Truth (The Billionaire’s Rules, Book 3) by Kelly Favor
She was alone. She’d been alone for the past ten minutes, waiting. Waiting for what?
Elvis has left the building.
Ivy didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the absurdity of the situation. She’d finally been ready to lose her virginity, give herself to a man fully and without reservation—and then that man had rejected her.
Her body was still bathed in sweat and the afterglow of what Cullen Sharpe had done to her. Her buttocks still burned from the spanking and her pussy was still wet with her own juices.
She was naked.
But Cullen Sharpe was gone. He’d left the room almost immediately after hearing that she was still a virgin. His reaction had been nothing short of horrified and disgusted. As if she’d told him she had some kind of horrible communicable disease, instead of it simply being an admission of inexperience.
What’s wrong with me?
More to the point, what’s wrong with him?
Ivy didn’t know. She felt shell-shocked, like she’d been used and discarded by the wealthy CEO with his seductive, finicky ways. One moment he was making her come and the next he was fleeing the scene like a bat out of hell.
Enough time had gone by and the worst of the shock had worn off, leaving her nerves raw and exposed. She got off the bed and got slowly dressed, hating the gross sensation of her smoky, slept-in clothes as they came in contact with her sweaty body.
Don’t cry. Whatever you do, you can’t cry right now. Save it for later.
The task is simple—hold it together until you’re away from Cullen Sharpe, and then you can freak out all you want.
Ivy exited the bedroom and walked down the hallway, emerging into the open concept living room and kitchen that were appropriately beautiful and modern. The space was all granite countertops, beautiful tile floors and sleek furniture with post-modern, Japanese looking paintings and photos on the walls.
Cullen was sitting at the kitchen table reading the New York Times. He was dressed in one of his sleek dark suits, and he looked completely put together, as if he hadn’t even been in her room just a few minutes previously.
He couldn’t have ever been in that bedroom doing those things to her, because look at him. Whereas she was a disheveled mess, Cullen Sharpe was neat, tidy, perfect, reading his paper without a care in the world.
When she came into the room, he glanced up from his paper at her. “My car will take you back to your apartment, Ivy.”
“That’s not necessary—“
“Don’t be silly,” he replied sharply. “You need to get home and ready yourself for work. Unless you intend to go into work wearing the same clothes as yesterday.”
She sucked in her cheeks. “Maybe if I explain why I’m still wearing yesterday’s clothes, my coworkers would be more understanding.”
Cullen snapped the paper closed. “My driver will take you home. That’s final.”
She wanted to scream at him. He was so cold, so cruel. How dare he take that high-handed attitude with her? But she knew better than to lose her cool with a man like him.
He would just write her off as a typical crazy woman. And she wouldn’t be written off so easily. Ivy allowed a smirk to creep across her face. “That sounds lovely, Mister Sharpe.”
He blinked, as if her words were unexpected. “Good,” he said. “I’m glad that’s settled.”
“It’s all settled,” she said, and then she turned and walked out of his home.
It seemed as though he’d been about to say something else, but she didn’t give him the chance.
You’re all out of chances, Mister Sharpe. I’m not one of your typical floozies, like that poor pathetic woman I heard begging you for attention this morning. You sent her away, but I’m going of my own free will.
Outside, sure enough, a car was waiting for her. She got inside and they drove away.
Ivy told herself not to look at his house as she drove off.
Don’t give into your curiosity. Forget he even exists, she told herself.
But she couldn’t help it. More surprisingly, she saw that Cullen Sharpe was standing in the window, watching her go.
It was difficult to tell, but she could’ve sworn that she saw the strangest, most pained look in his eyes. As if he’d never wanted her to leave at all.
After returning home to shower and change, Ivy felt refreshed and determined.
I’m not going to let him beat me down.
That was her mantra. Cullen Sharpe would not win. He wouldn’t make her lose faith in herself, wouldn’t cause her to crumble up and blow away just because he’d rejected her when she’d finally allowed herself to open up to his advances.
She dressed in a formal beige pantsuit; blouse, pants and a blazer, with high heels. Looking at herself in the mirror before leaving the apartment, she thought her look today read as “no time for bullshit.”