Chapter 507
Although they’d already crossed a certain line together, that had happened under the covers, hidden away in the dark, with nerves and shyness ruling the moment. There had never been a chance to simply look at him—openly, boldly, without pretense. The last time she’d gotten a good look at him, she’d been helping him bathe after he got hurt. Even then, she hadn’t dared to let her eyes linger for long.
But now, for reasons she couldn’t explain, Ivy suddenly found herself bolder, her eyes fixed on him, unblinking. White suds slowly slid down his smooth skin, tracing their way from his chest down over his stomach, then further still. The longer she looked, the more she lost her train of thought. Whatever she’d meant to say had vanished.
Jamison noticed her reaction, her gaze slowly traveling down, and suddenly realized what was happening. He hadn’t thought much of it before. After all, they were married—there was nothing more intimate than that. Besides, she’d already helped him bathe once. But seeing her staring so openly, without even trying to look away, left him unexpectedly flustered.
“Ivy?” Jamison called softly, a teasing note in his voice. “If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to have to start charging you.”
“Oh! Um…” Ivy snapped back to reality, quickly turning away, her hands fluttering as if unsure what to do. “You—you go ahead and shower. We’ll talk later.”
“Not in a hurry?”
“No, no, there’s no rush…” she insisted, shaking her head as she hurried out of the room.
Jamison watched her make her escape, a smile tugging at his lips, then turned back to the shower.
Ivy fled to the living room, sinking onto the couch, her mind still replaying what she’d just seen. She’d been painting since she was little, always passionate about art. She’d visited countless galleries, immersed herself in the masterpieces of the European Renaissance. But nothing she’d ever seen—no matter how breathtaking—had struck her like that fleeting, living image just moments ago.
Covering her face, Ivy tried to banish the memory, but it was etched into her mind, impossible to shake. Her phone chimed. She glanced down; it was a message from Katrina.
"Don’t worry, my advisor went in person. The Lester family’s lawyer took one look at him and immediately backed down."
Relief finally settled in.
Jamison soon emerged from the shower, a bathrobe hanging loosely from his shoulders. “Ivy, what were you saying earlier? Is something up with Katrina?”
Ivy blushed, turning to him and getting up, her voice tripping over itself. “No… it’s fine now. I just called to check on her. She said she went home and trashed the place, her stepmother called the cops, and they all got hauled off. I was worried, thinking I might need to go over.”
Jamison’s expression turned serious. “Do you want to go? If so, I’ll come with you.”
She hadn’t expected that. He’d just finished showering, and it was obvious where the night was heading for them—yet he was willing to drop everything and go, just to support her. Ivy was surprised, touched. She thought for a moment, then shook her head. “No, it’s okay. She just messaged—her advisor showed up and will handle everything.”
Jamison nodded. “That’s good. The big names in academia care a lot about their reputation, especially in law. If they lose, it’s a blow to the whole school, so they’ll do everything to make sure she comes out on top.”
“Yeah, I figured as much. No need to get worked up over it,” Ivy agreed.
With that, the matter was settled. They stood facing each other, and suddenly the air between them grew charged. Ivy glanced at him, then gave a little wave. “Well… I’m going to shower. If you’re tired, go ahead and get some sleep.”
Before Jamison could reply, she ducked her head and hurried off.
A smile played at Jamison’s lips as he watched her go, the warmth in his eyes deepening. Ivy lingered in the bathroom, stalling, and didn’t come out for half an hour. Jamison was lounging against the headboard when she finally emerged, her hair wrapped in a towel.
“I’ll dry your hair for you,” he offered, getting up at once.
“No, it’s fine—I can do it myself.”
But Jamison was already plugging in the hair dryer, waiting for her to come over. With no other choice, Ivy sat down in front of him, resigned. As the hairdryer whirred to life, the sudden noise made her jump.
“Really? Even the cats are braver than you,” Jamison teased.
Ivy ignored him. Her hair was short, and with Jamison’s long, deft fingers running through it, it was dry in minutes. She glanced at her reflection, wrinkling her nose in mock annoyance. “Look what you’ve done! I look like a scarecrow. Jamison, you did that on purpose! I told you not to help and you still did, and now—mmm!”
Her complaints, though grumbling, were playful and sweet, bringing a smile to his lips. He’d missed her these last few days, and after their awkward evening, he’d been waiting for a moment just like this. Now, with both of them clean and warm, he couldn’t hold back any longer.
He bent down and kissed her, his heart pounding. Ivy nearly toppled off the chair at his sudden urgency, but he caught her with a swift arm around her waist, scooping her up into his arms. “Ah…” she gasped, arms twining around his neck, her eyes shining with shy affection. Nothing more needed to be said.