Blame it on the Bikini

by Natalie Anderson

  ‘I can’t get the key in the lock,’ he muttered, nuzzling her neck. ‘Don’t go getting all Freudian on that.’ He chuckled with a groan.

  At least they were almost inside his home. He hauled her closer, crushing her against him. She melted into his hot strength, almost delirious with ecstasy already. Yes, this was what she wanted—more of him. All of him. And she was too desperate now to wait a minute longer. On the darkened deck, no one could see them from the street. So Mya, bolder than she’d ever been in her life and on the brink of ecstasy because he wanted her as much as she did him, pulled her jeans down. She didn’t get them very far, wiggling her hips side to side to tug them as far as she could, but she only made it to mid-thigh. She’d hooked her knickers with them, and despite the warmth of summer, the air on her bared butt was cool. She pressed back to feel the rough denim of his jeans against her.

  He swore, pithy, crude, hot.

  She looked over her shoulder as she put her hands to the cool paint and arched back, letting her butt grind against his pelvis.

  He swore again, explicit and thrilling, and curled a strong arm around her waist, his other hand scraping the key in the lock. Finally he got it and turned the handle. He lifted her with that one arm and took the two paces inside. He turned them both and slammed the door, stepped forward immediately, his hands gripping hers and lifting them higher on the wood so they were above her head.

  His feet moved between hers, pushing hers wider apart. But they couldn’t go that far the way her jeans were only pulled to her mid-thigh. It excited her all the more—she wanted to be pinned by him again. It had been all she’d been able to think of for days. He leaned against her from behind, holding her still as he unzipped his jeans. She pressed her palms to the door herself, rubbing to feel the blunt head of him so near to entering her slick heat.

  ‘Hell, Mya.’ He cursed again. ‘I want you …’

  She heard the sharp rip, felt his movement behind her. A second later his hands circled her thighs. His fingers met in the middle, touching her intimately. She heard his roughly drawn breath as he felt how wet she already was. His fingers returned to her inner thighs, holding her tight now, and he thrust in hard. No preliminaries, just raw heat.

  She gasped, shocked and delighted and desperate all at once. She put her hands on the door, bracing and giving leverage to push back on him and take him deeper. He moaned and immediately pressed his mouth to her shoulder to muffle the sounds of ecstatic agony.

  Heat beaded all over her body. Her breath burned in too-short bursts. More moisture slicked where she needed it most, easing his sudden, forceful invasion.

  He circled his hips and then thrust hard all the way home again, surging into a quick, hard, breathless rhythm. A coarse word of bliss rapidly transformed into a groan and he paused his rough thrusts into her. ‘Damn it … you can’t possibly come this way.’

  ‘Oh, yeah?’ But she could, she was almost there already. Desperately turned on. ‘Don’t you dare stop.’

  He lifted her, flattening her against the door. Literally screwing her to it. A good thing given her legs were trembling so much they couldn’t hold her up because she was so close to orgasm.

  He forced his fingers between her and the wood, and for a second they stroked, as if to ensure she was as turned on as she declared. She pressed against his hand, trapping it, stopping the tease. Then arched her back as much as she could.

  ‘Brad!’

  He growled and withdrew his hand, slamming it against the wall by her head as he thrust hard again. ‘I want you so much.’

  She squeezed her eyes shut, breathing hard as his words struck like hot stones into her soul and his body rammed once more into hers. She felt his rough jaw against her cheek; the blunt demand inflamed her body.

  She could hardly move her mouth to form the words. ‘More,’ she confessed. ‘I … want you. More … More.’

  It became a mantra and then a scream as the sensations skidded, becoming convulsions that twisted through her. Her hands curled into claws as she shook. She ground her hips round and round between him and the wall. Both immovable forces. With a harsh groan he resisted her attempts to milk him. His hands gripped her hips, holding her still as over and over he stroked as if trying to get deeper and deeper within her, as if he too couldn’t bear for it to be over just yet. His need shocked her. The same need that had summoned her here, making her ignore both caution and reason.

