His Mistress for a Week

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  Alistair folded the brochure and put it in his trouser pocket. He needed his head read. The last thing he needed was a new project when he was neck-deep in his current one. Which he was sorely neglecting while mooching around the French Riviera with a girl he had no business thinking about as anything other than a casual fling. Even if everyone they met thought they were the ideal couple. Sheesh. He wasn’t ideal for anyone and certainly not Clementine Scott with her Cinderella complex.

  ‘Could I have a look around the garden one more time?’ Clem asked once the agent had locked up the villa and driven off to another appointment.

  ‘Sure, why not?’ Alistair said, taking her hand because the ground was uneven and he didn’t want her to take a tumble. Or so he told himself.

  Her fingers curled around his and she gave him a smile that made something inside his chest ping. ‘Thanks for bringing me here. This has been the best day.’

  He leaned down and pressed a light-as-air kiss to her mouth. But when he began to ease back her lips somehow clung to his and he was suddenly pressing his mouth down in a kiss that made his blood shoot to his groin. He gathered her lush body close, drawing her to the ache and throb of his desire. She made a soft gasping sound, as if the press of his body to hers was as exciting as hers was to his. It was more than exciting. It was thrilling. It was giving him wicked thoughts of taking her behind the bushes like a caveman.

  Once the thought took hold in his mind, it took even firmer hold on his body. His erection swelled against her, but instead of pulling back out of shyness she leaned closer, her mouth fused to his, her hands moving with desperate urgency over his chest, releasing his buttons and sliding her palms over his pectoral muscles.

  ‘Ever had al fresco sex?’ he asked against her mouth.

  She pulled back to look at him with wide eyes. ‘You mean here? Outside, where people might see us?’

  He drew her hips back to his. ‘Who’s going to see us? The garden is overgrown and the agent isn’t coming back. He’s got an appointment in Grasse. It’s just you and me and a condom. What do you say?’

  Her expression looked both excited and uncertain. ‘I’ve never had sex anywhere but in a bed. In fact, I’ve only had sex a handful of times.’

  ‘How many times?’

  She lowered her gaze to stare at the open neck of his shirt. ‘Before you, three, and not one of them worth remembering.’

  She was practically a virgin. Somehow the thought of him being the only one to bring her pleasure made him feel... Proud wasn’t the right word; honoured was more like it. He had taught her how to be comfortable in her body, to learn how to relax and enjoy the erotic power of sex.

  Was her inexperience the reason why sex with her had been so different? So special? As if she had crawled deep inside his skin and touched him where no one had touched him before. Sex was a physical release he had always enjoyed, but with Clem he had felt it go to a different level. A deeper level of intimacy. A connection of mind and body he hadn’t expected to feel. She brought out something in him that made him feel more of a man than he had ever felt before. Her body responded to him like a delicate instrument that hadn’t been played properly in the past. He felt her pleasure as keenly as he felt his own. It intensified his pleasure, taking it to a whole new level of fulfilment. With previous partners he’d had sex, but with Clem he’d made love.

  He brought up her chin so she met his gaze. ‘Maybe now’s not the right time or place to make love.’

  Disappointment moved across her features like a shadow. ‘If you’d rather not...’

  He brushed her lower lip with his thumb. ‘I’m thinking about your comfort, Clem.’

  She gave him a movement of her lips that was almost a smile. ‘Thanks.’

  Alistair gave her one last lingering kiss. There was a sweet poignancy to it, a reminder to him that within a few days he would no longer be able to kiss her, to touch her, to make love to her. They would go their separate ways and it might be another ten years, or double or triple that, before he saw or heard from her again. He would have nothing but the memory of her touch, of her caresses, of her physical trust in him that had made him feel closer to her than to any other partner.

  They drove back to Monaco in a companionable silence. Alistair broke it occasionally to point out various landmarks but he got the sense Clem was deep in thought. She had a little frown on her forehead that would smooth out whenever he addressed a comment to her, but every time he glanced at her later it would be back, like little wrinkles in a bolt of silk.

