The Playboy Bachelor

by Lynn Burke

Forget the white wedding and loving “I dos,” though. I enjoyed the single life and having a different woman every other night of the week. The fact I’d been celibate since making eye contact with Wren for the first time lit a flicker of caution in my brain, but I pushed the feeling aside and focused on wooing and having her in every way I’d imagined.

  Wren

  One more night down, one day closer to graduation. Tired as hell and bleary-eyed, I pulled into my parking spot. In my rearview, I noted Blake’s truck. He’d been at the job site early every morning for close to a week. Not that I complained. I enjoyed an eyeful of hotness while relaxing with my coffee before classes.

  Stifling a yawn, I climbed out of my car and rounded my neighbor’s, my stairs coming into view. Blake sat on the bottom step.

  I hesitated, heart skipped a beat at the grin on his face, and started forward again. He held two Dunks in his large hands, elbows resting on his knees.

  “Good morning,” he said, blue eyes lighting up my boring world.

  “It is.” I returned his smile but held myself in reserve. “How’s the cold?”

  “Gone thanks to you.” He stood and handed me one of the coffees.

  I stared at it a moment, knowing full well he wasn’t there simply to thank me for helping him pick out cold medication. But, I didn’t want to be rude.

  Our fingers brushed as I took the cup, and same as at the pharmacy, a shot of something luscious swirled its way straight to my clit.

  “Thanks.” I took a sip, my attention on his smiling face. “Mmm.”

  “Two sugars, one cream,” he said.

  “How’d you know?”

  He shrugged. “Just seemed right.”

  “Well done.” I smiled for real.

  His grin widened and he stuck his free hand in his jeans pocket.

  “So?” I raised a brow and waited for him to get to his point.

  “I’d love to take you out to dinner this weekend.”

  “Thanks, but no.” I shifted my purse forward, hinting I wanted to get up the stairs.

  His brow furrowed. “Why not?”

  “You’re not used to hearing no, are you?”

  The damn sexy grin returned as he shook his head.

  “Well, Mr. Harper, I’ll be honest—”

  “Please do.”

  “I know who you are and what you’re like.”

  “Oh?” Damn bedroom eyes twinkled. “And what’s that?”

  I took a sip of my coffee. “Not my type.”

  He laughed, and tingles jiggled low in my belly. “What’s not your type?”

  “A playboy who has a different woman every night.”

  “That’s quite the conclusion for having just met me,” he said, still smiling.

  “You’re wasting your time.”

  His lips took on more of a sexy smirk, and he stepped closer, peering down at me. “Am I?”

  “I’m not the next notch on your belt,” I said as a shiver slid down my spine.

  The tension between us grew as we stared at each other in silence. He loomed over me, but I didn’t budge. Didn’t look away.

  “You need to loosen up, Wren Shipman,” he finally said.

  Damn. He remembered my whole name. “I can’t afford to.”

  Blake rocked back onto his heels, creating some space between us. “Why not?”

  I inhaled a deep breath. “Between work, school, studying for finals … I don’t need any emotional complications, thank you very much.”

  “Have dinner with me Friday night.”

  “No.”

  His sexy-as-hell smirk, ten times more erotically potent than his grin, flushed me from head to toe. “I’m not above begging.”

  Damn the man to hell … on his knees and pleading up at me with those sky blue eyes. I swallowed, my heartbeat thumping.

  “You know you want to,” he said, his gaze roaming down to the pulse jumping in my neck.

  “I have to go,” I whispered, hurrying around him and up the stairs on shaking legs.

  “See you tomorrow, little birdie.” I heard him call as I unlocked my apartment door.

  Damn, damn, damn. Eyes closed, I shut myself in and leaned back against the door. A measure of relief relaxed my shoulders—I’d held strong in denying him—but part of me hoped he would get on his knees and beg.

  Me, little brown nothing Wren, going out to dinner with the North Shore’s Bachelor of the Year.

