“You know why,” he said, without ever answering the question directly.
“You’re the most frustrating person I’ve ever met,” she groaned.
Finally, it seemed she was done being sick, and they got back in the limo. Dennis had apparently already scrubbed and cleaned the floor. The only signs of her sickness were the smell of cleaning fluid, and the dark stain left over.
She closed her eyes and Cullen told her to lie down. “Put your head in my lap,” he said.
She nodded, accepting that he knew best. Besides, she wanted to be close to him right now.
He’s not just the most frustrating person ever. He’s also the most confusing. One second he’s distant and cold—the next he’s the warmest, most caring man in the world.
I feel totally safe right now. Totally cared for.
But then he changes on a dime.
She didn’t understand it, but she closed her eyes anyway, as she lied down on the seat and put her head in Cullen Sharpe’s warm lap.
“My head is in the CEO’s lap,” she said aloud.
Cullen laughed a little. “Shhhh….” He soothed, stroking her hair.
She could feel his bulge, as her cheek pressed into his lap. Was it her imagination or was he hardening right now?
What would it be like to unzip him, right here…suck him off in his private limo?
But she was in no state to actually do something like that—especially not the first time in her life. She didn’t have the guts or the stomach for it.
Besides, the way he was stroking her hair felt so nice…
“I’m falling asleep,” she announced drowsily.
“That’s good,” he assured her. “You’ve made the right decision.”
She drifted off, only waking up as he picked her up—like a child, in his arms—lifting her easily out of the limousine and walking her up the steps of his home.
“Where…where are you taking me…”
“Everything’s fine. You need rest,” he said softly, as he walked easily.
“I’m too heavy to carry.”
“Nonsense.” His strong arms cradled her and she hugged him, nuzzling her face into his chest, smelling his scent.
She’d never known her father and her mother had raised her entirely as a single parent. So she’d never had the daddy who picked her up and put her to bed, but she supposed it must have felt something like this.
She found that she liked it very much.
They were soon inside a dark building, and he must have owned the whole thing, because once inside the front door, he carried her down a hallway and into another dark room, laying her on a cozy, soft bed.
He pulled off her heels, threw back the covers and told her to get underneath.
“Cullen,” she started.
“Quiet,” he said. “Sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow morning.”
“Okay,” she said. She got under the covers, and he tucked her in, brushing her hair one more time with his delicate fingers.
Then he stared down at her for a long moment, watching her in the darkness.
“How can you be so sweet to me?” she said softly, half asleep now.
“I have no choice,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. Did she imagine him saying that? She wasn’t sure of anything anymore.
She wanted him so badly to climb in next to her, and thought perhaps he would.
But then he turned and walked out of the room, stopping and hesitating one last time before finally closing the door as he left.
For a brief time, she felt heartbroken and saddened by his leaving her to sleep alone.
She was so, so tired though.
Tired and drunk.
Her head already had started hurting, and she felt spent.
Sleep came again.
Something woke her early the next morning.
At first she wasn’t sure where she was or what had happened. But quickly, memories from the night before came flooding back in.
Ivy grimaced, remembering her drinking, her behavior, how she’d made a fool of herself in front of the one man you didn’t want to look foolish in front of.
To top it all off, she had a horrible taste in her mouth—like old chalk mixed with battery acid.
“Oh, shit. I puked in his limo.” She slapped her palm to her forehead and grimaced in humiliation.
Somehow, instead of kicking her out of his car, the strange and mysterious CEO had instead cared for her like she was important to him.
Everything from the night before felt faded and disjointed, like a roll of film that had been burned in a fire. Even as some of it came back to her, pieces were missing and distorted.
But she certainly remembered enough to know that she had a few things to apologize for in the light of day.
Before she said or did anything, however, Ivy wanted to use the bathroom. She slowly got out of bed, still dressed in her smoky-smelling skirt and blouse.
“Gross,” she said, looking down at her wrinkled clothing.
It was very early in the morning, but just how early? She picked up her purse and found her phone.
5:23 am.