  Had the trip down memory lane upset her? Brought back memories of a short time in her life that had been happy? His childhood had been so different from hers. Hers had been one of disadvantage from the outset. He couldn’t imagine how it must have been to be shifted around from place to place, never having the opportunity to settle, to have her schooling interrupted constantly, to have to make new friends in new places, only to have to do it all again whenever her mother moved on. Was that why Clem was so fascinated with all things old? It was not just the rare books she loved; he had seen the way she had touched other objects in the antiques shop. Her hand had glided over the old furniture, the old china and silverware, as if she was imagining having a home of her own one day filled with such treasures.

  If she was handing out money to her mother all the time, and taking on too much responsibility for her brother, then how the heck could she afford to live? She did well to keep a roof over her head and clothes on her back.

  At least he had been able to spoil her. The pleasure he had got from buying her those clothes was still sitting inside his chest like a warm glow. She was not the type of girl to take advantage of anyone’s largesse. She was fiercely independent and feisty, and he admired her for it.

  More than admired her...

  He squeezed the brakes on the thought. He wasn’t going to commit to a relationship even if the sex was the best he’d ever had. It wouldn’t be fair to Clem to prolong their fling in case she started seeing him as the potential father of her children. The fact that perfect strangers were already seeing it was darn right annoying.

  What right did people have to put such ideas in his head? He didn’t want kids yet. Not for ages. Maybe not ever. He didn’t want the responsibility, the expense or the heartache. He had watched his mother grieve the loss of his brother. The grief had started on the day Ollie had been born, when the devastating diagnosis was delivered. Even as young as he was back then, Alistair had watched his little brother struggle from day one, fighting to stay alive, every day a challenge that had ripped his mother’s heart to shreds and ultimately destroyed his family.

  He was fine with his life the way it was...or he had been until Clem had come back into his life.

  You brought her back in.

  It was harder to push his thoughts back. They kept coming like soldiers marching through a paltry cardboard barrier. Yes, he had brought her back into his life. Why had he done that? Why hadn’t he gone straight to the police and let them deal with her brother?

  Because there was a part of him that had always wondered how Clem was getting on. A part he’d barely known existed until he’d found himself walking through the door of her shop. He had wanted to see her, and her brother had given him an excellent excuse to do so. As soon as his eyes had met hers that day something happened. Something he couldn’t explain. He’d felt a connection, like a current of energy passing from her body to his, linking them, tying them in a way he had never felt with anyone else before. She fascinated him. She intrigued him. She delighted him.

  He glanced at her and his chest seized as if a hand had reached inside his ribcage and grabbed his heart.

  He couldn’t imagine how it would be never to see her again. Never to see her smile. Never to see her look at him with that sparkling glare that made the base of his spine shiver. Never to feel her luscious body gripping him as she came around him.

  He would have to keep his distance. He couldn’t just turn up at her
shop to see how she was getting on. He would have to let her move on with her life while he moved on with his.

  But what sort of life was his going to be without her?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  IT WAS STILL hot when they got back to their hotel. Clem thought longingly of the pool she’d glimpsed from their window but her natural shyness about being in public in a swimsuit kept her from suggesting a refreshing dip.

  Alistair came up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. Feeling the tall, strong tower of his body behind her made everything that was female in her quiver. He turned her in his arms, his gaze meeting hers in an I-want-you-right-now lock. ‘I was going to suggest a swim,’ he said. ‘But I want you all to myself.’

  Clem’s belly fluttered like the rapid shuffle of a deck of cards. The desire he had triggered back at the deserted villa had been on slow burn ever since. Simmering in her body like smouldering coals, the same smouldering coals she could see burning in his gaze. She slipped her arms around his neck, his mouth meeting hers in a kiss that inflamed her senses. His tongue glided into her mouth in one sexy thrust that mimicked the erotic intention of his desire. His erection pounded thickly against her belly, the urgency of it thrilling her.

