Blame It On The Bikini. Natalie Anderson

on, and the apron around her hips didn’t wholly hide her curvy butt. As for those breasts … Plumped up by the bikini/bra in the picture, they’d been so bountiful they’d spilled over the edges. Now, disguised under that plain black tee, their silhouette was minimised. But no simple cotton covering could fully hide the softness that seemed sinfully generous in proportion to her small stature.

      His heart drummed a triumphant beat. Blood pulsed, priming muscles. Because he’d seen the way she’d looked at him—the flash she hadn’t been able to hide when he’d first walked into the bar. There’d been that pull, that instinctive reaction. He knew the signs—the second glances, small smiles, the heightened colour. The sparkle in the eyes, the parting of the lips. Brad Davenport also knew his worth. He knew he had a body that attracted a second glance—oh, and the cynic in him knew most women would never forget his trust fund. So he was used to being wanted and he knew when a woman wanted him.

      Now the tip of her tongue briefly touched that too-wide top lip and then she bit back her smile. Yeah, she still had that gap between her two front teeth.

      With just a look she’d had those stag-party guys competing to catch her close and hold her. Only she’d held them off with a few words and a hint of fire. And he wasn’t thinking of the lighter flame.

      Brad’s entire body was on fire, and for the second time that night he gave in to impulse. He took her glass from her and put it on the table next to his.

      ‘What are you doing?’ A breathless squeak.

      ‘We’re old friends,’ he said softly. ‘We should greet each other properly.’

      ‘I wouldn’t have said we were friends.’ Her voice wobbled.

      He smiled at the sound. He’d stirred a small response from her, but he wanted more. And he was used to winning what he wanted. Before she could say anything more, he stepped close and caught her mouth with his.

      She instantly tensed, but he kept it light. When the stiff surprise ebbed from her body—pleasingly quickly—he lifted his head a fraction and stepped closer at the same time. He flicked his tongue to feel her soft lips, tracing their uneven length, and then sealing his to hers again and tasting the delight inside her mouth. And then she kissed him back and that fire exploded. Man, Mya Campbell was a hell of a lot hotter than he’d ever thought possible.

      For a split second Mya wondered if she were dreaming. Then the heat blasted into her and she knew not even her imagination could come up with this. She held her head up without even realising—no thought of pushing him away. Because the guy did wicked things with his tongue—sweeping it between her lips. Deeper and deeper again. Caressing her mouth as if it were the most delicious pleasure. She softened, opening more. And he stepped closer, taking more, giving so much more.

      His chest pressed into hers. She could feel how broad and strong he was. It was a damn good thing she had the wall behind her—she was sandwiched between two solid forces and it was utterly exquisite. His mouth was rapacious now. His body insistent. Like yin and yang—hard versus the soft. And yet there was tension in her body too, that fierce need for physical fulfilment unfurling inside.

      She slid her hand over his abs, the heat of him blazing through the white cotton shirt. She could feel those taut muscles and shivered at the thought of them working hard above her, beneath her—every way towards pleasure.

      Her rational mind spun off into the distance while her senses took centre stage, demanding all her attention. She all but oozed into him, utterly malleable, his to twist and tease. And he did—grinding against her, kissing her mouth, her jaw, her neck and back to her mouth. She threaded her fingers through his hair, opening yet more for him.

      His hand slid to the curve of her hip, lower still to her butt. He spread his fingers, pulling her hips closer to the heat of his—so she could feel his response even more. A moan escaped as she felt his thick erection pressing against her belly. So hot, so soon, this was just so crazy.

      But all thought vanished as his other hand slid up from her waist, cupping her breast. She momentarily tensed, anticipating the pain—she was too sensitive for touch there. But his fingers stilled, not following through on their upward sweep; a half-second later he moved again to cup her soft flesh, avoiding her nipple. Good thing, as both were overloading already just with the pressure of his chest against hers. She relaxed against him again as she realised he somehow understood. Instead he pressed deeper—his tongue laying claim to her mouth, his body almost imprinting on hers.

      And despite this oh-so-thorough kiss, she wanted so much more than this.

      She moved restlessly—tiny rocking motions of her hips. It was all she could manage given how hard he was pinning her to the wall. But with every small movement she drew closer and closer to the hit of ecstasy that she suddenly needed more than anything else in the world.

      It wasn’t a kiss; it was a siege—he’d encircled her and demanded her surrender. It hadn’t taken her long to cave at all. Her fingers curled instinctively into his cotton shirt as wicked tension gripped her. Almost at breaking point—the convulsions of ecstasy were a mere breath away.

      ‘Excuse me!’

      Mya froze and she felt Brad’s arms go equally rigid. She pulled back and met his eyes—he looked as startled as she felt.

      ‘Mya, you’re way over your break time.’ Drew, her boss, snapped right beside her. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

      All but stupefied, Mya turned and stared at her boss. She literally didn’t know. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t answer. She was still trying to process the chemical reaction that had ignited every cell while in Brad’s embrace. But as she looked at the extreme irritation on Drew’s face, reality rushed back. Her boss was furious. Panic slammed the door shut on the remaining good vibes—she couldn’t afford to lose this job. What on earth had she been thinking?

      ‘Drew, I’m so sorry,’ she said in a breathless rush, stepping further away from Brad. ‘I wasn’t aware of the time. I didn’t—’

      ‘No kidding,’ Drew interrupted rudely, her scrambled apology having no effect on his temper. ‘This is—’

      ‘My fault.’ To Mya’s horror, Brad coolly interrupted Drew. ‘I distracted her.’

      Drew turned his glower on Brad. But within a second his expression eased a fraction as he got a good look at the man now stepping up in front of him.

      Mya watched the two men square off. All of a sudden Brad seemed both taller and broader as he moved to put himself partly between her and Drew. Oh, this wasn’t good—she really didn’t need Brad interfering; she was on the line as it was. She could handle Drew herself without any macho-male stuff.

      Brad sent her a quick glance but seemed oblivious to her wordless plea to shut the heck up and back off. Instead he turned back to Drew.

      Mya held her breath but then Brad smiled—that big, easy smile, with just a hint of the ‘born-to-it-all’ arrogance. ‘My name’s Brad Davenport.’ He extended his hand as if it were not in the least embarrassing that he’d just been caught kissing the brains out of Drew’s employee when she should have been working. ‘I want to hire out your bar.’

      ‘Drew.’ Mya’s manager paused a moment and then shook Brad’s hand. ‘This is a popular place. I’m not sure you’ll need the whole bar for one small party.’

      ‘It’s not going to be a small party. I want the whole bar,’ Brad answered calmly. ‘Obviously we’ll pay to secure absolute privacy for the night.’

      Mya watched the change come over Drew as he assessed Brad’s worth. It didn’t take much to know the clothes were designer, the watch gold, the self-assurance in-built …

      ‘I’m sure we can come to some arrangement.’ Drew’s demeanour changed to sycophantic in a heartbeat.

      ‘I’m sure we can.’ Brad smiled his killer smile once again. ‘It should be good. This place has an atmosphere