Blame It on the Bikini(26)

‘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.