  ‘Oh. Yes.’ Her own primal reaction to his demand was an orgasm so strong she would have fallen to the floor had he not held her so tightly.

  His fingers dug as the answering cry was ripped from him.

  Breathing hard, he slumped against her, still pinning her to the wall, his head falling to her shoulder. She felt the harsh gusts of breath down her back as he held her close. She appreciated the contact—the comfort—as if he too needed the time and the proximity to process what they’d just shared.

  And then he moved, lifting her into his arms and stomping a few feet into his spare room—the library. He sank into the big armchair, holding her in his lap.

  Their eyes met in the dim light. He smiled at her and then kissed her. She kissed him back. The slow, tender kisses that they’d skipped in their haste for completion.

  ‘We’re doing this again,’ he said quietly.

  How could she deny him anything when he was so skilfully stirring her body into blissful submission? ‘A couple more times,’ she muttered, barely able to think.

  ‘More than a couple.’

  Okay, she could see the attraction in that for her, but what about him? ‘What’s in it for you?’

  He laughed silently, but she felt the vibrations all around her. ‘You have to ask, after that?’

  She’d never thought of herself as a skilled lover or any kind of sexual goddess. ‘That other guy told me I was lousy in bed,’ she admitted. ‘And given James had just dumped me, I thought he was right.’

  ‘You’re kidding,’ Brad groaned. ‘You’re amazing. That was unbelievably amazing.’

  The glow he’d already lit inside her burned brighter. ‘Is this not normal for you?’ she teased.

  He stilled. She could sense him deliberating over his reply. She looked away, studying the shelf of books as if she could read the titles in the gloom.

  He took her chin in firm fingers and turned her so she had to look him in the eye again. ‘No. It’s not.’

  She felt her cheeks burn but he wouldn’t let her turn her head away.

  ‘That other night? And tonight?’ he said softly. ‘Best sex of my life.’

  ‘No,’ she whispered. She didn’t want him to flatter her with false praise.

  ‘Do I have to print out a certificate before you’ll believe me?’

  She chuckled.

  He was the one shaking his head now. ‘You don’t have to get the awards, you know. You don’t need accolades to be certified attractive. All you have to do is smile.’

  How could she not smile when he said things like that? ‘Another confession?’ she whispered. ‘It was the best sex of my life too.’

  He smiled.

  ‘But this can’t be anything,’ she added quickly.

  ‘I don’t think we need to label it, do we?’

  ‘It’s only for a little while.’ Only until she had her desire for him under control. If she didn’t put her heart on the line, she’d be fine.

  He shook his head. ‘Don’t you get it? We can’t put limitations on this because we’ll both want more if we do that. You always want what you can’t have. And we both have that fighter within who wants to defy the rules.’

  ‘So what do you suggest—no rules?’

  ‘No rules.’ He leaned over her and whispered. His hand teasing the soft skin of her inner thigh. ‘And if you like, no boundaries.’

  Mya stared at him, incredibly tempted. He meant physical boundaries. She knew that. ‘None at all?’

  He lifted his shoulders.

  Her heart thudded so hard. �
��All or nothing?’

  ‘Anything you want me to do, sure, I’ll do.’

  ‘You’re offering to be my love slave? You’ll do whatever I want?’ She couldn’t help but smile at that idea.

  He nodded. ‘You take pleasure from me and I’ll take pleasure from you.’

  He was offering a licence to thrill. ‘What if I don’t want to do something you ask me to?’ she asked curiously.

  His expression deepened and he ran a gentle finger down her arm. ‘I think you’ll want to.’

  She touched her tongue to her lip. Yes, she figured she would.

  His fingers tickled as he suddenly grinned. ‘I wasn’t actually thinking of anything that kinky,’ he teased. ‘But maybe you were.’

  Colour heated her cheeks. ‘What I think of as kinky you probably think of as tame,’ she muttered defensively.

  ‘You can ask me for anything,’ he murmured.

  She nodded. ‘It’s not the right time for a relationship for me and you never want one … but for now—’

  ‘There’s just now.’ His arms tightened around her and he stood, carrying her down to his room.

