Page 54 of Bedding his Innocent Mistress

“Because it’s important to me.”

Panic flooded her veins. The sense that she was being pulled off the edge of a cliff without a parachute made her knees weak.

His words were reaching under her skin, finding purchase in the blood that massaged her body. She turned to face him, intending to say something serious, something boring, something that would tether them to reality. But then she saw him, she saw the way his handsome face, now as familiar to her as her own, glowed in the evening sun, the way he was handsome and strong, smart and kind, the way he was wealthy and confident without being arrogant or elitist, and words froze in her brain and her mouth.

And so she kissed him, instead, and it was a kiss that spoke of need and want, and also of confusion, because Ivy was awash with it.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

SHE KNEW IT COULDN’T continue. But a week after returning from Spain and Ivy’s head and heart were telling her two very different things.

She checked her reflection in the mirror for the hundredth time, knowing that the dress was the perfect choice for the occasion and still feeling like she was going to be a fish out of water. Though she’d attended dozens of charity balls in her time, that was as a senior member of the GBRTV team. This was different.

She was going with Rafe, and anxiety had been unfurling through her since he’d first suggested she accompany him four days earlier.

Now, she wished she’d just said ‘no’. After all, it was everything she’d promised herself they weren’t. But it was just one night. Just like that first night, in the luxurious casino, she was going to push herself out of her comfort zone in the spirit of, ‘what the heck’, and she was going to have fun.

And not think about the consequences. Not think about the future. Not overthink every touch and look, worrying that it might lead to heartbreak and destruction and devastation even when she was sure it would.

She ran her hand down the side of the dress, loving the feel of the silk. It was a sleek dress, a dark green colour that matched her eyes, with flimsy spaghetti straps over her fair shoulders, a hint of a drop at the front to reveal her modest cleavage. Though it fell to the floor, it was cut on the bias, and hugged her slender frame to the ankles, showing her body in a way that she knew would drive Rafe wild.

And she relished that prospect.

She’d bought the dress with him in mind, though she hadn’t been willing to admit that to herself at the time. But when she’d handed over her credit card at the high-fashion Mayfair boutique, she’d imagined him sliding the dress up off her body, his hands caressing her hips, finding her breasts, teasing her and tormenting her with the strength of the pleasures he could invoke.

A smile played about her lips as she painted bright red lipstick on them, to match her nails. Her hair she’d curled a little, so that it fell down her back like a slightly tousled version of its usual self. Silky and dark and, she had to admit, kind of sexy.

She felt sexy, and it was the first time in her twenty-four years when she’d actually admitted that to herself. With Steve, she’d felt comfortable and complacent, and with Rafe she felt…

“Alive.”

She said the word aloud, husking it on a breath, smiling and pushing away any more complicated thoughts.

The door buzzed and she grabbed her clutch purse – black to match her heels – then pulled it inwards, ready to meet the driver Rafe had said he’d send. She was getting used to that – the little touches of wealth that were so easy to accept. A driver collecting her after work, even when she wasn’t going to Rafe’s,

because he liked to know she was home safely. Tables at the best restaurants reserved for their lunches. All of it.

The smile froze on her face when the door was open wide enough to reveal the other side.

“Steve?”

She stared at him in shock, and he was staring back at her with the same look of disbelief. His eyes, eyes she had stared into for so many hours, dragged from her head to her toes, his face turning a shade of pink as he took in the beautiful dress and the way it flattered her figure.

She’d never dressed for him like this. Not once.

“What are you doing here?”

The question came out thick and breathy. She cleared her throat, and looked behind him. There was no sign yet of any of Rafe’s cars.

“I came… can we talk?”

She frowned. “Does it look like a good time?” She prompted, waving a hand across her front, to emphasise the fact she was dressed for a night out.

“It’s never a good time with you,” he said caustically.

“Jesus, Steve. That’s a low blow. I had plenty of time for you when we were a couple. But you ended that, and so yeah, I have a life now. A life outside of you.” She straightened her spine, proud of the fact she could say that and mean it.

“I’m sorry,” he shook his head in a way that was so self-deprecating and familiar that her stomach swished. “I’m doing this all wrong.”

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