  He walked her backwards towards the bed, his hands working on her clothes while she worked less effectually at his. Shirts, shoes, bra and knickers fell off her like she was shedding a skin. He kicked off his shoes, shrugged off his shirt and stepped out of his trousers and underwear with a deftness that reminded her of his vast experience compared to hers.

  But she didn’t want to make comparisons. He wanted her now and that was all that mattered. A fling was a fling. It wasn’t a relationship with a future.

  The backs of her knees came into contact with the bed and she went down, giving a little bounce when he joined her. His mouth was back on hers, feeding from it like it was his only source of sustenance. Her tongue duelled with his in a catch-me-if-you-can caper that made her toes curl in delight. His hands gripped her by the hips in a slightly possessive manner that made her desire for him escalate. It surged through her like a speeding train—a desperate need that clawed at her insides, creating great spasms of want deep in her core.

  She whimpered as his mouth worked its drugging magic on hers, his tongue flicking, darting, circling hers in a dance of lust, let off the leash, that made her wonder how she had survived for this long without this intensity of feeling. He awoke the wild woman in her, the passionate woman she had had under lockdown for most of her adult life. The heat of her desire for him licked along her body like a spreading trail of fire. Nerves she hadn’t known existed clamoured to be touched, stroked, satisfied.

  He caressed her breasts with his hands, his lips, his tongue, subjecting them to a torturously slow, sensual exploration that had her spine arching off the bed. But she was too far gone for all the preliminaries.

  She wanted him.

  Now.

  The tension in her body built to a crescendo, the swelling of her clitoris as it hungered for the friction of his body making her reach for him, drawing him to her aching need.

  ‘Condom.’ The word was more of a groan than a comment, giving her some idea of his own struggle to keep control.

  He had to leave her momentarily to source protection and her body felt the loss keenly, aching, quaking, shaking with a need so powerful it made her wonder how on earth she could ever feel this way with anyone else. It was his touch, his body, his desire for her that made hers so unstoppable. He made her feel more of a woman with one look from those kindling grey-blue eyes than a thousand looks from another man. Not that she’d had anything like a thousand looks from other men, but still.

  Clem welcomed him back, snaking her arms around his waist when he came down, flinging one leg over her hip, positioning her for his entry. It was swift and sure, slick and deep, and it made her gasp out loud.

  He checked himself, looking down at her with that flicker of concern in his gaze that made it so hard for her to keep her feelings locked away. ‘Too fast?’

  ‘Not fast enough.’ She brought his head back down and kissed him, stroking her tongue over the surface of his mouth like it was the most delicious thing she had ever tasted.

  He made a deep groan and thrust again, moving with increasing pace, the contact of his flesh against hers making her tighten her legs around him, holding him to her, desperate for that final push but not quite able to get there.

  He slipped a hand between their sweat-slicked bodies, his fingers finding her sweet spot and tipping her over the edge. The orgasm hit her hard, rolling, rippling, rioting through her like a firestorm. She shuddered and shook with the enormous power of it, losing control of her body like she was a rag doll being shaken by a tantrum-throwing child.

  His release came within seconds of hers: the pumping action of his body; the primal groan that sounded as if it came from somewhere deep inside him; the peppering of his flesh in a shower of goose bumps made her feel more at home in her body than she had ever felt before.

  This was what it felt like to be a woman. To be celebrated as an equal partner in the most intimate of connections. The physical trust that had built up between them made her feel safe, protected, unashamed at giving free rein to her desire and its expression.

  Alistair took care of the condom and came back to her, resting a gentle hand on her hip, his gaze searching hers. ‘Not too sore?’

  Clem traced the rueful line of his mouth. ‘Not a bit.’

  He brushed some sticky strands of hair back from her forehead, his touch as tender as it was electrifying. ‘Do you fancy a shower?’

