by Crave
But not yet. I have to be patient, even if it kills me.
“I’ll have to run extra hard if I bother eating one of those mozzarella sticks.” She eyes the plate I specifically ordered for her, her tongue darting out to lick her upper lip. They’d been a weakness in her past.
“You run?”
“On a treadmill. At the gym.” She shrugs.
“Come on, live a little.” I push the plate toward her.
“Are you going to taunt me like this the entire two weeks we’re together?” She arches a brow and I smile at her in answer.
I don’t want her scared of me. Or worse, angry.
She plucks the mozzarella stick from her plate, dunks it in ranch dressing and takes a huge bite. Watching her eat pleases me for some weird reason. Pleases me even more that she spoke about our being together in a positive light.
“You deserve to cut loose and have a little fun every once in a while, you know. All work and no play makes Ivy a dull girl.”
Ivy glares at me. Damn, she’s pretty when she’s angry. “Life isn’t all fun and games.” She takes another bite of the cheese stick, a little moan escaping her as she chews.
The sound sends a swift bolt of lust straight to my groin. “Isn’t that the damn truth,” I mutter.
“You certainly make it look that way though. Always out with two or three women hanging off your arm, drinking and having fun out at clubs all over town,” she points out.
Hell, she thinks I’m a complete jackass. Especially with the way I’ve ignored her since we were last together. If she only knew the truth. How difficult that had been, how much she scared me. How much she still scares me. “You really think all I’ve done is fuck around and spend my family’s money these last few years?”
“Of course not.” She pops the last of the mozzarella stick into her mouth, chews and then swallows. “Gage has told me how hard you work.”
“And maybe you need to learn how to let loose more and have a good time,” I return. Here we go, returning to our standard argumentative selves. I swear it’s like foreplay between us. It masks all that sexual tension that’s constantly brewing whenever we’re together.
“I know how to let loose.” Her voice is defensive.
“Then prove it.” I am practically daring her. She’s always worried over what everyone thought of her, ever since I’ve known her. Cultivating a certain image, not allowing anyone too close for fear they might see the real Ivy.
Not that there’s anything wrong with the real Ivy. In my eyes, she’s damn near the perfect woman.
“How can I prove it to you?”
I can’t answer her for fear I’ll say something so incredibly stupid, I’ll fuck it all up.
I can’t chance it. Too risky.
“Can I be honest?” she asks suddenly, shocking me from my thoughts.
“Please. By all means.”
She watches me, her gaze direct, her expression serious, and I want to squirm. “You scare me.”
Great. The feeling’s mutual. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.”
“That’s not what I’m scared of.” She exhales loudly. “Just being in your presence is like going on an exhilarating roller coaster ride, and I’m constantly terrified I might fall off and plunge to my death at any moment.”
“Well. That sounds . . .”
“Pretty scary, right?” She smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I want to help you, Archer. I really do.”
“Then quit waffling,” I say vehemently. Fuck, I swear I’m losing her. She’s slipping right out of my grasp like tiny granules of sand, and I can’t do anything to stop it from happening.
“I’ve already agreed to help you. I don’t have a choice but to agree, what with the way you handled this.” She pauses, her tongue sneaking out to wet her lips. My heart lurches at the sight of her pretty pink tongue. “I’ll help you, if you help me.”
Relief floods me, leaving me weak. “Anything. I’ll do anything you want. Name it and it’s yours.”
Ivy jerks her gaze from mine and bends her head, studying the table. “When we were . . . together last time. The night of Jeff and Cecily’s wedding. It was good between us. Right?”
Uneasiness slips over me, sending a chill racing down my spine. Where is she going with this? “Yeah.”
“So, what if we worked together and spent time together as if we were a real couple?” She keeps her head bent, sketching invisible doodles on the tabletop with her index finger.
“What do you mean?” Lusty hope rises within me. She couldn’t be asking for what I think she is . . .
No way. This is Ivy. She wouldn’t be so bold as to ask me to have a fling with her, would she?
