One Night On The Virgin's Terms - Melanie Milburne Page 0,51

and his gaze grew serious. ‘But neither of us can get too comfortable with this arrangement. The time limit still stands.’

Ivy had to work hard not to show her disappointment. She was conscious of her every facial muscle, of trying to control the micro-expressions that might betray her emotions.

The time limit still stands.

He wasn’t budging from his rules on their fling. In spite of the fabulous sex, in spite of their friendship and the increasing closeness she felt was growing between them, he was determined to keep things temporary.

‘I know.’ She gave a little forced laugh. ‘Just think what Ronan would say if he knew we were having a fling. Or Mum.’

The frown between his eyebrows deepened. ‘Yes, well, all the more reason to stick to the rules. I don’t want anyone’s expectations raised and then dashed when our...fling ends.’

His slight hesitation over the word ‘fling’ made her wonder if perhaps a part of him—a secret, well-buried part—was already compartmentalising his involvement with her as something completely different from his normal flings. He rolled away from her, got off the bed and disposed of the condom in the bathroom.

Ivy used the opportunity while he was in the bathroom to wrap herself in a plush bathrobe. His bathrobe that contained the tantalising scent of him on its soft fibres. It completely swamped her, but at least it covered her nakedness. But it wasn’t really her physical nakedness she was most worried about covering—it was her emotional nakedness. The raw hope filling her heart more and more each day that he would come to love her. A hope that refused to give up even though it was hanging by a silken thread.

She desperately hoped he would want more than a scratch-an-itch fling. That the chemistry between them would prove to him that what they’d experienced together was special, unique, something to be treasured and not put aside as a distant memory.

Louis disposed of the condom and gripped the edge of the basin in front of the mirror. He looked at his reflection and wasn’t sure he liked what he saw. A man who was seriously questioning if he’d done the right thing in sleeping with Ivy. Not because he didn’t enjoy every moment of having her in his arms—he did. Too much. Way too much. So much, he was finding it harder and harder to think of their involvement as a fling. As a casual fling, like any other he’d experienced. It wasn’t and it could never be. It was in an entirely different category. Not just because he was her first lover. Not just because the sex was so fulfilling and mind-blowingly pleasurable and made his body hum for hours afterwards. But because it was Ivy. Sweet, cute, adorable Ivy, with her dimples and her curls and her curves and her funny little bunny twitch.

But one day, in the not too distant future he would have to see Ivy move on with someone else. Someone who would give her the things she wanted—love, marriage, babies, commitment for a lifetime. And she had every right to want those things. She deserved no less than wholehearted commitment and love.

His gut twisted like writhing snakes. One day, he would even have to attend her wedding or think of a very good excuse not to accept the invitation, thus hurting her, her mother and her brother in one fell swoop. God, how had he got himself into this mess? A beautiful mess he didn’t want to end.

Not yet.

CHAPTER NINE

IVY WANDERED OUT to the salon, still dressed in Louis’ bathrobe, where there was a huge bunch of pink roses wrapped in white paper and tied with a black satin bow resting on the coffee table. There was a box of chocolates from a Parisian chocolatier next to them, as well as a flat, rectangular black velvet jewellery box.

Her breath stalled, her heart tripped, her stomach flipped. Flowers. Chocolates. Jewellery. Gifts a man in love gave to the woman he adored. Hope spread throughout her chest, lifting her spirits, sending a burst of happiness through her.

But then a doubt slipped into her mind like a curl of toxic smoke wafting under a door, slowly but surely poisoning her fledgling hopes. For all she knew, he might buy all his lovers gifts. Consolation prizes, trinkets to remember him by when their fling came to its inevitable end.

She wanted more than memories. She had been trying to ignore it from the first time he’d kissed her, but she could