Chapter 300

“What?” Ivy frowned. “You… I thought you were different from those sleazy guys, but you’re just as much of a jerk as they are.”

Jamison protested, “Hey, you started this whole conversation. Now you’re blaming me?”

The elevator arrived and the doors slid open.

Holding her in his arms, Jamison carried her out, scanned his keycard, and strode right into the apartment—still not letting go.

Ivy wriggled free the second they were inside, eager to put some distance between them.

But Jamison, having carried her all the way up, figured he deserved at least a little reward. Quick as a flash, he snatched her back into his arms.

In the commotion, she ended up pinned against him again—his arms locked around her, keeping her close.

The door clicked shut. Jamison leaned in, his face mere inches from hers, pressing her gently but insistently against his chest.

“Are you mad at me?” His voice was low, teasing. “Come on, silly, I was just messing with you. If I were into curvy girls, I wouldn’t have chosen you in the first place.”

Ivy turned away in a huff, refusing to answer.

He leaned in closer, letting the bridge of his nose graze softly along her cheek. His words grew more intimate, his breath warm against her skin. “I like you—just as you are. However you look, that’s exactly what I want.”

Ivy’s heart hammered as a flush crept from her cheeks to the tips of her ears and down her neck.

She swallowed, trying to play it cool. “Alright, enough of that. Go shower and get some sleep, I’m tired.”

“In a hurry, are we?” Jamison raised an eyebrow. “It’s your first night staying over. I thought we’d… talk a little more.”

“Talk about what?” Ivy blurted, her nerves on edge. The truth was she felt completely out of her element—awkward, tense, self-conscious, and shy. She just wanted to go to bed and skip the whole awkward part.

“If we’re all out of conversation, there’s always something else we could do. Nights like this are precious, you know.” He grinned, obviously enjoying her discomfort.

His smoldering gaze was too much; Ivy couldn’t handle it. She shot him a look and feigned ignorance. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She pushed him away, ducked into the living room, and changed the subject. “So, where am I sleeping?”

Jamison followed her, eyebrow arched. “Where else? The master bedroom.”

“The master? And where are you sleeping?”

He gave her a look. “The master bedroom, of course.”

Ivy stared, her expression frozen.

What was that supposed to mean? Were they really going to share a bed tonight? Was he actually expecting that “precious night” he mentioned?

She’d told him before that she wasn’t ready to be that intimate yet, and he’d promised not to push her.

Seeing her panic, Jamison walked over and gently squeezed her shoulders, his voice soft and reassuring. “Relax. We’re just sleeping. That’s all.”

“But… I’m not used to it,” Ivy mumbled, avoiding his eyes.

“Try it, okay? If you really can’t handle it, I’ll take the guest room. Deal?”

Jamison figured that overcoming her fears was a lot like getting over an allergy—you had to face it, bit by bit, until it faded away and you could live normally again.

Ivy understood what he meant. She hesitated, but finally nodded. “Alright. I’ll give it a try…”

Jamison let out a quiet sigh of relief.

As long as she was willing to try, there was hope. The only thing that really scared him was her refusing to take that first step.

“Come on, I’ll show you the bedroom.” He slipped his arm around her and led her inside.

Ivy eyed the king-sized bed with obvious unease.

Still, she knew—marriage meant being a couple, and this was something she’d have to face eventually. Jamison had done so much for her and treated her so well; she owed it to him, and to herself, to at least try.