  Mya reached out and switched on the light as they passed it.

  ‘I love this wallpaper.’ She gazed at the green vines climbing the white paper. ‘It still stuns me you’re into floral.’

  ‘It’s not floral,’ he said firmly, planting her on the bed and tugging off her jeans. ‘It’s jungle.’

  ‘That’s floral.’ She rolled onto her stomach and pointed to the small vase on the bedside table filled with sweet-smelling summer roses.

  ‘Women like flowers,’ he said blandly, bending to kiss the small of her back.

  Oh, he might talk all sophisticated loverman, but it wasn’t quite as it seemed and she knew it. ‘No, you had flowers there that first time I visited, and you didn’t know I was coming.’

  ‘I’m always prepared for an overnight female guest.’ He emphasised the tease with a nip of his teeth.

  ‘No.’ She rolled to face him and grabbed a fistful of his shirt to pull him onto her. ‘You prefer to sleep at their houses so you can do the “quickie and exit” in the morning. The only reason I’m here is because you know I’ll leave early. You know I’m not going to linger and make for an awkward morning-after moment.’ She met his darkened gaze and determinedly ignored the way his fingers were stroking closer and closer to her nipple. ‘So the flowers are here because you like them. Furthermore—’

  ‘There’s more?’

  ‘Oh, there is. I have all the evidence for this case. You grow the roses in your garden.’

  ‘Okay, so I grow the roses,’ he admitted. ‘Are you going to tease me about it?’

  ‘Of course not.’ She rubbed her fingers against his stubble. ‘They’re beautiful.’

  His amusement turned wicked. ‘I get pleasure from watching something bloom. I appreciate form, nature’s “curves”.’ His hand slid over her hips and between her thighs.

  ‘You can try to hide behind some sexy talk, but the fact is you’re talented. You really care about your roses.’

  ‘I really like curves.’ He burrowed down the bed more. ‘I like pretty pink flowers too.’ He pulled her knees apart. ‘And you’re right, I like to look after them.’ He bent and kissed her there, his tongue circling in ever-teasing strokes, before sliding inside.

  Mya had given up on her analysis the moment he touched her. Her eyes closed as sensation rippled out from deep within her. He turned her on so quickly.

  When she was wrung out and panting he rose, wearing the smile of a victor. She wound her arms around his waist and pulled him close.

  ‘Mmm,’ he groaned appreciatively as she wriggled beneath him. ‘I’ve discovered a liking for clinging flowers.’

  ‘What about carnivorous ones?’ She arched swiftly and ate him whole.

  But later as she tumbled towards sleep in his arms she reminded herself exactly how long this fling was going to last. Brad might have said no limitations, but as far as she was concerned it was for one week and one week only. She only had two lecture-free weeks over the Christmas break. The first was his, the second was for her assignments and exam study. There’d be no room for him in her life from then on. Abstinence had failed; an overdose had to work. One week of indulgence.

  CHAPTER TEN

  SHE came to him every night. And every night it was the same but different—variations on a theme. So many, many wonderful variations. He delighted in his deepening knowledge of her—he sought to learn what she liked, what made her shiver, the slow discovery of all her secrets. But finding enough time to see her was hard. Frantic sex followed by sleep followed by more frantic sex before she left for work. He sometimes had lunch with her—a snatched ten minutes before he was due in court or before she had a lecture. Ten minutes wasn’t enough. He went back to the bar in the early evenings but then left to get more work done—and to let her work.

  There wasn’t enough time. Mya grasped the few moments they had but it felt like the glitter from the party—impossible to catch and hold. Just an ephemeral, beautiful shimmer. So she was determined to make the most of it. Brad seemed more intent than ever on ‘just having fun’ too—as if he was also aware of how brief this would be.

  She stretched in his big bed, slowly and so reluctantly coming awake after what felt like only five minutes’ sleep. She could hear him talking—dozily she listened to one half of an incisive discussion on some point of law. She smiled as she snoozed. He sounded so authoritative—which he was on this, of course—quoting from case after case, and given that she could hear he was pacing down the far end of the hall, she knew he was recalling those cases from his own memory, not that of a computer. Geek. Question was why he was talking so early in the morning.

