Chantelle Shaw - His Inexperienced Mistress

‘I didn’t read it,’ she admitted, sucking on the soft flesh of her upper lip—a nervous childhood gesture she’d never been able to master.

Tristan frowned down at her, and then must have realised she was serious because he had the gall to laugh. ‘You’re kidding.’

‘I’m glad you find it funny,’ she snapped, staring him down when his grim smile turned into a snarl.

‘Now, funny is probably the last thing I think about this situation—and here’s why. You just signed documents that place you under my protective custody until you’re either released—’ his tone implied that was about as likely as buying property on another planet ‘—or charged with possession of narcotics.’

Lily felt dizzy and leaned heavily on the bar stool at her back. ‘I don’t understand…’ She shook her head.

‘What? You thought the evidence might up and magically disappear? I’m good, Honey, but I’m not that good.’

‘No.’ She waved her hand in front of her and briefly closed her eyes. ‘The custody bit.’

‘It’s a form of house arrest.’

‘I didn’t know.’

‘Now you do. And now I’m ready to leave.’

‘No!’ Her hand hovered between them and her voice quavered. ‘Wait. Please. I…What does that mean, exactly?’

He looked at her as if she was a simpleton. ‘It means that we’re stuck with each other 24/7 for the foreseeable future, that’s what it means.’

Lily blinked. 24/7 with this gorgeous, angry man…? No way. She pressed her fingertips to her aching forehead and ordered herself to think. Surely there was another solution.

‘I can’t stay with you!’ She blurted out before her thoughts were properly in order.

His eyes sparkled into hers, as hard as polished gemstones. ‘Believe me, the thought couldn’t be more abhorrent to you than it is to me.’

‘But you should have told me!’

‘You should have read the paperwork,’ he dismissed.

He was right, and she hated that. Only it was because of him that she hadn’t read it in the first place.

‘You crowded me and told me to hurry.’

‘So now it’s my fault?’ he snapped.

‘I wasn’t blaming you.’ She swiped a hand across her brow. This was terrible. ‘But if you had warned me about what I was signing I wouldn’t have done so!’

He went still, his over-long tawny mane and square jaw giving the impression of a fully grown male lion that had just scented danger.

‘Warned you?’

Too late Lily realised he’d taken her comment as an insult.

‘And what exactly would you have done, hmm? Do tell.’

Lily pressed her lips together at his snide tone and tried not to notice how imposing he was, with his hands on his hips drawing his shoulders even wider. If she’d thought he hated her six years ago it was nothing compared to the contempt he clearly felt for her now.

And she wasn’t so much looking to put the past behind her any more as she was in burying it in a six-foot-deep hole! ‘I—I would have looked for an alternative,’ she stuttered. ‘Brainstormed other options.’

‘Brainstormed other options?’ He snorted and shook his head, as if the very notion was ludicrous. ‘We’re not in a movie rehearsal now, Honey!’

Lily’s heart thudded heavily in her chest. If he called her Honey one more time she might actually hit him. She took a deep, steadying breath and tried to remember that he felt he had a right to be angry, and that maybe, if their situations were reversed, she would feel the same way.

No, she wouldn’t. She’d be too worried for the other person to treat them so—so…indignantly.

‘Listen—’ she began, only to have her words cut off when he pushed off his bar stool and crowded her back against her own.

‘No. You listen,’ he bit out softly. ‘You don’t have a choice here. You’re no longer in charge. I am. And if you don’t like it I’ll give you another option. It’s called a prison cell. You want it—it’s back that way.’ He jerked his chin towards the entrance of the bar, his eyes never leaving hers.

Lily blanched. Lord, he was arrogant.

‘I didn’t do it,’ she enunciated, trying to keep her voice low.

‘Tell it to the judge, sweetheart, because I’m not interested in hearing your protestations of innocence.’

‘Don’t patronise me, Tristan. I’m not a child.’

‘Then stop acting like one.’

‘Damn you, I have rights.’

‘No, you had rights.’ His tone was soft, but merciless. ‘You gave up those rights the minute you waltzed through Heathrow carrying a bag full of narcotics. Your rights belong to me now, and when I say jump I expect you to ask how high.’

Lily froze. He had some nerve. ‘In your dreams,’ she scoffed, now just as angry as he was.

NO, TRISTAN thought disgustedly, when he dreamt of her she was not jumping up and down; she was usually naked, her lithe body spread out over his bed, and her soft mouth was begging him to take her. But this was no dream, and right now making love to her couldn’t be further from his mind.

Kissing that insolent curl from her luscious mouth—now, that was closer. But completely giving in to the insane desire that still uncomfortably rode his back—no. Not in this lifetime.

Not that he was at all surprised to find himself still attracted to her. Hell, she looked even better now than she had six years ago—if that was actually possible.

Even the bartender was having trouble keeping his distance—and not just because he’d probably recognised her face. Tristan doubted he’d be ogling any other actress with his tongue hanging out of his mouth, and there were many far more worthy of a second glance than this sexy little troublemaker.

No, the bartender was staring because Lily Wild looked like every man’s secret fantasy come to life—even with those dark smudges beneath those wide purple eyes. But she damned well wasn’t his. Not this time.

He should have just said no to Jordana, he realised distractedly. Should have made up a story about how it couldn’t be done.

But he had too much integrity to lie, and in the end a close friend who specialised in criminal law had pulled a rabbit from a hat and here they were. But only by the grace of some clapped-out piece of nineteenth-century legislation that he would recommend be amended at the next parliamentary sitting.

‘Did you hear me, Tristan?’ she prompted, her glorious eyes flashing with unconcealed irritation. ‘I won’t let you bully me like you did once before.’

Tristan cast her the withering glance that he usually reserved for the seediest of his courtroom opponents.

Oh, he’d heard her all right, but she had no choice in the matter, and the sooner she got that through her thick, beautiful skull the better.

‘Don’t push me, Lily,’ he grated warningly, and saw her teeth clench.

Her hands were fisted by her sides and he knew she probably wanted to thump him. Despite himself he admired her temerity. Most women in her position—hell, most men —would be grovelling or backing away, or both. Instead this little spitfire was arguing the toss, as if she might actually choose jail over him.

‘Then don’t push me!’ she returned hotly.

He looked at her and tried to remind himself that he was a first-rate lawyer who never let emotion govern his actions. ‘You signed the contract. Deal with it,’ he said curtly.

She slapped her hands on her hips, the movement dragging her oversized cardigan open and bringing his attention back to her full, unbound breasts. ‘I told you—I didn’t know what I was signing,’ she declared, as if that might actually make a difference.