His Mistress for a Week

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  She had never considered herself a woman of passion. That was her mother—always high on emotion, driven by the desire to be desired. Clem had never allowed herself free rein with her emotions...and passion? Well, what chance had she had to explore that? That encounter when she’d been sixteen had left her shamed and unsatisfied. Her other two encounters had been just as unsatisfying and only marginally less shameful.

  But being kissed by Alistair had opened up a world of feeling that had nothing to do with shame. His touch hadn’t shamed her, it had celebrated her, worshipped her.

  Would he touch her again? Or was he feeling conflicted about her lack of experience? Was that why he had left on the pretext of checking out Harriet and Jamie’s accommodation? Was he worried he would not be able to control himself around her? That was a new experience—having a man so worked up about her he had to distance himself.

  Clem wanted him to touch her. More than wanted. Craved it. Hungered for it.

  Then why did you push him away?

  Because she was scared of not measuring up. How could she compete with the girls he normally associated with? She was different in every way imaginable. Could she risk an affair with him? It didn’t have to be for ever. It could be just while they were in Monaco. A holiday fling, like her neighbour Mavis had suggested. Where was the harm in that? Lots of girls her age did that. It was practically a rite of passage these days. Clem could be thoroughly modern about it. Sure she could. It would be good for her to stretch her sensual wings, so to speak. To gain some experience before she settled down to the fairy tale she’d always dreamed of.

  Clem turned back on her side to look at the door leading to Alistair’s room. Then, before she could change her mind, she tossed back the covers on her bed and quietly slipped out of her bathrobe. She didn’t have the courage or the body confidence to slip off her nightgown. She opened the door and walked across to the bed, pulled down the covers and slipped in between the luxurious cotton sheets.

  And waited.

  * * *

  Alistair knew even if he walked the streets all the way to Cannes and back it wouldn’t make a jot of difference. Knowing Clem was in the spare bedroom back at the hotel made him feel like a starving man being placed next to an all-you-can-eat banquet and being told, Don’t touch. He wanted to touch. He wanted to taste. He wanted to devour. Knowing about her limited experience should have toned down his desire, but if anything it had ramped it up. He wanted to show her how good sex could be between two willing and consenting partners. Two equals. If anyone had told him ten years ago he would be hot for Clementine Scott, he would have rolled about the floor laughing.

  Or maybe he wouldn’t.

  Maybe he would have realised, even then, that behind that snippy and snarly exterior was a sensitive young woman who disguised her natural understated beauty behind ugly clothes and a bad diet. With a mother like hers, who wouldn’t have had a problem with self-esteem? Brandi Scott was stunning in a brash, bad-girl way. The stuff of many a male fantasy, in particular his father’s.

  But it wasn’t Alistair’s fantasy. His fantasy was for subtle beauty, the beauty that crept up on you and knocked you sideways with a look, a smile or the movement of a womanly body that didn’t try to be noticed. That was what turned him on. Clem turned him on. Her touch was like fire on his skin, her mouth a drug he couldn’t resist. Her body was a magnet so powerful it was all he could do to hold on to his self-control.

  But he would have to control himself because she wasn’t the casual-affair type and he sure as hell wasn’t ready to turn up with a glass slipper anytime soon. He would get through these next few days if it took every bit of self-discipline he possessed. He would make sure Harriet was safe, make her agree to go to school next term and then he would return to his life and work. Everything would be sorted.

  Not quite everything...

  Alistair walked back the way he had come. No. A thousand times no. He couldn’t get involved with Clem. Not because of who she was related to, but because he wasn’t the right person for her. He wasn’t the right person for anybody just now. He was Mr Casual Until Further Notice. She was Miss Ready for Commitment Right Now. Oil and water would have had a better chance of getting it on.

  But there was something about Clem. Something that set her apart from the other women he had been attracted to in the past. He never talked about his brother to any of them and yet he had told Clem. It wasn’t that he had forgotten about Ollie.

