Crave (Billionaire Bachelors Club #1)(32)

“A swingers club,” she states flatly.

I shake my head, chuckling. “Hell, no. What sort of pervert do you think I am?”

Ivy doesn’t say a word, just arches a delicate brow in challenge.

I sigh and shake my head. “Fine, I’m a pervert. But I don’t run a swingers resort, Ivy. There’s no swapping with others or wild orgies going on at either location. It’s all about a one-on-one level.” Ironic, considering I have no clue what that’s like.

“Then what exactly is this new place supposed to be?”

“It’s whatever your heart desires,” I say softly. “Whatever your lover wants. Hence the name Crave, considering it fits so perfectly. A discreet, comfortable safe place where you can discover your secret fantasies, indulge in your secret wants. The new location will provide whatever you might need, no questions asked.”

Her cheeks are pink, her eyes wide. She looks almost . . . aroused. “It sounds—interesting.”

I smile. Damn, she’s beautiful. “It is. Very interesting.”

She remains silent, tracing the stem of her wineglass with the tip of her index finger. I fixate on that finger, how delicately she touches the glass, the short, darkly painted nail. My skin suddenly feels too tight, I’m getting hard from watching her finger for the love of God. Taking a deep breath, I try to regain some control.

But hell, I’m dying to feel those fingers all over my body again . . .

Leaning across the table, I lower my voice, ready to cut to the chase. “I need you, Ivy. I want you to bring a sexy, sophisticated touch to my resort.”

A little sigh escapes her. “You’ve already arranged it with Sharon. Why feel the need to ask me?” She sips from her wine, her gaze steady on me over the rim of her glass.

“Because I want you to willingly work with me. I know I should’ve told you first before I spoke to Sharon, but I was getting desperate. I’m running out of time and I need to get this project finished. And I trust you.” It’s the truth. I hardly trust anyone. I definitely don’t trust any women. They’re all the same.

Except for Ivy.

Reaching for her hand again, I press my palm against hers and entwine our fingers. Hers are slender, delicate, and I swear they tremble in my grip. A jolt moves through me at the connection, as if my body missed being touched by hers. “Say yes, you want to work with me.”

“It’s not that easy . . .”

“Say yes,” I repeat, refusing to take no for an answer.

“I shouldn’t. I should be mad that you went above my head and made it happen anyway, with or without my approval.”

I smile, feeling cocky. “Come on, you’ve never been able to resist me.”

She tries to extract her fingers from mine but I squeeze tight, not about to let her go. “You’re such an ass.”

“You think I wouldn’t use that to my advantage?” I lower my voice. She’s going to kill me for saying this, but I’m overcome. Having her hand in mine, our fingers laced together. I’m gripping her so tight, I feel like a desperate man. I haven’t forgotten her no matter how hard I try. “I absolutely cannot get the last time we were together out of my mind.”

“Please. We haven’t spoken since. Until today.” She glares at me with narrowed eyes, tugging against my hold, but I refuse to release her. “You know, I really can’t stand you. Seeing you tonight only reiterates my feelings.”

I don’t doubt it for a minute. Most women hate me once they get to know me.

Not Ivy. She knows all my faults yet she still wants to be with me. Or at least she used to. I want that again. The closeness, that connection I share with no one else. She somehow understands me, she always has.

I know for a fact that not many people do.

“Fine, hate me all you want. Just say you’ll do this.”

“It’s not that easy for me to walk away from my life, you know. I have responsibilities. And what if Sharon’s mad that you did this?” I smooth my thumb across the top of her hand, and she releases a shuddering breath. “I’m asking for trouble, working with you.”

“Ivy, please.”

Her eyes widen at my choice of words. I rarely say please. I just take what I want. But please is not working with Ivy at this very moment. She looks ready to run.

“Archer . . .”

“Please, Ivy,” I say again. “I need you.”

Chapter Ten

Ivy

“IT’S HARD FOR me to believe you’re serious.” He’s driving me crazy with how he’s touching me. I can’t think. And the way he’s looking at me isn’t much better.

At this very moment his sole focus is on me. That penetrating dark gaze of his locked on my face. As if nothing and no one else matters. All that intensity is tough to deal with.

Of course, he wants something from me. Not like he can be a complete ass and expect me to be agreeable.

Despite my instinct to scream No! and flee the restaurant, I take this moment to study him, my gaze roving over him greedily. He’s wearing a black sweater that stretches across his chest, emphasizing his broad shoulders. His dark hair gleams beneath the soft glow of the lights shining from above.

More than one woman has glanced in his direction since I sat down. Power, wealth, authority, it radiates from Archer in palpable waves. Funny how I can forget that when I’m not around him. How potent he is to my well-being.