Far From Perfect by Portia Da Costa

and even though she should have been appalled, and fought him for his profound male arrogance, she couldn’t. In fact it only seemed to fuel her flame.
    When he freed her mouth her head tipped back against the wall and she moaned again as he dealt swiftly with the buttons at the neck of her nightshirt. Her shoulder bared, he pressed his lips against her naked throat. His tongue, hot and moist, moved delicately over the soft skin there, and once again her pelvis jerked and moved against him.
    Long, graceful hands roved over her body, scorching her through the cotton cloth. And when his mouth claimed hers once more, opening her lips with a crushing, confounding pressure, she felt him pluck at the nightshirt’s hem and slide it swiftly and deftly upwards.
    Her plundered mouth tried vainly to form the word “no”…but it was only going through the motions, an empty gesture. Her heart, her body and soul were screaming “Yes! Yes! Yes!” And that was the cry that Nick was hearing too.
    Hot fingertips slid tantalizingly over her bottom and her hip and then spread across her inner thigh, searching, searching…and finding. A heartbeat later, he took possession of the very quick of her.
    Still kissing her, still owning her lips and her tongue with his, he began to gently caress the core of her pleasure.
    Nick! Oh Nick! she cried inside, loving his touch, hungering for it after four years of arid famine.
    It didn’t take long. Her need was too great, and his skills ineffable. With a ragged whimper into his mouth, she convulsed in climax.

Chapter Four
    “Look, I just don’t want to talk about Nick this morning, Lyd. We’ve got a lot of work to get through and we haven’t got time to waste on him .”
    Not to the mention the fact she didn’t want to risk her face burning as pink as a peony. Something that happened every time she thought about that scorching encounter last night. It was a sure giveaway, and Lydia would pounce on it.
    Every last shred of composure shattered, she’d simply run from the kitchen like a scalded cat when Nick had finally released her from his arms. She’d been too mortified and too confused even to speak, much less make any sense.
    How could she have let him touch her like that? And yet, in her heart, and in her still-tingling body, she knew it had been exactly what she’d wanted. What she’d invited, goddamn her libido.
    But the truth was still unpalatable. As was her cowardice. Unable to face anybody, she’d been out of the house at the crack of dawn, without breakfast or even coffee.
    By six thirty, bleary eyed from less than two hours sleep, and halfway down an early morning Starbucks, she’d been at her desk, sifting through a pile of CVs from prospective applicants. Not that her judgment was really up to it. A serial axe murderer or a porn star could probably have slipped past her at the moment.
    And now, unsurprisingly, Lydia was demanding all the dirt from last night. Anna had half expected the older woman to know most of it already, at least the bits that were fit for public consumption, but it seemed that neither Nick nor her father had yet broadcast any word of the engagement.
    But why not?
    Nick had every reason to make things public immediately, and she couldn’t see her father being able to contain the news of his dearest wish come true for very long.
    “Something happened. I know it,” Lydia persisted, looking disgustingly fresh and unaffected by the amount of champagne she’d consumed the previous evening. “There’s still chemistry between the two of you. Even a blind man in blinkers can see that. And chemistry will out, my sweet. Always. Just you believe it,” she finished triumphantly.
    “That’s bullshit, Lyd.” Anna strained every nerve to project an airy, unconcerned good humor. “Okay, so Nick’s staying at Deverill Square, but that’s it. I didn’t even see him after the party. And I haven’t seen him since.”
    Liar, liar, pants on fire!
    She felt a