Blame It on the Bikini - By Natalie Anderson Page 0,48

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.

‘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