Bachelor Undone

by Brenda Jackson

  His hand found its target at the juncture of her thighs, and sensations sizzled through him, making him ache. His fingers spread her apart first, then delved into her heated wetness, and he felt his erection throb in response.

  She moaned when he allowed his mouth to pay homage to the other nipple, letting his tongue lap at it a few times before easing it between his lips. He sucked on it while a lusty rush filled him, obliterated his senses and sent a fierce need rushing through his bloodstream.

  And when he couldn't hold back any longer, he pulled away from her breasts and went straight to the source of her heat. Lifting her hips, he lowered his mouth to her, intent on licking every inch of her and lapping up her dewy wetness, tasting her until he got his fill. He wanted every lusty cell in his body to be satisfied.

  Darcy began trembling the exact moment she felt the heat of York's tongue ease inside of her, and it became nearly impossible to breathe. All she could do was whimper in pleasure. So she did. He knew what he was doing by using his tongue to stroke her. He was so skilled that it had her shaking from head to toe. He felt her shudders and was lapping up every single shiver.

  She needed to grab hold of something, and the bedspread just wouldn't do. So she reached for his head instead. She held him steady, kept him in place, but the feel of his tongue moving inside of her was too much. Her fingers clenched the side of his head the moment her world exploded in a orgasm that detonated every part of her body.

  And she heard herself call his name. It was a blazing rush from her lips, a satisfying ache that she felt when his tongue delved deeper, lapped harder. She was transformed into a mass of lusty mush, and it had to be the most exquisite feeling she'd ever encountered. This single act was worth the two years she'd gone without.

  When she felt him release her and pull out his tongue, she almost screamed her regret. Watching through passion-glazed eyes, she saw him straddle her, felt the hardness of him replace his tongue to ease inside of her, stretching her to the point where she wondered if they would fit and knowing he would die trying.

  As if her body was made just for him, her insides expanded, got wetter, felt slicker. He continued to push his way inside, and she gazed up at him, saw the beads of perspiration on his brow. He lifted her hips, intent on her taking him, receiving him and welcoming him.

  When he had reached her hilt, he began moving, stroking her with a rhythm that had every cell in her body, every single molecule responding. The heat of his skin rubbed against her thighs as he thrust back and forth, going deeper and deeper with every stroke. Her clit was on fire, and he wasn't trying to put out the flames. Instead, he was taking the flames higher, sparking every single ember inside of her.

  And she clenched him, refusing to let him take without giving. She began milking him and felt her muscles tighten then pull to get the full benefit, maximize the sensual effect of what he was doing to her. The bed was shaking in its frame as he rode her in a way she'd never been ridden before. And his shaft seemed to get bigger and harder inside of her.

  Just when she thought she couldn't take any more, she was pushed over the edge, and her body erupted in a colossal explosion. Her fingers dug into the muscles of his shoulders, and the lower part of her lifted off the bed with the massive blast. He growled when he pressed harder into her body, spreading her thighs apart even more.

  York was replacing two years of pent-up, half filled, half measured pleasure. Before now what she'd assumed was satisfaction had only been appeasement. This was better than anything she could have imagined from any man or toy. It was beyond her wildest dream—and over the years she'd had plenty of wild dreams. But none could compare to this reality.

  He continued to ride her, continued to pound into her, intent on getting in the last stroke, gratifying her every pulsation as well as his own.

  “York …”

  She heard the sound of his name from her lips as she continued to come, but she couldn't make herself stop as pleasure continued to hold her in its grip. She knew if she never made love to another man again she would have memories of tonight stored away in the back of her mind.

  “Darcy …”

  The rough and deep sound of his voice rushed over her, made her body respond the way it had never responded to a man before. She looked up into his dark gaze. He had slowed down but not stopped. And then he slowly began easing from her body when all of a sudden he thrust right back in all the way to the hilt. He lowered his head and whispered in her ear in a deep, primitive growl. “I want more.”

  And in response, she wrapped her legs around him as she felt need coupled with desire rush through her veins, overtake her senses. Tonight she would give him more because giving him more meant she was taking just as much for herself.

  Daybreak was peeking through the window blinds when York glanced over his shoulder at Darcy. He slowly eased from the bed, determined not to wake her. Drawing in a deep breath, he tried to regain control of his senses while piecing together everything that had happened last night in this room. He should feel vindicated at having seduced her, but instead he was wondering who had seduced whom.

  He'd known before last night there was sexual attraction between them, which was the cause of a lot of their bickering. But he hadn't known until last night just how much he'd wanted her—not just to prove a point or to right what he'd considered a wrong. He refused to think making love to her had anything to do with revenge or getting back at her. And he refused to consider the pleasure had been one-sided. She hadn't shown resistance to anything they'd done in that bed.

  And hell, they had done a lot. He hadn't known a woman's skin could taste so luscious or that hazel eyes could turn so many different shades while in the throes of heated passion. Nor had he known that a woman could ride just as hard as a man.

