His Mistress for a Week

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  He blinked some suds out of his eyes and, capturing a handful of bubbles, smeared them over her breasts, trickling them down the shadow of her cleavage. He kissed her mouth in a lingering kiss that made her wonder if this was just sex for him or something more. Something deeper, richer, more satisfying than the simple scratch of a primal itch. Had it moved him to the core of his being? Had it made him think twice about ending their affair when their trip ended? Had it made him think of a future where they could be together in a relationship that lasted a lifetime instead of a few days? Or had he blocked that from his mind because for him this was—she was—just another sexual encounter? A temporary indulgence of the flesh before he moved on and found someone else.

  How could there be anyone else for her?

  How could she possibly feel this comfortable, this open and daring, with anyone else? It was unthinkable. Impossible. She had never felt desire in its proper form until she’d locked gazes with him that first day when he had come into her shop. That moment was as etched in her mind as it was in her body. The flare of male interest had sparked an explosive reaction in her body, awakening her sleeping senses with such ferocity she would never—could never—be the same.

  Clem threaded her fingers through the wet thickness of his hair, moving her mouth against the drugging caress of his, her tongue tangling with his in a slow dance that made her body ache for him all the more.

  He lifted his mouth off hers, brushing back her hair, looking at her with a concentrated focus that made her wonder if he was questioning his rules on their relationship. ‘You’re the most giving partner I’ve ever had.’

  Clem put a foot down on her fledging hope like she was squashing a bug. ‘You don’t have to flatter me.’

  His hands cradled her face, his gaze a mix of blue and grey intensity like the heart of a gas flame. ‘I mean it, Clem.’ His lower body moved against hers in a powerful, heart-stopping confirmation of his words. ‘Feel what you do to me. Feel it.’

  She felt it. Her hand moved around that hot, hard heat while her body trembled in excitement. ‘It’s just lust...isn’t it?’ she said, shocked her voice came out at all, let alone with that betraying flag of wistfulness.

  His gaze went to her mouth, studying it like it was something he wanted to memorise. ‘What if it wasn’t? What if it was something...more lasting?’

  That hope in her chest gave a pathetic little flap of its wings, like a baby bird trying to fly before it was old enough even to try. ‘But you said—’

  ‘I know what I said.’ His tone was rueful. ‘But this isn’t going to go away, is it? Not in a matter of days.’

  Clem gave a tiny swallow. ‘We’re wasting a heck of a lot of water. Don’t you think we should have this discussion once we’re dry?’

  He reached past her to turn off the taps. Stepping out of the shower to hand her a towel, he wrapped it around her like she was a small child. ‘I want to continue this when we get back to London,’ he said.

  Clem’s heart did a happy dance. So happy she could feel it bouncing around in her chest like it was on springs. ‘Are you sure?’

  He touched her face with a slow-moving finger, a barely there touch that made the base of her spine fizz like champagne poured from a height. ‘We can’t throw this away, ma petite. Not yet. I’m not saying for ever, but for longer.’

  Not for ever. The hope wasn’t quite dead but on life support. Hanging in there but only just. ‘So it’s still a fling, right?’

  His hands cupped her shoulders, his pelvis in tantalising contact with hers. ‘The terminology isn’t important.’

  No, but the time frame is. The words stayed unsaid. How could she utter them out loud? How could she reveal how stupidly, naively, hopelessly she had fallen for him? He would back away like a playboy running from a positive pregnancy test. He wasn’t in love with her. He was in lust with her. It was the only thing binding them—a mutual attraction that needed more time to burn itself out.

  But would it burn itself out?

  He seemed to think so, but Clem wasn’t so sure. Not that she had much to compare it to but she couldn’t imagine feeling this level of attraction towards anyone else. It was like her body had been programmed to respond to his and his alone. One look was enough to trigger the rush of longing that swept through her like a flash-flood. One touch, one glide of his hands across her flesh, and she melted like a block of butter on a blacksmith’s anvil.

