CHAPTER 47: DON’T BE SHY NOW

Ivy nodded in agreement then. Relief washed over her—relief that he had drawn a line in the sand, relief that Monday promised normalcy.

"But Monday is still quite far away," Winn murmured, and before she could react, he closed the distance between them. His body pressed into hers, pinning her to the wall. The cool plaster against her back contrasted with the solid, heated weight of him in front of her. Her lips parted in shock, her breath catching in her throat.

"Mr. Kane..." she whispered. His name tasted forbidden on her lips. Every nerve in her body lit up under his nearness.

"Don’t be shy now, sweetie," he said, his mouth so close to her ear that his breath fanned hot against her skin.

"We... we shouldn’t." Her fingers clutched at the wall behind her, as if anchoring herself.

Winn took her hand in his and guided it downward, pressing her palm firmly against the hard length of his erection. The heat of him burned through his trousers, searing her skin, sending a rush of electricity straight to her core.

"What am I supposed to do with that?" he asked. His lips brushed dangerously close to her ear.

Her hand twitched against him.

"I want to fuck you so badly it aches, Ivy," he confessed, the raw honesty of it making her knees nearly buckle. "Why you? Why is it you doing this to me?" He searched her face, looking for answers, for permission, for the slightest crack in her resistance.

Ivy could hear the strain in his voice. It thrilled her and terrified her all at once. With both trembling hands, she tugged at his belt, the metallic clink of the buckle snapping loose. Her heart hammered so loudly she was certain he could hear it.

"What are you doing?" His eyes narrowed, studying her.

"Helping you," she whispered. She didn’t know why she was doing this—maybe to claim back some power after all the ways he had cornered her. Or maybe, the more dangerous truth was that she wanted to touch him.

Winn braced himself for her touch, his hands splaying wide against the wall behind her as if anchoring himself in place. She unzipped his pants, and rubbed him through his shorts. His reaction was instant and explosive—an unfiltered grunt tore from his throat, sending a shiver rippling through her spine. It was so delicious, so raw, that Ivy instantly wondered who was helping who.

Emboldened by that sound, by the way he jerked into her touch, she curled her fingers and pulled his cock out, her breath stuttering as her skin met heat and hardness she wasn’t fully prepared for. She wrapped her fingers around him, tentative.

Winn’s knees buckled slightly. He quickly reached for her hand, his large palm covering her smaller one, holding her still for a moment as if to regain control. His eyes burned with equal parts desire and desperation.

"Am... am I doing it wrong?" she asked innocently, blinking up at him with wide eyes.

"God... no... fuck no." He pressed his forehead briefly against the wall. "Just... give me a second."

When he looked at her again, it was possession, hunger. He held her gaze firmly, then gently began to move her fingers up and down his length, guiding her hand with his. The slick glide of her palm under his instruction made her thighs press together involuntarily, a shameful heat blooming between them.

Ivy felt seen in that moment, completely exposed under the way he was looking at her. The intensity was too much, so she closed her eyes, trying to retreat into darkness, into safety.

But Winn wasn’t having that. His other hand caught her chin, tilting her face up to him. His thumb pressed against her jaw, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Look at me, Ivy."

Her lips parted, her pulse racing so fast she thought she might faint. His command was intimate, insistent.

She obeyed, opening her eyes. Her gaze traveled up his body, and suddenly the world around her seemed muted. All she could focus on was Winn. She watched how his chest expanded with every breath, taut muscles straining under his shirt as if even fabric was too restrictive for the storm building inside him. His breathing grew ragged, uneven. And then his eyes locked on hers—dark, heated, and startlingly vulnerable. She saw her own need, mirrored back at her.

Her hand moved faster, her strokes gaining confidence, fueled by the desperate sounds spilling from his lips. His body jerked against her grip, powerful yet trembling, as if the intensity of what she gave him was too much to bear. The assault on his cock built to a breaking point, and suddenly he spilled over her fingers, the release spattering down to the floor between them. The grunt that tore from him was guttural, and it struck her that it looked painful.

"I’ll get some tissues," Ivy murmured, her cheeks burning crimson as she glanced at the mess on her hand.

"Hold on," Winn rasped. His hand shot out, pulling her against him before she could escape the intimacy of the moment. She stumbled into his chest, pressed flush against him, and suddenly she was swallowed by the thunderous beat of his heart. It was racing so hard, so violently, that she thought it might burst right out of his chest. His semi-hard cock was still sandwiched between them, sticky, hot, and awkwardly intimate.

For one dizzying second, he almost said the words. He would have asked her to marry him right there, right then, while his seed still clung to her fingers and his body shook from her touch. But instinct warned him not to. She wasn’t ready for the weight of that. He didn’t want to scare her. Still, he couldn’t ignore the revelation pounding in his chest—she was the solution to his chaos. His investors demanded a marriage to calm their worries. He only wanted her—this messy, innocent, maddening woman who made him lose control.