  Even when he had fought to keep himself in check and to regain control, he'd found his efforts wasted. Darcy had given him the kind of pleasure he hadn't shared with any woman before her. That said a lot, considering his reputation.

  Before leaving her bedroom, he glanced over his shoulder. She was still sleeping, and he understood why. They had made love almost nonstop through the night. One orgasm was followed by another. The pleasure had been too intense to even think about stopping, and she hadn't complained. In fact, she had kept up with him all the way. At that very moment, he didn't see Darcy Owens as a woman with a smart mouth but as a woman who definitely knew how to use that mouth.

  She was lying on top of the covers, and he couldn't stop his gaze from roaming over her naked body. Passion marks were visible on her thighs, stomach and around her breasts, and he could immediately recall the exact moment he'd placed each of them there. He shook his head and glanced down at himself. He had a number of passion marks on his body as well. Darcy definitely believed in equal play.

  York glanced back at her and felt his body grow hard all over again. He drew in a deep breath and forced his gaze from her or else he'd be tempted to crawl back in bed with her, hold her in his arms and patiently wait until she awakened. Then he would make love to her all over again.

  Damn. He was losing control again, becoming undone. Okay, he had enjoyed the Darcy experience, but he needed to regroup and remember the reason he was in Jamaica. And it wasn't to spend his time in Darcy Owens’ bed.

  But still, he wasn't sure if they understood each other where Damien Felder was concerned. She had started out defying him, and in the end, she still hadn't yielded to his way of thinking. He hoped what they shared last night gave her other ideas on the matter. He truly couldn't see how it couldn't.

  And there was another thing he had to consider. He had gotten so into making love to her that he'd done something else he usually didn't do. He had taken risks by not putting on a new condom at the start of each lovemaking session. Although he wanted to believe it was a long shot, what if she was pregnant at this very moment?

  Hell, York, don't even go there, man, a part of his mind screamed. She's probably on the Pill, which means t
hat although you got sloppy this one time, she managed to save the day … or in this case, the night.

  When she shifted her position in the bed he took a step back, feeling the need to put distance between them and knowing it would be best if he wasn't there when she woke up. There was no telling what frame of mind she would be in, and he didn't want her making it seem as though making love was all his idea. Nor did he want to hear that she regretted anything about their time together—especially when he had no regrets.

  Once in her living room, he quickly picked up his clothes off the floor and put them on. He glanced at the clock on one of the tables and saw the time was six in the morning. Chances were he would be getting a lot of strange looks when he made his way from one part of the hotel to the other still wearing a tux. But then chances were anyone who saw him would figure out why. Liaisons were a way of life.

  He crossed the room to glance into the bedroom once again before leaving. She was still sleeping like a baby, and as much as he wished otherwise, a part of him regretted that he wouldn't be there when she woke up.

  Chapter 4

  Darcy stirred awake when the sun spilled in through the window to hit her right in the face. But she refused to open her eyes just yet. She expected at any moment to feel York's warm breath on her neck or have his aroused body part—one that she'd gotten to know up close and personal—cuddle close to her backside, right smack against her bare cheeks. And she wouldn't mind it at all if he threw one of his legs over her. Nor would she care if he were to run his fingers through her hair.

  But as she continued to lay there all she heard was silence and felt no human contact. Moments ticked by, and she flipped onto her back and glanced over at the empty spot beside her. Had York gotten up to use the bathroom?

  Easing out of bed, she went into the bathroom and found it empty. She then strolled to the living room and found it vacant as well. Her bathrobe was tossed across the sofa, and his clothes that had littered the floor last night were gone. That meant he was wearing them.

  Disappointment settled in her chest, and for a moment she wondered just what she had expected. York had handled last night for what it had been—a one-night stand. Why had she assumed he would think of it as anything more? Why did she care that he hadn't? And why was she taking it as a personal affront?

  Both men and women had meaningless sexual liaisons all the time. She had even caught the plane from New York with plans to have a fling, had even joked with Ellie about it. But that was when she would have been in total control, and the man was to have been a stranger. Someone who wouldn't leave any lingering affects or someone she wouldn't miss once the moments passed. In other words, she hadn't expected York Ellis to be so overpowering, so overwhelming, so doggone good between the sheets that her body still throbbed between her legs.

  She slid into her robe as she recalled her actions and behavior of the night. Red-hot embarrassment reddened her cheeks. She had gotten wild and outrageous. She guessed two years of celibacy could do that to you. And she didn't need to look at her body to know there were probably passion marks all over every inch of her skin. And she was certain he was sporting his fair share of the marks as well.

  She ran her hands through her hair, frustrated. No matter how good the sex had been, she could literally kick herself for tumbling into bed with York. They didn't even like each other, although it was apparent they'd gotten along pretty well between the sheets. He had made her feel things she hadn't ever felt.

  And after each lovemaking session, before they would start all over again, he would hold her tenderly in his arms. She certainly hadn't expected that. There had been something so calming and relaxing to lie there in his arms. And when she had dozed off to sleep that last time, weary after rounds and rounds of lovemaking, she had assumed he would be there whenever she woke up.