  I snorted and tossed my purse onto the table. “No way in hell,” I spoke my mind, but my body argued, arousal coating my panties and leaving me breathless.

  Blake

  “Well?” Reid asked, as I walked into the trailer office.

  “Says I’m not her type.”

  Reid barked with laughter, propping his feet up on my desk as I collapsed into my chair. “Has you pegged, does she?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Sucks for you.”

  “No shit.” I glanced out the window at the old Victorian. “For a taste of that sweet, raspberry-scented woman, I could change my ways for a time. It’ll take a few weeks to fulfill my fantasies about that one anyway.” Reid didn’t respond, and I turn my attention back to him. “What?”

  He shook his head. “In over twelve years, you’ve never said anything like that.”

  I shrugged and chugged my lukewarm coffee. “Yeah. Well.”

  “You don’t even know the girl and you’re already wrapped around her little finger.”

  Eyes closing, I tilted my head back against my chair. “I’d rather she had her lips wrapped around my cock.”

  ****

  At seven-ten the next morning, I sat on Wren’s bottom step, coffee in hand and strange fluttering in my chest. I grinned as she pulled in. Pink cheeks and lower lip between her teeth, she walked over to me. Dressed in white scrub-type hideous clothes and hair pulled up in a messy ponytail, she shouldn’t have caught my eye. Shouldn’t have sped up my heart, but the way she moved, the draw of something had taken over my body.

  I stayed seated, giving her the upper hand and hiding my stiffening cock. “Good morning.”

  “Morning,” she finally replied, eyes studying me from behind those damn glasses.

  “Coffee?”

  Wren accepted the cup from my outstretched hand, but seemed careful to keep our skin from touching. “Thanks.”

  “Have dinner with me Friday night.”

  She took a sip and shook her head.

  “Saturday night.”

  She stared down at me without a word.

  “Let me take you out.”

  “No.” She cleared her throat and glanced up at the landing. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get to class.”

  Although I didn’t want to, I stood and moved out of her way.

  But, she didn’t move. Pulse thrumming in her neck, she peered up at me, gaze flitting across my face as though memorizing every line and curve. Fodder for her fantasies?

  “Please go out with me,” I said, all trace of my smile gone. She had to recognize the pleading in my eyes.

  “No.” She turned away and climbed the stairs.

  I stood at the bottom, gaze glued to her ass as it swayed back and forth with each step.

  “Go back to work, Mr. Harper,” she said without turning.

  Chuckling, I did just that. See you in the morning, little birdie.

  ****

  Every day for almost two weeks I met her at seven-fifteen. Every day I handed her a coffee and she tried to brush me off, but like a mosquito bent on her raspberry scent and sweet blood, I returned, buzzing in her ear.

  “When are you going to get the hint?” she asked, after a long sigh of exasperation on Friday morning.

  “Hint?” I laughed. “I’d say you’re pretty damn clear in vocalizing your thoughts about me.”

  “Well then?” she asked, hand on hip and brow quirked.

  Damn, did I want to slide those glasses off her face and get a good look at her wide hazel eyes. “I always get wha
t I want,” I reminded her for like the fiftieth time.

  She snorted. “I’m getting tired of that argument.”

  “So end the standoff and give in.”

  “No.”

  “Please?”

  “No.”

  A flicker of movement behind her drew my attention. Reid crossed the street, attention on us and a grin on his face. Maybe it was time for reinforcements.

  Wren turned as his footsteps drew near.

  “You’re all he talks about, you know,” Reid said, sticking out his hand. “Reid Sullivan. Best friend to that sorry ass.” He motioned toward me with his jaw.

  Smiling a real smile, Wren accepted his hand. “I’m not easily swayed.” She glanced down at their clasped hands, her smile fading. Her gaze jerked back to his face.

  “So he says.” Reid stared down at her, giving her that look, the one he used every time we picked up ladies. “Put the poor boy out of his misery.”

  She pulled her hand back and wiped her palm down her white work pants. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t go out with playboys.”

