One Night On The Virgin's Terms - Melanie Milburne Page 0,39

love again—and not just this weekend, but the one after and the one after and...

Ivy was pulled away from her thoughts as if by the sudden tug of a marionette’s strings. One night and one night only. That was what she’d agreed on and it was all Louis was offering. She knew enough about him to know he could be stubborn when his mind was made up.

Wouldn’t it be better if she avoided the ‘morning after the night before’ scene she was dreading? How could she look at him now and see him as only a friend and not the most amazing lover a woman could ask for? Her body was already craving him. How would she hide her longing from him? It was better to leave before he came back from wherever he’d gone during the night. Before he saw how much she wanted him to continue their fling. Before her feelings got involved any more than they already were. Before she made a complete and utter fool of herself by begging him to extend their fling beyond the one night they’d agreed on.

She reached for her phone and organised a taxi back to London.

Hopefully she would be halfway home before he even knew she had gone.

Louis hadn’t slept so soundly for years—even if it had only been until just before dawn. Maybe it was the Cotswolds air. Maybe it was breaking his sex drought. Maybe it was Ivy...

He’d left her sleeping in the early hours, not trusting himself to wake up beside her without wanting to make love to her again. Or tweaking the rules so they spent the rest of the weekend down here. But he had no business tweaking the rules. He had done as she requested and there was no need to take things any further.

Weird, but he had no regrets about last night. How could he when it was the best sex he’d ever had? Sensual, meaningful, memorable, tender...and yet racy. His body tingled at the thought of Ivy’s touch. His lips remembered the taste and texture of hers. Every cell in his body wanted her with a grinding hunger.

But their night together was over.

It was Saturday morning and their relationship had to go back to normal. Normal? How normal was it that every time he looked at her now he would recall the softness of her mouth under his, the stroke of her hands, the warm, velvet grip of her body? He shuddered and groaned as desire swept through him like a tide, heating and hardening his flesh to the point of pain.

He went for a long run along the country lanes, trying to summon his self-control. Maybe he should tweak the rules. Maybe she needed more than one night to gain even more confidence. She’d told him how her parents’ break-up had contributed to her uneasiness with intimacy, and it had made him realise even more how stressful and difficult her adolescence had been. Hadn’t he carried his own hang-ups from his childhood?

You’re rationalising—you just want to continue your fling with her.

Louis knew the danger of extending their fling. It was one of the reasons he’d been reluctant to start it in the first place. Ivy wasn’t like the other women he dated—not because they hadn’t been nice women, with lots to offer. But he could always switch off his feelings when he had casual dates. He was a master at it. But with Ivy those unwanted feelings had a habit of slipping under his guard, making him hunger for things he had so long suppressed or told himself he didn’t really want.

And then there was the other complication of his friendship with her brother. Ronan would never forgive him for hurting Ivy. And how could he avoid hurting her if he continued to sleep with her without offering her the whole package she yearned for—marriage, babies and forever love? A package he had no intention of offering to anyone. Ever.

Louis came back from his run and showered and dressed before going to Ivy’s room. The door of her room was closed, so he gave it a gentle tap.

‘Ivy? Are you up? Time for breakfast before we head back to London.’

There was no answer, so he opened the door and went in. The bed had been stripped and the duvet neatly folded back to wait for fresh sheets to be placed on later. It took him a moment to register what he was seeing—or not seeing. There was no trace of Ivy