Ivy’s POV
The moment I swing my legs off the bed, I know I’m screwed.
My thighs protest. My hips ache. And between my legs?
Yeah. Let’s just say gravity is not my friend this morning.
“f**k,” I hiss under my breath, gripping the edge of the bed like I’ve just come back from war.
Well. Technically, I did.
A war of moans, growls, and multiple orgasms that have left me wrecked in the most delicious way.
I shuffle, wobble, my way toward the ensuite, wincing with every step. My legs don’t even feel like mine. My core is sore in the best kind of way, and I swear I can still feel him inside me.
The door creaks open and the scent of steam and cedarwood hits me first.
He’s already in the bathroom. Shirtless. Leaning against the sink. Towel slung low around his hips. Coffee mug in one hand,
