Bachelor Untamed Part 13

Why did the thought of leaving here, not seeing Ellie, not spending time with her, not making love to her, leave an emptiness in his stomach, a vacant spot in his chest surrounding his heart?

An unfamiliar feeling stirred in his gut, and he tried shoving it away. Instead, it moved to his shoulder blades and then to the lower part of his back. Agonized, he closed his eyes, and the only image that could form behind his closed eyelids was Ellie. He saw her as she'd looked that night she had stood at her window, stripping for him, giving him her decision to have an affair with him in a style that even now left him breathless.

And then Ellie as she had looked later when he had entered her, felt her tightness squeeze him, and her wetness surround him, flesh-to-flesh, skin-to-skin.

He saw too the Ellie who had spent the past three weeks with him, making him enjoy a woman's company in a way he'd never done before. Sharing breakfast with her, going fis.h.i.+ng with her, going skinny-dipping with her, watching movies till dawn with her, making impromptu love to her, anytime and anyplace-tasting her with a hunger and need that he hadn't experienced with any woman. And having unprotected s.e.x with her and enjoying shooting his seed into her, while actually imagining the baby they could be making together.

He thought of Ellie, and those times she held him within her body, clenched him with a need that could make him come. How she would stroke him, take him into her mouth and love him that way, and how he would doze off to sleep, wanting her near him, with his hands between her legs to keep her there. Before now he refused to believe there was a difference in pa.s.sion. Now he knew there was lovemaking pa.s.sion and s.e.x pa.s.sion. The pa.s.sion that flowed through his body whenever he was inside of Ellie was lovemaking pa.s.sion.

He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling again, as his heart began to pound deep in his chest and every bone in his body began to quiver. There could be only one reason for him feeling as he did. One reason he needed to finally face up to.

He then recalled Donovan's words of just a few days ago: "If you ever meet the woman who is wearing your name somewhere on her heart-you will know."

He knew. He knew at that very moment that it was Ellie's name scrawled on his heart. d.a.m.n. d.a.m.n. He eased out of bed, thinking he needed a beer, then deciding a shot of whiskey-preferably Jack Daniel's-would do better. How had he allowed himself to fall in love, after what his mother had done to his father? Was he a glutton for the same type of experience? He eased out of bed, thinking he needed a beer, then deciding a shot of whiskey-preferably Jack Daniel's-would do better. How had he allowed himself to fall in love, after what his mother had done to his father? Was he a glutton for the same type of experience?

He knew that the only thing he was a glutton for was Ellie. She was not like his mother. He would be able to put all his love and trust in her and not be betrayed.

He rubbed his hand over his face. His shower could wait. He needed to see Ellie, and he needed to see her now.

Ellie released a long sigh and wondered why she had called Darcy, when she knew what her best friend would say. "I hear what you're saying, Darcy, but a part of me feels I should come clean and tell Uriel the truth. And if you think it won't matter, then fine. I just don't want him to think these past three weeks meant nothing to me."

"Okay, El, if you think that's what you should do, then fine, do it. But if he's like most men, all that matters with an affair is the outcome, and the outcome was three weeks in his bed. I doubt he would have given that up for anything."

"Maybe not, Darcy, but the bottom line is that I got a call from my aunt's literary agent, to tell me that Vandellas Publis.h.i.+ng was sold to another company. I'm glad Uriel was around so I could get plenty of lovemaking inspiration to finish the book for her as Flame Elbam. But the bottom line is that, when he finds out he is going to know that he was being used."

Suddenly, she thought she heard a noise outside, and glanced out the window but didn't see anything. She then pulled in a deep breath and said, "That's why I have to tell him the truth. I have to let him know that he wasn't used. That I love him, and the time I spent with him was special."

She took a deep breath, and was grateful that, for once, Darcy didn't say anything.

"Look, Darcy, I have to go. I have a lot to do before Uriel comes over. And then I will tell him the truth. Everything. He deserves that."

Somehow, Uriel made it back to his house and dropped down in his kitchen chair, while the words he had heard Ellie speak rang so clear in his mind.

