CHAPTER 46: HOW DID IT GO?

What was supposed to be a lap dance had become a full-on make out session with her boss.

Winn reached for her other breast, his hand moving with confidence. Ivy’s nerves screamed. She summoned the last shred of her willpower. "Mr Kane, please... stop."

To her shock, he did—instantly. His hands stilled, his lips drew back, and he leaned away. Ivy sighed in disappointment, her breath shuddering out of her chest. Why did you stop? her mind screamed at him. Why did I ask him to stop? The ache between her thighs begged for more, cursed her own self-control.

"Go get dressed and meet me on the sidewalk. I’m taking you home," he said gruffly. He let her wriggle free this time, and Ivy scrambled to her feet, nearly tripping as she adjusted her bra. She didn’t dare look back at him.

She quickly hurried out of the booth, her face burning, her pulse still skittering, half afraid he would call her back and half desperate that he would.

Winn leaned back in the chair, looking down at the painful bulge straining against his pants. "Fuck!" he muttered under his breath. He had been seconds away from losing it completely, from forgetting who she was, where they were. He dragged a hand down his face, trying to steady himself.

He raised his fingers to his nostrils, and the essence of her clung there, intoxicating, maddening. Like a man possessed, he slipped his finger into his mouth, shutting his eyes as the taste hit his tongue. The memory of her heat, the slickness, the way she had whimpered his name—it was enough to make him bite down on a groan.

He waited a few minutes for his cock to reduce to a reasonable size. Finally, he got to his feet.

He stepped out of the booth, and saw Kelvin approaching through the corridor.

"Mr Kane. How did it go?" Kelvin asked, his brow arched. Winn gave him a flat look.

"Painfully well," Winn said simply. He pushed past, his long strides carrying him toward the elevator. The doors slid shut around him, cutting off the thrum of the club. Inside the mirrored box, he caught his own reflection—jacket askew, tie loosened, eyes wild.

The underground garage was cool. His Maybach sat waiting. Sliding behind the wheel, Winn started the engine and drove out, the city lights greeting him.

On the sidewalk, Ivy stood waiting, hugging herself against the night chill. Streetlamps painted her in gold. When the Maybach pulled up, she swallowed and stepped around to the passenger side. Her hand hesitated on the handle before she slid inside.

Ivy’s thighs pressed together as she fought the echo of his touch. What had happened, what had almost happened, lingered in the air. They both knew it. The line they had been dancing on had blurred, and now there was no going back.

When he finally pulled up in front of her house, Ivy was quick to unbuckle her seatbelt. Her heart raced as she opened the door, almost bolting from the cocoon of silence. She hadn’t expected him to follow, hadn’t thought he would step out of his car and trail her up the walkway.

His shadow loomed larger than life behind her, and her hands fumbled with the keys. The lock clicked at last, and they stepped inside.

She stood in front of him, her palms damp, her feet shifting nervously on the rug. She couldn’t think of what to say. She wanted to defuse the tension, to make things normal again.

"How... how was your trip?" she asked.

Winn’s gaze cut into her. "Where have you been? I sent Reese over a couple of times. Called you a couple of times."

"I got a new job as a housekeeper. It’s a live-in job. I only get the weekends off. They gave me a house phone to use. I wasn’t really with my phone most of the times," she explained, her fingers twisting the hem of her blouse. Winn was only then noticing she looked tired.

"I want you back."

"Back... back how?" she stammered, her heartbeat a runaway train in her chest. Her mind, treacherous as ever, jumped straight to the gutter. Back in his arms. Back to that booth where his fingers had teased her until she thought she’d lose her sanity. Heat flooded her cheeks as she dared a glance at him.

"As my secretary," Winn said smoothly.

"Mr. Kane, I think we have crossed that line already. In fact, we crossed that line two weeks ago when you first kissed me." Her body remembered every detail of that kiss—how his lips had bruised hers, how her knees had weakened.

"I’d say we crossed that line on your first day at work when I saw your breasts, but we still worked perfectly well together." Winn’s mouth curved into a smirk. He leaned back slightly, one hand sliding casually into his pocket.

"That... that one was a mistake." She lifted a hand to her temple, embarrassed all over again. "This... this isn’t something we can take back."

"Sweetie, I haven’t fucked you yet. Wait until then, before you start planning about taking things back."

"Mr. Kane, I promise you. I am not that kind of woman. I..." Ivy tried to speak. She wanted to insist she wasn’t the kind of girl who’d tumble headfirst into a man’s bed. She wanted to swear she had boundaries, that she had rules.

But the memory of his hands on her breasts, his mouth hot against her throat, the taste of his kiss, all made her lips tremble with the lie.

"I am not that kind of man either," Winn said. His eyes held hers. "I have been coming to Commissioned for years and you are the first dancer I will request for."

"Why?" she asked, barely above a whisper.

"Like I said, you have a bangable body," Winn replied. "So you are resuming back to work on Monday," he continued, "and we are going to do an amazing job together. If it makes you feel any better, I will not touch you."