  Clem only got her gaze as far as his neck where droplets of water were still glistening on his tanned skin. ‘What changed your mind?’

  He inched up her chin, locking his gaze with hers. ‘You. Being with you. Getting to know you.’

  He didn’t know her. Not really. He didn’t know how much she ached to hear him say those three little words that no one—not even her mother or brother—had said to her. He didn’t know how much she longed to have ‘for ever’ with him, to build a life together that would make up for the loneliness and unhappiness and chaos of her past. ‘But what about my mother?’

  He pressed a fingertip to her lips like he was pressing a pause button. ‘She has nothing to do with us. You don’t even have to tell her you’re seeing me.’

  Clem had no problem keeping it a secret from her mother. She rarely told her anything about her life because her mother only ever talked about herself. But if by some chance Brandi was to find out she was involved with Alistair it could have horrible consequences. The sort of embarrassing consequences no amount of chocolate digestives was going to fix. ‘What if your father finds out?’

  He made a cynical sound, part snort, part grunt. ‘The last time I spoke to my father he spent the entire conversation telling me about his new mistress, a show-girl bunny he picked up in a bar in Vegas. He told me everything about her, and I mean everything.’

  Clem grimaced in empathy. ‘I’ve had a few of those conversations with my mother. It’s so embarrassing.’

  He smiled and gathered her closer. ‘Let’s go out somewhere nice for dinner. I want to spoil you.’

  ‘Haven’t you spoilt me enough?’

  He brushed her mouth with his. ‘You’re worth it.’

  * * *

  Alistair looked up from his phone when Clem came out of the bathroom an hour later dressed in her new cocktail dress. It was the colour of the inside of a conch shell, a pale pink that brought out the creamy glow of her complexion. She had put on make-up, dried her hair and arranged it in an up-style that highlighted her long, graceful neck and the aristocratic height and shape of her cheekbones. To him she looked beautiful no matter what she was wearing. Or not. But it was more than her beauty that made that tightness around his heart so painful; it was the thought of never seeing her again when their affair was over. Who would end it? Him or her? Or would they come to a mutual agreement? Or would her head be turned by someone else—someone who would give her the dream of happy-ever-after she longed for and deserved?

  ‘You look stunning,’ he said. ‘Absolutely stunning.’

  Her cheeks went a shade darker than the bronzer she had applied. ‘Do you think it’s the right size?’ She smoothed her hands down the front of her thighs, giving a sexy little wriggle that made him want to rip the dress off her then and there. ‘I wonder if I should’ve got the next size up. Am I showing too much cleavage?’

  He tossed his phone to the sofa and came over to settle his hands on her hips. ‘I can think of nothing better than staring at that cleavage all night knowing I’m the one who’s going to be unzipping you out of that dress when it’s over.’

  Her tawny brown eyes sparkled in anticipatory delight. ‘I can hardly wait.’

  If it hadn’t been for the booking he’d made or the fact Clem had gone to so much trouble with her appearance he would have put an end to the waiting then and there. But he was conscious of her body needing time to recover. She had nowhere near the level of experience he had, and anyway, it was different for women. Her body was new to the demands of a full and active sex life. She w
as a generous and enthusiastic lover but he didn’t want to take advantage of her.

  Haven’t you already?

  The thought pushed past the barrier in his brain where he had cordoned off his conscience. Or tried to. Of course he had taken advantage of her. Of the situation. Dragging her to France with him because he was having the biggest body crush of all time—and, if her response to him was any indication, so was she. It didn’t make it right and it didn’t make it wrong.

  It lay somewhere in that less definable middle space called the grey area.

  * * *

  Clem had thought the restaurant overlooking Monte Carlo beach was magical enough, but once dinner was over Alistair took her to a supper club where there was dancing. Even though she protested about not being able to dance, he simply drew her into his arms and led her around the dance floor. Once she stopped worrying about people looking at her and judging her for not having the right moves, she relaxed into the music and into Alistair’s body. She found a rhythm with him that made her feel like a contestant on one of those reality dance shows—a top-scoring contestant.

