“I’ve got you,” he added as he lifted her up and then lowered her again.
This time, she followed his instructions. She let him take control as sensation swirled and pleasure rose up and up.
“Oh, hell,” he groaned as he lowered her down again. She felt him shudder against her. He held her tight, refusing to lift her up as he came. Then, he lowered his head to her shoulder.
“There’s some damn proof you’re gorgeous and sexy,” he murmured.
“Carter, it’s all right. We’re even now.”
He lifted his head and looked down at her. “Don’t think for a second that I planned that.” Still holding her, he pivoted and headed for the sliding glass door. “I’m going to worship every inch of you. This time in my bed. Okay?”
She nodded as he wrapped one powerful arm around her and pulled open the door.
But I’m already there. I feel so beautiful, worshipped, and happy…I don’t want the sun to come up. Not for a long, long time.
Chapter 18
“Having a good dream?”
Ivy woke with a start. She took in the beam of sunlight illuminating the dark curls. She’d fallen asleep curled up against Carter Burke.
Her boss.
The lifeline to her research.
Her muscles tensed as the tension from yesterday pushed sleep and contentment to the sidelines. Her fingers instinctively tried to form a fist, wrapping around—
Oh, sugar!
She released his long, hard length. “Sorry,” she murmured.
“For touching me?” He turned on his side and the sheet slid to his waist. The muscles in his biceps flexed as he propped himself up with his arm. His other hand reached out and cupped her cheek. “You’re frowning. Is that your must-have-coffee face? Or are you having second thoughts, Ivy?”
Images flashed through her mind like a slideshow. The dinosaurs. The castle. His terrace. His bed.
She’d had a plan. But one little makeover and she’d diverted from “bore the billionaire” to “seduce him with adventure.” And somewhere along the line, she’d abandoned her goal. She’d followed lust, attraction, and…
No, not love. Not yet.
But she liked him. Not the powerful billionaire who could keep her research alive, but the man. The very good man who’d made her feel beautiful and yes, worshipped.
Three bars of “Fight Song” echoed through the bedroom.
“Your ringtone?” he teased.
“One of them,” she said, as she scrambled from the bed, drawing the quilted coverlet with her. She wore the blanket like a cloak. She followed the ringing sound into his living room and found her cell plugged in to charge beside another, fancier model phone.
He got up during the night to plug in my phone. When was the last time a man did that for me?
She shook off the question and reached for her cell. She read the caller ID and sighed. Then she ran her finger over the screen and lifted the phone to her ear. “Good morning, Penelope.”
“Charm a billionaire last night?” her assistant asked.
“I’m not sure who charmed who.” Ivy sank into an overstuffed chair. “But I haven’t convinced him to increase our funding yet.”
Or keep the lab open.
But she’d hold on to that detail. If she failed—which was a high probability, seeing as she’d allowed her misplaced desire to override her common sense—then she’d tell Penelope they were losing everything.