Bachelor Games (Tropical Temptation)

by St. Denis, Daire

“Just needed some quiet time before heading back to my villa. I thought I heard a moan, and then I saw someone lying here.” He sat on the lounge beside her. “I was worried until I realized it was you. Then I was…”

  “What?” she asked breathlessly. Realizing how silly she sounded—her stupid fantasy was still going on inside her head—she corrected her octave and said in a deeper voice, “You were what?”

  “Relieved. I need a little sanity.”

  To some women, that might not be a compliment. To Becca, it was one of the nicest things a man could have said, particularly when he intertwined his fingers with hers and rubbed his thumb along the inside of her wrist.

  “Tough night?” she whispered, because all the protons, electrons, photons and every other particle inside of her reacted as if sent through a particle accelerator. That shit makes a girl breathless.

  “You could say that.”

  “Did you see my sister?” Becca asked, hoping her voice sounded more normal to him than it did to her.

  “Yes.” His face was cloaked in shadow, but she could hear the smile in his voice.

  “And, did the two of you talk?” Becca cringed inside, waiting to hear Cal’s take on her sister’s comments.

  “Oh, yes.”

  She waited to see if he would say more.

  “She’s funny, your sister. I enjoyed talking with her.”

  Okay, that was not what she’d expected him to say. People commented on Grace’s looks and poise, not on her conversational skills.

  Suddenly the reality of the situation sobered her. Calum was here to host a contest in which he was the prize. She couldn’t compete with that.

  She’s no one…

  Becca pulled her hand out from Calum’s and squinted through the inky darkness, trying to make out his features. She was left with only a shadow and had nothing to go on.

  “Cal? Why do you keep doing this?”

  “Doing what?”

  “I don’t know. Seeking me out. Pretending to like me.”

  “What kind of question is that?”

  “It’s a very reasonable question. Here you are, surrounded by beautiful women all vying for your attention, yet you keep…” She took a deep breath. Kissing me. “Talking to me. Why?”

  “Do you honestly need me to answer that?”

  “Yes.”

  He reached for her shoulder, slid his hand softly around her neck, and pulled her closer. “Becca,” he whispered.

  It wasn’t the answer she was looking for, and yet he seemed to say everything she needed to know in the rough edges of his voice. Connection. Passion. Need.

  For her?

  It seemed ludicrous, and yet he drew her forward like it was a need he couldn’t control. When his mouth found hers, it was different than both times before. This was not the relieved kiss from the airplane bathroom. Neither was it the adrenaline-filled kiss after nearly being drowned on the beach. This was something else. His mouth consumed hers, nipping and tasting, sucking and licking. He tilted her head one way and then another, his tongue dipping deeper, seeking hers out and reintroducing himself.

  And then he moaned into her mouth.

  Or was that her?

  Didn’t matter.

  There was moaning.

  And God…she wanted him so badly. Becca didn’t think she’d ever wanted a man as much as she wanted Calum Price right now.

  “Come back to my villa.”

  “What?”

  “Becca.” He pulled back. It was too dark to see his eyes, but she could feel his warm, sweet breath on her cheeks. The shallow pants that matched her own. “I want you.”

  This wasn’t happening. She’d fallen asleep and was dreaming. That was the only possible explanation, because there was no way that Calum Fucking Price, the Most Eligible Bachelor on the Face of the Earth, could seriously want her.

  Her.

  Ordinary Becca Evans.

  “Becca? Did you hear me?”

  But damn…if it was a dream? If this was some weird cosmic anomaly, alternate universe whatever-the-fuck? Well then, she didn’t want to miss the opportunity. “Yes,” she said. “Yes. Let’s go.”

  …

  My sister needs to get laid.

  Yep. That statement had been running on repeat in Calum’s brain when, BAM, he’d happened upon the very woman who needed his services.

  She’d asked him why he kept seeking her out and the truth was, Cal didn’t know. It wasn’t like he consciously went looking for the woman, yet he kept running into her. Happenstance, though not the sexiest of explanations, was the truth. But the coincidence of their meetings did not explain what happened every time he saw her.

