Despite my better judgment—what keeps those balloons in the air anyhow?—I’m intrigued. “They do hot air ballooning here?”
His grin’s a bit sly but all he says is, “Sure do.”
God, he’s tempting. A gorgeous, sexy man volunteering to tour me around. And from the sparkle in his eye, tour guide isn’t the only service he’s offering. My blood heats in response.
Reluctantly I shake my head. I have responsibilities. “I doubt I’ll have time for tourist stuff.” I flush, embarrassed. “Um, sex is great, though. I hope we can, uh, see each other sometimes.”
He chuckles. “Figure we can work that out. And some holiday stuff too. Now eat your lunch, drink your wine, we’ll start getting things sorted.”
Despite his easygoing ways, he’s surprisingly efficient. After I make another call to confirm Nana’s all right, he guides me around the shops. I buy a couple of brightly colored tank tops, a light cardigan, shorts, a broomstick skirt in blues and greens, a turquoise bikini that for now serves as undies. My choices are brighter and more casual than what I typically wear at home, where I have that lawyer reputation to maintain, but they suit the sun and the extravagant tropical flowers.
Mick’s persuading me into a holiday mood, as he pulls clothes off the racks for me to try, teases me about my choices, drapes an arm over my shoulder while I study shop windows. Each glance, each touch, sends a little zing through me, making me think of and crave sex with him.
I try to keep my focus. Next on my list, clothes for Nana. Easy here, because she’s always enjoyed vivid colors. Then I say, “Now I need a suit and proper shoes, to see the lawyer.”
“Don’t need to be stuffy, to get business done.”
Hmm. Maybe I don’t, in the village of Clifton Beach. Can I actually go in the broomstick skirt and green flip-flops? I laugh, loud and free. “Why not?”
He pulls me close for a kiss that has me tingling from head to toe. And mostly in between.
“What’s that for?”
“Felt like it. You’re so pretty, so sexy, such a good sport about all this crap that’s been happening to you. Just makes me want to kiss you. And by the way, when I kiss you…” He presses his groin against me suggestively.
My body heats and I ease away. “Me too. And you’re the good sport. Spending your day off helping me get my life back in order.”
He laughs. “Yeah, major hardship, spending time with you.”
God, but he’s sweet.
“You’re saying you actually enjoy shopping with a woman?”
He shrugs. “Maybe wouldn’t be my first pick. But a person can turn anything into fun, right?”
Well, Mick sure can.
Next on the list is a drugstore, which he calls a chemist’s. He waits outside for that one, but when I stop at a lingerie store he’s through the door ahead of me.
“Here, this’ll suit you.” He holds out a black silk and lace camisole with matching tap pants.
They’re the kind of thing I’d have picked for myself. My taste in undies has always bordered on risqué. Have to do something to balance that sedate lawyer exterior.
Mick’s hand brushes the side of my breast. “Try them on. I’ll find you some other stuff.”
The salesclerk, an older woman, is occupied with two giggling girls who are picking out items for one’s honeymoon. She waves me toward the back of the store.
There, I find a decent-sized fitting room. When I change into the black lingerie, the mirror gives me back a reflection that makes me grin. Just wait until Mick sees me like this. If he liked me in baggy PJs, he’ll love me in black lace.
The fitting room door begins to open and I let out a squeak, then see it’s Mick, carrying slinky and lacy clothes in all shades. His eyes widen. “Knew you’d look good in that.” He drops the other clothes on the chair. “Gives a bloke ideas.”
Then he locks the door and pulls me into his arms, leaning down, slanting his mouth across mine, beginning a kiss that’s soft and seductive. He doesn’t give me a chance to respond; his lips are on the prowl—across my cheek, over to my ear. He sucks the lobe, darts his tongue inside. I imagine that sexy mouth on my pussy and feel my tap pants growing damp.
“Oh yeah,” he whispers, “lots of ideas.” He pulls me up against him, so I can’t avoid knowing what kind of ideas. His cock’s hard and all my female parts quicken in response.
I groan. “Mick, we can’t.”
“Can too. Just have to be quick. And quiet.”
This is insane. We’ll be caught. Arrested, or at the very least, embarrassed and tossed out on the street.
Me in a cami and tap pants, Mick with his shorts and boxer briefs down around his ankles, which is where he’s shoved them while I’ve been making a list of the “cons” of doing this. There’s one very big “pro,” though. His hungry erection, staring up at me.
And another. The hunger in my own body, that’s been building since we woke up.
He brushes the pile of lingerie off the chair, finds a condom in his shorts pocket, sits down. “Come here,” he murmurs, sheathing himself.
My aching pussy won’t let me say no. Hurriedly I step out of the tap pants then I’m climbing onto his lap, facing him. He reaches between us, eases himself inside me as I lower and stretch to encompass him. His arms go around my shoulders and then he’s kissing me, not soft and teasing any more but demanding, urgent.
I kiss him back the same way, my body lifting and falling in a rhythm that’s beyond thought, beyond control. Purely physical, building the friction, the tension, driving toward climax.
I whimper and his kiss swallows the sound.
There’s a light tap on the door and we both freeze.
“Yes?” I call, voice strained.
Mick shifts position and I can barely stifle a moan.
“Everything all right in there?” the woman calls.
“Fine. Good.”
His eyes meet mine, full of laughter.
“Got the right sizes?” she asks.
Now it’s a giggle I’m stifling. “Perfect fit so far.”
“Sorry I’ve been so tied up with those other girls.”
I borrow one of Mick’s expressions. “No worries. I’m doing fine on my own.”
He rocks his hips to remind me—as if I needed any reminding—that I’m definitely not doing this on my own. My muscles contract involuntarily, gripping him, and the laughter fades from his eyes as the blue
