Wild: The Ivy Chronicles (16 page)

“Mom, I have to lead my own life and do what’s right for me. Just because I don’t make the choices you want doesn’t mean my choices are wrong.”
Did I honest to God just say that?

“Georgia,” Mom’s voice sharpened with authority—it was her principal voice. “Let me remind you that these choices you make are at my expense. Your father and I are paying your way. You are not as free as you think you are. We had an understanding when we let you go so far from home—that you would be there with Harris had a lot to do with our agreeing for you to go to Dartford.”

I sputtered and tried to remind her that he dumped me, but she barreled ahead.

“You were supposed to come home in the summers. And after graduation. You would get a sensible, useful degree and settle down here after graduation.”

There was an edge of desperation to her voice as she flung out these reminders. Before I could stop myself I heard myself snap, “Deviating from your plan doesn’t mean I’m like him, you know. It doesn’t mean I’m less of a person. I’ll still be your daughter. You can still love me.”

Silence met my outburst and for a moment I wondered if we had been disconnected. I almost hoped we had. That she had not heard me bring up that most taboo of subjects—my father.

I tried to imagine her face. Was she sitting at the kitchen table or in her bedroom with shades of pastels all around her?

“Georgia,” Mom began in carefully modulated tones and I released a breath, thinking this was it. We were finally going to have that talk—address the elephant in the room that happened to be my father and her need to create me in an image that was the antithesis of him.

“You will be here before August third. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. Do you understand?”

My fingers tightened around the phone until my knuckles ached. I was a fool to ever think we would have a conversation of substance. “Yes. I understand.”

A few more empty words were exchanged and the call ended. A frustrated scream welled up from my lips. I tossed the phone down on the futon, watched as it bounced twice and then clattered to the floor. Like it was some living thing trying to get away from me.

She’d never understand. She didn’t want to. I’d be what she wanted or I could kiss good-bye her support. Financially. Emotionally. If I wanted her love and approval, I had to live the life of her choosing.

I pressed my knuckles to the backs of my suddenly aching eyes. I hated her right then . . . hated myself because I let her do this to me.

It was like Logan had said. I was buried away in my closet. Too afraid to let myself go. Well. Except for when I was with him. I’d embraced my wild nature then, shutting off the voice in my head that sounded a lot like Mom, warning me to be sensible, good, well-behaved, and dignified.

I hated that voice. I hated that me.

A sudden burn started in my gut. I scrambled for my phone. Hanging half my body off the futon, I snatched it from the floor and texted Annie. I hadn’t forgotten what night it was or her offer.

My fingers flew over the keys, punching in just a few words, making certain the sensible Georgia that Mom insisted be home by August third was gone. At least for tonight anyway.

Me:
Hey, A. Can I still come with you tonight???

Chapter 18

A
NNIE HADN’T BEEN KIDDING.
Pillared and eggshell white with a wide veranda that faced an infinite stretch of green lawn, the house was something out of
Better Homes and Gardens
. Jasmine crawled over the porch, and flowerpots brimming with colorful buds swayed in the evening breeze. It was elegance bordering on decadence. The kind of place I imagined Ina Garten hosting one of her cooking shows.

All the houses on the street sat on big lots, promising a semblance of privacy. Several cars were already parked in the large horseshoe drive. Annie parked on the street and we walked past the parked vehicles, our heels clicking in unison. I couldn’t stop myself from scanning for Logan’s Bronco. I didn’t see it, but I also didn’t know what Rachel drove.

At the front door, Annie pushed the bell, sliding me an approving glance. “You look hot.”

“Thanks. So do you.”

“Damn right. This is my night.”

I smoothed a shaking hand down the skirt of my snug dress. After Annie told me what she would be wearing, I’d decided to dress up, too. As tempting as it had been to wear basic black, I had reached for the bright blue dress in the back of my closet. I’d bought it a year and a half ago to wear to a dinner that Harris insisted I attend with his parents. I probably weighed five pounds less then so it hugged me like a second skin now. Even if it wasn’t so tight, it would be hard to fade into the background in the peacock blue.

I had vowed that the Georgia my mother had worked so hard to create . . . the only Georgia she would accept and tolerate . . . be nowhere in evidence tonight.

“Annnnnie, looking hot!” The guy who opened the door for us was familiar from the last kink club. His hair was shaved on one side and the other side of his scalp sported long, slicked-back hair. He wore glossy pink lip gloss a shade close to my own.

He pressed a quick kiss to each of our cheeks. “Well, bitches. What do you think?” He motioned widely to the foyer with beringed fingers.

“Beautiful,” I murmured, looking up at the domed ceiling in awe.

“Yeah, I thought you were bullshitting about hosting this month in a twelve-bedroom mansion, but I stand corrected, Andy.”

“I always deliver. No more orgies in a room the size of my closet.” He linked his arms with ours and led us through the grand foyer, our heels clicking over the tiles.

I admired the expensive art hanging on the walls. Classical music piped in from hidden speakers somewhere. We passed a table holding a ginormous vase of fresh-cut flowers. “Andy, is this your place?” I asked.

