After he had successfully settled her into the passenger seat, he shut the door firmly and walked around to the driver's side. He slid in, locked the doors, and started the car without sparing her a glance.
His right hand gripped the steering wheel.
His left hand rested exactly where it always did.
Ivana's lap.
By then, the tequila had cleared halfway from her senses.
"I see you're halfway back to reality," he finally said after a while, brow lifting slightly.
That snapped her eyes to him.
"What did I do?" she asked, hissing faintly.
"A lot, baby."
He smirked, reaching to the side of the car and pulling out a can of water, handing it to her.
She snatched it, drinking hungrily, then splashed the remaining content on her face. She was still tipsy, but more aware.
His gaze darkened.
Slowly, lazily, his eyes dragged from her eyes to her lips then to her neck. Water trailed down her skin in tiny droplets, sliding from her jaw to her throat.
He swallowed hard, turned his face away, and smacked his lips quietly.
"Like what?" she asked, breaking the thick atmosphere.
"You really want to know?" he grinned, one brow raised.
"If I didn't fucking want to know, why would I ask, you jer..."
She rolled her eyes and snapped her lips shut before finishing the curse.
He tapped her forehead lightly and winked, sensual and deliberate.
It sent butterflies straight to her stomach and heat pooling low.
"Why did you stop, huh?" he murmured, suddenly cupping her cheek and turning her face to him roughly.
"Kacy, please… not now," she begged.
He rolled his eyes, muttering a curse she wasn't sure she heard.
"Fine," he scoffed, turning her face back toward the window without a hint of gentleness.
"Ahhh!"
She pouted, glaring at him while rubbing her neck. "You're a jerk, you know that?"
"And…?" he drawled, smiling seductively.
"Just tell me what I did," she said, tugging lightly at the hand resting on her lap and giving him puppy eyes.
He sighed deeply.
"You're impossible."
Then he smirked.
"You kissed me. In public."
Her lips parted.
No words came out.
She closed her mouth, swallowed, opened it again, then closed it once more, repeating the motion helplessly.
He watched her calmly, amused, one eye on the road, the other on his flustered wife.
Finally, she found her voice.
"No, I did not!" she screamed, staring at him in disbelief.
He laughed softly and kissed her forehead.
Her face instantly turned scarlet.
She covered it in embarrassment while he smirked, eyes darkening as she parted her lips again then quickly shut them.
"Yes, you did, baby," he teased.
"And what did you do?" she asked innocently.
"You really don't remember?" he said, laughing.
She scoffed and glared at him, then smacked the hand on the steering wheel lightly before turning away, suddenly unsure.
He sighed, rubbing the back of her neck.
She gasped, eyes flicking back to his.
For a split second, she saw it, something raw, possessive.
Then it vanished, replaced by his teasing smile.
She scoffed softly. "Fuck off."
He heard it.
He chose to ignore it.
"You mean what I almost did, little moonlight?" he whispered, leaning close, voice low.
He winked, then bit her sensitive spot slowly.
"Hmmm."
She gasped, biting her lip hard until she tasted blood. A soft, broken moan escaped her.
He didn't pull away.
Instead, he licked and sucked gently, breathing hot against her ear. Her senses blurred, her eyes clouding.
"It's the same," she whispered weakly, her eyes silently begging him to stop.
He didn't.
He increased his pace, earning another sharp sound from her lips. His mouth traced her ear, then her neck, biting down harder.
That was all it took.
Her moans spilled out, louder this time.
Finally, he pulled back, leaving her neck marked with hickeys.
"Hmmm… suit yourself then, little moonlight," he murmured.
His eyes flicked to her lips, blood-stained from how hard she'd been sucking them.
She gasped, gripping his shirt for support as he slowly pulled away.
For a moment, they just stared at each other.
No words.
Only tension.
Only heat.
"Kacy…" she whispered after a while.
"You're drunk, Ivy," he sighed. "Get some rest."
