Page 19 of Bedding his Innocent Mistress

THIS WAS MADNESS AND rightness, all rolled into one. How was it possible that she felt so certain and so conflicted about something? She wanted Rafe. She wanted him and she was high on how much he wanted her.

But it was a terrifying thing to contemplate what she – they – were about to do. To stand on the threshold of his apartment, to know that he was waiting for her, that she was here simply to sleep with him. To answer the call of her body’s hormones and biology, to put chemistry above common sense.

Steve was getting married.

And even if he wasn’t, he didn’t love Ivy anymore. Maybe he never had done.

She drew in a breath and squared her shoulders.

Whatever happened with Rafe, it was her choice. She just had to understand her own mind.

Before she could lose her nerve completely, Ivy lifted her fist and knocked on the door three times.

Rafe drew it inwards almost immediately and she couldn’t help the breath that was dragged in. He’d ditched his suit jacket, and rolled his shirt sleeves up to his elbows, revealing his tanned forearms, and the sight of them made Ivy’s mouth dry.

“Ivy.” His eyes seemed to be interrogating her, looking at her, waiting for her to speak.

She smiled, a nervous smile, one of uncertainty.

“Would you like to come in?”

Would she? Doubts layered themselves over surety but a magnetic pull seemed to be strongest of all, drawing her forward. Wordlessly, she crossed the threshold of the apartment, clearing her throat as she turned to look at him.

“How are you?” He asked quietly, as though he understood. As though he knew what a big deal this was for her.

“Fine.” She tried to relax her smile.

He gestured towards the kitchen and she looked in that direction. He’d poured two glasses of champagne and a little platter was laid out, with strawberries and chocolates and cheese.

The perfect seduction.

“Rafe,” she said urgently, knowing that if she didn’t speak soon she would lose the ability completely. “Can we… talk?”

His eyes narrowed slightly, but he nodded, then stalked across the room. He lifted the flutes and carried one to Ivy.

She took it but didn’t sip. Instead, she nursed it between her fingertips, finding it easier to focus her gaze on the incredible view of London. It twinkled in the evening, lights like courage, darkness her fear.

“You’re having second thoughts,” he prompted.

She sipped her champagne, in attempt to moisten a parched throat. It was the same one they’d shared the first night she’d come here. “It’s not that,” she said thoughtfully, choosing her words with care. “I… you weren’t wrong about Steve.” She swept her eyes shut. “About me wanting to get back at him, in some way. It’s why I decided to come home with you.”

She didn’t see the way his jaw clenched.

“We were together a long time and when it ended, I was devastated. Have you ever been in love?”

“No.”

The immediacy of his answer didn’t surprise her. She suspected Rafe Santoro was a man who guarded his heart with great care. Perhaps she could learn that skill from him.

“It’s strange to go from thinking everything is fine and great to discovering it’s not. And he moved on so quickly. I just thought… that if I slept with you… I don’t know.”

Rafe didn’t speak.

“I thought it would help me feel better. But I’m a mess,” she said seriously, and then, she turned to face him, forcing herself to meet his eyes. “I spent so long with Steve that I have no idea who I am anymore.” She was proud that not even a hint of tears stung her eyes. “But I do know I want to sleep with you.” The words sounded discordant; they were so foreign to Ivy. But they were true. From deep within her soul she knew how she felt and what she needed.

“I want you to make love to me. I want you to teach me everything about my body because, Rafe, you made me feel… the way it was the other night… I’ve never…”

His eyes seemed to spark with something and then he was moving towards her and she was rushing to him. No words were necessary to complete the sentiment.

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