Divided (Unguarded #2) - Ivy Stone Page 0,62

Her long blonde hair swishes around and my head tilts to the side as I admire her ass, peeking out under my shirt. She spins around and stops mid-step.

“Roamyn.” Her cheeks blush.

“By all means. Please, continue what you’re doing,” I say, my smile now huge and completely unhidden.

“Actually, I think what you’re baking in there needs to be checked.” I stand up and point to the oven, hoping she’ll bend back over and show me some skin. “Is something burning?” I sniff the air, pretending to smell smoke.

Her eyes narrow and she smiles. “Did you really think I was going to fall for that?”

I laugh. “A man can dream, babe.”

I take her in from the messy bed hair hanging over her chest but not quite hiding her hard nipples against the fabric across her chest. To my shirt drowning her slight curves but sitting at the tops of her legs giving me a view that my dick believes, deserves a standing ovation.

She pulls at the bottom of the tee. “What is it?” she asks, her tone sweet and soft.

“Nothing. Just… watching you in my shirt. In my kitchen. Fucking ruining whatever the hell it is you’re trying to cook on the stove.” We both laugh as I gesture to the pan with what I’m assuming Ali had high hopes to be an omelet.

My voice becomes low. “It’s different.”

“You mean a woman’s never cooked you breakfast before?”

I shake my head and grab a glass of juice from the fridge. “Nope. I don’t usually partake in the sort of relationships that entail cooking breakfast the next day.”

She rolls her eyes. “Gee. Shocker.”

Ali moves past me but I grab her hip before she gets far and I move us back against my counter. I lean either side of her, not leaving an escape. Her breath hitches.

“Never wanted it. Not until you came along.”

Her lips part. She squirms, rubbing her thighs together. “I wouldn’t really say I came along into your life, Roam.”

I look past, Ali. My throat closes up with the hurt bound to come from me voicing out loud what I’m about to say. “No. You crashed in it. Consumed me. And now you’re everything.”

It’s the eyes.

Her steel-blue hues that if I looked at her right now, would be soft, full of love and regret all at the same time, because she loves me. That’s the most stupid most painful fucking part of this.

“Roam,” she whispers and it kills me. Fucking ruins me.

I don’t give her the chance to continue. I can’t take it. Not after the night we’ve just had.

“I know you’re not ready, Ali. I get it. You’re still healing.”

She lifts her hand to my chest. “You love me no matter what I do. You love all sides to me. Even the ones you should never have had to see.” A tear rolls down her cheek and she peers up at me. “Let me become the best version of me. So that I can love you no matter what, too.”

My heart? That thing that used to beat and keep me alive? Ripped-the-motherfucking-out.

I sniff, holding back the emotion I want to let loose. I want to scream for the injustice of it all. Don’t we deserve to be happy after everything the two of us have been through, together and apart?

I drop my arms and step back, letting her go. I love her. I understand her. But we both need time alone.

She disappears into the bedroom and comes back out still dressed in my shirt, but with cut-offs underneath and her black combat boots on her feet.

She walks to the door and as she pulls it open, she stops and glances back at me. “I’ll see you soon, Detective Roamyn Tate.”

I clench my jaw. “Yeah. You will.”

She walks away and I call out before it shuts. “And Ali?”

“Yeah?” she asks, her voice lighter.

“Be safe.”

A small smile lights up her angelic face. “I’ll always be safe, Roamyn. I’ve got you watching over me.”

The door clicks shut. Along with my heart.

Sad, sappy, shitty music does nothing for nursing a broken heart. But the bottle of whiskey I’ve nearly downed since Ali left this morning, has at least eased the ache in my chest to a dull throb every now and again.

“Roamyn. Open up.”

My ears perk up.

“Ali?” I slur and stumble to the door of my apartment. I get closer and the knocking becomes louder. I yank open the door, the bottle still in my other hand.

My brows knot together. “Sarah?”

Sarah, my old friends