Mister West by R.J. Lewis (animal farm read .TXT) 📕

“I have you on Facebook.”

He gives me a look. “Not Facebook, Ivy, what the fuck.”

I laugh. “Okay.”

“If you’re ever in trouble or just need some friendly company, call me, alright?”

I pull my phone out of my pocket and we exchange numbers. Then he wraps his arms around me in a big bear hug. It feels nice to have his support, to know it’s not just Ana and Alicia in my corner. The second he pulls away, I feel arms wrap around my waist. Aidan’s scent falls over me as he pulls me to his side.

“Gonna introduce me, beauty?” he asks, staring straight at Terry, almost like he’s sizing him up.

“This is Terry,” I say, holding back a smile.

“And I was just going back to my guys,” Terry replies, holding back a laugh. “See ya, Ivy.”

I wave at him. We don’t immediately move. Aidan’s staring at him, not appearing completely impressed.

“He’s a friend from high school,” I tell him.  “Quit it.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You look like you’re about to be reactive.”

Now his lips twitch. “Yeah, I don’t know what the hell is happening.”

“It’s called jealousy.” But I stare at him hard, studying his expression, feeling a shred of doubt. “Right?”

He smirks, tugging me closer. “You’re driving me crazy, Ivy.”

His hand wraps around mine possessively and he’s leading me out of the bar.

Sixteen

Ivy

We step out into the cold air. We walk along the plaza. I’m on a high and I can’t stop grinning like an idiot.

“Why are you smiling?” he asks, bumping his shoulder to mine.

“You were jealous.”

He chuckles. “You said that twice already.”

“Admit it.”

He stops and spins me around so I’m facing him. He drops my hand and looks down at me, appearing amused and…hungry. Those brown eyes search mine. “I wasn’t jealous,” he tells me, his voice low. “It was more than that. Worse.”

“Worse?” My voice is quiet, questioning.

“It felt like lava in my veins. It felt…”

I wait as he searches for the words.

But his gaze falls to my mouth. “You’re tempting the fuck out of me right now.”

But I’m not doing anything. I’m just staring back at him, holding my breath.

“Fuck,” he whispers now, coming closer to me, dropping his head to mine. “Stop it, Ivy, before I lose control.”

I bite my lip. “Whatever I’m doing, it’s your fault, Mr West. And besides,” I turn away and begin walking down the sidewalk ahead of him, turning once to say, “it’s more fun this way.”

I feel a deep groan behind me, and I smile to myself. I can hear his footsteps, so I move a little faster to keep the distance. We pass a few more restaurants, and the patios are packed Everyone’s been watching the match. They can’t stop talking about it. A corner bar is exploding with a song. Can’t Feel My Face is playing. I hear cheers. I race to the courtyard, aware that Aidan is following close behind. Just as I feel his hands on my waist, I spin around to face him and wrap my hands around the back of his neck, settling my arms on his shoulders. He holds me close, laughing when I start to dance to the song. A bit of drink in me, a bit of wanting eyes from Aidan West, his admission to feeling jealous, and I’m feeling a buzz I can’t describe. A buzz that makes me want to kiss him… or dance… and for now I’ll stick to dancing.

“You’re a lot of fun, beauty,” he whispers in my ear. “You’re vibrant, exciting, and you’re so fucking beautiful it hurts my eyes to look at you.”

He pulls away to look down at me. He stares down at my lips. He shifts closer, gripping me tight, and then he drops his face to mine. His nose touches mine and I feel his breath against my mouth. My heart is pounding, and I…resist.

I pull away. “Spin me, Mr West.”

His face is pained. He spins me, his gaze drunk off the sight of me.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask him, stopping now to catch my breath.

His shrug is faint. A weak smile curls along his lips as he pins me with his wanting gaze. “I like you, Ivy Montcalm.” It’s spoken like a soft admission.

My heart skips a beat. I’m just about to tell him I like him too when something wet hits my face. I see a raindrop land on his cheek. Another on his lips. We stop moving and I look up, smiling widely as more drops begin to fall.

“We better get out of here,” I tell him. “Or we’ll get drenched.”

He removes his suit jacket again and throws it to me. I catch it and place it over my head.

He grins. “Better run, Miss Montcalm.”

We hurry out of the courtyard. The rain picks up on our way down the long trek back to his car. It’s pissing down now, and he’s drenched. His white shirt is soaked through. I can see all his muscles through that shirt. All the fine lines, and it steals my breath away. When he turns to look at me, grinning, I realize I’m getting wet regardless of his stupid jacket. I throw it at him, and he laughs, catching it. He carries it loosely in one hand and then extends his other one out for me.

I take it.

We run back the way we came.

He pulls me close to his side, like he’s shielding me from the wind. It’s cold. Freezing actually. I’m shivering and laughing and he’s stopping often to run his hands up and down my arms to warm me.

He’s so fucking sweet, it melts me.

My hair is ruined. My clothes are saturated. I’m aware the cropped sweater I’m wearing is glued to my waist and part of my belly is showing. There are already puddles on the ground, and I step into them in my hurry, yelping as it sinks into my shoes. I hear