  Reid snickered. “In the twelve years I’ve known him, that playboy has never pined away like he does over you. Not once.”

  Wren turned, peering down at me on her step.

  “It’s true,” I said, serious as hell and just as desperate. “You’re under my skin and I want to scratch so bad I can’t sleep.”

  Her face flushed.

  “Hell,” Reid said, drawing her attention again as he took her in from head to toe and back up again. “I’ll tag along if it makes you feel safer.”

  She stilled, breath held.

  “Not this time, Reid,” I said, focused on Wren as she bit her lower lip. She glanced between the two of us as though her mind raced. Yes, I answered without speaking, he’s suggesting exactly what you’re thinking. The pulse in her neck kicked into overdrive. Say yes. Say yes…

  “Dinner tomorrow night?” she finally said, peering down at me.

  I nodded, my own breath held.

  “Only dinner.”

  A smirk tugged at my lips. “If that’s all you want.”

  “It is.”

  I bowed my head in mock submission. “Then I’m yours for the commanding.”

  Reid snorted.

  “What’s so funny?” Wren asked, turning toward him.

  “Don’t let him fool you. He’s a bossy fucker,” Reid said.

  “I’ll pick you up at five.” I hopped to my feet, grinning like a kid in the candy store. With an elbow to Reid’s side, I hurried away, wanting us both gone before she changed her mind.

  “See you at five,” she said.

  I glanced over my shoulder, but she didn’t return my smile.

  Wren

  Reid was hot. Longer dark hair with chocolate brown eyes that twinkled same as Blake’s. Parts of our conversation echoed in my head and my fingers still tingled from Reid’s touch. Both men’s touch dampened my panties, something no man had done for close to two years.

  I ignored my coffee pot for the first time ever and watched the two friends out my window as they walked toward the office.

  “I so need to get laid,” I said to myself as they disappeared inside.

  Reid had offered to join us, his meaning crystal clear. I’d caught the appreciation in his gaze as he’d taken a quick perusal, and the thought of my secret bucket list threesome fantasy had tightened my nipples.

  And bossy fucker? Delicious tingles between my thighs reignited as I thought of fighting Blake in the bedroom. Fingernails, teeth… God, did I want to sink both into his neck and back. Wrap my legs around his waist and squeeze the life from him.

  Trouble with a capital T, I thought while turning the shower on. Trouble, pleasure, and without a doubt, a life-altering orgasm.

  Saying no to anything but dinner totally sucked ass.

  ****

  What to wear?

  I chewed the inside of my lip, hands on hips. Freshly showered, shaved, and lathered up in my berry-scented body butter, I stared into my closet at its sad contents. I never went out. Didn’t have those kinds of friends to go out with. I’d been too focused on getting rid of the white trash stench in my nose to socialize much.

  Blowing a breath, I grabbed an out-of-fashion silky top, knowing it would at least be comfortable and flattering for my not-so-large breasts. Jeans and the heeled boots I’d found at the Goodwill, I decided, tossing everything onto my bed.

  Good enough. Now for the real decision.

  I pulled open my panties drawer. Go granny to ensure I didn’t allow Mr. Playboy to get frisky—which he undoubtedly would try—or Vicky’s silk and lace matching set I’d splurged on during their last sale? Biting my lip, the internal war raged on.

  Just the thought of Blake’s hands on my body heated me through. My nipples pebbled, aching for his teeth.

  Grabbing the graying cotton, I clenched my jaw. No matter how much I panted after Playboy Bachelor, no matter how badly my vibrators and dildos let me down in the satisfaction department, I refused to give in.

  I’d let him wine and dine me, or martini in my case, but his words and eye-fucking would be as close as he’d get to the real thing.

  Thank the imaginary gods I hadn’t agreed to go out with both men. Double the trouble.

  Double the pleasure.

  The hot shower spray had blasted my body but fell short of relaxing me. The hard finger fuck and clit rub that had brought on a climax hadn’t done much either. Still wound tight, I pulled up my granny panties knowing they would be soaked before night’s end.