  Wrong. He had skipped out like a thief in the night. It was hard to explain why she felt so annoyed about it but she was. His actions were probably his M.O. when it came to a woman. Why had she assumed things would be different with her?

  Fine, he could continue to handle his business that same way. It meant nothing to her. In fact, now that they'd gotten what they'd undoubtedly wanted from each other, she hoped she didn't run into him again while she was here. He wouldn't be the first man she'd written off.

  Her marriage to Harold Calhoun had started out like a storybook romance. They had met in college and had married soon after graduation. But within a year after living under the same roof, she had discovered things about her husband she hadn't known—like the fact that he had a tendency to get abusive at times. The verbal abuse was bad enough, but the first time he'd tried getting physically abusive with her, it had been his last time. He had found out, much to his detriment, that his wife could defend herself so well, he'd been the one hovering in a corner pleading for mercy by the time the authorities had arrived.

  She drew in a deep breath and turned toward her bedroom. She then recalled York's words to her about Damien Felder. As far as she was concerned, a man was innocent of any crime until proven guilty. Besides, she doubted had it been Damien who'd slept with her last night he would have left the way York had done, without even a wham, bam, thank you ma'am.

  And speaking of Damien …

  It was probably too late to join him for breakfast, but she would keep her date with him to let him show her around the movie set. She was a big girl who could handle herself, regardless of what York thought. And frankly, what he thought didn't matter to her.

  She would arrange to meet Damien just as she'd planned. She had gotten what she wanted from York, and she was confident he'd gotten what he wanted from her. They were even. Now things could go back to how they'd always been between them.

  York glanced around the movie set. Today the location was a cottage on the beach where the scene would be shot. The crew and equipment were in place, and the cast was in their individual trailers getting the attention of the hair and makeup artists.

  He had been introduced earlier and was told his job was to provide backup security to the production team since they would be filming in several parts of the island, some less than desirable.

  Several members of his security group would keep that focus while others worked undercover to identify who was crippling the production in another way. So far Damien Felder hadn't shown up on set, and York hadn't missed the whispered jokes of several crew members as to why. A number were wondering whose bed he'd spent the night in. Evidently, Felder was a known playboy. So far, no one had linked Felder's name with that of the leading lady, and York found that slightly odd since very few secrets survived on a movie set. Someone was working extremely hard to keep their affair a secret. He definitely found that interesting.

  “Um, looks like Damien has been busy,” someone whispered behind York, and he glanced up to see Damien walk in with Darcy at his side. At that moment, York discovered firsthand what it meant to see bloodred. What the hell was she doing here with him? Hadn't she listened to anything he'd told her about Felder last night?

  And he could tell from the whispers behind him that many assumed she had been Felder's sleeping partner last night. He was tempted to turn around and tell them how wrong they were since she had been his. But just the thought that she was getting whispered about, by those who didn't even know her and who assumed false things about her, pissed him off to the point where he was fighting intense anger within him.

  He continued to pretend to peruse documents on a clipboard while watching Felder show Darcy around. It was obvious he was trying to impress her, probably was working real hard to get into her bed tonight or to get her in his. The thought of either happening set York on edge, made him madder.

  “Ellis, I need to introduce you to Felder,” Bob Crowder, the production manager, said.

  York glanced up. “Fine. Let's do it,” he said, placing the clipboard aside and trying to keep the hardness from his tone.

  They crossed the room to where Felder stood with D
arcy by his side near a tray of coffee and donuts. He smelled her before he got within ten feet of her. Aside from the cologne she was wearing, she had a unique feminine scent that could probably drive men wild. He wondered if he was the only man who detected it and quickly realized he had reason to know it so well. Her aroma had gotten absorbed into his nostrils pretty damn good last night.

  “Damien, I need to introduce you to the guy who owns the company we're using for security now,” Crowder said, snagging Felder's attention.

  Felder turned and gave York a once over before asking, “What happened to the other company that was hired?”

  “Evidently, they didn't work out,” York responded before Crowder could. Felder really was in no position to ask questions.

  “And you think your outfit will be able to do a better job?” Felder asked.

  York smiled, well aware that Darcy was staring at him, listening attentively. At least she hadn't let on that they knew each other, and he was grateful for that. “I know we'll do a better job.” He figured his response sounded pretty damn confident, overly cocky to an extreme, but that sort of attitude was probably one Felder could relate to.

  Felder proved him right when his lips curved into a smile. “Hey, York Ellis. I like you.”

  It was on the tip of York's tongue to respond that the feeling wasn't mutual. Instead, he said, “My job is not to get you to like me, Felder, but to make sure you and everyone else who're part of this production are safe.”

  York knew his statement was establishing his persona as a no-nonsense sort of guy. That's what he wanted. He'd heard Felder had a tendency to try and cozy up to those in charge so when he decided to break rules they would look the other way. It was good to let the man know up front he wouldn't allow it and not to waste his time trying to earn brownie points.