The Villainess Needs a Hug (Ivy Windsor) novel Chapter 613

Mostly, Ivy was worried that a little bit of innocent cuddling would quickly spiral into something that neither of them could stop.

She hadn’t slept well the night before, and had only started to feel human again after a heavy nap that afternoon.

“Go ahead, get your work done. I’ll just hold you like this, promise I won’t be a distraction,” Jamison said, with no intention of reading–he only wanted to gaze at

his wife.

Ivy shot him a look.

Work while being held? Only he could come up with something like that.

When she kept glaring at him, Jamison nodded toward her laptop. “Come on, finish up so we can go visit my folks.”

“Forget it. I’m done.” Ivy snapped her laptop shut, ready to change and head out.

She tried to stand, but Jamison refused to let go.

“Stop messing around.”

“I’m not. Wherever you want to go, I’ll carry you there.”

Before she could protest, Jamison had already scooped her up with ease, dropping a few kisses along her neck as he did.

“Oh, you’re impossible–I do have legs, you know…”

Jamison just smiled, kissing her again and again, gentle and unhurried.

Ivy put up a token protest, but the happiness was written all over her face, right up to the tips of her eyebrows. Eventually, she stopped dodging and kissed him back, bold and unashamed.

Even when it came time to change clothes, Jamison insisted on

helping–undressing her, picking out a new outfit, helping her slip it on. It was a miracle they didn’t end up setting the fitting room on fire.

Every weekend seemed to pass in this luxurious, decadent bliss–happiness, sweet and utterly shameless.

As soon as their car pulled through the gates of Ludwig Mansion, Ivy hadn’t even

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unbuckled her seatbelt when Halley Ludwig came sprinting out, nearly bursting with excitement.

“Aunt Ivy! Aunt Ivy!”

Ivy stepped out and bent down to greet the little guy. “Hal, you’ve grown again!”

“Aunt Ivy, you’re even prettier than last time!”

You had to hand it to the kid–his social skills were off the charts.

Ivy laughed, turning to her husband as he came over. “See? Even the little ones know how to pay a compliment better than you.”

In so many ways, Halley was a miniature version of Jamison. Except in emotional intelligence–there, Halley left his uncle in the dust.

Jamison gave a huff. “He’s just a little charmer.”

“I am not!” Halley protested, all seriousness in his tiny voice. “Mom says a gentleman should always be kind–protect girls, take care of them, and say nice things they like to hear.”

Jamison had no comeback for that.

Seeing him speechless, Ivy laughed even harder, taking Halley’s hand as they headed inside. “Your mom’s right. A real gentleman is caring, responsible, and has good manners. Grow up like that and you’ll never be short of girlfriends.”

“No, no-” Halley shook his head, dead serious. “One girlfriend is enough. If you have too many, you’re a jerk, and jerks get hit.”

Ivy nearly choked. How did this five–year–old already have life figured out? Half the things he blurted out were lessons grown men never learned.

In the living room, Adela Ludwig was seated on the couch. Seeing them come in, she got up and met them at the door.

“I heard you two were in a car accident yesterday. You say you’re fine? Come here

and let me have a look.”

Of course, just as Jamison predicted, the whole family dinner was just an excuse for his parents to check if they were hiding any injuries.

Ivy remembered the awkward fallout from her last visit, and the three–year agreement, and couldn’t help feeling a little self–conscious.

But if the family was willing to let the past slide, she could too. She forced herself

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to act as if nothing had ever happened.

“Mom, we’re really okay. Just got a bit of a scare, that’s all.”

Before she finished, Adela was already tugging Ivy’s arm, looking her up and down from every angle.

“As long as you’re okay. Your health’s always been fragile. If you’d gotten hurt, it’d be even harder to get pregnant,” she muttered.

So that’s what she cared about. Ivy pressed her lips together, saying nothing.

Jamison immediately jumped to her defense. “Mom, she’s a person, not a baby factory. And whether or not we have kids is up to me. If you keep pushing her, I’ll just get a vasectomy.”

As a doctor, Jamison knew full well how easy that procedure was for men–much simpler and less painful than for women.

Ivy’s heart skipped. She glanced at her husband. She’d told him before: don’t go overboard defending her in front of his family, or it would only make things worse

for her.

Clearly, he’d forgotten.

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