Mine. Mine. Mine.
Breathless, pinned beneath his marvellous weight, Mya called to him. How could he bear it so slow? Wasn’t he dying inside for the release? How could he hold back from coming inside her so long? Didn’t he want to drive himself into her the way she ached for him to—furious and fast and hard?
Oh, hell—was it her? Was she not good enough at this for him? She certainly didn’t know any tricks or anything much beyond the basics. And this was sex at its most basic, with him above her, no fancy positions or toys. She knew no tricks—was probably the most apathetic lover he’d ever had. All she’d been able to do the past half-hour was lie there and moan.
He slipped his palm beneath her bottom, pushing her closer so he could thrust even deeper into her, and all self-conscious thought was obliterated in the ecstasy of his onslaught. There was nothing she could do but absorb his decadent attention.
She tensed as that unbearably tense pleasure rebuilt in her. He pushed closer, closer. Her body tautened, her muscles, nerves, heart all strung out, locking onto every part of him she could. She was no longer begging, no longer coherent. Just gasping, grasping for that final step into oblivion. And then screaming. He tossed her into that river of delight. Sensations tumbled over and over—bliss shuddering through her in spasm after spasm. And she clung to him through it all as if he were her life raft as well as the source of the surge.
She gasped again as the last tremor shivered through her and she regained enough strength to sweep a hand down his sweat-slicked back. His skin burned, the muscles beneath flexing and rigid. She turned her face into his neck, wanting to hide how raw her emotions were. How close she felt to him in this moment.
With a feral grunt he pulled her head back so her mouth met his. A hungry, uncontrollable kiss. His tongue pummelling as fast and relentlessly as that other part of him was. Something broke free within her, that desire to hold onto him. To hold onto him so tight because he’d given her something so precious. She sucked on his tongue the way her sex was—tightly squeezing. Not letting him go. Stroking him back. A slick friction that set fire to her senses again.
He tore his mouth from hers, arching and shouting as his release ripped out of him. Her body quaked as she received it, intensifying her own pleasure to the point where she could bear no more.
It took a few moments for Brad to realise he’d blanked out and was slumped over her. Their bodies were stuck together—hot skin, locked limbs. Hell, could she breathe? He propped himself up on his elbows and looked at her.
‘Wow.’ She nodded slowly. ‘Okay. I can see why.’
It wasn’t quite the comment he’d wanted. That hadn’t been his usual wham and bam and ‘let’s do it three times again, ma’am’. Physical and fast and fun. He didn’t know what had got into him with this so-slow-you-think-you’re-going-to-die-from-bliss intensity.
‘You sure proved your point.’ She swallowed.
He might have managed to laugh that off if he weren’t so winded. Slowly, reluctantly, painfully, he withdrew from her warmth and rolled to lie beside her. He kept his eyes closed, holding back the exposed feeling. Because that had been so far from his usual behaviour that he couldn’t comprehend it.
That hadn’t just been sex. He didn’t really know what it had been, but he knew it was not just sex. Part of him wanted to flee the scene immediately. Another part of him was stirring back to life, hungry for a repeat. How could the gnawing ache be worse now than it had been before?
‘I’m sorry for being so useless,’ she murmured.
He flashed his eyes open and lifted his head. ‘What?’
To his amazement she’d gone bright red, more flushed than when she’d been in the throes of passion and about to come. ‘I just lay there.’
He really did laugh then—and it was all genuine. ‘No, you didn’t.’
She’d sighed and moved in subtle, uncontrollable ways that had nearly driven him out of his mind. And she’d held him. He’d had the most incredible feeling when she’d held him.
He pulled her close. But sleep didn’t claim him as quickly as it did her. Instead he lay still fully attuned to the signals of her body, his embrace tightening as her body relaxed into sleep. He’d never struggled to get to sleep after sex before. But he’d never had sex like that before either. He tried to process it, his body humming, his mind replaying fragments, sending flashes of memory to senses already overloaded and struggling with oversensitivity. Almost an hour later, still nowhere near sleep, he slipped away from her. In the moonlit kitchen he poured a glass of water. He drank, trying to wash away the fever and regain his laid-back, carefree attitude. But the cool water didn’t dispel the growing sense of discomfort and confusion.
