Louis glanced pointedly at his watch. ‘I hate to break up the true confessions party, but I have to see a man about a house.’
Ivy pulled her hand away from his and looked at the time on her phone. ‘Goodness, is that the time? I’ve got to dash too.’
Louis rose from the table to help her with her chair, resisting the almost uncontrollable urge to turn her in his arms and kiss her. He breathed in the fragrance of her perfume instead. But then she turned around, stepped up on tiptoe and brushed his lips with hers in a soft kiss that sent a shudder of longing through him.
‘Thanks for lunch. And thanks for telling me about your childhood. I know it was hard for you to do so.’
She knew way too much but, strangely, it didn’t bother him as much as he thought it would. A weight had come off him in revealing his childhood drama. A weight he hadn’t even been conscious of carrying. He brushed a wayward strand of hair away from her face, his chest feeling as soft and mushy as the creamy Camembert on the table.
‘De rien. You’re welcome. I’ll book somewhere nice for dinner.’ He leaned down and kissed her on both cheeks, and then on the plump cushion of her mouth. ‘Au revoir, ma chèrie.’
She clutched at her chest in a pretend swoon. ‘If you’re going to speak French to me the whole time we’re here, I’ll melt into a puddle at your feet.’
Louis smiled and playfully touched her cheek with his finger. ‘I hope your meeting goes well.’ He reached into his trouser pocket and handed her the spare key to his apartment. There was another first for him—he had never given anyone a key to his apartment before. He was crossing a line he had never crossed before, but he reassured himself it was only for five days. ‘I’m not sure how long I’ll be, so just make your way home and I’ll meet you there.’
‘Okay.’ She took the key and popped it in her bag, snapping it shut with a resounding click. Her eyes were clear and bright as she met his gaze. ‘Louis?’
‘Yes?’
‘Thank you for asking me to come with you to Paris. I was kind of dreading coming on my own.’
He leaned down and pressed another kiss to her lips. ‘I was too.’
On her way home from her appointment Ivy was still ruminating over Louis’ revelation about his mother’s breakdown. It explained so much about his guardedness with relationships. The fear he must have felt over seeing his mother in such a state, not to mention the suicide attempt itself. It was a lot to handle for a child of ten, especially a deeply sensitive and intuitive one like Louis.
Until recently, Ivy hadn’t realised how truly sensitive he was, but as she had come to know him better she could see how it had played an important and significant role in helping her brother Ronan finally gain the courage to come out as gay. Louis had been the steady, stable friend who had never once wavered in his support.
And he had sent her a gorgeous bouquet of flowers after her elderly dog Fergus had died, understanding how devastated she was at losing her beloved pet.
He had been sensitive to her mother’s financial issues, taking it upon himself to give her a loan that Ivy knew for a fact he wouldn’t want to be repaid.
How could she stop her admiration for him turning into something bigger, broader, more consuming than a simple friendship? It had happened almost without her realising it.
Louis wasn’t incapable of love. She could sense the deep care and concern he had for his parents even though it was tempered by his frustration with them. He resisted long-term love out of fear, just as she had resisted dating and becoming intimate with someone in case they hurt her, like her mother had been hurt. Like she had been hurt when her father had claimed to love her and yet abandoned her because of her loyalty to Ronan.
Of course there was a risk she would get hurt by Louis. But didn’t all relationships carry some element of risk? Even Millie and Zoey let her down occasionally, as she did them. It was part of the deal with caring about people—investing in their lives, sharing the highs and lows and everything in between.
But Louis was only offering her five days in Paris. He wasn’t offering forever. He wasn’t offering her the fairy tale she longed for.
Five days.
How could she have thought it would ever be enough?
CHAPTER EIGHT
LOUIS MET WITH a couple of clients in his Paris office, as well as catching up with two of the junior architects he was mentoring, but the whole time his thoughts kept drifting to Ivy. Just knowing she would be waiting at home for him made his body tingle in anticipation. He wished now he hadn’t promised to take her out to dinner. He would much prefer to have had a simple meal at home and make love to her for hours. He wanted this week to be special for her, a time she could look back on with pleasure instead of regret.
