All Chapters of Never trust a Blackwood : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Ivy's POVI haven't had a proper conversation with Satan's favorite child in three days, and I'd like it to be officially recorded that those three days have been fucking peaceful.I've seen him, obviously. Avoiding Roman should be easy considering Blackthorne is huge, yet the universe seems determined to throw him into my line of sight whenever possible. Tuesday, I spotted him leaving the business building. Yesterday, he was leaning against some ridiculously expensive car with who I assume is Cole, looking like the poster boy for rich men with anger issues. Both times, he noticed me. Both times, I looked away first. Not because he intimidated me. - I mean, he does but I won't admit that out loud - Absolutely not. I simply had somewhere else to look. More importantly, we've managed seventy-two hours without arguing, threatening each other or staring at body parts neither of us has any fucking business staring at.Unfortunately, the camera incident hasn't disappeared quite as successfu

Ivy's POVI wake up because my uterus has apparently declared war on the rest of my body. There really isn't a more graceful way to describe it. One second I'm asleep, buried beneath what feels like six thousand pounds of blankets, and the next a cramp twists through my lower stomach hard enough to drag me straight back into consciousness. I curl onto my side with a groan, pulling my knees towards my chest and immediately discovering that having the flu and my period at the same time is some spectacular cosmic bullshit. My head pounds. My throat feels like I've swallowed sandpaper. Every muscle aches, my skin can't decide whether it's freezing or boiling, and now my lower back has joined the growing list of body parts that are just trying to kill me. Brilliant. Absolutely fucking brilliant. If another organ wants to rebel against me, now would apparently be the perfect time.“Stop moving.”My eyes open. Oh, good. Satan's still here.Roman is sitting at Dakota's desk with his laptop op

Ivy's POVThe last three weeks have disappeared beneath deadlines, camera batteries, editing software and enough caffeine to qualify as a personality disorder. Somewhere between my final photography assignment and one professor deciding sleep is optional, Blackthorne has started preparing for winter break. Fairy lights hang around the courtyard, Christmas music follows me into every coffee shop, and half the students are already talking about flights home. I should be excited. Instead, I’m sitting cross-legged on my bed wearing an oversized sweatshirt while staring at a message from Shane Carter. We met outside the photography building 4 weeks ago. He plays hockey, smiles too easily and somehow acquired my number after helping me carry equipment across campus. Since then, he’s texted every day. Nothing creepy or too pushy. Just enough attention to make me wonder whether maybe I’ve spent too long assuming every man who looks in my direction has an ulterior motive.SHANE: Party tonight

Roman's POVIvy kisses me again, and whatever good intentions I dragged forty fucking minutes across Seattle disappear the second her fingers tighten in my hair. I came here to apologise. That was it. Say what needed saying, convince her I hadn't meant the shit I threw at her in my father's kitchen and leave before I found another way to fuck things up. Simple. Instead, I'm standing in the middle of her dorm with one hand around her waist, her mouth against mine and enough blood travelling south to make rational thought a distant fucking memory. She tastes like chocolate from whatever she's been eating, and every time she presses closer, the oversized sweatshirt between my hand and her body feels increasingly unnecessary. I want her. That's not new. What's new is how badly I want to stay after kissing her. How much I want everything that comes after it.Her fingers slide higher into my hair, and a low sound catches somewhere in my throat before I can stop it. Well. That's fucking emba

Roman's POVI haven't spoken to anyone voluntarily since eight this morning. King tried. I told him to fuck off. Saint asked whether Christmas had finally destroyed the last functioning part of my personality, so I told him to fuck off too. Hunter didn't bother, which is probably why he's currently my favourite person on campus. Ivy, unfortunately, doesn't possess the basic survival instinct required to leave me alone when I'm in a shit mood. She appeared beside me before her first lecture, stole my coffee, took one sip and complained it was disgusting before handing it back like I was somehow responsible for her poor decisions.Then she kissed the corner of my mouth right in front of all the guys, called me a miserable bastard and walked towards photography wearing the smug little smile she's developed since discovering I don't hate having her mouth on me. I haven't decided which part pissed me off more. The coffee theft, the insult, or the fact one fucking kiss improved my mood. Pro