The best moment of his life might also have been the biggest mistake.
CHAPTER NINE
MYA woke early, panic clanging louder than an electronic alarm plugged into subwoofer speakers. Warm, sweat-dampened skin where they touched. Time to get out of here. She slipped out from his hot embrace, ultra-careful not to wake him because there was something she had to do first.
Quietly she found her phone and got it ready. Just as he stirred, she threw the sheet back and captured him in all his morning glory before he could blink.
‘Now we’re even.’ She laughed and teasingly waved the phone at him, determined to hide the ache pulling down her heart—from herself most of all.
He blinked and a slow, naughty smile spread over his face—the return of the charmer. ‘Damn, you should have told me.’ He stretched. ‘I could have posed better for you.’
He could never have been posed better. He looked like the Greek god he’d joked about.
‘I’ll delete this when you delete the picture of me,’ she offered. But it was a lie. Even if she trashed it from her phone, she couldn’t ever wipe this image from her brain.
‘I’m never deleting that.’ His laughter rumbled, rippling muscles over his taut, bronzed chest. ‘I’ve sent it to my computer. It looks brilliant on a big screen.’
Oh, she should have known. ‘You’re a perv.’
‘And you’re an amateur. You think I mind you having a photo of me like this?’
‘Well.’ Mya sniffed. ‘I guess half the city’s women have seen you like this, so, really, it’s nothing that personal, is it?’ She had to remind herself who she was dealing with—and all that this had been.
‘Miaow,’ he said and then reared up on the bed, moving towards her like a tiger on the prowl. ‘Why don’t we make a movie instead? Come here and star in it with me.’
The sight of him on all fours was almost enough to tip her over the edge, but she dug in her heels. ‘You really are a perv.’
‘Come on, back to bed.’ He knelt right up, the most X-rated fantasy Mya had ever seen. ‘It’s early.’
‘And I have work to get to.’ She really had to get out of here.
‘You’re kidding.’
She shook her head.
‘Be late. Call in sick.’
Oh, no, she wasn’t letting him tempt her. It was finished. ‘You know it’s over. The mystery is gone—the wondering of “what’ll we be like”—now we know. Now you can go back to your three-women-a-week lifestyle and I can get on with my studying.’
There was a moment, the briefest of pauses when she wondered what he was going to say. He looked away, hiding his expressive eyes, and he flung back on the bed. ‘It’s only three when I’m on holiday.’ He rested his head on his arm and looked even more like a Greek god reclining.
And all Mya could think was how he’d said there was nothing like starting the day with some good sex. She closed her eyes and forced away the whisper of temptation and the vision of one very aroused Brad. She had a shift to get to. She pulled her crumpled dress back on, hoping it was early enough for her not to get caught doing the walk of shame home.
‘You can borrow some of my clothes if you want,’ he said unhelpfully.
No. That would mean she’d have to see him again to re
turn them, and there was no way that was happening. There was no way she was indulging again. It was going to take long enough to forget how incredible he was as a lover.
She didn’t regret last night. But it had been so good she almost did.
‘I don’t think they’d fit but thanks all the same.’ She turned her back on him so he couldn’t see her mega blush.
There was no reason for them to see each other again after this. He’d had what he’d wanted now and so had she. It was over. Outside work hours she’d be back to nothing but study, and he’d be back to saving kids during the day and romping his way around the city at night. It was one night and it was over.
Four days later her eyes hurt and she was exhausted but two coffees and a sugary doughnut saw her through the first two hours of her shift at the café. She’d already agreed to stay on and do a double shift before going straight to the bar. Desperate to fill every moment of her day. Study wasn’t enough—it was in silence, and in silence her mind wandered. She needed noise and relentless activity.