  Like a few minutes ago, when he’d found her stretched out on a lounge chair, on the beach, in the dark.

  Moaning.

  And just like that, his cock had stiffened, his mouth had watered, and his hands had itched. For her.

  He wanted her mouth. The mouth that laughed and smiled and mocked him, for fuck’s sake. He wanted her body pressed against his. Not because she was perfect, but because she fit perfectly. He’d known it from the second he’d found himself on top of her in the surf. It was confirmed when he’d picked her up and she’d curled so naturally into his chest, her arms around his neck. He wanted to explore that fit, find out if other parts of them were as compatible. Whether that warm, sweet space between her thighs would match his aching cock.

  “Wow, this is nice.” Becca turned a circle in the main living area of his villa. “Much nicer than ours.”

  “Is it?” He untied the strap at the top of one shoulder and then moved on to the next, kissing the pink skin left bare. “This is pretty fucking nice.”

  Her head lolled back, exposing her creamy throat, inviting Cal in for a lick. She tasted citrusy and delicious.

  “Why…?”

  “Shh. No more questions.”

  Taking her hand, he led her across the room to the bedroom. The drapes were still open, and even through the glass of the French doors, he could hear the crashing waves.

  “Beautiful view.”

  He stood behind her, unzipped the back of her sundress, and gently tugged it down until it pooled about her feet. With hands on her shoulders, he turned her. The silvery moonlight reflecting off the ocean illuminated her fair skin, giving her the appearance of a mythical creature, like a mermaid or water nymph. “You’re right, the view is beautiful.”

  “Cal…”

  He pressed his fingertips to her lips to silence her before dragging the backs of his knuckles along her jaw, across her collarbones, and down, gently circling her breasts.

  Not too big. Not too small.

  Just right.

  She made a soft sound that came from deep inside her chest. A sound of pleasure and want.

  Yes.

  He wanted, too.

  Cal lowered his mouth to her breast, finding her tight little nipple and sucking on it. When she arched into him, he sucked harder. When she groaned—deep and guttural—he bit.

  “Cal!”

  Fuck. What had he just done? He pulled away, but Becca’s hands were at the back of his head, holding him close as she arched into him.

  “Again,” she panted.

  Christ.

  With hands splayed across her back, he moved to her other breast, sucking on the skin around her areola, leaving marks before nibbling the tight tip of her.

  “God, that feels good.”

  His teeth abraded her, and her moans and sighs encouraged him to be as rough as he liked.

  Could it be that she fit him in that realm, as well?

  Impossible.

  Okay, he needed to find some self-control. Normally, Cal was the epitome of restraint, reading the cues of his partners, knowing when to be gentle, when to be rough. Always having the ability and the intuition to tell the difference. But for some reason, being with Becca was different. His mind was telling him to go slow, while his cock, tongue, and hands wanted more, and his ability to con
trol which way to go was elusive.

  Grinding his teeth, Cal stopped.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked. While he couldn’t see her features in the dim room, her voice wavered with insecurity. The doubt was confirmed when she crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Becca, I—”

  She stooped, snatched her dress from the floor and brought it up in front of her. “It’s okay. You don’t need to explain.”

  Catching her shoulders before she did something stupid, like get dressed, Cal said, “Oh, yes, I do. I’m not stopping because I don’t want you.”

  “Then why are you stopping?”

  “Normally, I can control myself, but…”

  “But what?” she asked quickly.

  He reached for her hip and drew her closer. “Two seconds ago? With you? I thought I was going to fucking lose myself.”

  “With me?” Her dress fell to the ground.

  “Yes, Becca. With you.” His hands glided over the soft skin of her ass, and he squeezed because he had to curb the desire to lay his palm flat against her ass and smack it.

  “So…” Her hand went to the buttons of his shirt, and she started popping them, one by one. “Do you want to lose it with me?”

