What was supposed to be a lap dance had become a full-on make out session with her boss.
Winn reached for her other breast, his hand moving with confidence. Ivy's nerves screamed. She summoned the last shred of her willpower. "Mr Kane, please… stop."
To her shock, he did—instantly. His hands stilled, his lips drew back, and he leaned away. Ivy sighed in disappointment, her breath shuddering out of her chest. Why did you stop? her mind screamed at him. Why did I ask him to stop? The ache between her thighs begged for more, cursed her own self-control.
"Go get dressed and meet me on the sidewalk. I'm taking you home," he said gruffly. He let her wriggle free this time, and Ivy scrambled to her feet, nearly tripping as she adjusted her bra. She didn't dare look back at him.
She quickly hurried out of the booth, her face burning, her pulse still skittering, half afraid he would call her back and half desperate that he would.