Sex was sex, right? It was fun and physical, the release was great, and then it was over. Nothing more to it. So why was she so damn fixated on him?
Drew looked up when she finally got to the bar. She was running late from the café, but to her surprise he wasn’t grumpy; in fact he smiled at her as if she were his employee of the week.
‘We have another private function tonight,’ he said. ‘In the VIP room.’
‘We do?’ Another person had hired out part of the place for some outrageous price this close to Christmas? ‘Who’s the client?’
‘Same guy as last time,’ Drew answered. ‘Brad. He specially requested Jonny. Double rates.’
Mya’s insides went solar-hot and her outsides ice-cold, while her heart soared and then dropped in the space of a second. He was supposed to be out of her life—in fact, he was out of her life. He hadn’t contacted her; she hadn’t contacted him … But now he was coming to her place of work but didn’t want to see her? He’d asked for Jonny?
She didn’t know whether to be mad, glad or amused.
‘Trouble is,’ Drew said, ‘Jonny cut himself today. His fingers are all bandaged up and he’ll be off the rest of the week. Are you up to serving the private party?’
‘Do I still get double rates?’ Mya asked.
‘I’ll have to check with the client.’
Mya flicked her fringe out of her eyes and got down to prepping her cocktail trims. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll check with him.’ Her blood quickened as both anger and anticipation simmered. Why hadn’t he wanted her to tend his bar, hmm?
Half an hour later, she walked into the small room that could be roped off for VIPs or small private functions. ‘Hi, Brad,’ she said coolly. ‘You’ve offended me.’
‘I have?’
‘You don’t like my cocktail skills any more?’
‘I didn’t think you’d want me to pay for your time.’ He turned on the smiling charm immediately—but then leaned a little closer to where she now stood setting up the small bar. ‘I thought you might prefer not to have to see me.’
She shrugged. ‘It wouldn’t matter to me.’ She carefully placed glasses. ‘Maybe I could do with the money.’
‘And that wouldn’t bother you?’ He watched her closely.
‘You’d be paying me to pour drinks,’ she answered with some sass. ‘Not anything else. And you’re offering to pay Jonny more than the going rate?’
‘To secure the private space I had to. I didn’t think you’d want me to treat you as a charity.’
‘But you wouldn’t be, would you?’ she asked coolly.
He studied her, a small smile playing around his way-too-luscious lips. Yeah, there was the problem—she now knew exactly how skilled that mouth was.
‘I can be professional,’ she said—to herself more than to him.
‘Can you?’
‘Sure, can’t you?’
His smile deepened. ‘I’m not at work. I’m here to have fun and flirt with the bar staff.’
‘You wanted to flirt with Jonny?’ She laughed. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, but Jonny is off sick. You’re stuck with me.’
He looked at her.
‘Am I worth double?’ she asked him and tilted her head on the side.
‘You do know what you’re doing, don’t you?’
‘Stirring a cocktail, yes?’
‘You’re stirring, but not just the cocktail.’
‘We can still be friends, right? Isn’t that what you said?’ she said archly.
That was before they’d slept together.
‘Of course.’ He inclined his head and walked to greet the first person coming through the door.
Mya watched the guests arrive and insecurity smote her—there were women here, seriously hot women. Smart ones too. Lawyers, the lot of them. And it was so dumb to feel threatened when she was ninety per cent on her way to being a lawyer too. And even if she weren’t, she still didn’t need to feel any less worthy than them.
Yet she did. The years of conditioning at that school had shaped her—that she should feel grateful for having that opportunity. That she shouldn’t stuff it up. That her drop-kick family background meant she’d never be fully accepted by the social strata that most of these people came from—as James had pointed out.
She watched Brad laughing with one of the women. Oh, no, maybe that was why he hadn’t wanted her to work the bar—had he been sparing her because he was here with another woman? Why hadn’t she thought of that?