If anyone had told him a few days ago he would ask her to be with him for five days in Paris, he would have laughed out loud. But, ever since the Saturday morning when he’d woken to find her gone from his Cotswold house, he had been obsessed with spending more time with her. His work was taking a back seat when usually it was front and centre. His mind was full of images of her beautiful body, his desire for her a constant background ache that tortured him relentlessly.
But it wasn’t only the physical attraction that drew him to her. She was open emotionally, he was closed, and yet somehow he felt drawn to revealing more of himself to her. Telling her—telling anyone—about his childhood would have been unthinkable, even days ago. But revealing his pain over his mother’s breakdown had released a tight knot inside him. A knot that had formed when he’d been ten years old and never once eased its tension.
He had never been a fan of talk therapy—what words could ever undo things that had been done? Things he had witnessed and never wanted to see again? But somehow Ivy’s gentle empathy had soothed a raw ache in his heart, like a cooling salve does to a scalding burn. His body was hungry for her touch in a way it had never been for anyone else’s.
There was a corner of his mind that raised a red flag. One day someone else’s touch would have to satisfy him because he wasn’t prepared to risk falling in love with her. His parents had once been in love, madly in love, yet they had done nothing more than make each other miserable since.
He couldn’t bear the thought of Ivy one day looking at him or speaking to him the way his mother did to his father. So few long-term relationships lasted the distance with both parties happy and contented. Why would he think he and Ivy had a chance? He had never been good at romantic relationships. He got bored so quickly. Desire flared and then just as quickly faded.
But so far it hadn’t faded with Ivy. In fact, it was flaring and flashing and firing all the time. He only had to stand next to her for his blood to pound. He only had to touch her and his senses went wild. He only had to kiss her for a tsunami of lust to blast through him.
Louis walked back to his apartment and stopped on the way to buy flowers and some chocolates from a specialty chocolatier. But then he walked past a jewellery store and found himself turning back to have a look in the window. Sparkling diamonds, midnight-blue sapphires, blood-red rubies, forest-green emeralds and milky-white pearls were displayed in a glorious array.
And then his eye caught sight of a rare pink Argyle diamond from the Kimberley region of Australia. The pink hue reminded him of Ivy’s cheeks when she blushed.
You’re thinking of buying her jewellery? A diamond? Seriously?
Louis ignored the voice in his head and listened to the one in his heart. It was her thirtieth birthday soon and he wanted to buy something special for her. It was an early birthday gift. Nothing else.
When Ivy got back to Louis’ apartment, she expected to find her luggage in one of the spare bedrooms but instead found it in the master suite. Did that mean he intended to spend the whole night with her? Or maybe it was because he didn’t trust her to disappear again without saying goodbye.
She
opened her bag and began unpacking her things, feeling a little awkward about hanging her clothes next to his in the walk-in wardrobe. But she didn’t want to drape her clothes over the back of a chair or dressing table and, as they would be in Paris for five days, what else was she supposed to do?
She found some spare coat hangers and hung her clothes on the opposite side of his. He had an assortment of expensively tailored suits and crisp shirts, ties, Italian leather shoes and belts, and cufflinks in a glass-topped drawer. There were casual clothes as well—jeans, shirts and T-shirts, shorts and leather loafers. She found herself trailing her hand along his clothes, breathing in the faint trace of his aftershave and the smell that was unique to him.
‘Have you found enough space for your things?’ Louis’ deep voice spoke from the door of the walk-in wardrobe and Ivy jumped and spun round, her cheeks feeling hot enough to iron her clothes.
‘I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to sleep in the spare room or—’
‘I want you with me.’ His eyes were dark—more inky-black pupils than grey-blue irises. They drifted to her mouth and back again in a slow perusal and a frisson passed over her flesh.
‘So you can stop me running away without saying goodbye?’
He came closer, placing his hands on her hips and shifting her so she was flush against his body. The possessive warmth of his hands sent a flare of molten heat to her core and the unmistakable jut of his erection sent her heart rate soaring. His thighs were like columns of steel, while hers felt like soggy noodles as desire shuddered through her body. ‘I’ll have to find a way to entice you to stay with me.’ His tone was deep, smoky, sexy, and another delicate shiver coursed down her spine.