I’d say yes. I’d get her any way I could, just to be with her.
“I want to spend more time with you, Archer. I want to get to know you. The adult you, not the rude teenager from our past.” She shrugs those slim shoulders of hers, her voice sounding downright hopeless. “Over the years, we’ve grown apart, moved on with our lives. Having you back in my life makes me realize I’ve missed you.”
Disbelief fills me. That she could be so honest, so incredibly forthright in what she wants from me is shocking. Normally I’m the brutally honest one. But Ivy changes everything. I would’ve hemmed and hawed and wondered how the hell I might approach her.
Hell, I’m doing that very thing right now. Yet she comes right out and asks for what she wants from me. I can’t help but admire her for that.
“I’ve missed you too,” I admit because she deserves those words. She jerks her head up, her wide-eyed gaze meeting mine, and I smile at her. “I thought you hated me.”
“I do.” She returns the smile. “But there’s more between us than fights and hate and constant irritation. Don’t you think?”
Oh, I know. But I’m not sure if I’m brave enough to tell her yet. Scrubbing a hand over my face, I’m half tempted to ask her why she’s here. With me. I flat out don’t deserve her.
“Yeah,” I murmur, not sure what else I can say. I’m shocked she’s willing to give me—us—another chance.
“But it’ll be temporary. Once Crave’s design is complete, we’re finished. I’m sure you’ll be ready to move on by then anyway.” Her smile turns unnaturally bright. “From everything.”
Not true. I’m ready to deny it, but she cuts me off.
“We walked away from each other before and you never called. I guess I could’ve called you but I don’t operate like that.” Her smile becomes more brittle and I’m tempted to lunge for her. Tell her exactly how much I want her and watch the wariness leave her gaze. And become replaced with pleasure.
And of course she doesn’t operate like that. She’s a traditional sort of woman who deserves a man who will chase after her without fear and make her his forever.
I suddenly want to be that sort of man. Only for Ivy though.
Not for anyone else.
“This is so embarrassing.” She sighs and drops her head, keeps her gaze focused on the table in front of her. “The guys I’ve been with, they were all hopeless, you know? I wanted to fix them and they definitely didn’t want to be fixed. And I get you don’t want to be either. You’re perfectly happy in your broken, messed-up state. But you, Archer, you were the first one I truly felt comfortable with. Like I could finally let go and . . .”
“And what?” I prod.
“Have an . . .” Her voice trails off again and her cheeks are pink. “You know.”
Pride fills me even though I know it’s a jackass move. But what man doesn’t want to hear those words slip from the lips of a woman he’s attracted to? “Have an orgasm?”
“Yeah.” She gives a jerky nod. “They don’t usually happen easily for me.”
Well, hell. I have to help her. Prove to her she’s a beautiful, desirable woman who deserves to have as many orgasms as she damn well pleases. Let her know just how much she undoes me with only a look. A smile. A glimpse of skin, a b
rief hug. Everything about her screams “take me”, and my body is more than willing to do just that.
Clearing my throat, I decide to get down to business. After all, I’m a world-class negotiator. “So you want me to help you.”
“Yes.” She bites her lower lip, her expression full of worry.
“Have plenty of orgasms.” This turn of events is downright surreal.
I’m not complaining.
Her cheeks color a pretty pink. “Yes.”
“And in return, you’ll help me.”
She nods, not saying a word. “I still can’t believe you want me for the project.”
I roll my eyes in answer. “I can’t believe you doubt your abilities.”
“It’s not that. It’s just . . .”
“What?”
“I don’t understand why you want me around,” she whispers. “What’s happening between us, Archer? It’s confusing.”
My heart lurches. I feel the same exact way. “I’m confused too, Ivy.”
“You don’t act like it. You’re the usual smug, arrogant Archer.”
“Deep inside, I’m petrified you’ll tell me to fuck off.” Couldn’t she see that? I hardly uttered a word for the last five minutes. I just let her do all the talking.