Brad knew all the guys were checking her out. It had been a dumb idea to come here, but he’d thought he could pull it off if Jonny had been doing the work. Then Brad could pop into the main bar and snatch a few words with Mya and see how the land lay. Only now she was right in front of him, smiling, joking and teasing with them all as she served them.
And all he could do was watch like some lovelorn pup hoping for any kind of bone to be thrown his way. Some small scrap that might show she wanted him again. It was more than his pride that was stung. Did she really not want another night with him? Had that truly been enough for her? He didn’t believe it—was egotistical enough not to. All he needed was some proof. And to get that, he figured he just needed to get a little closer to her.
Mya fully regretted saying she’d do this. He was more handsome than she remembered, more fun with his wicked smiles and sharp words. And now she was assailed by images of sneaking him into the cupboard or some dark corner in the alley and having her wicked way with him. Quick and frantic and fabulous.
And to make it worse, he’d now taken up residence right beside her and was watching her every move with the full-on maple-syrup glow. Brad Davenport on full throttle. She fumbled with the bottle and was annoyed to glance up and see him suddenly smiling as if he’d won the lottery.
‘Not on your game tonight?’ he drawled. ‘Or is it because you can’t concentrate when I’m near?’
She stopped what she was doing—but couldn’t stop her blush. ‘Don’t be mean.’
His brows hit the ceiling. ‘I’m not the one who was mean—you’re the one who said one night only,’ he whispered harshly as he leaned over.
‘You only do one night,’ she whispered back.
‘Not necessarily.’ He leaned against the bar. ‘Maybe I can do unpredictable.’
Mya clutched the neck of the bottle with damp fingers and tried to joke. ‘Would you be saying this to Jonny?’
He didn’t bother to reply, just kept those burning brown eyes on her.
‘Why didn’t you ask for me?’ she added.
‘Can you honestly say you wouldn’t have got mad if I did? Can you honestly say you’d be happy for me to pay for your time no matter the context?’
She poured herself a tall glass of water. Damn, the guy actually understood her.
‘I’ll walk you home tonight,’ he said.
‘You’re hoping for a good-night kiss?’ She squared her shoulders and asked straight out
.
‘I’m concerned for your safety,’ he replied, his eyes twinkling.
‘Really?’
‘Partly. Mainly I want more than a good-night kiss.’
‘Do you?’ she asked softly. ‘What do you want?’
He didn’t answer with words—just that look.
Mya turned away while she still could. ‘I’ll get Pete to come in and finish serving you guys, and I’ll meet you out the front at closing time.’
To her pleasure, he was waiting as she’d asked, at the very end of the night.
‘Where do you live?’ he asked.
‘Tonight?’ she said. ‘I’m staying at your place.’ She walked up to him but he took a step to the side and back, out of reach.
‘I’m not touching you now,’ he muttered. ‘If I touch you now we’ll be all over each other in the nearest shadow and I don’t want to do that.’
‘You don’t?’ Her confidence surged at his words.
He closed his eyes. ‘I don’t want it to be sordid.’
Delight and desire filled her, topped off with relief. All that pleasure was smashed away by the need that pierced her a second later. She walked faster. ‘It wouldn’t be.’
He stopped on the footpath behind her. ‘Mya.’ A warning, a plea, a demand.
She turned her head to look back at him and smiled. Then she walked faster still, her body slick and ready. ‘It would be fun.’
As it had been the night of her party, she seemed to fly rather than walk. Her feet skimmed over the concrete. There was no alcohol in her system, yet she was in a haze as if she was under the influence.
She was under the influence of him.
She realised he was breathing faster than normal, and he was fit. The walk home hadn’t exactly taxed him. Something else was bothering him—the same thing that was bothering her.
She walked up the narrow path to his villa. Under the veranda they were shrouded in darkness the streetlamps couldn’t penetrate. The scent of the rose in the pot by the door was sweet and fresh. She stood in front of the door, like an impatient cat yowling to be let in, while he stood behind her.
Blame it on the Bikini Page 12
