the kids, we’ve had sex four times. First in the hall, then on the table. Then on the plush Italian imported rug on the living room floor, which left me with carpet burns as a souvenir. Then on the kitchen counter. He insisted on pouring me a glass of Beckett’s Gold, which I drank while he went down on me again. I swear Daddy Caelon is a pleasure dom and I am so here for it. I might not be able to walk tomorrow, but who needs to walk when you can float?

I help myself to a glass of water and wander aimlessly around the house, taking it all in. My eyes stray to a framed family photo on the marble mantelpiece. In the picture, Caelon’s eyes are bright and his smile wide enough to see his molars. His arms are wrapped around Isabella in a loving embrace, while Orla and Owen sit on their knees.

‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper to Isabella, even though she can’t hear me. ‘I hope you don’t mind me taking care of him. Of all of them.’

The front door opens and slams with a bang that makes me jump out of my skin. I leap away from the mantelpiece like a kid caught with her hand in the sweet jar.

‘Ivy!’ Orla calls. ‘Ivy, where are you?’ The pitter-patter of tiny feet approach from the hall.

‘In the sitting room,’ I call, snatching up the remote. ‘I was just looking to see if there’s a movie we can watch before bed.’ I open the Disney app as she runs in and wraps her arms around my legs. Heat spreads through my chest. She looks adorable in a pink summer dress and pink Nike runners.

‘We met Nanny at the graveyard, and she took us to her house,’ Orla beams up at me. ‘We baked brownies. I had two!’

The graveyard.

So that’s where they go every Sunday.

‘They were so yummy.’ Owen speeds in with his teddy tucked under his arm. ‘I put coloured sprinkles on mine.’

‘They sound delicious, guys! Do you want some supper? Cereal? French toast?’

‘Cereal,’ they both yell, running towards the kitchen .

I swivel to see Caelon leaning on the doorframe, watching from a distance. ‘It’s your day off,’ he reminds me. ‘I’ll take care of them.’

‘I want to.’ I cross the room, following the noise. ‘I missed them today.’

His lips curl upwards in a small but significant smile. ‘Could have fooled me.’ He slaps my ass as I pass by, and I bite back a yelp.

As soon as the kids have eaten, I send them up to get their pyjamas on. Caelon disappears into his office and a sinking sense of gloom sets into my stomach.

Is he freaking out again? Avoiding me?

I set up a movie, a new Pixar one about emotions. Out of all of us, Caelon is the one who could benefit from watching it, but I won’t hold my breath.

‘You guys got your pyjamas on?’ I jog up the stairs, feeling the stiffness creeping into my legs that only multiple mammoth sex sessions or running a marathon can inflict.

‘Nearly,’ Orla cries as Owen appears from his bedroom wearing spiderman pjs and clutching his teddy.

I grab a throw from my bedroom and head to the couch with the kids. It’s far from cold but I want to wrap it around me like a hug.

‘Snuggle in.’ I pat the space on either side of me and hit play on the TV remote. As the opening credits roll, Caelon appears. ‘Room for another one?’ He’s changed into a pair of grey, indecently decent sweatpants and a tight, white t-shirt, his hair still damp from the shower.

‘Yessss!’ Owen squeals. You’d swear Caelon had offered him a trip to Disney, not to watch Disney.

Orla scoots up onto my knee to make room and Caelon slips into her spot right beside me. I lift the corner of the blanket, offering him some. He stares at me, his huge, bottomless orbs boring into mine. Just when I think he’s about to shake his head, he shrugs and slips it over him. Owen dives onto his father’s lap, settling beneath the fleece throw.

I exhale a huge, contented breath. However satisfying this afternoon was, this sates another type of need in me.