She laughs, the tension easing from her expression at my confession. “I would never say that to you.”
“Never say never.”
“So we’re in agreement then,” she says, releasing a shuddering breath.
“Design skills for orgasms? I think so.” I grin and she glares at me.
“You make it sound sleazy. You’re paying me for my design skills.” Worry flits through her gaze. “Right?”
I chuckle. “Of course. You know this.” Pausing, I contemplate her. “But you don’t have to pay me for the orgasms, you know. I’ll handle that task for free. Gladly.”
“Oh my God, this is the most embarrassing thing ever. I should’ve never told you.” She buries her face in her hands.
I stand and slowly start to approach her. “Don’t be embarrassed.” My voice is soft and I stop directly in front of where she’s sitting. “I’m glad you were honest with me.”
She tilts her head back, her gaze meeting mine. “Will you be honest with me?”
I think of the bet. I think of Matt laughing his ass off at me. Of me owing him that extra fifty grand because damn it, he was right. I think of Gage wanting to murder me for defiling his sister.
“I’ll try my best,” I say because it’s all I can offer.
“That works,” she murmurs, a smile teasing the corners of her mouth. “I’m excited to see the new resort.”
“I’m excited to show you.”
“Calistoga is gorgeous.”
“I agree. Wait till you see it. Hopefully you’ll think the hotel is gorgeous too.”
She nibbles on her lower lip, looking unsure and incredibly sexy. “I want to thank you for the opportunity. Letting me work with you,” she says softly.
“I’m grateful you’re willing to help.” Reaching out, I skim my hand over the top of her head, my fingers tangling in the silky soft strands of her hair.
“Like I said, you really didn’t give me any choice.” She shakes her head, but I don’t remove my hand. I never want to stop touching her. “I hope I don’t disappoint you.”
“You could never, ever disappointment me,” I tell her, knowing I’m one hundred percent right. Though I’m starting to wonder if she’s talking about disappointing me in a non-work-related way.
Again, she could never, ever disappointment there either.
“I don’t know about that,” she says, her voice full of doubt as she watches me approach.
“Let me prove it to you.” I take her hand so I can pull her to her feet.
“How?” Her voice is trembling, her gaze meeting mine expectantly.
“Like this.”
Chapter Twelve
* * *
Ivy
ARCHER’S MOUTH SETTLES on mine before I can utter a single word, and I’m completely lost. In the taste of him, the scent of him, the way he moves into me as if it’s his every right to be there. Touching me, holding me, drawing me close, his arms circling my waist.
This is what I really want. Working with him will be a great boost to my career; the Bancroft Corporation a stellar client to put into my portfolio and an opportunity that I would be a fool to pass up.
But this is what I not-so-secretly crave. Being in Archer’s arms again, his persuasive lips caressing mine, gently encouraging me to open to him. I do so easily, letting the soft sigh escape when his tongue touches mine. After all my arguments and protests, I still can’t believe I confessed to him what I really wanted.
A chance to be with him, to lose myself with him. Freely.
He’s the only one who’s able to coax an orgasm out of me. Men have tried numerous times before with a variety of methods. And when it wouldn’t work, when I didn’t work, they made me feel like a freak. A few had even declared me frigid. Unresponsive. Unfeeling.
Jerks. They’d tried to tear down my self-esteem and for a while, I let them. Until I realized I didn’t need any of them to give me an orgasm. I was fully in charge of that task. Quite happily, I might add.
Until Archer. And then bam. Instant orgasm. I’d like to experience that again.
And again and again and again.
“I’ve missed you,” he whispers against my lips, his husky voice sending a scattering of gooseflesh across my skin. “So damn much, Ivy.”
I’m about to tell him I missed him too, but he’s kissing me again, more forcefully this time. His tongue strokes mine, his hands clutch at my waist, and I step into him, run my hands up his chest, my fingers molding to the wall of hot, firm muscle beneath my palms. He shivers from my touch, and I realize he enjoys my touch as much as I enjoy his.