"I wanna know," she pouted, tugging at his shirt again.
He looked down at her.
His eyes turned raw. Dark. Steamy.
Her hands slipped from his shirt, suddenly nervous.
"Ask me that again," he said quietly, "and I'll make you do it right fucking now, little moonlight."
She held his gaze, bold and unblinking.
After a long moment, they both looked away.
But Ivana wasn't done.
"Do what?" she pressed.
He shut his eyes, breathing slowly, fighting the urge to pull over and lose control.
Then he opened them.
"What I almost made you do," he whispered deliberately vague, deliberately slow, frustrating her so badly she felt like grabbing a knife and carving that smirk off his annoyingly pretty face.
"Whatever," she huffed.
It was better to let sleeping dogs lie. His eyes had already said enough, dark, promising, dangerous. She was not ready to dare him further.
So she turned away, rested her head against the seat, and shut her eyes.
He sighed quietly.
Thank God. She is asleep.
Truth be told, he was exhausted. Tired of the constant quarreling, the nagging, the fire she carried so effortlessly. All he wanted was peace of mind. Something he doubted he would ever get.
Maybe this was punishment.
His parents twisted way of repaying him for all the chaos he had caused them growing up.
But why Ivana Moore.
That girl was too innocent for the mess they dragged her into, and he fucking knew it.
She acted tough, sharp, fearless. But it was all a facade. A shield she wore so the world would not swallow her whole.
Everyone believed it.
Everyone except him.
He saw the fear.
The vulnerability.
The cracks slipping through her mask when she thought no one was looking.
Lost in thought, his hand moved unconsciously around her lap.
"Ahh… Kacy…"
She moaned softly, eyes snapping open.
His head whipped toward her, caught red handed.
"I thought you were asleep," he said, irritation bleeding into his tone.
Just when he had found silence, his little witch woke up.
"Um… I…" she stuttered.
"What?" he snapped, smacking his lips in frustration.
"I should be asking you that," she shot back, glaring at him. If looks could kill, he doubted he would still be breathing.
"What is that supposed to mean?" His irritation spiked.
"Look down."
He did.
Instant regret.
His jaw clenched as he turned his face away, embarrassed. For once, she was not at fault.
He was.
"I am sorry," he muttered after a brief internal war over whether to apologize.
They sat there in silence.
No tension.
No fire.
Just two people lost in their thoughts, pretending nothing had happened.
His hand remained on her lap, unmoving.
His eyes stayed on the road, though he spared her the occasional glance.
After a while, her eyes closed again.
He sighed in relief.
Finally.
But peace never lasted with Ivana.
"Kacy," she said softly.
He turned to her, forcing himself not to scoff or roll his eyes.
"Hmmm," he hummed, hiding his irritation.
"Do you love me?"
The world stopped.
No sound.
No movement.
Just thick, suffocating tension filling the car.
Their eyes locked.
Her breath hitched.
His jaw tightened.
The air felt heavy, charged, like one wrong word could shatter everything.
He had not expected that.
"No," he said plainly.
Emotionless.
Blunt.
Ouch.
Her heart cracked quietly.
She forced a smile. "That's a lie."
"Believe whatever you want," he replied, smirking as he watched her carefully.
"Why would you say it like that?" Her mask slipped.
Then she broke.
A sob tore out of her chest. Tears spilled freely, unstoppable. She covered her mouth, biting down on her hand, but it only made it worse.
She cried hard.
Messy.
Uncontrolled.
Wiping her face, sneezing, trembling.
He sighed deeply, staring at her tear stained face.
She was devastatingly beautiful like this.
Red cheeks.
Wet lashes.
Broken and raw.
Fuck.
He felt guilty. And somehow aroused.
God, he really was twisted.
He drove into the house, parked securely, and turned off the engine.
Without a word, he unbuckled her seat belt and pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her tightly.
She sobbed harder, hitting his chest weakly, swearing at him between tears.
