One Night On The Virgin's Terms - Melanie Milburne Page 0,3

a recipe for disaster.’ Dating anyone for longer than twenty-four hours these days was a disaster. He’d once been fine with a week or two with someone, even a month, but that was before his most recent lover, who’d had trouble accepting the end of their three-week fling. Being stalked for weeks on end by a woman who’d fancied herself madly in love with him had been no fun. His new rule was one night and one night only. It gave no time for feelings to develop on either side.

Ivy rolled her lips together, her eyes briefly dipping to his mouth. ‘Are you...seeing anyone at the moment?’ Her voice had a tentative, breathless quality to it and the pink in her cheeks darkened.

Louis swivelled his chair in slow sideways movements, his gaze holding hers. ‘Not at the moment. Why?’

She gave a one-shoulder shrug, her eyes skittering away from his. ‘Just asking...’

He lowered his crossed ankle to the floor and leaned his arms on the desk again. ‘Ivy.’ He used his parent-to-child tone, because right then he was having way too much trouble seeing her as his mate’s sister. He was seeing her naked in his bed, those gorgeous breasts in his hands, his mouth on hers, his...

Stop. Do not go any further. Just stop.

Ivy slow-blinked like a little owl. ‘Can I ask you something?’

Louis sat back again and rubbed a hand over his late-in-the-day stubble. ‘Yeah, sure. Go for it.’

She gave an audible swallow, the tip of her tongue sneaking out to deposit a layer of moisture on her lips. Lips he couldn’t stop thinking about kissing, to see if they were as soft and pliable as they looked. To see what they tasted like—sweet or salty or a sexy combination of the two? ‘Louis...what do you find most attractive in a woman? I mean, you date a lot, so I guess you’d know what’s hot and what’s not, right?’

What was hot was sitting right in front of him, with her small white teeth pulling at her lower lip. What was hot was thinking about peeling those skin-tight jeans and sweater off her and planting kisses on every inch of her body. What was hot was thinking about her legs wrapped around his hips while he drove them both to oblivion.

Louis suppressed a shudder and gave himself a vigorous mental shake. Anyone would think he was the one who’d drunk that brandy. ‘Confidence is enormously attractive in a woman.’

Ivy slapped one of her thighs and sprang to her feet; her bag dropped to the floor with a thud but she didn’t even seem to notice. ‘I knew it. That’s exactly what I think and it’s why I’m here to ask for your help to gain some.’

Louis raised his brows a fraction. ‘Me?’

She came around to his side of the desk, standing close enough for him to touch her. Do. Not. Touch. Her. The temptation to do so was painfully difficult to resist. Her hair was a red-gold cloud around her neck and shoulders, and every time she moved her head he could smell the fruity fragrance of her shampoo. Her eyes were so bright they could have auditioned for a position in the Milky Way. And her lips... Dear God, her lips were plump and shimmering with lip-gloss, and it was all he could do not to lean forward and kiss her.

‘Yes. You,’ Ivy said, her smile triggering those cute dimples again. ‘I wouldn’t feel comfortable with anyone else. I need someone I know and trust. It would be too hard for me to do this with a stranger.’

Do what with a stranger? And why did she trust him? Louis wasn’t so sure he deserved her trust, given where his mind was leading him—straight into the gutter. He pushed his chair back and stood, putting a little more distance between them. He went over to the drinks cabinet and poured himself a neat whisky. He wasn’t a heavy drinker—thankfully that was one way in which he was different from his father—but right then he could have drained the bottle and followed it with a brandy chaser.

He took a measured sip and turned back to face her. ‘I’m not sure I’m following you. What exactly do you want me to do?’

Ivy shifted from foot to foot, her hands interlaced in front of her body, her cheeks blooming again with colour. ‘I have a problem with...with sex...’

Louis sprayed most of his second sip of whisky out of his mouth on a choked