One Wicked Week. Nicola Marsh

it.’ He shrugged, as if the massive apartment that covered an entire floor meant little, and gave her a gentle nudge forward. ‘Come in. Make yourself comfortable.’

      Jayda slipped off her heels at the door, afraid she’d make indentation marks in his pristine marble tiled floor. Stupid, that after all these years she harboured the teensiest resentment against her body and its losing battle with carbs. Her weight fluctuated but not by much. She’d suffered the indignity of various labels from her early teens: ‘curvy’ had been one of the nice ones, ‘fatty’ at the other extreme.

      Brock adored her curves apparently, as he’d repeatedly told her when he’d undressed her on that one night six years ago. She hadn’t really believed him but hadn’t cared; she’d been shattered and desperately seeking comfort at the time. Then he’d proceeded to show her in exquisite, sensual detail exactly how much he liked her curves. She’d revealed her innermost doubts regarding her body image that night—and the way Deon had battered her self-esteem along with taking her virginity—and Brock had given her exactly what she’d wanted.

      The mind-blowing sex had been unforgettable and the moment she’d laid eyes on him tonight, she’d wanted him. She’d changed a lot since that night, had learned to live in the moment. Be spontaneous. Lighten up. A sizzling one-night stand replicating the sensational sex from years ago would be exactly what she needed.

      All nice in theory until she shot him a sideways glance and caught him studying her with an intensity that made her skin pebble. What was he thinking? Did he remember that night in as much detail as she did? Did he regret it? Did he want to back out now?

      She hadn’t exactly given him much choice in the matter tonight. She’d poured all her nervous energy into putting on a brave face and when it had looked as if he’d continue asking the hard questions about her folks, she’d come on to him.

      He hadn’t called her out on the distraction technique and she’d been grateful. But once he’d articulated that he wanted her, and pressed her hand to his cock, she’d forgotten about distractions and working together and every goddamn thing.

      In that moment, she’d known that all she wanted from tonight was him. But now that she’d set foot in his domain, a far cry from his old shabby flat, deep-seated doubts bubbled up from within.

      Would he still find her attractive?

      Would he find her lacking somehow?

      Would she be enough?

      Stupid, irrational fears considering how far she’d come since the last time they’d had sex, but there was something different about him now, an inherent aloofness that made him untouchable, that had her questioning the wisdom of sleeping with him again.

      When she arched a brow to query his unwavering stare, he gave a slight shake of the head.

      ‘Back in a minute,’ he said, striding towards what she assumed was the kitchen by the glimpse of gleaming stainless-steel counter. Lights hidden along the skirting boards flicked on with his movement, illuminating a path like a runway.

      But the contemporary lighting wasn’t her main focus as her gaze glued to his butt and the way it filled out his black chinos. Damn, he looked good. Better than she remembered. Felt good too, from her blatant stroking of his boner in the jazz club. It had driven her wild, knowing he had the hots for her, had emboldened and empowered her to do what she’d yearned to do from the first moment she’d laid eyes on him again: kiss him. And what a kiss: deep, sensual, erotic, Brock to a T. She’d been on the point of straddling him if the band hadn’t started up.

      Now, she wanted to start up in an entirely different way.

      No sound came from the kitchen and she hoped he wasn’t having second thoughts. She’d subdued her doubts about having sex with him, especially when they’d be working together to organise her business, and she’d assumed that the fact he’d invited her here to get down and dirty meant he wanted the same thing.

      Sneaking a peek over her shoulder in the direction of the now brightly lit kitchen, she scuttled towards a high-backed chair furthest from the floor-to-ceiling windows. She rucked up her skirt and wriggled out of her control panties, experiencing a moment of panic when her usual muffin top rolled out. Mentally cursing her inherent insecurities, she stuffed the panties into her handbag and smoothed her skirt down.

      She’d lost about five kilos since her uni days, enough to give her a semblance of a waist. The weight loss served to accentuate her bust and take some of the attention away from her hips and ass. ‘The perfect hourglass,’ Brock had said with reverence when he’d skimmed his hands over her body on grad night. But she’d never disrobed fully then, keeping on a T-shirt the entire time. Brock hadn’t pushed her to take it off and she’d loved him for it. He’d never made her feel anything but cherished during the whole experience and she wanted more of the same.

      What would he think if she revealed her embarrassing secret? That she hadn’t had sex since that night.

      Six years of celibacy by choice.

      It sounded crazy in her head; no way could she articulate it. He’d think she was some kind of loser, getting so hung up over that one cataclysmic night that she hadn’t screwed any guy since.

      Not that she hadn’t tried. She’d fooled around with a few dates, giving and receiving head. But when it had come to revealing skin she’d baulked, each and every time. She’d been labelled a prick tease several times but hadn’t cared. None of those guys she’d casually dated had been a patch on Brock.

      It had been serendipitous when she’d seen an article on him in a computer journal last week. She needed the best in the IT business to ensure she could honour Sasha’s memory in the right way, so it had been a no-brainer to contact him despite her qualms. Because a picture had accompanied the glowing recommendation from some journo and seeing him again—albeit on a screen—after six years had stirred up quashed memories in a big way.

      How he’d lavished every inch of her body with attention, exploring dips and curves with his tongue. How he’d maintained eye contact the moment he’d slid into her for the first time. How he’d caressed and kissed her skin, from her ankles to her ears, taking the time to linger where she’d needed him most.

      The memories had been potent and kept her up nights when she’d lain in bed, horny and alone, pleasuring herself with the memory of him inside her.

      She squeezed her thighs together; as if that would stop the insistent throb. If he didn’t come back soon she’d go after him but it had been six years since their last phenomenal bout, what were a few more minutes?

      Padding to the glass door that opened out onto a wrap-around balcony, she took in the view of Melbourne by night. She loved this vibrant city, every cosmopolitan inch. Travelling widely with her folks had ensured she’d fallen in love with cities on a regular basis: Paris, Vienna, Hamburg, London. Lake Como had been her favourite, with Vancouver a close second, but no city had a vibe like Melbourne.

      From her vantage point she could see the Arts Centre spire, an electric blue against the night sky, the bustling Flinders Street Station and the MCG lights on. She didn’t follow Aussie Rules football but you couldn’t live in Melbourne without knowing teams played there every winter weekend.

      ‘Sorry that took so long.’

      She spun around to see Brock laying out a cheese platter, a fruit platter and a bottle of Shiraz on the coffee table. Sheesh, this guy was too good to be true.

      He gestured at the feast he’d laid out. ‘I didn’t have dinner and I’m hungry, thought you might be too?’

      His bashful smile made her want to hug him, but she settled for sinking into the soft suede sofa in front of the food.

      ‘Thanks for this, you’re very thoughtful.’

      ‘I aim to please.’

      Their gazes locked and she knew in that instant he wasn’t talking about the food. Heat and electricity sizzled in the air between them, a reminder of how good they