  She sat up and looked at her watch. It wasn’t just early in the morning—it was still the middle of the night. She’d really had only a little more than five minutes’ sleep.

  She slipped out of bed and wrapped a towel round herself and tiptoed down the hall. She could see the light in his office was on, and she paused in the doorway. He stood at his desk, his hair a crumpled mess, unshaven, circles under his eyes, still on that difficult call.

  She took a step back and went back to the bedroom, not wanting to eavesdrop. But in the silent house, his voice carried—his concern was obvious. She waited a very long time for him to return to bed. But even though he’d stopped talking quite some time ago now, he still didn’t come down the hall. So she got up again—concerned.

  From in his office doorway, she saw him sitting at his desk, his face a portrait of worry. She’d noticed before how tired he sometimes looked when he thought no one was watching. The animated, charming façade slipped on when people talked to him. She didn’t want him to feel as if he had to put that mask on for her. She understood now that he covered up with the charm factor. Why did he feel the need to maintain the image? When he claimed to hate that manufactured perfection in his parents’ home? In a way he was as guilty of it as they were.

  But then he closed his eyes and put his head in his hands.

  ‘Brad?’ She swiftly walked into the room, round the side of his desk and put her arms around him. It was an instinctive, caring gesture. Nothing sexual, just the comfort of a hug. ‘What’s wrong?’

  For a long time he said nothing. But then there was a sigh and a mumble. ‘Christmas is bad for most of my kids.’

  My kids. The word meant much. She softened inside. He cared deeply, but he didn’t like to display it for everyone. ‘Something’s happened?’

  ‘Gage has run away.’

  Mya bit her lip. Two days out from Christmas? Things must be bad. ‘Who’s Gage?’

  ‘A client. His parents split a while back. He’s been shuttling between them for a few years, but it’s never been easy. His father had a new partner on the scene but they’ve split up recently.’ He sighed. ‘What’s worse, do you think? Being fought over, or not being noticed or wanted at all?’ He glanced
at her. ‘Or being expected to carry the expectations and dreams and ambitions of generations?’

  She shook her head. ‘It depends.’

  ‘It does,’ he said tiredly. ‘I should have spotted there was something badly wrong,’ he added quietly. ‘I should have seen it. I knew he’d been truanting. I knew he hadn’t been talking to the psych. But I—’

  ‘You’re not his parent.’

  ‘I’m his advocate. I should know what it is he wants.’

  ‘And do you?’

  He stared sightlessly at the desk. ‘I’m not sure. He’s on the run but if I were to guess I’d say he’ll head to his dad’s ex. She’s been the one there. But she lives in another town now. She wasn’t married to the guy. She’s not a guardian. In theory she has no legal claim to Gage.’

  ‘But if he wants to stay with her, if she wants him—can you help them?’

  ‘Maybe. That’s if he is heading there, if he is okay.’ He looked worried. ‘Not all stepmothers are wicked.’

  And not all playboys were heartless.

  ‘It’s really sad,’ she said.

  He nodded. ‘And if he doesn’t turn up soon, he’s only going to make it harder for himself to get what he wants.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Brad.’

  He rubbed his forehead, as if he could rub away the stress. ‘You should go get some sleep.’

  ‘Not without you.’ There was one thing she could give him—the one thing he’d wanted from her. It wasn’t much, but it was all she had, and she wanted to give him comfort now. She didn’t know how she was going to do it, but after Christmas she was walking away from him. She’d been such a fool to think she could handle this. ‘You do an incredible job,’ she whispered. He was an incredible person.

  ‘Not good enough,’ he muttered. ‘Not this time. I should have spotted it, Mya. Hell, I hope he’s okay.’

  ‘He will be.’ She hugged him tighter. ‘Don’t feel bad,’ she urged. ‘You help so many people. You’ll help him too.’