  ****

  I headed down my stairs at four-fifty-five and waited rather than take the chance of his very large presence weaseling into my apartment.

  He pulled up in a shiny red Audi and hopped out, grinning as usual. His jeans fit like they ought to—just snug enough to tease a woman with a hint of what lay behind the zipper. A button-down, crisp blue shirt made his eyes stand out. Smooth jawline, mussed hair, and holy shit on a brick, did he smell good.

  I breathed deep as I stood, my body’s low burn flaring to life as his woodsy scent swarmed my defenses. Should have worn a damn pad. I returned his smile, my stomach a writhing mess of knots.

  “You look great,” he said as he stopped shy of my personal space.

  “Thanks. So do you.” Even though he oozed confidence, he deserved the compliment.

  “Ready?” he asked, the sexy as hell twinkle lighting his eyes. I narrowed my gaze and he chuckled. “Your chariot awaits, madam.” He stepped back and motioned toward his car, but didn’t make an attempt to touch me as I passed him.

  Blake

  Not touching her hurt like hell. Her sweet scent, the pale skin of her neck, and a hint of cleavage strained my cock. It had only been an hour since I’d jerked off to thoughts of being buried balls deep in her pussy.

  I shut the passenger door and walked around the back of my car to adjust my hard-on.

  “So where are we headed?” she asked as I settled into the driver seat.

  “Out to sea.” I started my car and turned east to drive along the river.

  “Seriously?” She angled on her seat to face me.

  “Yeah. My uncle gave me his old Whaler. She’s the love of my life, the only girl I’ve ever wanted to take home to meet my parents.”

  Wren’s light laughter, the first I’d heard from her, filled my ears better than any music. “I’ve never been out on the ocean.”

  Satisfaction of being her first for something brought back my grin. “You’re going to love it.”

  “Are you this confident all the time?” I heard the smile in her voice and glanced over.

  “Except for when it comes to you.” I hadn’t expected to spill, but there it was.

  “Oh?”

  “There’s something about you,” I said navigating the rush hour rotary. “Throws off my rhythm. You’re like a splinter in my thumb I can’t leave alone.”


  A small snort of air escaped her nose as she turned away. “That, sir, is called the thrill of the chase.”

  I laughed. “You can presume all you want about me, but don’t pretend to know my mind.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  Glancing over at her again, I noted the clenched hands on her lap, the tense, raised shoulders. “Hey.” I smiled. “It’s all right. You’re not the first to judge me.” I turned back to the road. “And probably won’t be the last.”

  “You do realize how your social media profiles portray your lifestyle, don’t you?”

  I nodded, never having given a shit, but focused on what she’d revealed with those words. “Stalker Wren.”

  “And why not? A hot construction worker across the street, his name plastered all over his truck. What woman wouldn’t Google your name?”

  “You think I’m hot?” I asked, my grin returning.

  “Oh please. Any hot blooded female would Google half your crew if she had names.”

  “Feisty little bird. I like that.”

  “I’ll bet you do.”

  ****

  An hour later, we headed along the Massachusetts coast, my Whaler’s outboard chugging us northward to a marina and great restaurant, lined with glass windows overlooking the sand and swells.

  Wren lounged on the seat beside me, head turning nonstop as if taking in every second of the new experience. “One of the things on my bucket list you know,” she said with light laughter.

  “Not getting sick are you?”

  “No. This is…” she inhaled deep, a smile growing, “absolutely wonderful.”

  “Bucket list, huh?”

  “Yep.”

  “What else is on there?”

  “Skydiving. Going to Alaska and London. Becoming a pharmacist. Getting out from beneath school loans and wiping the white trash stench off me.” Her face reddened.

  I wondered if that last part slipped out. Sure, she didn’t have any sense of fashion, but she didn’t look—or smell—like trash to me.

  “I grew up in a crack house,” she said, gaze glued to the ocean.

  “It matters not what someone is born but what they grow to be,” I murmured one of my favorite character’s lines.