  How could he ever forget his little brother and all he had suffered? Ollie’s short, tragic life was an ache on Alistair’s soul, a bruise that never went away. No matter that his father had packed away all the photos as soon as his mother was taken to hospital. No matter that his father had long ago sold the house and all the memories it contained. Ollie’s memory could never be removed. He didn’t know if his father still had the photos or had got rid of them along with all trace of his life with Alistair’s mother. It was his father’s way of dealing with stuff he didn’t want to deal with. He brushed it away. Locked it away somewhere he couldn’t see it.

  Like you do.

  The voice of his conscience was jarring, like an exposed nerve on a sore tooth. He could mostly avoid it. Mostly. But he was getting to an age when friends and acquaintances were partnering up. Putting down roots. Making commitments.

  He had never fallen in love. He hadn’t even come close. He kept his feelings out of the equation. Lust could be dealt with. Love was much more complicated, which was why he had filed it in the To Be Dealt With Later drawer inside his head.

  When Alistair got back to the suite he poured himself a cool drink and stood at the windows to watch the last of the nightlife. He didn’t know how long he had been standing there when he sensed he was being watched. He hadn’t heard a sound but the back of his neck prickled. His skin tightened. His pulse accelerated. He turned and saw Clem standing there dressed in a beige nightgown. It was shapeless and unflattering, yet his body leapt as if she was standing there naked. ‘Are you okay?’ His voice came out like a croak. He cleared his throat and tried again. ‘Can’t sleep?’

  She stepped closer, her bare feet making no sound on the thick carpet, but he felt every step like a hammer blow to his self-control. Bam. Bam. Bam. Bam. ‘I’ve changed my mind.’ Her voice was just as husky as his, maybe even more so.

  ‘About what?’

  Her slim throat rose and fell, her brown eyes seeming too big for her face behind her glasses. ‘About...us.’

  ‘U-Us?’ What the heck was wrong with his voice? He hadn’t sounded this scratchy since he’d hit puberty.

  Her hands were clasped in front of her body, as if she was trying to stop herself from reaching for him. He knew the feeling. His hands were itching to reach for her. Not just his hands—his whole body wanted to close the distance and press those delectable curves against his need. ‘I’m not very experienced but you are,’ she said. ‘We’re only here for a few days. No one back home need ever find out... We can have a fling and forget it happened once we go back home.’

  Alistair frowned. ‘But I thought you—?’

  ‘I’m twenty-six years old.’ Her tone had a flat note of desperation to it. ‘I’ve never had an orgasm unless I’ve done it myself. I’m tired of being the oddball, the geeky girl who can’t get a decent date. I thought if I got a bit more experience then it won’t be so hard for me to recognise the right person when he comes along. I won’t be so gauche and awkward around men.’

  ‘You want me to—?’

  Her cheeks had twin spots of colour high on her cheekbones. ‘Of course, if you’d rather not, then fine. I know I’m not your type. I’m probably not anyone’s type.’

  He closed the distance between them, taking her by the upper arms in a gentle hold. ‘You’re the most desirable woman I’ve met in a very long time. I mean it, Clem. You make me so hot I can barely keep my hands off you. I’ve been fighting with myself for the past couple of hours, trying to keep myself away from you.�
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  Her eyes widened, her face glowed. ‘You have?’

  He brought her close against his body, letting her feel the potent effect she had on him. ‘Do you need any more proof than that? I want you. I ache for you. But before we take this any further we have to be absolutely clear on the rules.’

  ‘I’m not asking for anything but a fling.’

  He searched her expression, wondering if she was telling the truth. He didn’t want to hurt her. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. But he had to make sure she understood this was all he could give. He wasn’t like his father, making promises he had no intention of keeping. He had standards he abided by and nothing and no one could make him veer from them. ‘Why me? Why not some other guy?’

  ‘I’m not likely to fall in love with you, that’s why.’

  His ego winced at the blow of her blunt honesty. Inconsistent of him to feel that way, but still. No man liked to think he was completely unlovable. ‘Sounds reasonable, I guess.’

