Bachelor Untamed. Brenda Jackson
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dropped the curtain in place. It wouldn’t do well to be caught spying on him again. Besides, she needed to take a shower, get dressed and get some work done.
She made her way to the bathroom, thinking the best thing to do today was to stay busy. Then she wouldn’t have a reason to think about her neighbor next door.
Uriel opened his refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of cold water. He chugged it, not caring that a few drops missed his mouth and oozed down his chin to join the sweat on his chest.
He emptied the bottle and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He’d needed that. He had doubled the amount of exercises he normally did each morning, just to work off a hard-on that wouldn’t go away.
He had awakened around three in the morning, unable to sleep, and had gone outside on the porch to sit a spell. He had known the exact moment the light had gone on in the upstairs bedroom next door, and his gaze had sought out the same window that Ellie had been staring at him from yesterday.
While he sat there in the swing, he had seen her pass by the window a few times before she finally came and stood there with a glass of wine in her hand and a skimpy nightie covering her body. She stared out the window at the lake and sipped her wine. The angle at which the lamp had shone on her had given him a pretty good view of her body through the thin material of her short, bright yellow gown. He had gotten a very private viewing, one he doubted very seriously she knew she was giving. She probably figured that, since his house looked totally dark, he was in bed, asleep. But he hadn’t been. His focus had stayed intently on her. He hadn’t moved, had barely breathed the entire time.
He was no longer ashamed of the thoughts that had flowed through his mind, or the fact that his senses, as well as his libido, had gotten aroused. She had captivated him enough to sit there in the dark, fighting off occasional mosquito bites, while keeping his gaze glued to her.
From his porch, he hadn’t seen all of her, but he had seen enough, and his body had been aching ever since. The thin material of her nightgown had barely covered a curvaceous body and a pair of firm breasts. Because of the way the window was made, he hadn’t been able to see anything below her waist, so he could only imagine. And that imagination had gotten the best of him. It still was.
He drew in a deep breath and decided it was time for a cold shower. Since coming of age he’d had his share of women, but he’d never been in what he would consider a serious relationship with any of them, and he’d always made absolutely sure the two of them were on the same page. He hadn’t wanted any woman to assume anything, and felt it was up to him to make sure they didn’t. One or two had tried and were dropped like a hot potato as a result.
Uriel wanted to think of himself as a unselfish lover, and he would be quick to admit to being in control of all his relationships. There hadn’t been any woman who’d made him regret walking away. There might be some things beyond his control, but managing a woman wasn’t one of them.
As he headed up the stairs for his shower, he decided that he would stay inside most of the day and get some reading done—and try like hell to forget about his next door neighbor. He figured she would be staying inside most of the day, as well.
She’d indicated last night that she would be going through her aunt’s things. He wondered if she was up, or if she was still sleeping off the effects of the wine she had downed. He had watched her consume a whole glass at the window, not to mention the glass she’d had while he had been there.
He recalled how he had felt sitting across from her in that living room last night. Once they had cleared the air about what had happened that day ten years ago, he had relaxed and opened up his mind and thoughts to numerous possibilities. Some had been too shocking to dwell on in her presence, so he had left before he was tempted to get into trouble.
He might have retreated last night, and would lay low most of the week, but when he felt the time was right, he would do something that was beginning to vex him. He had kissed the sixteen-year-old Ellie ten years ago, and now he had a strong urge to see how the grown-up Ellie tasted.
Ellie glanced around her aunt’s desk. The drawers were locked, and she figured there had to be a key somewhere. A serious expression appeared on her face as she tried to consider just how her aunt’s mind worked. Where would Aunt Mable hide the key?
She smiled and then reached out and picked up the framed photo of her and her aunt taken last year when Aunt Mable had visited her in Boston. On this particular night they had gone to a musical featuring a renowned pianist. It had been around Easter and the weather in Boston had been freezing. They were all bundled up in hooded coats while smiling for the camera.
That had been less than six months ago. Ellie fought the tears that threatened to fall at the memory. No, she wouldn’t cry. Her aunt had lived a good life, a full life, and she had been happy. Ellie wished she could live as full a life as her aunt had.
Instinctively, she carefully pulled the back off the frame and her smile widened when the key dropped out. Feeling quite smug at her accomplishment, she picked up the key and began opening the drawers. Most of the items, all neatly arranged, were office supplies—computer paper, ink cartridges for the printer, pencils and pens.
She opened another drawer and pulled out a stack of papers that were rubber-banded together. She lifted a curious brow when the first sheet said, in a bold font, Make me Yours, by Flame Elbam.
Flame.
Ellie quickly recalled where she’d seen the name “Flame” before and glanced across the room at the risqué painting on the wall. Raising her brow, she settled back in the chair, flipped through the pages and swiftly came to the conclusion that these pages were part of a manuscript. Who did it belong to?
She stopped flipping the pages when a word—one that denoted a male body part—jumped out at her, quickly grabbing her attention. She blinked a few times and then, for clarity’s sake, decided she needed to read the entire sentence, but she ended up reading the complete paragraph. Afterward, she swallowed deeply, felt the heat that infused her body and wondered where the heck an ice-cold glass of water was when you needed it. Whew! What on earth was her aunt doing with something like this?
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