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Mia ran her fingers through his hair, fisted them and pulled. His eyelids fluttered closed again and he groaned as the pain forced his lust higher, made his dick harder, the anticipation sweeter.
“Make it more than one,” she whispered against his lips.
“As you wish,” he whispered back, knowing he’d do anything for his girl.
Fulfil any request, follow wherever she led.
Ollie thought he’d known what it was to love Mia, but nothing had prepared him for the wealth of emotion he felt as he stared into her eyes and made love to her again and again on that sultry spring afternoon.
He gave her everything that day.
His heart.
His soul.
He would love her forever.
If she let him.
Chapter One
Melville’s Cross, January, present day.
Oliver Bennett smiled,and the woman sitting opposite him held her breath.
It was a common reaction, and one he knew how to elicit with little effort. As the second youngest of nine siblings, Ollie had grown up learning to read body language, learning to listen, and realising what people didn’t say was sometimes just as important, if not more, than what they did.
Leaning towards him with her arms spread open on the table, her head tilted slightly to one side, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes slightly downcast so she could look up at him from under her thick, luxurious and obviously fake eyelashes, her body language practically screamed “Yes, Iama sure thing.” And after releasing the breath he was sure even she hadn’t realised she’d been holding, she gulped down a lungful of air, causing her breasts to rise and fall in a way designed to attract his attention.
And attract his attention they did.
Creamy flesh swelled above the low-cut neckline of her tight red T-shirt, and a slow appreciative perusal revealed two perfectly pebbled nipples poking against the soft-looking cotton. Oliver could well imagine how they’d feel in his hands and taste on his tongue as he laved them with attention. Oh yeah, he was a boob man, and breasts—especially a pair as nice as….
Shit.
He’d completely blanked on her name.
Something beginning with anH… Helen, Heidi….Crap.
Ollie mentally listed all theHnames he could think of, waiting for a pause in the conversation so he could apologise and ask the pretty blonde for her name again, but she continued talking as though her need to breathe was secondary to pushing words out of her mouth.
She was up from Adelaide… here for her cousin’s wedding… yadda, yadda, yadda… and “Oh-em-gee, Melville’s Crossing is just the cutest little town.”
Oliver’s eye twitched, and he forced a smile. “Melville’s Cross,” he said, cutting off her one-sided conversation.
“Pardon?”
“It’s Melville’s Cross, not Crossing.”
The blonde shrugged and twirled a lock of long hair around her slender fingers in a way designed to draw his attention back to her breasts. “What’s the difference?”
“Well, ‘crossing’ would suggest John Melville was just passing through when he discovered the place,” he said, making eye contact again, “and not looking to build a settlement.”
The indifferent look on the woman’s face told him there was little point in continuing the history lesson, so he smiled again and reached for his beer.
“So, what’s there to do around here on a Friday night?”
Ten years ago—hell, twelve months ago—he would have suggested going back to wherever the lady was staying for a couple drinks and a night of no-holds-barred fucking. It was a routine he knew well, one that was beneficial to both parties involved and always ended amicably. Ollie got laid, the lady got an evening of pussy pampering, and everyone went home happy. Win-win.
