Chapter 62: Lie To Me Now
Winn groaned against her skin, the vibration rumbling straight through her chest. "You taste better than I imagined," he growled, his teeth scraping lightly before sucking hard enough to make her toes curl in her heels. He switched sides, lavishing equal attention until both peaks stood swollen and wet from his mouth.
Her hands tangled helplessly in his hair, tugging him closer, betraying how desperately she wanted more.
He alternated between long, languid sucks and sharp flicks of his tongue, pushing her higher and higher until she could barely breathe. "Mr Kane, I... I can’t—" she whimpered.
Her body clenched around nothing, the wave breaking suddenly, violently. She came undone right there, trembling on his desk, an orgasm ripping through her from the relentless worship of his mouth. Her cry filled the office, muffled only when Winn sealed his lips over hers in a kiss.
When it finally ebbed, Ivy sagged against him, panting, her body weak. Winn kissed her forehead, his thumb brushing her swollen nipple almost teasingly as he whispered against her lips, "Tell me we aren’t fire together, Ivy. Go on. Lie to me now."
"Sex isn’t enough for a marriage," Ivy said, her voice still shaky as she fumbled with her bra straps.
"How about we come back to that conversation when I’m done fucking you?" Winn shot back. His hand reached with defiance, tugging her bra strap right back down. His eyes locked on hers as if daring her to challenge him.
His fingers slid with sinful ease up her thigh, pushing her skirt higher. Every inch of exposed skin set fire to her nerves. Ivy thought wildly that it was now or never—if she didn’t speak up, she’d lose more than her composure. "Mr. Kane...I haven’t had sex before."
Winn’s entire body went rigid. "What?" He pulled back half an inch, searching her eyes.
"Yeah," she whispered, her throat bobbing. Her lashes lowered. "Do you really want to marry me based on that criteria, when I have little to no experience whatsoever?" This was her gamble—to show him her truth, and see if he still wanted her.
Winn’s gaze raked down her body slowly, lingering on every inch he’d already touched and kissed, the heat of ownership still visible in his eyes. He had imagined her with men before—even Steve—and each thought had clawed at him. But this?
"If you plan on getting married just for the sex," Ivy continued, "you expect it to be explosive, don’t you? I am the wrong candidate." She held his gaze, her chin tilting upward in challenge. "You want a lover who can meet you move for move. That’s not me."
Winn narrowed his eyes, stunned by her boldness. "What have you been doing all your life?" he demanded. "Walking around wearing a sack?"
"Strict parents," Ivy replied simply.
"Ah... that would explain it." Winn exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair. Then, with sudden finality, he reached for her straps, pulling them back up to cover her chest. His touch lingered an extra second, more tender now than commanding. He grabbed her discarded shirt, shaking it out, and handed it to her. "Get dressed."
"Okay," Ivy said softly, confusion knotting in her chest. She slid the sleeves on, buttoning each one with shaky fingers, her mind spinning.
"You’re coming home with me," Winn said.
"Uhm...what?" Ivy stammered, taken aback by his sudden directness. Her pulse raced, and her mind spun with questions and warnings she barely wanted to hear.
Winn stepped closer, closing the distance so completely that the scent of him overwhelmed her senses. "I am not asking," he continued, a dark smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"I’m going to make sure tonight, you understand exactly what I want—and what I want is you. And when the night is over, you will see things my way. One way or another, Ivy, tonight ends with you saying yes to me. And after that... marriage is not negotiable."
Ivy’s heart thumped violently against her ribs. She followed him silently, a swirl of anticipation, anxiety, and attraction pulling her toward a destiny she wasn’t entirely ready to accept.
******
When they arrived at Winn’s apartment, Ivy barely had a moment to take in the modern elegance of his home. Winn didn’t give her time to breathe.
His hand was on her again, guiding her toward the inner sanctum of his space—his bedroom—where the world seemed to shrink to just the two of them. Clothes became irrelevant, distractions meaningless.
Their focus was entirely on the other: the brush of a hand, the warmth of a body, the heat in the air that made the walls pulse with tension.
Ivy’s pulse quickened as she felt the same ache she had felt before—the longing, the magnetic pull toward him she couldn’t explain. Winn’s eyes burned into hers, a mixture of lust, possessiveness, and vulnerability that caught her completely off guard.
"Touch me like you did the other day," Winn commanded, sending shivers down her spine.
Ivy hesitated, but then she let herself follow the rhythm of their connection. She ran her hands up and down the length of him, the intimacy of their closeness more than physical—it was the unspoken communication, the desire, the electricity that surged every time they were near.
They pressed against each other, exploring, teasing, learning—every glance, every gasp, every tremble intensifying the unspoken promise that this night was about trust, surrender, and choosing each other.
Winn led her to the bed, and they sank together, a tangle of limbs and whispered names, a shared heartbeat echoing in the quiet room. He wrapped her legs around his neck and buried himself inside her. His tongue delivering earlier promises.
Ivy’s pulse raced, her chest rising and falling as she clung to Winn, her mind a whirlwind of desire and apprehension. A burst of ecstasy enveloped her and she cried her release into the room.
Winn then hovered over her, watching the glow on her face as she came down from her high.