Page 3 of Bedding his Innocent Mistress

Ivy had no problems with one-night stands. True, she’d never had one, but that was only because she’d met the love of her life while still a high school teenager. In honesty, the thought of going home with someone she hardly knew and using their body for pleasure was all kinds of appealing. Especially given the black hole of recent sexual activity.

One night, and she’d never have to see him again. She didn’t even need to know his name! Wasn’t that how it worked?

I think that’s prostitution, a serious voice chimed in from the still-thinking part of her brain.

“Such as?” She heard herself murmur, moving a step backwards, until she collided with the hard, white wall behind her.

He stepped too, and lifted his hands to either side of her, pressing them against the wall. She was trapped by his body, and she wanted to run her hands over her human cage and feel every single inch of him.

“My apartment is around the corner,” he said, and he brought his mouth close to her ear, so that the warmth of his breath fanned her. “And I think we could do some excellent staring there.”

She swallowed but her throat was thick and dry. He was so good at this; he flirted as though it were an Olympic sport and he the reining gold medallist. “Yeah?”

His laugh was a rumble that sent goosebumps scampering across her body. “Yeah.” And now he dropped a finger to her shoulder and swirled invisible circles over her exposed skin.

She groaned softly at the touch that was both thrilling and confusing. The touch that was completely foreign. Steve had never touched her like this – as though he couldn’t help himself.

Steve.

Steve who had left her.

Steve who was getting married.

Steve who would soon be another woman’s husband.

He’d have a fit to know Ivy had been with someone like this. Someone so intensely masculine and sexy.

Or would he even care?

He’d moved on.

She should too. A tremor of excitement started at the base of her spine, sprinting across her body. She stared at him, and anticipation looped in her stomach.

“Come with me,” he murmured, putting a hand beneath her elbow and guiding her back down the corridor, towards the casino. It was happening so quickly and every cell in her body wanted to go with him, but it was reckless and out of character and she was spending the weekend with Lisette.

“I can’t,” she said, true regret in the statement. “I’m here with someone.”

“The blonde?”

“Yeah. My cousin Lisette.”

“And who are you, Lisette’s cousin?”

“Ivy,” she looked up at him and pulled away a little bit. “I’m going this way.” She nodded down the hallway. “I have to dry this.”

He studied her thoughtfully for a minute. “What are you drinking?”

“Some weird champagne I’ve never heard of.”

Rafe’s lips twiste

d in subdued amusement. The cru was from his own estate. Only a small vintage was produced each year, and he stocked his small interests with it.

“It was really nice,” she added. “I just hadn’t heard of it. Which is strange, really, because I love champagne.”

“Let me get you another.”

A drink with a stranger? Totally normal. How many times had she gone out with her colleagues and ended up chatting to random strangers as the night wore on? Ivy loved meeting people. This was no different. Except it was, because he was. He was sinfully gorgeous.

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