Leslie Kelly - Six Hot Summer Nights

“I worked for him. We’re friends. That’s the extent of our relationship.” Mia took the drink he offered.

“You two looked cozy when I found you.” Bronson lifted a brow, tilting his head. “And the media says otherwise.”

Mia didn’t even pretend not to know what he was talking about. Her eyes narrowed. “You should know you can’t believe everything the Hollywood tabloids print. Why do you care anyway?”

Bronson shrugged, eyes roaming over the crowd. “None of my concern what you did with your ex-employer as long as it doesn’t trickle over into my family.”

His close-to-the-truth words nearly had her choking on her champagne. Mia quickly composed herself as his eyes came back to settle on her.

“Nothing gets in the way of my job,” she assured him. “I’m thrilled to be working for your mother.”

His silence combined with his intense stare left her unsettled.

“There’s something more, isn’t there?” she asked. There had to be. Anger radiated off Bronson. “You look ready to—”

“Leave it alone, Mia.”

His firm tone left no doubt he wasn’t happy with her observation. There was something deeper than just not getting along on set, but Bronson was private and there’s no way he would tell Mia … nor was it any of her business. Yet she couldn’t help her curiosity.

“Why did my talking to Anthony get you so riled up?”

“No concern of yours.” Bronson closed his eyes briefly, then opened them and settled them on her. “Just had a flashback of another time. Another place.”

Another woman . The words hung in the air, just the same as if he’d said them. Jealousy from Bronson Dane was certainly not something she expected, but she had a strong feeling past and present were getting jumbled together.

“It’s getting late,” he told her. “I’ll walk you to your room.”

Mia handed her glass off to a passing waiter. “Of course.”

Something had transpired between those two men, and more than likely no one knew about it but them. She certainly hadn’t heard anything while working with Anthony … at least nothing out of the ordinary.

If Bronson was this angry now, she could only imagine how furious he would be once he found out Anthony was his older brother.

Bronson didn’t know what he wanted more—to know what secret Mia and Anthony had been discussing or whether or not they’d been involved.

No. That was wrong. What he wanted most right now was Mia. Naked. Whatever had happened between her and Anthony in the past was irrelevant to what he wanted now. He refused to relive any part of the last relationship he’d had with a woman he’d trusted. Trusted her so much he’d been ready to spend his life with her and their child.

Their child. That turned out to be another lie.

Bronson rid his mind of that painful time and concentrated on something he understood. Lust. Good old-fashioned lust. He wanted the sexy, sultry Italian woman who’d taunted him with her radiant beauty, her teasing jasmine scent and the power she held over him.

Ushering Mia off the elevator, Bronson snaked his arm around her waist, guiding her toward her suite at the end of the wide hall.

Silence had accompanied them from the party, though the sexual tension had been apparent between them on the ride up. Now there was just one thing on his mind.

Mia pulled her key card from her small silver clutch and opened the door.

“Do you want to come in?”

And that was all the invitation he needed.

“Yes,” he said before he palmed her face and pulled her hard against him.

This was what he’d fantasized about since seeing her wearing droplets. Desired since she’d come to Cannes and strolled into the lobby wearing that draped-back dress. But this dress, this one-shouldered number, would be so easy to peel off her. And he would be shedding her dress in a matter of seconds.

Right now, though, he concentrated on her mouth. Her perfect lips that gave all he took. The lips he’d ached for since he’d tasted them two long nights ago.

He backed her into the suite, her clutch falling from her grasp just as the door slammed behind them. Her hands clenched around his biceps and squeezed just as she let out a soft moan.

Bronson lifted his mouth just a fraction. “I’ve wanted you for days. Tell me you’re not still with Anthony.”

“I never have been,” she assured him before she captured his mouth again.

Mia was just as hot and passionate as he’d anticipated, and even more so than the other night. Perhaps because they were behind a closed door now. And Bronson had every intention of taking advantage of this privacy. No paparazzi, no media. Pure, utter privacy.

He couldn’t take in enough of her at once. He wanted her. Naked. Now.

He continued moving her into the room until the backs of her legs bumped into the decorative table in the living area. All power was lost, all control vanished. His mouth traveled down her jawline to her neck, from her bare shoulder and on to the top of the clingy dress.

Mia placed her hands behind her on the table and arched into him, offering herself up as if she’d been needing, craving this moment as much as he had.

He lifted his head and slid the thin material down her arm until she freed herself of the unwanted sleeve. An ache he didn’t remember having in a long, long time encompassed every part of him. Taking the hem of her dress, he eased it up as Mia shifted from side to side to assist.

“I don’t have protection with me,” he told her, cursing himself for being ill-prepared.

“I have some in the cosmetic bag on the table behind you.”

God bless a prepared woman. He shuffled through the bag in a hurry, found the foil wrapper and smacked it on the table next to Mia’s hip.

She’d moved the dress farther up to her waist, giving him more than a glimpse of what she wore beneath.

“Beautiful,” he whispered as his eyes landed on the small scrap of lace in the same shade of purple as her dress. He slid the garment down her toned legs and over the stilettos. The fantasy shoes had to stay.

“You don’t know how much you’ve driven me crazy.” Bronson made quick work of his pants while Mia nipped along his jawline.

“Then kiss me because I’m going just as crazy waiting.”

She scooted to the edge of the table as he donned protection. Her long legs wrapped around his waist and he lost no time in taking her.

Yes … yes. Her body moved perfectly against his, and Bronson had to work to keep from being too rough, too fast. He wanted this feeling of euphoria to last. The anticipation building up to this paled in comparison to having Mia draped all around him.

He realized then that the past two days had all been foreplay leading up to this moment. And each one of those stepping-stones, from the subtle touches to the harmless flirting, was mild when he had Mia right where he wanted her.

With her body wrapped around his, Bronson set the rhythm, pleased when an audible sigh escaped her full, moist lips.

It was those lips that had driven him crazy. Hell, the entire package made him feel like a horny teenager, but those lips mocked him when they smiled, when they talked. When they moaned.

Bronson kept the pace fast because nothing, absolutely nothing could slow him down now. He feasted on Mia’s mouth. She grabbed hold of his shoulders, gripping the tux shirt he still wore because being inside her had taken precedence over being fully undressed.

Sweat drenched the skin beneath his shirt, and a fine sheen covered Mia’s shoulders as he moved his lips down to one freed breast.

He didn’t care that this was his mother’s assistant, didn’t care if she’d had or hadn’t had a relationship with Anthony. All Bronson knew was that he wanted this woman, and what he wanted, he took. And Mia, the intriguing, dark-eyed beauty, had been onboard from the first kiss.