  “Yes.”

  She paused for a second before popping the next button.

  “Does that frighten you?” he asked.

  Tilting her chin up to meet his gaze, she slowly shook her head back and forth, and in the dim room, he swore she smiled a soft, coy smile. Then she undid the last button and pushed his shirt off his shoulders. He stood completely still as she explored his chest, his hands opening and closing at his sides, doing his best to rein in his rampant desires, because he knew this woman had no idea what she was talking about, no idea who she was dealing with.

  Until she bit him.

  His hands flew from where they were hanging idly by his sides to her head. She looked up at him and grinned. “I like it like that.”

  He groaned, resting his chin on the top of her head. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

  “No, Cal. You don’t know. You don’t know me, and you don’t know what I like in bed.”

  “Tell me what you like.”

  “How about I show you.”

  And then she dropped to her knees and proceeded to unbuckle his belt, unzip his fly, and push his shorts and boxers right down his legs. The sight of her kneeling before him, his rigid cock in one hand as she ran her fingernails up and down the inside of his legs, took his breath away. When she leaned over his tip and breathed hot air over him while squeezing, he found his hands back in her hair, gripping and twisting.

  She rubbed his cock against her cheek, one part sweet, three parts sexy, before wetting her lips and playing with the tip of him, moving him from side to side against her half open mouth.

  Cal loved a good blow job. What man didn’t love having his dick sucked? But he’d always been able to tell when a woman was acting and when she enjoyed it because it increased his pleasure exponentially when the woman got off on what she was doing. Which in his experience was rare.

  Becca?

  God.

  This was no act.

  Her feet writhed against each other on the floor like they were having their own make-out session. Her fingers gripped and squeezed as she moved around his cock, sometimes licking like he was a melting ice cream cone, other times sucking. So fucking deep. Then—bless her—she scraped her teeth against his skin as she withdrew.

  But the best part was the little sounds she made. Not the sounds of wet body parts, but the soft little mewls, the sound of a contented kitten suckling at her mother’s teat.

  Her groan of pleasure when she took him halfway down her throat was less kitten-like and more vixen-like, and Cal found himself once again on the verge of losing it.

  He pulled out of her grasp and hauled her to her feet.

  “My turn.”

  Chapter Seven

  Calum Price was such a fucking…man.

  From his hard body, to the way he kissed her, to the way he groaned when he bit her. Even better was the way he growled when she bit him. Or, no. The way he tangled his fingers in her hair when she sucked him, moaning and whispering curse words in between snarls of arousal? So fucking good.

  But the best was the authoritative swiftness with which he brought her to her feet.

  “My turn.”

  He kissed her—hard—as he backed her up to the massive bed. “Get on your hands and knees.”

  Bossy.

  Oh dear God.

  She moved up onto the bed, darting a glance over her shoulder as Cal crawled up behind her, his hand snaking around her waist while the other one grabbed her ass.

  Needy and desperate.

  Oh. She loved it. She absolutely loved it. She’d only dared to ask one partner—Jerry—to be bossy with her, and it had been half-hearted because he was too afraid to hurt her. That wasn’t a bad thing, but the problem was, he didn’t get off on it.

  It was a bad thing because it’d made Becca feel dirty for wanting it, and that had been the end of that. And, the end of Jerry.

  But right now? Becca didn’t feel dirty. She felt like the sexiest goddamn woman on the planet. Arching her back, she wagged her ass back and forth like a cat in heat, desiring only to tempt Cal into having his way with her.

  “Jesus.” Cal spread her ass and pussy and then impaled her with his thumbs. Both. At once.

  The result was a full-body arch, and Becca keened with the pleasure of penetration.

  “So fucking hot.” With one thumb still inside, he withdrew his other to rub her clit. “So fucking wet.”

  “Cal,” she panted over her shoulder. “Please.”

  “You want me to fuck you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Mmm…” He drilled her with three fingers instead. “In a sec.”

