Blame It on the Bikini - By Natalie Anderson Page 0,41

all the burden she took on and let herself be free. She should be doing the things she loved, not just doing things for those she loved.

The realisation hurt and with that came the worse hit—he cared too much about where she was at and what she was doing. When he looked at her now, there wasn’t just that stirring in his groin—there was an ache in his chest.

He liked her—too much to mess around with her. Things don’t end all that well for your women. While he wasn’t sure he agreed with Lauren’s statement, he wasn’t taking the risk with Mya. He could get her to say yes, but she wasn’t cut out for a fling, and he didn’t want more than just that. Even if he did, she wasn’t ready for that in her life. She had her other priorities and that was fine. The only thing to do, right now, was walk away.

So he did.

CHAPTER EIGHT

IT MIGHT have been one of the best nights of her life, but Mya wanted the fireworks to finish it off. She didn’t want to be the wallflower walking home alone tonight as she had all those years ago at that miserable prom.

She glanced around. Lauren was flirting with yet another guy—she’d been collecting them throughout the night. Several other friends were propping up the bar getting outrageously hammered with her lethal cocktail mix. Others were up on the catwalk having a dance-off to the hits of their teen years. It was a crazy-fun night.

But Brad had quietly slipped off into the dark—alone. He hadn’t said goodbye to her or anyone. He’d flipped a wave at Lauren but he hadn’t even looked at Mya.

That wasn’t good enough.

Did he think he could do this for her—send her insides into such a spin—and then walk away?

Tonight had been her one night off in months. And didn’t she deserve pleasure in it—pleasure for all the night? Didn’t she deserve a treat? It wouldn’t be like that mess-up last year when she’d thought she could handle a night of nothing but physical fun and had failed. This time she knew what she was doing—and she knew Brad. She even liked him. But not enough to cause confusion. She’d read the rulebook, was certain she could handle herself on the field. This time she already knew the score. And while there was that hint of insecurity about her performance, she figured Brad wouldn’t be all that bothered. Ultimately all she’d be was another notch to him, right? But she would have the best sexual experience of her life. He’d teased that it would be, but she knew to her bones he’d follow through. She simply couldn’t resist—not for one night.

So she blew Lauren a kiss and waved.

Her feet moved of their own accord, fast, determined, sure. She was stone-cold sober but in a blink she was there already—standing at his front door. Before she could take a breath and think better of it, she hammered the door so hard her knuckles hurt.

He opened it sooner than she expected. He’d lost the jacket but was still in the black shirt and trousers and, oddly, a cleaning cloth in his hand. He stared at her—saying it all with just that wild-eyed look—surprise to desire in a heartbeat. Only then he closed his eyes and bent his head. Sudden nerves paralysed her. Insecurity drowned her moment of boldness.

‘Are you going to let me in?’ she asked, her voice pathetically breathy even to her own ears. So much for chutzpah.

He looked up and she saw nothing but raw emotion in his eyes—not just desire, but torment. It was reflected in his stance too as he blocked her entry, his hand gripping the door. ‘You know what will happen if I do.’

Relief shot into her belly, bursting into flame on impact. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘That’s why I’m here.’

‘But—’

‘I don’t want a relationship, and I don’t want a fling. But I’ve changed my mind about the one-night thing.’

He swallowed and then stepped to one side. She walked in, holding her head high while her blood fizzed round her body. She went straight to the place she’d fantasised about for weeks. The cover was stripped back, the light switched on—the brightness harsh on her eyes after the moonlit walk here.

‘What happened to the vase?’ The mess on the floor surprised her.

‘Accident caused by frustration.’ He watched her as if he was afraid she’d disappear if he blinked.

‘You’re not usually clumsy.’

‘I’m not usually frustrated.’

She paused.