Crave (Billionaire Bachelors Club #1)(13)

Overcome with a coughing attack at the thought, I wave Gage away when he shoots me a strange look. “I’m fine,” I say as they both head toward the open doorway. “Show him his room, Archer. Good night.”

Not giving either of them a chance to reply, I shut the door behind them and slump against it, thumping my head against the solid wood once, twice. Trying to knock sense into my brain, because clearly, I’ve lost it.

Sighing, I push away from the door and glance about the room, noting the open door that leads to a small connecting bathroom, and I go inside to check it out. All the amenities are here with the exception of what I might wear to bed. Not that I want to change into something left over from one of Archer’s sexual conquests, but still. I’m surprised there’s not a fresh, clean nightgown waiting for me to change into for the night, considering he has all the amenities. I guess I could wear my bra and panties . . .

Or wear nothing at all.

A little smile curling my lips, I find a plush terry cloth robe hanging from a hook on the back of the door. Running my hand over it, I contemplate taking a shower and start to shed my clothes, kicking off my shoes and letting the dress, my panties, and my bra fall into a pile on the floor.

I’ll look like I’m doing the total night-after walk of shame tomorrow morning at Hush wearing the semiformal dress I wore to the wedding. Something I never considered until now and I chew on my lower lip, staring at the gigantic glass-enclosed shower calling my name.

Maybe I should ask Archer if he has something for me to wear. Though how do I approach him? Sure can’t do it at the moment, since I’m standing here naked. He might not mind finding me this way, though.

Stop thinking like this. You don’t want him to find you naked . . . do you?

Oh my God, maybe I do.

A knock sounds at the door and I jump, grabbing the robe off the hook with lightning speed. Throwing it on, I approach, figuring it’s Gage ready to tell me something lame before he goes to bed. He’s always been a little overprotective, so he’s probably just checking up on me.

“I’m fine, Gage. Really,” I say as I open the door, stunned silent when I see who’s standing before me.

“Really?” Archer raises a brow, one hand in his pants’ pocket, the other clutching an article of clothing. “Why wouldn’t you be anything but fine?”

Oh. Shit. He should so not be standing in front of me right now. “What are you doing here?” I whisper, glancing over his shoulder to thankfully see Gage’s door is closed.

“Making sure you’re comfortable.” He thrusts his hand out toward me. “I brought you something.”

I’m ultra-aware of the fact that beneath the terry cloth, I’m wearing absolutely nothing. The impulse to untie the sash and let the robe drop to my feet just to see Archer’s reaction is near overwhelming.

But I keep it under control. For now.

“What is this?” I take the wadded-up fabric from his hand, our fingers accidentally brushing, and heat rushes through me at first contact.

“One of my T-shirts.” He shrugs those broad shoulders, which are still encased in fine white cotton. “I know you didn’t have anything to wear to . . . bed. Thought I could offer you this.”

His eyes darkened at the word bed and my knees wobble. Good lord, what this man is doing to me is so completely foreign, I’m not quite sure how to react.

“Um, thanks. I appreciate it.” The T-shirt is soft, the fabric thin, as if it’s been worn plenty of times, and I have the sudden urge to hold it to my nose and inhale. See if I can somehow smell his scent lingering in the fabric.

The man is clearly turning me into a freak of epic proportions.

“You’re welcome.” He leans his tall body against the doorframe, looking sleepy and rumpled and way too sexy for words. I want to grab his hand and yank him into my room.

Wait, no I don’t. That’s a bad—terrible—idea.

Liar.

“Is that all then?” I ask because we don’t need to be standing here having this conversation. First, my brother could find us and start in again on what a mistake we are. Second, I’m growing increasingly uncomfortable with the fact that I’m completely naked beneath the robe. Third, I’m still contemplating shedding the robe and showing Archer just how naked I am.

“Yeah. Guess so.” His voice is rough and he pushes away from the doorframe. “Well. Good night.”

“Good night,” I whisper, but I don’t shut the door. I don’t move.

Neither does he.

“Ivy . . .” His voice trails off and he clears his throat, looking uncomfortable. Which is hot. Oh my God, everything he does is hot and I decide to give in to my impulses because screw it.

I want him.

Archer

LIKE AN IDIOT, I can’t come up with anything to say. It’s like my throat is clogged, and I can hardly force a sound out, what with Ivy standing before me, her long, wavy, dark hair tumbling past her shoulders, her slender body engulfed in the thick white robe I keep for guests. The very same type of robe we provide at Hush.

But then she does something so surprising—so amazingly awesome—I’m momentarily dumbfounded by the sight.

Her slender hands go for the belt of the robe and she undoes it quickly, the fabric parting, revealing bare skin. Completely bare skin.