Page 57 of Bedding his Innocent Mistress

“You’re kidding?” He arched a brow, lifting his head to study her face. A frown tugged at his lips, and emotions she couldn’t comprehend flashed through his eyes.

“What? What is it?”

His nostrils flared when he expelled a breath. He looked at her in that way he had, seeing right inside of her and she shivered, worried for what he might find if he examined her too closely. “Something’s happened?”

It took all of her effort, but she smiled, a smile that was an imitation of carefree and light – but a good imitation.

“What do you mean?”

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nbsp; He frowned. “You’re okay?”

His concern drilled right into her heart. “I’m fine,” she nodded. “I’ve just… been thinking about you.”

He relaxed visibly. “Good.” He leaned down then, whispering in her ear, “Keep thinking about me, Miss Hennessey. We’ll go as soon as possible.”

Ivy nodded, and silently, she prayed that it would be soon. More than anything, she needed to be with Rafe. He was a drug, and she was an addict; he was the cure to all her griefs and worries, and she knew he’d make everything feel better.

*

Some things, though, were almost impossible to salvage.

Hours later, tangled in the expensive sheets of Rafe’s bed, curled up against him, Ivy’s eyes were heavy, and sleep was so tantalisingly close, and yet she made herself pull away from him.

Now, more than ever, she knew she couldn’t stay the night. She wouldn’t roll from Rafe’s bed to a coffee with Steve – it was unfair to both of them. His breathing was level and deep, so she presumed he was asleep, but when she stood, naked, his hand reached out and grabbed her wrist, his fingers furling confidently about her flesh, pulling her towards him.

“Don’t go.”

This was a familiar refrain. A game they played. And though she almost never slept over, she loved that he still asked. Still wanted her. The self-esteem that was badly bruised took strength from his need for her. His want of her.

Ivy looked at him, anguish and doubt on her pretty face.

“I knew it.” He sat up in the bed, his eyes still sleepy but his expression hard, like the CEO tycoon he was.

“What?”

“Something’s going on with you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re different. Distracted.”

“Distracted?” She shook her head, guilt making her heart hammer. “Are you kidding me? I was very, very present in your bed just now.”

He shook his head. “That’s just sex. I mean you. All of you.”

Danger perforated her soul. All of her? All of her wasn’t available. It never had been. The dropping of the axe was final, and yet, she saw now that it had been hinging for weeks, slowly falling, by degrees, until they reached this point.

“I’m…”

“What?” He was angry. He tried to flatten it from his voice but she heard it, because she understood him, as well as he did her.

“You’re right,” she whispered, turning away from him, unable to face him when she spoke. “I’ve been… distracted.”

“By what?” It was obvious, though, that he knew.

“Steve came over tonight.”

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