Fired by Her Fling. Christy McKellen

beneath her touch and he bucked his hips, his breathing growing more and more ragged until he finally let out a low groan of pleasure, his brow furrowing hard in concentrated pleasure as he came inside her.

      It was a truly beautiful sight.

      She’d done that to him. She’d made this gorgeous, ridiculously sexy man lose his mind like that.

      They worked together.

      Something she could only describe as a mind orgasm flooded through her head at the thought of it.

      She stayed on top of him until his breathing quietened and he opened his eyes again and smiled at her.

      ‘Well, Louise, I have to admit I’m very grateful you coughed all over me tonight.’ He placed a hand on her hip and stroked his fingertips up and down, tickling the line of her spine.

      Despite her wave of discomfort at him not using her real name, her body still gave a delicious shiver in response to his touch.

      ‘Just think,’ he continued, an eyebrow raised. ‘If you hadn’t we might have both been alone in our separate beds right now instead of enjoying the warm afterglow of down and dirty sex together.’

      Levering herself off him, she collapsed onto the bed, trying not to worry about how wobbly she felt.

      The slow, sad pull of loneliness that had bugged her recently had no business raising its ugly head right now. There was no room for anything other than sexual satisfaction at this precise moment.

      He turned to look at her and the jubilant expression on his face made her heart turn over.

      Down, girl.

      ‘Seriously, that was incredible. It was exactly what I needed,’ he said, rubbing a hand over his eyes, then flopping it down onto the bed next to him, a wide, satisfied grin splashed across his face.

      She took a deep controlling breath, suddenly terrified by a disorientating muddle of thoughts and feelings that hurtled through her head.

      Surely the end of a one-night stand wasn’t supposed to feel like this—so...melancholy. She should be bouncing out of there with a spring in her step, not mooching about like a lost puppy, desperate for more attention.

      From out of nowhere, the nervy fear about the meeting in the morning came back to hit her with full force in the chest.

      What the hell was she doing?

      She should get out of there. Right now.

      ‘Okay, well, good,’ she said shakily, sitting up and swinging her legs over the bed. ‘I’m gonna get going.’

      She felt the bed dip behind her as he rolled onto his side and grabbed his glasses off the nightstand.

      ‘You’re leaving? Right now?’

      ‘I have things to do tomorrow.’ She couldn’t look at him in case he saw the bewildering swirl of emotion she was battling to hide.

      She couldn’t stay, not if she had any chance of staying sane.

      And, anyway, Tristan would probably freak out if she started acting like this was anything other than a one-night stand.

      Better to cut her losses and go now.

      She jumped up off the bed and went over to where their clothes lay in a muddled heap on the floor. Flinging his things out of the way, she located all of hers and pulled them on quickly, intensely aware of his gaze on her back.

      ‘What? I gave you such an incredible orgasm there’s no point in even trying to top it?’ His tone was jokey, but she detected a faintly indignant twang.

      She laughed despite herself. ‘I’ll certainly never forget it.’ She turned back to look at him and took a step towards where he now sat on the edge of the bed, keeping a couple of feet between them. Maintaining a safe distance from that tantalising body of his. ‘But I get the feeling you wouldn’t be interested in a sleepover.’

      ‘Well, no—’

      ‘And, to be honest, I’m not a good bedfellow anyway. I move around a lot. And I steal the sheets. I’d keep you awake and you’d regret even suggesting it.’

      He was frowning now, clearly baffled by her word vomit.

      ‘It’s okay, Louise, I wasn’t suggesting that.’

      She sighed and rubbed a hand over her forehead, feeling downright sleazy now for not telling him her real name. ‘It’s been fun, Tristan. Really good fun, but I think it’s best if I don’t hang around.’

      Argh, how were you meant to do this kind of thing without sounding like a prude or a heinous bitch?

      * * *

      Tristan stood up and caught hold of Lu’s arm as she turned to go. ‘Hey, wait.’ Drawing her towards him, he bent to kiss her again for the last time, attempting to make it a kiss she’d never forget.

      The groan she gave in the back of her throat made him think he’d succeeded.

      He felt discombobulated by her sudden need to depart and wanted to slow her down, keep her for a bit longer, even if it was only for one extra minute.

      Breaking away, she gave him a look of pure regret. ‘I’m not going to be able to leave if you keep doing things like that.’

      He smiled. ‘That’s the idea.’

      Her gaze flitted to the floor and his stomach sank as he realised he’d said the wrong thing. This was a one-night-only thing. That was all he’d thought he wanted—until he’d found how sexually explosive they were together. Now he wanted to suggest he stayed in London for an extra day so they could spend one more night together—one very long night—to give them the chance to explore exactly how much more fun they could conjure up between them.

      Letting her go now seemed like such a travesty.

      Apparently Lu didn’t share his view.

      She stepped forwards to give him one last soft kiss on the lips, then turned and walked swiftly away, closing the door quietly behind her.

      And then she was gone.

      After showering, he stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, trying to ignore the way his body seemed desperate for more of Lu’s intensive attention. His eyes looked brighter than normal and his skin was flushed and glowing. That was what a good, hard bout of amazing sex did to you. It made you look and feel alive. Something he’d been missing for a while now.

      He’d been surprised by how much he’d loved the way Lu had taken control. Normally he was the one leading things in the bedroom—it had never occurred to him not to—and he’d been pleasantly surprised by just how much he’d liked it when she took over. And by how willing he was to trust her. Maybe it was because he had to be responsible in every other part of his life; handing control over to someone else for a change had been liberating.

      Going back into the bedroom, he gathered up his clothes from the floor. His gaze caught on something the size and shape of a credit card as it fell out from the folds of his shirt. He scooped it up and looked at it. It was a driver’s licence. Louise must have dropped it out of her bag when she went looking for condoms. A feeling of euphoria rose in his chest. He might have just found a reason to contact her again.

      Turning it over, he glanced quickly at the cute picture of Lu before reading the name underneath it.

      Tallulah Lazenby.

      His whole body went cold as the name sank into his brain. Why was it so familiar? And why was he experiencing this sick, sinking feeling?

      Grabbing his laptop, he opened up the mail from his father giving him the details for the meeting at the radio station tomorrow. He scanned the text until his eyes alighted on the name of the woman his father wanted to fire.

      Tallulah Lazenby.

      She’d told him her name was Louise.

      She’d