Ivy was kneeling on the bed, her heart pounding, when the door to her room opened. Dane was silhouetted against the light coming from the microwave clock. Butterflies soared in her stomach. Why? It wasn’t the first time they’d had sex, and she had no reason to be afraid. Except she felt vulnerable in a way she hadn’t before, and she couldn’t seem to make that feeling go away. The sensible thing to do would be to send him away. But she couldn’t. If she could have done that, she’d have never opened her mouth to ask him to stay with her in the first place. Ivy very much feared she was still somewhat enamored of him in spite of the pain of the past. He was here, and for a short time he could be hers again—and she desired it with every cell of her body. He came inside and walked over to the bed. Then he reached for her shirt and tugged it up and over her head, tossing it aside. She wore nothing underneath, and cool air slipped over her skin. “That’s one of my old shirts, isn’t it?” His voice was a low rumble that vibrated through her.
