Blame It on the Bikini(25)

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.

‘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.’