He smiled elusively as we entered the living room. “It belongs to a friend. I have connections.” He plucked up two wineglasses and thrust them at us.

I nodded my thanks and scanned the small crowd occupying the large space. No loud music or kegs of beers. No cheering as people made out on top of a pool table. It was dignified. A dozen people mingled throughout the room, drinking from wineglasses.

Annie spotted her guy almost immediately. She winked at me. “I’m going in.”

Suddenly alone, I stood near the grand piano, fingers playing with the stem of my wineglass and trying not to feel uncomfortable. Tonight was about freedom. Doing what I wanted without fear of failing to meet the expectations that had been drilled into me since birth.

Even though it was summer, a fire crackled in the fireplace. I’m sure Andy thought it added to the ambience, and I had to admit it did cast enticing light and shadows throughout the room.

Within a few moments, Annie and her guy slipped upstairs, presumably heading to one of the many rooms available. And they weren’t the only ones slipping away. A few minutes passed and Andy gave up on his hosting duties, exiting the room with another couple.

“Hello, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Lance.” I turned to face the guy who stopped before me. A girl stood beside him. “This is my girlfriend, Opal.”

We shook hands. “Hi, I’m Georgia.”

They were an attractive couple. Maybe a few years older than me. Grad students probably.

“Are you new?” Opal asked. “We haven’t seen you before.”

“I’ve been once. Briefly.”

“Ah.” Lance nodded. “Decided to try it again then. Well, the summer meetings are the best. Less intimidating for a newcomer, right Opal?”

She nodded, her dark corkscrew curls bouncing around her shoulders. “Yes, far more intimate. It’s more conducive to making an actual connection.” I almost smiled. She made it sound like online dating. This was a bit of a stretch from that. “The rest of the time, it’s just one giant meat market.”

“It was a little overwhelming the last time,” I agreed.

“Are you interested in going upstairs with us, Georgia?” Lance asked, his gaze cutting into mine directly. His hand lightly touched my arm. He was all politeness, but what he was asking was clear. Would I join them?
In a bedroom?!
Just the three of us.

I swallowed and stammered. “I-I appreciate the offer, but no, thank you.”

Opal nodded. “Interested in something else, huh? Maybe we can help you find it.”

I must have looked panicked at their invitation for her to take pity on me and make such an offer. I
was
looking for something else, I realized. Someone else. Someone else was the reason I had come here. I had been pretending otherwise.

I opened my mouth, but then closed it with a snap when Rachel and Logan walked in the room.

My gaze locked on him. He wasn’t dressed up like everyone else. He was wearing jeans and a cotton T-shirt that looked soft and touch-worthy, falling flat against the cut of his pecs and abdomen. My palms tingled, ready to feel all the hard valleys and angles of his body.

“Ahh.” Opal nodded, following my gaze. “You’re here for Logan.”

I shook my head in denial, even though I kept my gaze trained on Logan. I was locked on him like he was some kind of homing device.

Opal waved him over. “Logan!”

“Oh, no . . . Don’t!” My face burned as his gaze lifted and found me. He took me in with a sweep of blistering blue, and I suddenly felt self-conscious standing there in my tight dress. Like a little girl playing dress-up.

He and Rachel strolled toward us. I risked a glance at Rachel, and her eyes flashed at me with some of the aversion that I recognized from our last conversation at the ballpark.

“Fancy seeing you here, Georgia,” Rachel said, looking back and forth between Logan and me. Clearly, she was waiting to see his reaction. So was I.

I took a slow sip of my wine.

Lance and Opal looked from Logan to me and then to each other. The tension was palpable, thick and choking. Lance shifted on his feet.

Opal downed her glass of wine. “I’m going to get a refill.”

Lance nodded eagerly and placed his hand at the small of her back. They walked away, leaving the three of us standing there. I struggled to hold Logan’s gaze, waiting for him to say something.

Finally, he spoke: “What are you doing here?”

“Annie invited me.”

“And this seemed like a good idea?” He motioned to the room.

I shrugged. “Why not? You’re here.” My gaze flicked to Rachel. “She’s here. Why can’t I be here?”

Rachel turned her gaze to Logan, looking very interested in his answer.

“You’re not us,” he replied flatly.

This answer seemed to satisfy her. She turned an almost smug smile on me. If he wanted to widen the gap even further between us and firmly stick me in a box outside of the one he occupied with Rachel, he had just succeeded. A bitter ache filled my chest. I guess I deserved that. I had rejected him in front of Pepper and Reece. I couldn’t expect open arms from him tonight.

A muscle feathered along his jaw and he dug the blade deeper into my heart, saying, “This is my kind of place. Not yours. You’ve made it clear how different you and I are.” He angled his head as if searching his memory. “
We’re not right
. . . I think that’s what you said.” His gaze sharpened on me, his eyes glacier blue. “We can ask Reece if you don’t remember.”

I had said that. And now I was here at a kink club. Like that was
right
. What a hypocrite I was. That must be what he thought looking at me now. I couldn’t muster the truth though. Especially with Rachel watching. I couldn’t tell him I changed my mind. I couldn’t just admit that I was here because of him. For him. That I couldn’t leave him alone.

