Page 38 of Falling for Mr. Billionaire

“No,” she says, almost instantly.

We lie like that, too close and not close enough.

Her fingers trail absently along my chest now, soft strokes that make it nearly impossible to stay still. Her breath is warm against my neck. My hand, tucked around her shoulder, inches lower—fingertips grazing the bare skin of her upper arm.

If I moved my hand just a little more, I could skim the curve of her waist. Maybe her hip. Maybe—

She shifts again, curling into me.

I close my eyes.

This is torture.

This is heaven.

This is the storm before the storm.

“Ivy,” I say, my voice a raw rasp in the dark. “If you don’t want anything to happen tonight… you need to stop touching me.”

Silence.

Then her fingers go still on my chest. But she doesn’t move away.

Instead, she whispers, “Goodnight, Carter.”

Not a yes.

Not a no.

Just enough to keep me burning.

I stay frozen in place, jaw tight, every nerve in my body screaming—but I don’t cross the line.

Not yet.

She takes a few breaths like she wants to speak but doesn’t. “What’s on your mind?” I ask trying to keep my mind off of her body.

“I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions,” she says softly. “But maybe it’s a good reminder. We’re not… anything. And we should probably keep it that way.”

Right. Friends.

Except she’s barefoot. Wearing that. In my bed. The candlelight’s licking her skin like it wants to devour her. And I’m sitting here, trying not to reach for what I want more than air.

“Sure,” I say, my voice low. “Just friends.”

She turns her head. “That’s what’s best.”

“Totally. Very grown-up. Very… rational.”

I shift under the blanket. She does too. Our bodies brush—barely—and my cock is already screaming for her.

“Don’t accidentally cuddle me in your sleep,” she warns, smirking.

“Oh, I’m planning to sleep rigidly on my side,” I murmur. “Totally platonic. Zero contact.”

We both lie.

The second her leg grazes mine, it’s like striking a match in a room full of gasoline.

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