Page 27 of Bedding his Innocent Mistress

“True.”

“Why?”

His smile set fireworks going in her gut. “I found I had reasons for staying.”

A strange hope, at odds with her insistence that this was just about fantastic sex, made her heart soar. But she fought that hope.

It was false hope, based on a lie. Just like Steve had lied about everything. That’s what men did.

And Ivy wouldn’t be stupid and gullible again.

She needed to keep it real. That was the key to not being hurt. Accept the limitations of any relationship and then feel nothing when those limitations were upheld.

She stood slowly, and moved around the table. He turned in his chair, meeting her as she straddled him where he sat. She’d chosen her outfit wisely. A floaty dress that gave plenty of leg movement.

“Take me to bed,” she murmured.

Sex. That’s what they were.

“I intend to.” A throaty promise as his eyes locked with hers. She could feel the proof of his desire throbbing between her legs; her stomach churned and her veins were networks carrying high-speed blood, pulsing it through her body so her skin was pink.

“Or take me here,” she amended, hungry for him now.

He captured her face, a palm on either side, and stared at her as though she was his world. Is this how it alw

ays was with him? Out of nowhere she imagined the broken-hearted women who must litter his past. The women who had been seduced by him and then hoped for more. The ones who hadn’t yet realised that love is a lie, and hope a profound sense of insanity.

“So you can run off again? Oh no, Miss Hennessey. I know your tricks now.” His kiss was slow and sensual. Perfect. She felt her body tilting towards him and her breath burning her lungs as feelings swirled through her. He stood, dislodging her, but it was only seconds before he swooped down and lifted her easily, cradling her against his strong, broad chest. He carried her down a corridor she hadn’t even known existed, or if she had, perhaps she’s presumed it to be storage. Room upon room came off the corridor, and at the end, he eased her to standing. “Clothes off.” A gruff order.

She frowned but did as he suggested, slipping the dress down her body while keeping her eyes locked to him.

He made a low throb of noise and then spun, stalking into a room. With a curious frown she followed, just in time to see him straightening. The sound of gushing water filled her ears.

He was in the middle of a bathroom, beautiful and grand, with tiles that covered the floor and ran up the walls, and a spa that surely almost qualified as a swimming pool in the middle. The view of London revealed by enormous windows on one wall showed twinkling lights and the London eye directly across.

“This is beautiful.”

He nodded towards the bath in response. “In.”

Ivy pouted. “I want you.”

“Yeah. Believe me, that’s something we have in common. In.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “This is your whole hell-bent-on-global-domination thing? I’m not intimidated by you.”

He spoke softly, earnestly. “This is my ‘you’ve had a long day at work and I want you to unwind’ thing. I have no plans to intimidate you.”

“Oh.” And it was so sweet that she found herself unclipping her bra and sliding her underpants down quickly before stepping into the spa. The lights glistened in the window and staring out at them, with the sound of running water, was so meditative that she didn’t immediately realise Rafe had left the room.

He returned moments later, naked, a tray in hand.

“So far as butlers go, you make a great CEO,” she joked, her smile lighting up her face in a way he found breathtaking.

“You haven’t seen the tray yet,” he said with mock offence. He nestled it easily on the edge of the bath and her heart turned over. A box of Charbonnel et Walker truffles with two ice cold flutes of champagne and a scented candle pretty much ticked off every item on her ‘must have’ list.

“On second thoughts,” she said seriously, “You’re an excellent butler, and I particularly like the dress code.”

“I aim to please.”

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