Page 8 of Unwrapped

"I'm sure it's just temporary," I say, but I'm not sure if I'm talking about the power or this moment between us. Her fingers flex slightly against my chest, and I fight back a groan.

"Right." She glances up, and Christ, I'm not prepared for how she looks in this light - all wide eyes and parted lips. A strand of hair falls across her face.

Without thinking, I reach up to brush it back. My fingers graze her cheek, and I feel her slight shiver. The air grows thick, charged with possibilities.

"Ivy..." Her name comes out like a prayer.

She wets her lips, and my restraint nearly snaps. I want to back her against the elevator wall, taste the curve of her neck, find out if she's as soft everywhere as she feels in my arms. I want to—The elevator hums back to life. The regular lights flicker on, harsh and unforgiving.

Ivy steps back, smoothing her coat with trembling hands. I immediately feel colder without her pressed against me. We're both breathing harder than the situation warrants, and the tension between us is a living thing.

"Thanks," she says softly. "For catching me."

I clear my throat, trying to regain some semblance of control. "Anytime."

The elevator dings open at the lobby, and she hurries out with a rushed goodbye. I watch her go, my body still humming with awareness, desire, and frustration.

Running a hand through my hair, I pull out my phone to text my assistant.

Asher

Cancel my next meeting. I need some air.

Because right now, all I can think about is Ivy Calloway and how close I came to kissing her. How much I wanted to. How much I still want to.

The worst part? This isn't just attraction. The way my chest tightens when she smiles, how I can't stop thinking about making her laugh - this is dangerous territory for a guy like me. This is the kind of feeling that could change everything.

And standing in this elevator, still warm from her touch, I'm starting to think maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing.

I press the button for my floor, already counting the minutes until I see her again. One thing's for sure - I'm taking the stairs next time.

Who am I kidding? I'll be riding this elevator every chance I get, hoping for another power flicker, another moment alone with her.

I'm so screwed.

Chapter 3

Ivy

The cold wind bites my cheeks as I step outside the Mercer building, tugging my coat tighter around myself against the sharp Chicago air. Snowflakes swirl around me, sticking to my hair, but I barely notice. My mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, each one louder than the last. I focus on the rhythmic crunch of my boots on the snow-covered sidewalk, trying to ground myself, but it’s no use. My mind keeps circling back to one thing—no, one person.

Asher Mercer.

Seeing him again, after all these years, sent those familiar butterflies dancing through my lower belly, reminding me why I had that silly little crush on him all those years ago. He’s changed, but in a way that only makes him more intriguing. Back in high school, he was all easy smiles and effortless charm, but now there’s a depth to him, a seriousness that wasn’t there before. It’s like he’s grown into the person everyone expected him to be, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s truly happy.

And yet, some things about him are the same. That smile, for one. I tried to stay focused during our meeting, but every time his lips curled, making his eyes crinkle, that familiar swooping feeling tugged at my stomach, just like it used to when I wasseventeen. I told myself back then that he was just a teenage crush, that I was only drawn to him because he was everything I thought I wasn’t—confident, popular, the person everyone wanted to know. But now, I’m not so sure.

I let out a shaky breath, watching it billow out in a cloud of white, and shake my head, trying to regain some sense of control. This is just business—strictly professional. And yet I can’t ignore the flicker of something that I haven’t felt in a long time, something that feels a lot like hope, but also excitement.

My fingers curl inside my gloves, pressing against my palms as I quicken my pace. I can’t peel the smile from my face as I replay the way his eyes lit up as they scanned my body. While my thick wool coat doesn’t give away much about my shape, I can still tell when a man has to actively stop himself from letting his eyes linger.

But as soon as I giggle out loud to myself, I remember his invitation to the holiday party and my stomach drops. Not only do I not have anything to wear to an event the Mercer brothers would put on, but I’m way out of my league if it means having to steel his attention away from a crowd of people.

“I just won’t go,” I say to myself with a shrug as if it is just as simple as that. I take the stairs down to the train to head back to my place, my head now completely drowning in everything Tessa and I have to do next for Sugar & Spice.

Back at my apartment, the warmth hits me as soon as I step inside, along with the comforting scent of cinnamon and sugar. Tessa is perched on the edge of the couch, her laptop balanced on her knees as she types away, no doubt refining our business proposal for the hundredth time. She looks up when she hears me come in, her eyes lighting up with curiosity.

“Well? How did it go?” she asks, closing her laptop and setting it aside. Her voice is casual, but I can tell from the way she’s leaning forward that she’s dying to hear every detail.

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