Page 17 of Billionaire Wolf Needs a Chef

When I finally pulled back, we both sat in stunned silence, our breaths mingling in the charged air. Ivy's hand flew to her lips, her cheeks flushed, and I could see the same mixture of shock and desire in her eyes that I felt coursing through my veins.

I opened my mouth to apologize, to explain, to say something, but no words came. Instead, I reached for her hand, lacing my fingers through hers.

The walk back to the hotel was quiet, with everything left unspoken between us crackling like a live wire. Every brush of our shoulders, every shared glance, sent sparks shooting through me, and I could tell that she felt it too. But when I glanced at her, she was biting her lip raw, her fingers twisting the strap of her purse like she wanted to strangle it.

Fuck. I'd done that. Put that tension in her shoulders. A momentary lapse of judgment, and I had ruined things.

When we reached our rooms, I paused outside her door, my grip on her hand tightening. "Ivy," I began.

Her breath hitched, those big brown eyes lifting to mine,hopeful.

The sight gutted me.

I dropped her hand like it burned me. "Goodnight, Ms. St. Clair." The words tasted like ash as they fell from my lips, but I had to remind both of us that there was a professional line we couldn't cross.

The way she flinched, like I'd slapped her, would haunt me for decades. Her lips parted, that smart mouth that always fought back trembling instead. But she said nothing, just pressed her spine against the door like she needed it to hold her up.

I walked away before I could ruin her further.

My mind was a whirlwind of emotions, regret, desire, confusion, and something deeper I couldn't quite name. I raked a hand through my hair, exhaling sharply as I turned and walked to my own room.

Once inside, I leaned against the door, my heart still racing. What the hell had I just done? I'd crossed a line, one I'd sworn I wouldn't cross. Ivy was an employee, a vital part of my company, and yet that kiss had felt inevitable, as though we'd been hurtling toward it since the moment she'd walked into my office.

I stripped off my jacket and tie, tossing them onto the bed as I paced the room. My wolf stirred within me, restless and agitated, its instincts screaming that Ivy was mine. Mate. The word echoed in my mind, unbidden and unwelcome. It wasn't just a word. It was the undeniable truth. Something I knew in the depths of my bones. Ivy wasn't just another woman. She was everything I longed for. That's why I had to stay away from her. I clenched my fists, fighting back the primal urge to go to her, to drag her back to my room and claim her, to make her mine in every sense of the word.

But I couldn't. I wouldn't. My life was built on control, on order, and Ivy threatened to unravel all of that. She was fire in human form, a force of nature I couldn't contain, beautiful, consuming, but destructive. And yet, I'd kissed her. I'd let myself be drawn into her orbit, and now we were both paying the price.

Then, there was a knock at the door.

"Cameron?"

I froze. Every muscle in my body ached to yank open the door. To fall to my knees and beg her for mercy.

Instead, I stayed silent.

Through the door, the sound of her breathing was as loud as a passing train. Eventually, they faded along with her footsteps.

I sank onto the bed, her taste still on my lips.

Cherries. Chocolate. Ivy.

This wasn't lust. Or even the wolf's recognition of my fated mate.

It was worse.

Somewhere, between the way she rose to every challenge I gave her, and the way she'd looked at me, she had seen the man beneath the empire. The weak mortal I worked so hard to hide away. I had fallen and let down my guard.

And now, I had to bury him again.

For her sake, and for mine.

Because love wasn't a luxury that I could afford.

Chapter 7

IVY

I woke up with a start, the events of last night flooding back in a rush. The kiss. Oh God, the kiss. I could still feel the press of Cameron's lips against mine, the warmth of his hand on my face, the way my heart had leaped in my chest. My fingers brushed over my mouth as if the ghost of his lips lingered there.

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