He had been about to knock on her back door, when two names she'd spoken grabbed him. Darcy and Vandellas Publis.h.i.+ng. Darcy was her best friend, the one who'd talked her into that dare ten years ago, and Vandellas Publis.h.i.+ng was the company that he and Donovan now owned. What was Ellie talking about when she said she would finish a book for her aunt for his publis.h.i.+ng company? And better yet, how had his lovemaking inspired her to finish the book?

A part of him knew he probably should have just hung around and asked her, demanded a few answers. But the part of him that had just admitted to being in love with her less than an hour ago felt raw and betrayed.

He breathed in deeply as he replayed her words that were still so clear in his mind.

He stood, and slowly walked up the stairs to his bedroom, where he pulled open his briefcase. It didn't take him long to find the papers he was looking for. The first was a detailed listing of all the outstanding ma.n.u.scripts. He quickly scanned the page and found the name "Flame Elbam," and in parenthesis it showed "Mable Weston."

Uriel blinked. Ms. Mable had been writing one of those romance novels? He pulled in a breath deeply. The woman was in her seventies, for crying out loud, so it had to be one of those sweet and innocent types where the man and woman did nothing more than hold hands, or kiss each other on the cheek.

He nearly swallowed his tongue when, moments later, he saw the category Ms. Mable's book had been purchased for: erotica. The paper he was holding almost slipped out of his hand, and he couldn't do anything but gape his mouth before dropping down on the side of his bed in shock. Sweet little old Ms. Mable had been writing erotica romances? He read farther and saw she'd been given an advance of over fifty thousand dollars.

d.a.m.n. First his mother and her boy-toy, and now Ms. Mable and her erotica romances...the female population never ceased to amaze him. His thoughts then s.h.i.+fted to Ellie. There was nothing on the paper he was holding in his hand to indicate that Mable Weston, aka Flame Elbam, would not be turning her ma.n.u.script in, which revealed Ellie's devious plan to outwit the publisher and finish the book herself.

Using him for her research.

Anger consumed him at the thought that, once again, ten years later, she and her friend Darcy had played him for a fool. The years hadn't matured them at all. Instead of getting wiser, they had gotten more conniving and deceitful. It would do Darcy justice to one day meet someone like York, who would see through her with the first blink, and then show her no mercy.

But for him, his bone of contention was with Ellie, the woman he had been foolish enough to fall in love with, the woman who had broken his heart before it had gotten a chance to accept that it could beat for one woman.

Deciding he no longer wanted to be within even fifty feet of Ellie, he went to the closet and threw his luggage out on the bed and moved around the room throwing things into it. There was nothing she could say. Nothing he wanted to hear.

She had made a fool of him for the last time.

Ellie climbed the steps to Uriel's front door, surprised to find it cracked open. It was not like him to forget to lock the door behind him. She had expected him to come over to her place at least by noon, and wondered if he was still asleep. She was prepared to tell him everything.

She entered the house, and when she heard him moving around upstairs, she called out to him as she headed toward the stairs, "Uriel, I'm coming up."

"Don't bother."

She looked up at him and saw that he was standing at the top of the stairs staring back. The look on his face sent chills through her body. And he had his luggage in his hand. She swallowed and wondered what was wrong. Had something happened to his father? His mother?

"Uriel, what is it? What happened?"

The laugh that emitted from his throat was just as cold and chilling as the look he was giving her. "You want to know what happened, Ellie? I'll tell you what happened. Stupid me. Foolish me. Wanting to believe, after ten years, you had grown up and had matured, not just in body but also in mind-only to discover that, once again, you and your friend, Darcy decided to play me. This time, using me in the bedroom, since you've outgrown a mere kiss on the pier. You needed to finish your aunt's book, and I was the perfect man to research those bedroom scenes you needed to write."

At the surprised look in her eyes, Uriel laughed again and said, "Yes, I was coming over to see you and just happened to overhear your conversation with your friend Darcy. I heard everything you said. Go play games with someone else, and get out of my house. You aren't welcome here."