  He made it so easy for her to find her feet, to move with the music, to mould into his tall frame so close not a breath of air could get between them. She had never thought of dancing as a form of foreplay but in Alistair’s arms that was exactly what it was. Every movement of his body against hers, every touch of his hand in the small of her back, every brush of his hard thigh against hers, every smouldering look, fuelled her desire for him until she was all but shaking with it.

  ‘I thought you said you couldn’t dance,’ Alistair said once the bracket of songs was over.

  ‘You’d better count all your toes just in case.’ Clem gave a self-deprecating smile. ‘I’m sure I squashed a couple in that first dance.’

  His soft smile tugged on something in her chest, like strings pulling on her heart. ‘You always underestimate yourself. But you’re the most beautiful woman in the room.

  Clem took off her glasses and pushed them onto his nose. ‘I think you might need these more than me.’

  He peered at her through them like a stern professor. ‘How on earth do you see through these?’

  She took them back and slipped them back on. ‘I see just fine. Without them everything is a blur. I could walk past my own mother in the street and not recognise her. Which could be a handy excuse, come to think of it.’

  He smiled again, put an arm around her waist and led her to one of the velvet sofas scattered around the club. ‘Ever thought of getting contacts?’

  ‘I tried them once but I scratched my retina trying to get them out and got an eye infection. I know I should give them another try but I have enough routines to get through in the morning without adding more.’

  ‘Routines?’

  Clem mentally bit her tongue. Hard. ‘You mean you haven’t noticed?’

  He gave a casual shrug. ‘So you take a little time to get ready in the morning. Lots of people do.’

  She pulled at the inside of her mouth with her teeth. ‘Yeah, well, if you think my stripy mug is weird, you should see me brush my teeth. I do it for exactly two minutes and twenty-five seconds. Not a second more. Not a second less.’

  ‘Doesn’t sound weird to me. Isn’t two minutes the optimum for good dental health?’

  Clem searched his face to see if he was mocking her but his expression showed no sign of anything but acceptance. ‘I... I have these habits...obsessions. I have to do things a certain way otherwise I get agitated. Really agitated.’

  ‘Is that why all your little potions and lotions are in such neat rows in the bathroom?’

  ‘Yes, but that’s not all.’ Why are you telling him this stuff? ‘I have to take the same route home every day from work. I walk to work, so it’s not usually a problem, but one day there was an accident—only minor but the police wouldn’t allow me to go down that street. I almost got myself arrested. It was so embarrassing. I ended up having a panic attack and got taken to hospital.’

  His expression winced in sympathy. ‘You poor little darling. How long’s it been going on?’

  Clem looked at her knotted hands with their bitten-down nails. ‘Since I was sixteen. After that...incident I got a bit obsessive over stuff. It was a way of gaining control. It got worse after we left your father’s place. My mum hooked up with a real creep after your dad. He was mean to Jamie and kept trying to get me alone. Thankfully that relationship only lasted a month and we moved away. But the habits kind of stayed with me. I’m not as bad as I was. Sometimes I can actually leave a tea towel crooked.’ She gave him a sheepish glance. ‘Well, mostly.’

  He reached for her hand and covered it with his own. ‘I think you’re amazing how you coped with your childhood. If I hadn’t been so preoccupied with my mother dying and my father running off the rails like a horny teenager, maybe I wouldn’t have made things so much worse for you by treating you the way I did.’

  ‘It’s fine, Alistair.’ She gave him a little smile and opted for a subject change. ‘I texted Harriet earlier. I’ve arranged to meet her during her lunch break tomorrow. I hope you don’t mind?’

  ‘I think that’s a great idea.’

  ‘I thought I’d see if I can convince her to take you up on the offer of boarding school. It might not work but it’s worth a try.’

  Alistair drew her to her feet and linked one of her arms through his, smiling down at her. ‘It was a stroke of genius to ask you to come with me on this trip.’

