Blame It on the Bikini - By Natalie Anderson Page 0,51

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