Such a powerful, overwhelming discovery.
As our hands move, our lips search, the kiss becoming deep. Hot. I slide my tongue into his mouth and I rest my hands at his sides, my fingers slipping beneath his sweater so I can touch the smooth, bare skin of his back. He grips my waist, guiding me backward, until I’m bumping against the wall and he’s got me trapped. Deliciously, wonderfully trapped.
He toys with the tie at the waist of my dress, his fingers playing with the ends, and then he’s tugging. Pulling the tie undone until my dress loosens and he’s pushing either side of it wide, exposing me to his perusal.
Breaking the kiss, he studies me, his smoldering gaze raking over my body, making me aware of how on display I am for him. I thrust my chest out and let him look his fill. Remind him of what he’s missed out on for the last month.
Me.
“You’re killing me.” He slips his fingers beneath the strap of my black bra, moving to trace the scalloped lacy edge across one breast, then the other. “So fucking beautiful.”
Pleasure swarms me, making me dizzy, and I lock my knees for fear I’ll collapse. I almost cry out when he leans in, one hand braced on the wall beside my head, his mouth at my throat, then my collarbone. Dropping sweet little kisses on my chest, the tops of my breasts, sampling me. I grip his hips, holding on to him for dear life as he licks and kisses my skin.
Everything he’s doing feels so good I’m afraid I might pass out from the pleasure of it all. My belly clenches, between my legs I grow hot and damp, and I bite my lip when he trails his fingers down my stomach until they’re toying with the waistband of my matching black panties.
“I can see through them,” he whispers, and I crack my eyes open to find his dark head bent, no doubt staring intently at the tiny scrap of material that’s barely covering me. “I really think you are trying to kill me.”
A soft burst of laughter escapes me and he glances up, a sexy smile curving his delicious lips. Tilting my head back, I brush my mouth with his, licking his lips, a soft moan escaping me when his tongue touches mine. I could get drunk off his kisses. His fingers are teasing me, slidi
ng across my stomach, dipping just beneath the waistband of my flimsy panties, not quite reaching where I really want him to be.
“I think I’m going to enjoy this orgasm task,” he mutters against my mouth, making me laugh again. I love how blunt he is. How honest. Spending time with him is never, ever boring.
Especially now.
“Let’s take this off,” he murmurs, pushing my dress off my shoulders so it falls to the crook of my arms. I straighten them as he steps away and the dress flutters to the ground in a heap around my feet. I kick the fabric away, standing before him in just my panties and bra and my black heels.
His gaze drops, running up the length of my body, frank appreciation in his eyes. “Holy hell, woman.”
I feel hot from his words, the way he’s looking at me. Thrusting my chest out farther, I contemplate him, heat blooming between my legs when he studies my breasts, no doubt seeing my nipples poke against the thin fabric of my bra.
Without warning he’s on me, his mouth fused with mine, his hands cupping my breasts, thumbs circling my nipples. I arch into his touch, a long agonized groan escaping me when he tugs on my nipples. The pleasurable pain shoots through me, landing between my legs, and I rub against his thigh, sparks of heat blistering through me.
“I want to fuck you right here. Against the wall.” His hand sinks into the front of my panties, finally touching me exactly where I want him. “So wet, Ivy. God.”
He sounds tortured. I feel tortured. Without thought I grab him, mold my hand around the length of his erection, stroking him over his jeans. I wish I could touch his bare skin. I wish I could go down on my knees and draw him into my mouth . . .
Deciding that’s the perfect idea, I frantically undo the snap and zipper on his jeans, shoving them down with impatient, shaky hands. They fall to his feet and he kicks them off, his mouth locked with mine once again, his hand between my legs. I ride that hand unashamedly, whimpering as his fingers work a sort of magic over me, and I lose myself in the sensation. My breaths leave me in shuddery exhales and I throw my head back, my eyelids fluttering as his fingers circle and stroke my clit again and again.
