Ivy laughed, her face full of mockery. “Are you out of your mind? I’ve been running around, looking after you like a maid, and you act like I’ve wronged you somehow?”
Jamison didn’t answer. He just brushed her hand aside and walked off toward the bedroom without a word.
Ivy stood there, unmoving, but couldn’t help glancing over her shoulder at his retreating back, a sly, knowing smile curving her lips.
Serves him right.
He’d really managed to shoot himself in the foot this time. The jealousy and frustration he was feeling–he had no one to blame but himself.
After a moment, Ivy followed him back inside.
By the time she entered the bedroom, Jamison was already sprawled out on the bed, his back to her–very much still sulking.
Ivy lifted the covers and climbed in, deliberately lying on her side to face him. She prodded for conversation, feigning casualness.
“So tell me, what exactly did I do to upset you? Did I mess up your bath somehow?”
“I’m tired. I want to sleep.”
“Or… are you still mad about me moving back to the dorm?”
“Do whatever you want. I don’t care.”
“Oh, since you’re over it, I’ll just come home once a month. You don’t mind, right?”
Jamison couldn’t take it anymore. He spun around to glare at her. “Why don’t you just make it once a year?”
“Sure, works for me.” Ivy shrugged, her tone light and unconcerned.
Jamison stared at her, studying her face. She really didn’t love him–if she did, wouldn’t she want to be together all the time? Who in love would settle for seeing each other once a month?
Yet here she was, still playing the part, pretending to care. He almost felt sorry for her, having to keep up this charade.
“Ivy,” he said, his voice cold.
“What?”
Their eyes met, both of them locked in a silent standoff.
Suddenly, Jamison sat up, his handsome face closing in on her in a flash.
He wanted to see just how far she’d take this act–see if she’d keep up the loving girlfriend routine, even now.
She didn’t love him, but she still had to fake intimacy. That had to be torture for her.
“Jamison, don’t…” Ivy caught on to his intentions, but before she could finish, his face was already right there.
He didn’t just kiss her. He crashed into her, nearly rough in the way he claimed her mouth.
The force of it left her lips tingling, almost numb.
Ivy instinctively tried to push him away, but then she remembered his injury. She couldn’t risk him ending up in the hospital again, so even though her hands went up, she forced herself to hold back, settling for gripping his shoulders.
He kissed her hard–so hard, it barely felt like a kiss at all. It was more biting, more devouring, his mouth pulling and tugging at hers until she winced in pain.
“Ow! That hurts!” Ivy gasped, pounding his shoulder lightly in protest.
She didn’t dare shove him, and scolding was useless. Frustrated, she waited for the next opening, and as he deepened the kiss, she bit him–hard.
“Shit!” Jamison jerked back with a hiss, pulling away.
Both of them were breathing heavily.
Ivy pressed her hand to her numb lips, scowling. “Are you trying to tear your stitches again?”
He didn’t answer. He just glared at her for a long moment, then finally muttered a warning: “If you do anything at school that betrays me, you’ll deal with the consequences.”
“You’re insane! I’m there to study, not to get into trouble. What could I possibly do to betray you?”
He just laughed coldly. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to.”
Ivy’s frown deepened. “Oh yeah? Why don’t you enlighten me?”
But Jamison was done arguing. He shot her one last frosty glance and turned away, lying back down with his back to her.
Ivy’s lips throbbed, still stinging. She pressed them with her fingers, sucking in a sharp breath.
She glanced at the back of his head, then let her eyes fall to his injured shoulder. In spite of everything, she couldn’t help worrying. “Hey, after all that, you didn’t mess up your stitches again, did you?”