His Permanent Mistress: Mistress Under Contract. Kate Hardy

happier than he had all week, he hid his smile from Lucy as she scowled at him. He was going to enjoy turning her into that sighing, sexy creature again. Meantime he could afford to turn the screws on her a little. She had a jealous wound? Time for a little salt. He sent Sarah and the boys out ahead of him. Then he approached her.

      It took every ounce of self-control not to reach out and haul her to him. He badly wanted to kiss her into submission. He wanted to see her body arch up to him, see her eyelids flutter, hear her moan of delight.

      Soon.

      ‘Keep up the good work.’ He said it as patronisingly as he could—loving the fact that he’d be on the floor like a dead ant if her look had its way. ‘I’m taking Sarah home.’ He turned and winked. ‘Don’t wait up.’

       CHAPTER NINE

       You have good control over your desires and temptations

      LUCY stomped about in the kitchen, banging cupboard doors and returning plates home from the dishwasher with more force than necessary. The night had dragged after Daniel had left. Bitter, she muttered nasty things under her breath. It was ridiculous given that she was the one who’d said no. And she’d been right to say no. She’d asked for everything he had to offer and promised him the same. The trouble was she had a lot more to give than him—a heart, for starters.

      No sign he was home yet, so the nasty murmurings increased in audibility. He’d be cosied up to Sarah about now. Lucy would move out tomorrow. Even the dreaded hostel would be better than staying here. She’d go pack her bag now. That would make her feel better.

      She turned to do just that and got the fright of her life to find Daniel standing right behind her.

      ‘Everything OK?’

      Of course not. He was in boxers and nothing but. Not what she needed. Why didn’t he wear full-length pyjamas and a hideous dressing gown? She lashed out. ‘What are you doing here?’

      ‘It’s my home. I was trying to sleep but that’s impossible with the racket you’re making.’ He took a step nearer. ‘Something the matter?’

      ‘No,’ she snapped, grabbing a glass from the shelf.

      ‘Why did you tell Sarah we’re living together?’

      He shocked her with his directness. Uncomfortable heat rose in her cheeks. She tried to shrug it off. ‘We are living together.’

      ‘Under the same roof, sure, but that wasn’t the innocent impression Sarah got and I’m sure you didn’t mean it that innocently.’

      She filled the glass with water. ‘I’m sorry if I made things difficult for you.’

      ‘No, you’re not.’ Pause. ‘For the record, I’m not and never have been interested in Sarah.’

      ‘Oh.’ She turned, her back right against the bench. He’d stepped even nearer. ‘She’s not your type?’

      ‘No.’

      She feigned extreme interest in the glass of water. ‘You must be awfully hard to please.’

      ‘Oh, I don’t know. You did OK the other night.’

      Smash. The glass hit the floor. She bent to it instantly. Heart thudding, she grabbed at the shards. ‘I’m as bad as Corey.’ Glass pierced as she tried to gather the bits—futile, seeing there was no way it could be glued back together. Her anger dissolved. Melancholy remained.

      ‘Stop. It’s only a glass. It doesn’t matter.’ He seized her wrist. ‘Don’t move. I don’t want you to cut your foot as well.’

      Obediently she stayed still while he got a brush and dustpan and swept away the fragments, and she couldn’t help admiring his muscular legs and strong forearms. He wrapped the glass in paper and discarded it.

      She stayed on the ground, hoping he’d leave before she threw herself at him.

      He didn’t. ‘Let me see your hand.’ He crouched beside her so he could see her properly. ‘Lucy.’

      She held out her hand. He took it and gently uncurled her fingers. A fine line of red crossed her palm.

      ‘I’ll get a plaster.’ He soft-footed out to the bathroom and was back in a few minutes. She hadn’t moved.

      ‘So stupid. I don’t know what’s the matter with me.’ She sniffed—most unladylike. ‘I’m not sleeping too well.’ It was the story of her life. ‘I can’t sleep.’

      He finished smoothing the plaster, then looked at her. ‘Neither can I.’

      She met his eyes with hers. Her hand shook in his and he closed his fingers around it. Keeping it steady with a warm, firm grip.

      He stood and made her stand with him. ‘Maybe we could help each other out?’

      His lips were so close and he tilted her chin with a finger to bring hers nearer. Her lids fluttered lower so she wouldn’t have to look into his eyes and openly admit defeat.

      The finger under her chin pulled her another inch closer and with a small sigh she melted. There was no hesitation—she was unable to resist a second longer. She opened for him, reached for him, curling her fingers into the hair at the back of his head. Sweet relief flooded through her as his arms went around her and hauled her close—he wanted her. He held back from the kiss. She could feel him studying her. She refused to open her eyes but leaned against him, wordlessly wanting him to understand she was so very willing.

      She heard him half laugh under his breath, then felt him slip his arm under her knees to scoop her up. He made her feel weightless, wanted. He strode quickly, surely. She kept her eyes shut and let her body simply feel. The strength of his arms as they held her—as close as they’d been in the water, but this was better because she knew she was about to get it all from him. She could hardly wait.

      She felt the mattress beneath her and was sorry when his arms slipped from under her. But satisfaction soon followed as she felt the bed depress with his weight, heard the foil rip and knew he was ready. Then his hands were on her, stroking the skin her top exposed. He pulled up the hem so her stomach was bared. His fingers traced the path, his lips followed. She shook as they touched her, her muscles spasmed involuntarily. He responded immediately, his hands sliding to where her breasts were bursting from her bra. Hard, overly sensitive nipples that ached for his hot mouth. She moaned as he read her mind and closed over her, sucking her nipple in—material and all. Her legs parted immediately as he pressed his weight onto her lower body. He unbuttoned her top with quick fingers and simply pushed the cups of her bra down so her breasts spilled over. He took them in his hands and tasted. Teased. She arched back, baring her neck, straining her pelvis up.

      There were too many clothes—despite his near nudity. Again he read her mind. He rolled, quickly removing her skirt. No slow unwrapping this time. Her panties flew through the air. Then her bra. Then his boxers. He leant over her again and they were almost together in one mad moment. He held back—just—and instead teased her, his hand in place between her legs as his mouth devoured hers. He lifted his head a little as his fingers played harder. With amusement in his eye he watched her reaction.

      She sucked in a gasp of air and for a second the fog of lust cleared. This was not a good idea. She’d get emotional. He wouldn’t. But she closed her eyes, closing her brain down—refusing to let it ruin such a good time.

      He wasn’t having it. ‘Open your eyes, Lucy,’ he muttered as he nibbled on her neck.

      She screwed them tighter.

      ‘Open them or I stop.’

      She opened them.

      ‘Got anything to say?’

      ‘Like what?’

      ‘Please.’