  ‘Of course, it works both ways,’ she said. ‘I’m the last person you would ever fall for. I mean, can you imagine having my mother as your mother-in-law?’

  He could and it made him feel ill. But if he were in love with a woman—any woman—her relatives would have nothing to do with it. If he loved someone it would be for who she was. He wouldn’t judge her for having less than desirable relatives. Or at least, he hoped he wouldn’t. He picked up a springy curl of Clem’s hair and tucked it back behind her ear. ‘Let’s leave both our parents out of this. This is between us. Only us.’

  She leaned against his hand like a cat begging to be stroked. Her body was so close to his he could feel the swell of her gorgeous breasts against his chest. Her hips moved against his, that instinctive primal search for intimate connection making his blood roar through his veins. He brought up her chin so he could access her mouth, pressing a soft, barely touching kiss to her lips. She responded by pressing back against him, hungrily, greedily, weaving her arms around his neck, her sexy little tongue meeting his. He cupped her bottom and pulled her hard against his straining erection. He would have to slow down but he wanted her with such ferocious force it rocked him. Shocked him.

  He lifted her in his arms and although she made protests about being too heavy and that she could walk on her own, he disregarded them. He placed her on the king-sized bed in his room and came down beside her to gather her in his arms. ‘It’s not too late to change your mind.’

  Her eyes were luminous, shimmering with want, excitement and a tiny bit of nervousness he found endearing. ‘I haven’t changed my mind. I want you to make love to me. I want it more than anything.’

  Me too. Alistair didn’t say the words out loud. He didn’t need to. His body was doing more than an excellent job of doing it for him.

  CHAPTER SIX

  CLEM SIGHED IN blissful pleasure when Alistair’s mouth came down on hers. He kept the kiss shallow at first, a gentle massage of his lips against hers, but his lower body was more than communicating the force of his attraction. It thrilled her to think she turned him on so much. How could it be possible? Her, of all people? With all her faults and failings? Yet his body hungered for hers as hers hungered for his.

  His kiss deepened with a sensuous glide of his tongue as it went in search of hers, teasing it, tangling with it in a blood-heating dance that had wickedly erotic undertones. His hands moved over her body, shaping her through the covering of her nightgown. She wished she were dressed in silky satin or nothing at all. But his touch was so reverent it made her feel as if she was the most beautiful specimen of womanhood he had ever encountered. He slipped a warm hand under the hem of her nightgown, bringing the fabric up with his hand, touching her, skin on skin, along her calf, the flank of her thigh, her waist, and then to the underside of her breast. The presence of his hand in that sensitive spot made her back arch like a cat. Her nipples ached to feel the caress of his hand, the heat and fire of his mouth.

  As if he were reading her mind, or her body, he cupped her breast in the palm of his hand. He didn’t squeeze it; he cradled it as if it were something infinitely precious. His thumb rolled over the tight nipple, back and forth in a tantalising movement that made the base of her spine tingle like sand going through an hourglass. He lowered his mouth to her breast, letting his warm breath caress her flesh, before he touched her with his tongue. A stroke, a glide, a lick and then a sexy suckle that made her toes curl. Her nipple went as tight as a pebble in his mouth, her senses spinning out of control when he closed his teeth in a gentle bite. A delicious frisson shimmied through her. The hint of danger beneath his gentleness made every cell in her body shudder in delight.

  Clem heard herself whimper, a soft, breathless mewling that came from deep inside. Her body was throbbing with want, a want so intense she thought she would die if he didn’t follow through with the promise of satiation.

  He left her breast to help her out of her nightgown, easing it over her head and tossing it over the side of the bed. She should have been feeling exposed. Embarrassed. Shamed. But instead she felt beautiful. The way he was looking at her made her feel more of a woman than she had ever felt before. His eyes were dark with desire, the pupils flaring as he swept his gaze over her breasts, the indentation of her waist, the curve of her hips and the juncture of her thighs.

