Blame It on the Bikini - By Natalie Anderson Page 0,53

He’d been told it many times by women. And they were right. ‘I’m not very good company tonight.’ He felt uncomfortable—felt vulnerable with her this moment. He wanted to pull it back in. His chest ached. Maybe he was coming down with summer flu. ‘I don’t feel that great,’ he muttered, too tired to hold that last fact back.

‘I know.’

He turned and looked at her—beautiful, bright, sweet Mya, whom he wanted so much from and yet who couldn’t give it.

Wasn’t it ironic that the game-changing woman for him didn’t want the game changed? He’d positioned himself as her bed-buddy—painted himself into a corner as her ‘good-time guy’. And was that so bad? A few minutes of fun here and there in an otherwise hardworking life? He was the king of quick’n’fun, wasn’t he? With the same woman for once, yet what difference did that really make?

It made all the difference. Tonight it hurt.

Because he cared for her a lot more than he’d like, and the reality was he didn’t stand a chance. There was no room in her life for him. Her parents came first and that was fair enough. He’d played the playboy role too well for too long for her to see him any other way. He supposed it served him right. But this second he was so wrung out, he was at the point where he’d take all he could get. And so he tried to pull it back on again—his playful tease. ‘Is there something you wanted?’ he drawled.

But she didn’t respond with the same kind of light amusement. ‘Yes, there is.’

She didn’t tease him with her wishes or do a pretend strip to reveal her polka-dotted panties and mismatched cotton bra. Instead she looked serious. ‘Tell me what you want me to do.’

He coughed; it felt as if something were crushing his chest. A crazy, over-the-top reaction. This was hardly the first time a woman had asked him to reveal a sexual fantasy. But he didn’t want a fantasy tonight. He just wanted Mya. ‘I thought I made it clear you didn’t have to do anything other than just be for me.’

‘No. You’ve done what I wanted you to do so many times. Now it’s your turn. I’m yours. What would you like me to do?’

He didn’t answer. Frankly, he couldn’t think with the way she was looking at him with all the promises of the world in her eyes and the sweetness in that unique smile.

‘No ropes?’ Finally, she teased. And her laughter tied his tongue—and his heart—the way no real binds ever could.

All he wanted was for her to welcome him the way she always did. All he needed was to see how much she enjoyed being with him; her response told him she was as enthralled as much as he in the passion between them. He ached for that total embrace, the softness in her body. Yeah, her embrace alone was enough. Her absolute acceptance. He took her hand and pulled her closer.

‘Cover me,’ he whispered.

Deliverance finally came as she draped her warm limbs over his.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

SHE never got back from the bar until the early hours of the morning. Brad loathed the thought of her walking home alone, but she refused to let him pick her up after work, arguing it was too late for him. She wouldn’t pay for taxi fares—certainly wouldn’t let him pay for them. According to her, her scream-in-a-can and night-school self-defence moves were enough protection. Not for Brad they weren’t. She didn’t know it but he’d paid Kirk, the bouncer, to walk her home these past couple of weeks. He’d even concocted the lie for Kirk to tell her—that he’d moved into the city and walking her wasn’t far out of his way. Mya hadn’t argued much, which made Brad suspect she wasn’t completely convinced about her self-defence skills either. It made his blood sizzle that he could only help her if he did it secretly.

His blood sizzled more because of the intensity with which he wanted to help her. It was crazy. And even crazier was that here he was, awake way beyond midnight, waiting to hear the sound of the key in the lock. Since when had he ever given a woman a key to his home?

He’d seen how tired she was today. She’d had two coffees for breakfast this morning. He knew she’d get something to eat at the café—and more coffee. Then she’d gone straight into her shift at the bar. She’d