  Becca hung her head and closed her eyes as Cal fingered her. One finger, two fingers, three. Then back down to two until suddenly there were no fingers, and before she could protest, she felt something even better.

  Something soft and wet nudged her clit back and forth. Cal licked along her opening, sending fluttering twinges into her tummy.

  “Lie on your back.”

  Thank God. Becca’s arms didn’t want to hold her up anymore. Not with all the wonderful conflicting sensations going on. Warm, wet, and tender versus hard, demanding, and possessive. Yet the contrast was what made it all so wonderful.

  Once on her back, Cal crawled between her parted thighs, pushing them wide. Demanding and gentle all at the same time.

  “You have a pretty pussy, miss.”

  No one had ever said such a thing to her, but it was perfect, particularly when Cal fit his hands beneath her ass and tilted her to the angle he needed so he could taste her.

  Becca experienced a mystical moment where she felt as if her earlier thoughts had conjured what was happening right now. Cal’s head between her thighs, enjoying her body. Even in the dim light, it was possible to see the contrast of his hair against her thighs. It was exactly as she’d imagined.

  No.

  It was a million times better.

  His mouth was warm and wet as his tongue prodded her clit, penetrating her folds, while his fingers joined in. For whatever reason, Becca was able to open to him in ways she hadn’t before. It was a fleeting realization, and then it was gone because all she cared about was the delicious sensation of his mouth on her. Sucking. Licking. Penetrating. Biting.

  Oh God.

  “That’s it, Bec,” he murmured after lifting his head. “God, you love to have your pussy kissed, don’t you?”

  “Cal…”

  “What about this?” He bent down again, this time it was his teeth on her clit, tugging gently before licking again.

  “Yes. Oh, yes.”

  He did it again, and Becca was transported to the cosmos where everything was energy and light and weightlessness and mystery. Where stars were imploding and
galaxies were exploding.

  “Jesus. I love the way you come.”

  And then Calum rolled out from between her legs, found the wallet he’d left on the bedside table, fished something out—please let it be a condom—and was back in bed beside her, like he’d never been away. Like time really was a construct of an earthly existence and meant nothing in the realm where she currently existed.

  “I need to be inside of you. I need to see,” he whispered hotly in her ear.

  “What do you need to see?” Was he in outer space with her, suspended in a state of ecstasy like she was? It sure as hell felt like it.

  He kissed her lips until they were bruised. “I need to see if you fit me as well as I think you will.”

  “Yes,” Becca sighed. “Oh fuck, yes.”

  He spread her thighs with his knees, wriggled his hips until he was positioned at her entrance, and thrust.

  All. The. Way.

  Stars blinked on and off behind Becca’s eyelids. He was indeed a perfect fit.

  …

  It was the next day, and the late-afternoon sun blazed down on the white tile surrounding the pool. Thank God for the shade of the awning set up over the portable stage where Cal sat, waiting for the kickoff of the pageant, which was the bathing suit competition.

  “Don’t think of it like a beauty pageant,” Eddie John had said, “It’s more like a combination of a pageant, a reality TV show, and a good old-fashioned cat fight.” The thing setting this apart was that this was not airing on any television network. This was going to be streaming live. Already, they had over a million subscribers, and according to one of the assistant producers, the numbers were growing every second.

  Everyone, Cal and contestants included, had been reminded numerous times that this was live and that editing would be minimal. As far as Cal was concerned, it was a clusterfuck, and it hadn’t even started yet. At least he didn’t have to do the Bachelor thing and go on individual dates with the women. His publicist had made that very clear.

  “It’s too dangerous for you. Even with all the waivers, you need to keep an arm’s length distance.”

  The producers had agreed, reluctantly. But he was required to spend a good percentage of the shooting with his shirt off.

  Fucking ridiculous.

  The fifty contestants were just now lining up outside the tents where they’d been waiting. Spectators were milling about behind a fenced barricade, and Cal craned his neck in hopes of catching a glimpse of a floppy hat.