Ivy stood on tiptoe and placed her arms around his neck, the elevation in height bringing her breasts into closer contact with his rock-hard chest. She gave him a playful look. ‘I wonder how you’ll do that? I’m not easily enticed.’
He glided his hands up from her hips to her ribcage, close to her breasts but not touching them. The desire to have him do so was a tingling ache that was both pleasure and pain. His gaze went to her mouth, his lips tipped up at the corners in a slow smile that heated her blood to boiling.
‘And I’m not easily bewitched but somehow you’ve achieved it.’
His mouth came down to hers in an explosive kiss that sent a shockwave of lust through her body. She opened to the demanding thrust of his tongue, relishing the erotic play that made her tingle from head to foot. His lips were firm yet gentle, teasing her into a response that was almost feverish. She gasped, she whimpered, she clung to him, desperate to take in more of him. He tasted of mint and male heat and mad passion and she couldn’t get enough. His kiss was like a drug to her senses, sending her into a frenzy of need that spiralled through every inch of her flesh. Her most intimate flesh swelled with blood, moistened with excitement, lava-hot and hungry for his possession.
He lifted his mouth off hers, gazing at her with glittering eyes. His hands moved up to cup her breasts through her clothes and she gave another desperate whimper. ‘Let’s get these clothes off you, shall we?’
‘Do let’s.’ Ivy began to unbutton her top, but her fingers wouldn’t cooperate, so he took over. Slowly, torturously slowly, leaving a kiss on each section of her skin as he exposed it.
‘Your skin tastes so good.’ His voice was deep and rough, his lips warm and sending sparks of heat to her core. He peeled off her blouse and bent his head to her breasts, still encased in a balcony bra. He gave each upper curve a lazy lion-like lick that made her gasp with pleasure. He deftly unclipped the fastening on her bra and it fell in a silky silence to the floor. He drew in a shuddering breath and stroked his tongue over and around her right nipple, then he gently sucked on her, drawing her into the heat of his mouth. He released her nipple and then ever so lightly took it between his teeth. The soft tether of his teeth to her sensitive flesh sent a wave of tingly warmth through her pelvis.
Ivy clutched at his head, arching her spine, her body raging with need. ‘I want you. Now.’
Louis straightened and gave her a slow smile. ‘I like hearing you beg. It turns me on.’
Ivy shivered at the dark glint in his gaze. She tugged at his shirt, pulling it out of his trousers, and began to undo the buttons with more haste than competence. A button popped off and landed nearby. ‘Let’s even this up a bit. I’m not going to bare all unless you get naked too.’
‘Good plan.’ He shrugged off his shirt but left her to undo the waistband of his trousers, sucking in a breath when her fingers skated over his erection. ‘Your touch drives me crazy.’ He stepped out of his trousers and underwear and came back to work on the rest of her clothes, unzipping her skirt and peeling away her knickers. He feasted his eyes on her naked body, making her feel like the most beautiful and sexy woman on the planet. ‘Everything about you drives me crazy.’
‘Right back at you,’ Ivy said, barely able to speak for the sensations rushing through her body. Urgent needs begged to be assuaged. Needs she’d had no idea she possessed until his touch had awakened her.
Louis scooped her up and carried her out of the walk-in wardrobe to his bed, laying her down before joining her. He glided one of his hands down from the top of her shoulder, over her breast and ribcage, over her stomach and lower abdomen, down the flank of her thigh and then back up again. A slow, sensuous glide that made her aware of every millimetre of her skin, every pore responding to his touch, every nerve tingling. His eyes drank in every curve of her body, making her feel utterly feminine and desirable.
‘So, so beautiful—every part of you.’ His voice had an almost reverential note to it, and it made it all the harder to ignore the way her feelings for him had intensified. Going from a platonic admiration to full-blown passionate adoration—a mature and lasting adoration that she had longed to feel for someone all her life.