  I fancy you. She saw the fresh wave of desire burning in his gaze, knowing he could see the very same in hers. She stroked her hand down the side of his lean jaw, her insides curling, coiling, clenching in anticipation. ‘You mean together?’

  His eyes darkened with sensual promise. ‘Of course. Saves water and it’s twice the fun.’

  Clem followed him into the shower cubicle and stood under the spray of water as his arms gathered her to his already hard body. The sensation of the water cascading over her body while pressed up against his was deliciously sensual. All of her erogenous zones leapt in excitement. An excitement he tantalised by putting his mouth on each and every one, using his lips and tongue until she was barely able to stand upright.

  He suckled on her breasts, rolling his tongue over and around her nipples, stroking the sensitive underside of her ribcage down lower to the cave of her belly button. She watched as his wet head went lower, down to the heart of her desire, the throbbing, aching heart of need that begged for release.

  He crouched down in front of her, parting her with his fingers, his tongue stroking her into a frenzied orgasm that shook her body from head to foot. Her knees buckled; her hands had to dig deeply into the muscles of his shoulders otherwise she would have fallen. Looking down at him feasting on her in such an erotic manner intensified her pleasure.

  He came back upright, his eyes glinting with satisfaction that he had reduced her to a quivering bundle of nerve endings. She hadn’t thought her body capable of even more pleasure than he had already subjected it to. She hadn’t thought she could make any man want her in such a wickedly mind-blowing way. She hadn’t thought she would ever want to go down on her knees and reach for a man and open her mouth over him.

  But she did.

  Clem wouldn’t allow his caution—or was it consideration?—to stop her. She stroked her tongue over him from the tip to the base while the water from the shower anointed her. She cradled his scrotum in one hand while the other massaged his length until it was pulsing and straining with arousal. She glanced up to see the sensual torture on his face and heard his breathless groan as she brought her mouth back to him, closing around him, sucking, drawing on him until he grasped her by the hair and pulled her away.

  ‘Not without a condom.’

  That was the problem with flings: you couldn’t bend the rules. You could
n’t indulge in every erotic fantasy unless you were in a secure and strictly monogamous relationship. The longing to be in such a relationship with Alistair was as intense as her desire for him.

  Alistair stepped out of the shower and rummaged in his shaving bag situated next to her perfectly aligned row of toiletries on the marble counter near the twin basins. He came back dressed for action but, instead of allowing her to continue what she’d started, he gently pushed her back against the wall of the shower. His look said it all: I want you. I want you hard. I want you fast. I want to hear you scream in ecstasy.

  Clem shivered when he gripped her by the hips, hitching up one of her legs so it was hooked over his hip, all the while watching her with a gaze simmering with lust.

  The first thrust sent her head back against the marbled wall. He checked himself and put a hand behind her head like a cushion. He thrust again, not as hard, but she could see the struggle to keep his head playing out on his face. Her body welcomed him, clenching him with greedy muscles. She stepped up on tiptoe, searching for that extra bit of friction and finding it. The orgasm was an earthquake through her body, a tumultuous eruption of sensations that rippled through every inch of her flesh. She heard a cry and realised with a shock it had come from her. A high, keening sound that was as primal and primitive as the deep, satisfied grunts Alistair made as he emptied.

  He rested his forehead on hers, his breathing just as hectic as hers as the water showered down over them like a baptism of bliss.

  Clem held him by the hips, her breasts bridging the gap between their upper bodies. She looked down at them pressed against his chest, the darkness of his skin and the light creaminess of hers such an arousing sight it made her desire flicker anew.

  He straightened and reached for the shampoo and, squeezing some into the palm of his hand, began to massage it into her hair. Clem hadn’t thought her scalp was sensitive until his masterful hands soaped up her hair into a rich, creamy lather. The suds drifted down her neck and shoulders and over her breasts, adding another layer of sensuality. She took the shampoo bottle, squirted some into her hand and did the same to his scalp; she had to step on tiptoe to reach, but that only made it all the more exciting as it brought her pelvis flush against his.