He waited.
Then slowly, gently, he patted her back. Tightened his hold around her waist. Kissed her hair, breathing in her soft rose scent.
He leaned down and whispered into her ear, low and calm, his voice sending a shiver through her.
"It was not a no, baby."
She gasped softly.
"I only said that to piss you off, so you would shut that pretty mouth and let me rest." He paused, brow lifting slightly. "But instead, you went and raised my blood pressure with those cute, seductive tears."
He kissed her neck softly.
She stared at him, stunned, cheeks burning red.
Smiling quietly, she hugged his chest tighter.
She did not push.
She wanted his answer. God, she wanted it.
But she did not want to risk her hope crashing again.
So she let it rest.
Pulling away slightly, he exhaled.
"You are still a bit drunk. Let us get you to the bath."
He opened the door and lifted her effortlessly over his shoulder.
She protested immediately, slappingher hands on his chest and kicking his waist hard.
He gave a bored look before sending two sharp, deliberate slaps on her ass. That did the trick because she immediately mellowed, letting out a soft sigh.
"Except you want to work inside the house in just your panties, try struggling to get off me and see how much of a jerk I can be," he threatened, watching for any movement. When she didn't budge, he smirked.
Huffing in defeat, she snuggled into him, shaking her head. He rolled his tongue across his lips, smirking before stepping into the house.
They reached the bathroom, and he lowered her gently onto the bathtub, letting her rest against the cool tap.
She landed softly, her clothes clinging to her damp skin, every curve outlined and tempting.
He felt a sudden surge of heat, the closeness, the wetness, and instinctively leaned in but she pressed against him even more, wrapping herself around him.
In an instant, they were both soaked, bodies pressed together, the tension between them undeniable.
He grinned. With a swift, controlled motion, he pushed her fully into the tub. Her ass hit the porcelain hard, making her let out a sharp scream, glaring at him.
Before she could recover, he yanked the showerhead from its holder, letting the water pour harshly over her clothed body. She flailed, trying to grab it, but he held firm.
His eyes met hers, cold and commanding. "Touch that head again, little moonlight, and see if I'm all talk with no action," he warned, his voice thick with control. A twitch of his jaw betrayed his growing frustration...she would be the death of him one day.
"That's if you stop pouring the hea… um…" she stuttered, cheeks flushed with a soft pink.
"What's wrong, pretty? Why are you all pink? What happened to my feisty kitty?" he teased, laughing at her pout.
"I'm not your kitty," she huffed, turning her face away in annoyance.
"Really," he said simply. Without blinking, he sent another rush of water from the showerhead, drenching her further.
She shot her eyes to him, struggling to catch her breath. Coughing, she quickly slapped the showerhead from his hand to the floor.
For several long seconds, one… two… three… they stared at each other. Her emerald eyes locked with his piercing blue ones. Both were drenched, the water running down their faces and bodies, the bathroom echoing the tension between them.
Seizing the moment, she lifted herself from the tub, closing the small space between them.
He blinked, a flicker of curiosity and surprise crossing his face.
Leaning in, he pressed his lips to hers in a soft, teasing peck, leaving a spark of heat lingering between them.
She leaned closer, arms wrapping around his neck. A soft chuckle escaped her lips as she pulled him closer. Slowly, deliberately, she lifted the showerhead.
Then…
Ting… ting… shhhhhhh…
The water cascaded over them in thick, heavy streams.
For a heartbeat, the world stopped.
They were soaked.
Faces inches apart, eyes locked, lips untouched but minds completely connected.
Noses brushed. Foreheads nearly touched. Water dripped down their skin, sliding into their hair, tracing the curves of their bodies.
They didn't speak. They didn't move. Not really.
It was just them.
The heat between them. The tension. The unspoken words, the desire, the playfulness, the power, the submission, all of it.
And in that drenched silence, their hearts spoke louder than any words ever could.