  She had waxed not just because she liked the freshness of it but because the boy who had taken her virginity had laughed at her. She had never forgotten that laugh. By keeping herself groomed down there she could forget it had happened. When she looked at herself she didn’t see that awkward teenager’s body but a grown-up woman instead.

  Alistair laid a hand on her belly, a gentle, stabilising touch that sent another wave of longing through Clem’s body. ‘Tell me if you’re not comfortable with anything I do.’

  Clem touched the raspy stubble on his jaw, shivering at the difference in the texture of his skin against hers. ‘I like what you’re doing. All of it.’

  He glided his hand lower, cupping her womanhood, the gentlest of touches, respectfully. Then he traced the seam of her body with his thumb, a tantalising stroke that made her most sensitive nerves shiver at the roots. Clem snatched in a breath when he slid one finger between her folds, her body seizing him as if it never wanted to release him. His eyes glinted as he watched her reaction. He moved his finger, a slow but sure caress that made the bud of her clitoris swell with blood. She could feel her own moisture, the slickness of it; she could even smell the slightly musky fragrance of it.

  He withdrew his finger and brought his mouth down to her. She clutched at his head, her body instantly tensing. He paused and placed his hand back on her belly, meeting her gaze. ‘Relax for me, ma petite. Don’t tense up. I won’t hurt you.’

  Was there a man on this earth more irresistible than this? French endearments, a touch that was magical, and a mouth that made her senses sing—what wasn’t to like about him? Clem let out her tight breath, forcing herself to relax back onto the bed. He caressed her again, easing her tension with slow, sensuous strokes. She could feel the pressure building, a storm gathering, a tumultuous storm that was threatening to break from the bonds of her flesh.

  He brought his mouth to her in the most intimate of acts. This time she was more prepared, more desperate for that final push into the abyss. The storm broke with the first flicker of his tongue against her, the pulsating orgasm sending her off into the stratosphere, to a place she had never been before. She was spinning, whirling, rolling in a kaleidoscope of colour and rioting sensations, then slowly floating back to reality, every muscle in her body feeling weightless, cloud-like.

  Alistair smiled at her. An actual smile, not a teasing smirk. Not a mocking lift of his lips, but a smile of tenderness. ‘Good?’

  Clem couldn’t find the words to describe what she’d just experienced. There didn’t seem to be enough superlatives to describe what her body had felt. Was still feeling. She touched his mouth with her fingertip. ‘What about you?
Aren’t you going to get undressed?’

  He kissed the end of her finger then drew it into his mouth, sucking on it in an erotic mimic of what she longed to do to him. ‘Why don’t you undress me?’

  Clem needed no other inducement. She rolled his zipper down, pushing down his trousers so he could ease himself out of them. He was wearing dark-grey underwear with a black trim at the waist. The fabric was tented with the strength of his erection, a spine-tingling reminder of the power and hot-blooded potency of him. She traced her finger down his length through the fabric, watching as he drew in a sharp breath. She gained courage and slipped her hand inside to hold him. He was blood-warm, his flesh both silk and steel. He surged against her hand, the signal of red-hot desire fuelling her own. She slid her fingertip over the head of his penis, smearing him with his own fluid. The pleasure he was feeling was etched on his face in little flinches and grimaces as he fought for control.

  Clem made to go down on him but he stalled her with a hand on her shoulder. ‘Not yet,’ he said. ‘Another time. This time is about you.’

  A shiver coursed down her spine when he laid her back against the mattress. He left her briefly to reach over the side of the bed for his wallet in the back pocket of his trousers. He took out a condom and applied it before coming back to her. ‘Don’t want any mistakes we can’t undo.’

  Clem shouldn’t have found his comment hurtful. She should have been in full agreement. Of course she didn’t want to get pregnant. Not before she was in a stable relationship. But did he really think having a child with her would be the worst thing in the world? A mistake? ‘I’m on the pill.’ She tried to keep the note of resentment out of her voice but wasn’t sure she achieved it.