Ivy placed her hand on the side of his face, enjoying the masculine texture of his skin so different from her own. ‘You make me feel beautiful...’ Her voice caught on the words, so intense were her emotions. She didn’t want to spoil the moment by blurting out her feelings. They weren’t part of their arrangement. But holding them in, keeping them hidden, made her heart ache with the pressure of keeping them contained. She spoke them with her hands instead, stroking each of his eyebrows, down the length of his nose, around his mouth.
He brought his mouth down to hers, kissing her deeply, lingeringly, his tongue playing with hers in a dance as old as time itself. A primal dance, erotic and playful, yet with deadly serious intent. His intention was clear—she felt it in every stroke of his tongue, every glide of his hand, every erogenous zone he touched. He wanted her. He was going to have her. She would enjoy every heart-stopping second of it.
Ivy breathed in the scent of him, the musk and salt and aroused male smell that so tantalised her senses. He lifted his mouth off hers to work his way down her body, leaving branding kisses that sent her pulse skyrocketing. He went from her breasts to her belly and beyond, her skin tightening in anticipation. He parted her with his fingers, exploring her most intimate flesh with his lips and tongue. The tension gathered in her swollen tissues, a delicious tension that built to a crescendo. And then the storm broke and she was flying, falling, swirling and spinning in a vortex of intense, spine-tingling pleasure, the ripples and aftershocks spreading throughout her pelvis. ‘Oh, wow...oh, wow...oh, wow...’ Her breaths came in stuttering gasps, her limbs feeling spent and useless.
Louis kissed his way back up her body, holding her gaze when he got close to her mouth. ‘I love watching you come. You hold nothing back.’
Ivy was holding far more back than he realised. Love flowed through her as passionately as her orgasm had just done. She could feel it fill every part of her being, a deep attachment to him that was going to be hard to ignore for much longer. But how could she tell him? It wasn’t something he wanted to hear from her. I
t wasn’t something he wanted to hear from anyone. He’d been a playboy for a long time, and he would go back to being one once their fling was over.
Her heart contracted at the thought of him moving between lovers in the future. One after the other, each one a fleeting encounter that meant nothing more than a temporary relief of lust. And back in her normal day-to-day life she would be grieving the loss of his intimate touch, mourning the end of their passionate fling. How would she bear it? She ran her fingertip over his sensual bottom lip, her gaze carefully avoiding his. ‘I hope I can be just as responsive with someone else when the time comes.’
The silence thrummed with an unusual energy as if each and every oxygen particle had been disturbed by her comment. Even she was disturbed by her comment. How could she ever make love with someone else? Who would make her flesh sing the way Louis did? It was unthinkable. Impossible.
By the time Ivy brought her gaze back to his, Louis’ expression was masked, all except for a camera-shutter-quick movement at the back of his gaze. No more than a rapid blink—a reset, an unwelcome thought swiftly, ruthlessly blocked. ‘I seem to remember I promised to take you out to dinner, but I got a little waylaid.’ His tone was mildly playful but it was at odds with his screened features.
Ivy stroked her hand down his lean jaw, one of her legs hooking over his. ‘How can you think of food at a time like this?’
His mouth came down to just above hers. ‘Believe me, ma chérie, I am definitely not thinking of food right now. I’m only hungry for you.’ His kiss showed her just how hungry, his hands urgently moving over her body even more so.
Ivy pressed herself closer, drawn to the heat and power of his hard male body, her smooth legs entwined with his hair-roughened ones, her body on fire. He moved away only long enough to get a condom and she watched him smooth it over himself, her pulse racing with excitement, her inner core heated with longing. He positioned himself over her, balancing his weight so as not to overpower her, his entry swift, sensual, sense-spinning. Tingles shot through her sensitive tissues, her body gripping him, welcoming him, pleasuring him as his pleasured her. His guttural groans were music to her ears, his deep, rhythmic thrusts ramping up the coil of tension in her core. She was climbing a mountain, higher, higher, the pinnacle just out of reach. She wanted. She wanted. She wanted. The aching throb in her body was accompanied by the chant in her head.
One Night On The Virgin's Terms (Mills & Boon Modern) (Wanted: A Billionaire, Book 1) Page 12