the door and then shrugged; she’d never hear him over
the noise. Ignoring the little voice that told him he was invading
her privacy he tried the handle and opened the door.
Strolling into
the house he cocked his head.
She was
singing.
No, that could
never be called singing, more like howling or screeching.
And he winced
as her shriek didn’t make a long top note.
Nico stepped
into the kitchen and every particle of angry frustration drained
away.
Oblivious she had an
audience to her hips bumping and grinding, Bronte stripped off her
top, swung it around her head and tossed it.
The sweater
sailed through the air to land at his feet.
Nico picked it
up without taking his eyes from her.
Absently, he
rubbed the wool between his fingers. Absorbing the warmth from her
body and inhaling her scent.
She wore black
fitness pants slung low, low on her hips, a short skinny vest with
no bra and bare feet.
Still
blissfully unaware of his presence, she shook her bottom.
Blonde hair,
piled in an incredibly sexy knot on top of head, accentuated that
long delicate neck. Her ears, small and perfect, hugged her
scalp.
Nico grinned as
he spotted a black sock over the kettle and another in the middle
of the fruit bowl. Rihanna blasted through the speakers telling
everyone to please don’t stop the music.
Please don’t he
begged leaning his shoulder against the door frame to enjoy the
show. Guilt that he was witnessing something terribly private
elbowed him in the ribs, but Nico ignored it. He wouldn’t have
missed this for the world. God knew she couldn’t sing but the girl
had moves.
Skipping to a
fridge, her tight little bottom wiggled in perfect time to the beat
and Nico bit down hard on a knuckle.
With a bottle
of water as a microphone the fabulous Ms Ludlow step-touched with a
sexy swing of her hips, shook her booty and strutted her stuff.
Spinning round
he saw her stunning face was flushed with exertion.
She opened her
eyes and saw him.
Those fabulous
eyes bugged out of her head.
Jogging
frantically on the spot Bronte screamed her lungs out.
Pure reflex had
him catch the bottle that almost beaned him between the eyes.
“You bastard!”
She was on him like a wildcat.
A flying fist
caught him on the chin as she clung to his back.
An arm locked
him in a strangle hold.
Endless legs
wound around his waist like a vice.
“Christ,
Bronte, stop.”
Roaring with
laughter, Nico couldn’t catch his breath.
His eyes
watered as she did her best to rip his hair out of his scalp.
When her teeth
sank into his shoulder, he yelled, “Okay, that’s it!”
“How dare you
come into my home?” Through clenched teeth her voice growled in his
ear, “You almost gave me a heart attack.”
She made a
determined effort to twist his earlobe off and he’d had enough.
Nico landed
back against a wall. Her breath whooshed from her lungs.
He spun, pinned
her arms above her head and pressed his body against hers.
Her knee thrust
missed unmanning him by a whisker.
Panting now,
her eyes spat green fire into his.
The feel of her
struggling under him sent blood racing to his loins.
Those eyes grew
wary now.
She trembled
and not just from fury.
“Let me go. I
mean it.”
Her voice was
high as her breath heaved in short bursts and he couldn’t take his
eyes from her mouth. Her heart bucked against his and the scent of
her shampoo and pure Bronte made his mouth water. A pink tongue
licked her top lip and he wanted, needed, to taste, to take.
A soft whimper
made him look into her eyes and what he saw there, arousal battling
with alarm, made him stop.
He’d already
taken a misstep with her last night and he wasn’t going to take
another.
Chest heaving
Nico released her and moved back, palms up in a gesture of
peace.
She needed to
take a minute.
Her heart was
threatening to implode in her chest and Bronte thought she was going to have a heart attack. For a second she’d thought
he wasn’t going to let her go then when he
the noise. Ignoring the little voice that told him he was invading
her privacy he tried the handle and opened the door.
Strolling into
the house he cocked his head.
She was
singing.
No, that could
never be called singing, more like howling or screeching.
And he winced
as her shriek didn’t make a long top note.
Nico stepped
into the kitchen and every particle of angry frustration drained
away.
Oblivious she had an
audience to her hips bumping and grinding, Bronte stripped off her
top, swung it around her head and tossed it.
The sweater
sailed through the air to land at his feet.
Nico picked it
up without taking his eyes from her.
Absently, he
rubbed the wool between his fingers. Absorbing the warmth from her
body and inhaling her scent.
She wore black
fitness pants slung low, low on her hips, a short skinny vest with
no bra and bare feet.
Still
blissfully unaware of his presence, she shook her bottom.
Blonde hair,
piled in an incredibly sexy knot on top of head, accentuated that
long delicate neck. Her ears, small and perfect, hugged her
scalp.
Nico grinned as
he spotted a black sock over the kettle and another in the middle
of the fruit bowl. Rihanna blasted through the speakers telling
everyone to please don’t stop the music.
Please don’t he
begged leaning his shoulder against the door frame to enjoy the
show. Guilt that he was witnessing something terribly private
elbowed him in the ribs, but Nico ignored it. He wouldn’t have
missed this for the world. God knew she couldn’t sing but the girl
had moves.
Skipping to a
fridge, her tight little bottom wiggled in perfect time to the beat
and Nico bit down hard on a knuckle.
With a bottle
of water as a microphone the fabulous Ms Ludlow step-touched with a
sexy swing of her hips, shook her booty and strutted her stuff.
Spinning round
he saw her stunning face was flushed with exertion.
She opened her
eyes and saw him.
Those fabulous
eyes bugged out of her head.
Jogging
frantically on the spot Bronte screamed her lungs out.
Pure reflex had
him catch the bottle that almost beaned him between the eyes.
“You bastard!”
She was on him like a wildcat.
A flying fist
caught him on the chin as she clung to his back.
An arm locked
him in a strangle hold.
Endless legs
wound around his waist like a vice.
“Christ,
Bronte, stop.”
Roaring with
laughter, Nico couldn’t catch his breath.
His eyes
watered as she did her best to rip his hair out of his scalp.
When her teeth
sank into his shoulder, he yelled, “Okay, that’s it!”
“How dare you
come into my home?” Through clenched teeth her voice growled in his
ear, “You almost gave me a heart attack.”
She made a
determined effort to twist his earlobe off and he’d had enough.
Nico landed
back against a wall. Her breath whooshed from her lungs.
He spun, pinned
her arms above her head and pressed his body against hers.
Her knee thrust
missed unmanning him by a whisker.
Panting now,
her eyes spat green fire into his.
The feel of her
struggling under him sent blood racing to his loins.
Those eyes grew
wary now.
She trembled
and not just from fury.
“Let me go. I
mean it.”
Her voice was
high as her breath heaved in short bursts and he couldn’t take his
eyes from her mouth. Her heart bucked against his and the scent of
her shampoo and pure Bronte made his mouth water. A pink tongue
licked her top lip and he wanted, needed, to taste, to take.
A soft whimper
made him look into her eyes and what he saw there, arousal battling
with alarm, made him stop.
He’d already
taken a misstep with her last night and he wasn’t going to take
another.
Chest heaving
Nico released her and moved back, palms up in a gesture of
peace.
She needed to
take a minute.
Her heart was
threatening to implode in her chest and Bronte thought she was going to have a heart attack. For a second she’d thought
he wasn’t going to let her go then when he
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