Bachelor Untamed by Brenda Jackson Page A

he had pretty much gotten her message loud and clear. There would be no summer fling between them.
    In the morning he would go over there, give her some of the fish he’d caught and offer to fry them for her. He would then tell her that he’d accepted her decision and, as nothing more than friends, they could at least enjoy each other’s company for the rest of the summer.
    But during the wee hours of the night, while alone in his bed, he would continue to dream about her and to do to her in his fantasies what she refused to let him do in reality.
    He crossed the darkened kitchen and headed for the back door, opened it and stepped outside. It was hot, but the cool breeze from the lake was swirling around, spraying a light mist on his naked chest. The moment he sat down in the swing he glanced next door, and his pulse rate accelerated when he saw the light was on in Ms. Mable’s bedroom. The first time in three days.
    He sat there with his gaze transfixed to the window. He had told her he’d sometimes sit out here at night and look over at the window. For that reason alone, Ellie would probably not come close to the window, knowing there was a possibility that he would be watching.
    But still, that didn’t stop him from sitting and staring. He figured, sitting out here, being hopeful, was a hell of a lot better going back to bed and dreaming and being disappointed.
    The light went out and he mentally swore, followed by the muttering of a few choice words under his breath. This was pathetic. He had a cell phone filled with the names of a number of willing women, women he could call even now, at this hour, to initiate a long-distance booty call. Over the phone, they could engage in some pretty dirty sex talk, and he knew any one of them would follow it up with a visit to the lake by morning. Probably before the sun even came up, there would be a knock at his door. So why was he sitting here with a hard-on as big as the state of Texas?
    While he was pondering that question, the light came back on in the bedroom next door. Evidently, Ellie had decided she wasn’t ready to go to bed after all. He watched, and then his breathing almost thickened when he saw a slight movement of the curtain, a flutter. Was his imagination getting the best of him?
    He slowly stood, deciding he wouldn’t torture himself any longer, when the curtain moved again. Actually moved. And then she was there.
    At the sight of her he sucked in a deep breath and his already hard body got harder.
    She was wearing a pair of shorts and a blouse. He couldn’t see all of her shorts but he could see most of her blouse. And it was open. Unbuttoned all the way to her navel. And she wasn’t wearing a bra.
    He blinked. For a second he couldn’t breathe. He refused to do so. He could only watch, stare, all but gape, while making out the fullness of her breasts that he could see from a distance. His lips firmed. Did she have any idea what she was doing?
    He dropped back down in the swing with his gaze glued to the window. It was dark over at his place, so Ellie didn’t know he was sitting on the porch watching her. Or did she?
    He leaned back in his seat. If she was deliberately putting on a show, he fully intended to watch. With a barely functional mind, he took in all he was seeing, and when she slowly eased the blouse from her shoulders, letting it drop nonchalantly to the floor, leaving her bare, he couldn’t fight the rampant sensations, the hard-hitting desire that seeing her naked breasts evoked.
    Intense heat seared through him, making his already hot body even more enflamed. And as he continued to watch, she leaned over and he could tell she was removing her shorts. After taking them off she held them in her hand, up to her chest, before tossing them aside. And then he could tell she was easing something else off her body and figured it was her panties. Moments later, she held them up on her finger and, as if they were a trophy, she twirled them around