Crave (Billionaire Bachelors Club #1)(36)

“Stop, Archer. I already told you I refuse to let that happen again.” She crosses her arms in front of her, contemplating me with her shrewd gaze. “Besides, if we ever did have sex again, you’d run like you always do.”

When shit gets serious, I definitely run. But not anymore. For once, I don’t want to bail. “I can’t run any longer, Ivy. This is it. I need the new resort to open with a roaring success. I need those suites to look amazing. Together, I know we can do it.”

“Fine.” She sighs. “We need to come up with a budget. A timeline.” She taps her finger against her pursed lips, driving me wild with wanting her. Damn, she’s beautiful. Even shivering in the cold, angry with me and most likely thinking I’ve lost my damn mind, she’s gorgeous. Fucking amazing, really.

I don’t deserve her help. I don’t deserve Ivy Emerson whatsoever.

But I still want her. Desperately.

“We can plot and plan back at the hotel, Ivy,” I tell her. “Come on. I won’t try any funny business.”

A perfectly manicured brow lifts at that remark. “Promise?”

Nodding, I make an X on my chest with my index finger. “Cross my heart.”

“You swear? I can’t think when you push yourself on me, Archer. And if you want my help in figuring out how we’re going to do this, then you need me to be able to think.”

Is it wrong that I’m pleased with her remark? That she can’t think when I’m around? I love that, especially because I feel the same way.

“Come back to the suite with me, Ivy. We’ll figure this out.”

“Fine.” She offers a jerky nod. “Let’s do this.”

Sweeter words were never spoken.

Chapter Eleven

Ivy

THE PENTHOUSE SUITE is amazing, not that I expect anything less. It encompasses nearly the entire top floor of the hotel, is larger than my apartment, and has three bedrooms, which reassures me. There will be no sleeping in Archer’s bed tonight.

No matter how much I’m tempted.

I’ve stayed in more than a few Bancroft Hotels over the years, considering the Bancroft family comped my family all our rooms when we travelled, and I’ve never been disappointed. But I’ve never had any reason to stay at the Bancroft in downtown San Francisco. It’s my hometown, after all.

“You like it?” Archer shuts the door and strides toward me, his voice full of pride. Despite the burden the family business has put on him his entire life, and specifically today, I know he’s still proud of Bancroft, as he should be.

“The view is amazing.” I approach the windows, staring out at the glittering view of the city before me. The moon breaks over the fog, shining its silvery light on the bay, and I withhold the sigh of longing that’s desperate to escape me.

The beautiful suite, this gorgeous night . . . is made for lovers. I yearn for that to be true, no matter how bad I know Archer is for me.

But Archer knows he needs to keep his distance. It’s the only way I can stay sane.

God, how stupid could I be, pushing him away when I want him more than anything?

“I stay here whenever I come to the city. Better than staying at my parents’, that’s for sure.” The bitterness in his voice is no surprise. He doesn’t get along with his parents; he never has. Not that I blame him. His father treats him terribly. Their fractured relationship has always broken my heart.

He comes up behind me. I catch his reflection in the window and I hold my breath, marveling at how we look together. He towers over me, his dark hair mussed, his expression strained. As if he’s as tense as I feel.

I can imagine his big hand sliding down my back, pushing gently so I have no choice but to bend forward. Hearing his dark, sexy voice commanding me to brace my hands on the shockingly cool glass. His skilled fingers would settle on my hips, slowly gathering the fabric of my dress so he could touch my bare skin beneath. Those assured fingers would slip beneath my thin panties to find me already soaking wet for him . . .

Lust surges through me and I stiffen my shoulders. God, I’m a wreck. He stands too close and I’m imagining how he’ll take me right here, in front of a window for everyone to see.

“There is no ‘us’ in this room tonight, Archer,” I say, my voice firm. No matter how much I want it to be true, I have to hold strong. The man is dangerous to my well-being. I want to smack myself for even contemplating going along with his stupid plan. I am so weak when it comes to him, it’s pitiful.

“Well, that’s unfortunate,” he drawls, and I want to punch him.

God, I’m starving, and that’s what’s making me extra irritable. We left the restaurant before our dinners arrived, though Archer said he’d paid for them when he came out of Spruce. He called in room service from the car moments before we arrived at the hotel, ordering an enormous amount of food I would normally never eat. An assortment of appetizers, fried this and that, and I swear he even mentioned a pizza.

My stomach growls at the thought of pizza.

“Hungry?” He raises an eyebrow and I look away from him, embarrassed. Not that I’d ever admit to him I’m actually starved. Women don’t eat, not in front of perfect men like Archer. We might nibble on a leaf of lettuce and drink copious amounts of water to purge any sort of bloating, but that’s it.