I tossed my head back and downed the rest of my wine, hating how my hand trembled. I wanted to apologize, but I couldn’t bring myself to say anything.

I held up my empty glass. “I need a refill, too.”

I turned my back on them and marched toward the bar, my spine ramrod-straight. A guy was there pouring wine. He grinned as I approached. “What can I get the pretty lady in blue? A refill? I can also make you a cocktail, if you’d like that.”

I opened my mouth but I didn’t have time to respond. Logan came up beside me. He plucked the glass from my fingers and set it down sharply. Seizing my hand, he turned and started walking me from the room, his footsteps biting hard into the floor.

His fingers laced with mine, and my breath hitched at his strong palm flush against my own. I could feel his pulse bleeding into me from this single contact.

My strides weren’t as long as his—largely due to my too-tight dress—and I had to hurry to keep pace. A strong sense of déjà vu washed over me. It was like the last time he marched me out of a kink club. Except this time every nerve ending in my body sparked and hummed with the knowledge of him. His hands, his mouth, his body moving over mine. Against me. In me.

I knew what it was like between us. There was no wondering about it. There was only longing that curled in the pit of my belly. A yearning anticipation that went bone-deep and quickened my breathing.

We cleared the threshold and he pulled me down the wide hall with all the expensive-looking art. I tugged my hand free from his and stopped, rubbing it against my thigh.

Our gazes clashed.

“You’re here because of me,” he accused. “Just fucking admit it. Go ahead. Reece and Pepper aren’t here so there won’t be any embarrassment.”

That stung. Even if it was the truth. “There goes that arrogance again.”

“Better that than delusional.”

“What’s that supposed to—”

“I don’t know if you’re lying to yourself or me, Georgia. You’re not looking for some kink with a random guy here. The only reason you came back here is because you knew I might be here.” He inhaled a deep breath, lifting his broad chest, adding, “Because you miss me as much as I miss you.”

I floundered, unable to deny the truth of his words. But if I admitted that, I couldn’t go back. I couldn’t deny
us
anymore. “I meant what I said in my apartment. However badly it came out.” We weren’t
right
. This couldn’t go anywhere between us.

“But you’re here.” He inched closer a step, his deep voice taunting. “Damn frustrating, isn’t it?”

I inched back. “What?”

“Letting your head get in the way of what your heart wants . . . what your body needs.”

My back hit the hall wall. He stopped, keeping a thin space between our bodies. His hand covered my heart then, his palm curving over my breast. I inhaled, my breast rising to fill his palm. I wasn’t wearing a bra. The dress held me in so tightly I didn’t need one, and my nipple beaded almost painfully hard, thrusting up into his palm.

My gaze searched his face, the deep-set eyes, the hard jaw, and beautiful mouth. He held my gaze, his expression almost challenging.

How could he see so much? It’s like he understood me without me having to explain anything at all.

“You want me. You just have to stop living in your head so much. Listening to all the reasons why we can’t be together.” The hand that curved over my breast slid down my torso, molding itself to me, gliding over my rib cage, my hip.

“Easy for you to say. You don’t live under any expectations. Any rules. You don’t have—” I stopped abruptly, horror filling me at the insensitive words about to trip from my lips.

“A family?” he finished.

I shook my head, feverishly backpedaling. “No. You have a dad—”

“A drunk who doesn’t even know when I move him from the living room to his bed after he passes out on the floor.”

“Your brother—”

“Is my
brother
. Not my parent. And he has his own life. Pepper is his family now. But you’re right. I don’t live under anyone else’s expectations. I follow my own rules.”

And I envied him that freedom.

My breath caught as his hand slipped around to my bottom. He gave me a hard squeeze and then slipped down even farther, his fingers inching down my thigh to the hem of my dress.

His voice continued in a husky pitch, “You should try it.”

“Try what?”

“Being an adult.”

“I’m twenty years old,” I shot back, an awful feeling trickling through me.

“That doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a number. Especially if you’re still acting like a scared little girl . . . too afraid to live the life she wants for fear of disappointing Mommy.”

The languor that had been filling my body vanished. Fury blossomed inside my chest. Now I recognized that awful feeling . . . knew it for the fear it was. But he was right. That’s what infuriated me the most. I grabbed his hand and halted it where it had started to slide up the hem of my dress.

“I’m a scared little girl?” I squeezed out from between him and the wall, thinking:
watch me
.

I started marching back down the hall toward the living room, following the sound of music and voices.

“Georgia, what are you doing?” The taunting quality had fled from his voice.

“Going to get my kink on with some random guy,” I flung out.

“You know you’re just proving my point.” He was following. His voice sounded like it was right behind me, so I walked faster—as much as I could in the stupid dress. “You don’t like hearing the truth, so you’re throwing a tantrum.”

“Then that ego of yours should feel great about being right.”

“Damn it, Georgia.” He grabbed my arm and swung me around. “You’re out of your mind if you think I’m letting you go into that room to hook up with someone else.”