  Clem gave him a playful shoulder bump. ‘Ask me? Command me, more like.’

  He pressed a kiss to her temple. ‘I’ll make it up to you when we get back to the hotel.’

  Clem shivered in anticipation, as there was one thing she knew for sure about Alistair Hawthorne—he was as good as his word.

  CHAPTER NINE

  CLEM HAD ARRANGED to meet Harriet in a little café not far from Harriet’s boutique. They found a table overlooking the sparkly blue strip of coastline and the luxury hotels that loomed above it. ‘I can’t get over the view,’ Clem said once they were seated. ‘Everywhere you look there’s something even more spectacular to look at. The wealth of some of the people who live here must be mind-blowing.’

  ‘It’s awesome,’ Harriet said. ‘I saw a movie set here a few months ago and that’s why I wanted to come.’ She pulled at her lip with her teeth and made a business of stirring her iced chocolate. ‘I’m sorry for talking Jamie into bringing me...and for taking Alistair’s car.’ Her gaze met Clem’s. ‘But I needed to get away, you know?’

  Clem touched the girl’s slim pale arm where it was lying on the table as she cradled her drink. ‘I do know. Jamie’s probably filled you in on our background. But taking stuff that doesn’t belong to you is wrong, no matter what the circumstances.’

  ‘I know. It was dumb, really dumb, but I was angry at Alistair.’ Harriet glowered at her drink like it had personally offended her. ‘He can be so controlling. He’s not even related to me, for God’s sake. He didn’t even ask me if I wanted to go to boarding school. He just said “this is what’s going to happen.” He reminds me of my dad.’

  ‘Where is your dad?’

  Harriet’s hazel eyes lost their glittering defiance and became sad instead. ‘He died when I was ten—a car accident. My parents were already separated so I only saw him on weekends. But it was awful after he was gone. Totally awful. Not that we were super-close or anything. He was a bit of a workaholic control-freak, which is probably why my mother left him for someone who was—’ she put her fingers up in air quotes ‘—“more exciting.” But at least his place was somewhere I could go to get away from my mother’s stupid partying.’

  Clem was all too familiar with the heartache and despair Harriet had described, which was why she was so keen to be there for Harriet, to let her know there was someone looking out for her. Who would listen to her, guide her and reassure her. It was a way of reaching back in time to her own teenage self and saying, It’s going to be
fine, Clem, just fine. You’ll make something of your life, no matter how bad your background was. ‘That’s terribly sad,’ Clem said. ‘I’m sorry you’ve had such a horrible time of it. But you need to think of your future now. It won’t punish your mother if you fail to reach your potential. In the long run, it will only punish you.’

  Harriet’s pretty little face screwed up in a What are you talking about? frown. ‘You think I’m trying to punish my mother?’

  Clem raised one of her brows. ‘Aren’t you?’

  Harriet whooshed out a sigh. ‘Maybe. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I miss her or anything, but she left me with her ex. What sort of mother does that? Lionel Hawthorne is a lecherous creep. I wouldn’t trust him with a ninety-year-old nun, let alone a sixteen-year-old girl.’

  ‘Lucky for you, Alistair is nothing like his father,’ Clem said. ‘His offer to pay for your education is incredibly generous.’

  Harriet chewed at her lower lip again. ‘You think I should accept it?’

  ‘I’m not going to tell you what to do,’ Clem said. ‘But I can tell you what I wished for when I was your age. I wish I’d had the chance to get a good and consistent education, one without leaving huge gaps I’ve had to fill in wherever I could. I wish I’d had a safe bed to sleep in every night and meals on the table that I didn’t have to pay for and then cook and clear away after. I wish I’d been able to hang out with girlfriends doing fun, girly stuff instead of babysitting my little brother to keep him safe from my mother’s mean-tempered boyfriends. I would’ve been happy with a good comprehensive school, but an exclusive boarding school? Wow. I would’ve snapped it up in a heartbeat.’