Son Of Scandal. Dani Wade
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In that moment fantasy ruled. Though she’d denied it for over a year, Ivy had never wanted anything more than she wanted to spend tonight in Paxton’s arms. “Yes. Yes, I will.”
The happiness and excitement Ivy felt left her in a very surreal place, as if she couldn’t quite grasp the reality of the decision she’d made.
Still she forced herself to be practical for one moment and made a quick call to her sister Jasmine. Hunting her down in the throngs of people would take too long. As she waited for Paxton to get the car brought around, Ivy heard the hesitation and concern in her sister’s voice. Her tone escalated to alarm as Ivy told her where she was going but Ivy couldn’t bring herself to care.
She’d spent the past year ignoring her family’s secret connection to Paxton’s. She justified taking the position with him by telling herself that he never had to know who she really was. Becoming his assistant had been a dream job for someone her age. With her drive to stand on her own two feet, there was no way she could have passed up such an incredible opportunity to advance. Or the temptation it had presented. Yes, it was a foolish hope. But maybe, just maybe, this was the right thing.
She glanced at the teardrop emerald on her right ring finger, swearing it actually twinkled in the subdued lighting on the front stone steps, where she waited. The piece of jewelry handed down to her and her sisters through generations of their family, who believed its magic would guide them to find their true love.
The professional Ivy wanted to scoff at the notion that the ring had anything to do with what was happening tonight. But the princess wannabe she hid deep down inside regarded the ring with a smile before she glanced up to see Paxton step out of the back of the company limo.
“Come with me?” he asked, reaching his hand out to her.
She knew what was happening. Knew he was giving her a way out at the same time that he made his preference known. He was a gentleman, through and through. Tonight, she wanted him to be hers.
He quickly handed her into the dim interior, which got even darker as he closed the door behind him. The driver pulled away from the curb right away. Paxton wasn’t wasting time on niceties. His urgency mirrored hers—much to her relief.
Paxton immediately distracted her from thoughts of rings, sisters and the fact that he was her boss. In the private world of the back seat, he embraced her without hesitation. Their decision was made.
He cupped her head in his large, warm hands, holding her steady for his kiss. In the tight space, every breath, every gasp, every moan was amplified. Then his hands traveled downward, heating up her neck, collarbone and the tops of her breasts. The air stuttered in her lungs as she ached for him to slip his hand beneath the edge of her dress. Instead his mouth followed the trail, creating a heated path of sizzling nerves. She arched into the pull of his lips and tongue and teeth against her skin.
Then he was slipping away from her, pulling back from the grip of her fingers around his upper arms. But the disappointment was quickly replaced by a thrill of both fear and need as he insinuated his big body between the V-shape of her thighs.
The thickly layered skirt of her ball gown proved no match for Paxton. She felt his long fingers close around her ankles in a firm grip, tight enough to let her know he was there without leaving a mark. Her thighs clenched as everything inside her tightened. She needed to surrender to that touch, to let him do with her what he chose.
His fingers traced down over her four-inch heels, a rumbling groan rolling out of his chest. A half smile escaped her, one he might see in the occasional streetlights they passed. They were nearing the city now.
Slowly his palms traced upward, beneath the layers of material. Cupping her calves. Rubbing her knees. Massaging her thighs. Ivy panted as she grew wet with need. Would he touch her there? Or would he leave her to wait?
His fingertips found the line of her garters. “Heaven help me, Ivy.” Without warning, he bunched up the heavy skirt and disappeared beneath it. His hands curled around her knees and pulled her forward. She felt open and vulnerable. She swallowed hard, wishing now for just a hint of the logic that had made a brief appearance earlier.
But it was nowhere to be seen.
His mouth met the tender skin right above the top of her thigh-high stockings, sucking hard as if he could swallow her into him. Her muscles tightened as if to push him away, but the move was merely instinctual. Truthfully, she wanted him to taste her there...wanted him to taste her more. His tongue flicked firmly along the upper lace edge, then along the garter, until he buried his face in the crook between her thigh and hip. She felt the breath he drew with every nerve ending in her body.
Abruptly the car halted, the brakes applied with a little more force than necessary.
But it was enough to bring Paxton to his senses. Thank goodness, because any mindfulness she had was long gone. Paxton made quick and careful work of returning her skirt to its original modest position. Then he opened the door and stepped outside. She heard him speaking with the driver, but when he reached in to help her out, the man was back behind the wheel. The car was speeding down the drive before Paxton had her halfway up his front walk.
Now they were alone together. No audience. Just the night and the two of them. The perfect ingredients for her own incredible fairy tale.
* * *
Paxton woke to incredible warmth.
The sun shining through the half-closed curtains heated the cool room. The tangle of his legs with the woman asleep beside him heated his skin. His body was alive with urgent need.
Then his brain kicked into gear.
Where it had been last night, he wasn’t sure. His body tightened as images rose from his memory. The full impact of what they’d done hit him in a rush.
His assistant. He’d spent the night with his assistant.
An incredible night...
He breathed deeply, attempting to mitigate the odd mix of desire and panic. To slow his racing heartbeat, cool his body’s ardor. Because they couldn’t do this again.
He’d been such a fool.
Paxton glanced over at Ivy. She faced away from him, but the smooth curve of her shoulder and waterfall of tangled blond hair drew him. Her beauty made him reach out to touch, but he clenched his hand into a fist instead to stop himself.
Last night he’d been blindsided by the need to bury his hands in that silky blond hair. He licked his lips as he remembered the taste of her skin last night, of her full lips, plump breasts and soft thighs. And that garter!
A flash of fever heated his bare skin.
But as he watched the sun flirt with her as she slept, the panic lurking in the background simply wouldn’t go away. What had he been thinking?
Well, he hadn’t been.
He urgently needed coffee; it would be a welcome distraction. He eased from the bed, careful not to rouse Ivy, reminding himself that she must be exhausted. She’d spent the last week working her full-time job with him, then helping her sister out with the charity ball. Then she’d spent all day Saturday preparing for the event, and Saturday night splitting the hostessing duties.
She had every right to be tired...and to sleep in.
Leaving her asleep had nothing to do with not wanting to face her...not wanting to tell her this could absolutely not go any further than it already had.
As he headed to the kitchen, he heard the faint noise of his phone vibrating against the foyer table. Instinctively he made a detour for it. One glance at the display told him his executive VP was on the other end of the line—and weekend calls were definitely not his thing. Paxton’s senses geared up for whatever emergency was coming his way.
“What’s up, Mike?”
“Where the heck have you been? I’ve been calling since 5:00 a.m.”
Paxton