"Uriel, please listen. You didn't hear everything, and I wasn't playing a game with you. I had planned to tell you everything about Aunt Mable's book and-"

"When? When had you planned to tell me, Ellie? Once the book was published, and my name appeared in the acknowledgments as the man who inspired you to write all those lovemaking scenes? The man who introduced you to all those various positions? The man you used once again, ten years later."

"Uriel, I-"

"Please leave. And you can have Cavanaugh Lake all to yourself, because I am going back to Charlotte."

He came down the stairs and stood in front of her. The anger on his face was reflected in his eyes as well, when he said, "Now, please leave so I can lock up the place."

Ellie met his gaze and knew that no matter what she said to him, he would not listen. So she turned and headed for the door. But not before looking back one final time, hoping, just hoping, she would once again see his eyes and a smile curve his lips. She saw neither. Instead, she saw the hard, cold expression of a very angry man. A man who had all but told her he did not, would not, allow her back into his life again.

She turned and walked away, opening the door and then walking out of it. She kept walking, refusing to stop until she was safely inside her own home. And then she made it to the sofa, slumped down and covered her face in her hands. It was only moments later, when she heard the sound of his car pulling away, that she let the tears fall, unheeded, down her face.

Kicking off her sandals, she decided to lie down, doubting her legs would be able to carry her anywhere right now. And she closed her eyes and cried some more.

Ellie opened her eyes and looked around, and when she glanced out the window she saw that dusk was covering the earth. She pulled herself up, not believing she had actually slept for over five hours.

But she had slept, and while doing so she had dreamed. It had been a pleasant dream, one of her and her aunt. They had laughed and they had talked, and then her aunt had held her while she cried. It had seemed so real, but she knew it had been merely a dream.

Still, she had come away with something very important. Her aunt wanted her to finish the book, and in doing so, she would be stronger when she confronted Uriel again. If he thought he had seen the last of her, he was sadly mistaken. She would give him time to cool his anger, and then she was going to Charlotte to see him. No matter what it took, she would make him realize her aunt's book was a blessing to them and not a curse.

It might have been the reason she'd agreed to an affair with him, but it hadn't been the reason she had fallen in love with him.

Chapter 18.

"Have a nice weekend, Mr. La.s.siter."

Uriel paused and glanced over his shoulder at his administrative a.s.sistant. "Thank you, Karen, and I hope you do the same."

"Are you headed out to your lake place for the Labor Day weekend?" Karen asked, and smiled as he grabbed his briefcase off his desk.

"No. I plan to have a quiet weekend at home."

He quickly left the office, not wanting to engage in any further conversation with Karen, or anyone else for that matter. He'd already seen his father before he'd left for the day. His father had made plans to fly to New York and visit with York and his parents.

Due to the holiday traffic on the road, it took Uriel longer than usual to get home. Normally, he would drop by the Racetrack Cafe and have a couple of beers with Donovan, Xavier and Bronson. But Bronson was racing this weekend at the Atlanta Motor Speedway, and the guys had gone to Atlanta to give him their support. Uriel thought about going, but had changed his mind. He much preferred being by himself this weekend. Now he knew how his father must have felt. It had been two weeks, and the pain hadn't eased any.

Donovan had accused him of being stubborn and had tried encouraging him to call Ellie, and listen to her-to let her explain her side of things. Donovan had shared with him the mistake he'd made in jumping to conclusions with Natalie. But Uriel's heart had hardened more at the thought of even talking to Ellie.

He let himself inside his home, and again noticed how lonely it seemed. He went into his bedroom, tossed his suit jacket on the bed and decided to slip into a pair of jeans and T-s.h.i.+rt before ordering take-out. Then he intended to spend the rest of the evening, probably the entire weekend, with ESPN.

He was stretched out on the sofa, watching the NFL preseason highlights, when he heard the sound of his doorbell. Thinking it was the pizza delivery man, he grabbed the twenty-dollar bill off the table and walked to the door in his bare feet and opened it.

Instead of the pizza man, Ellie stood there. He had to blink to make sure he wasn't seeing things, and then, with the anger he hadn't manage to cap, said in a cold tone, "What the h.e.l.l are you doing here?"

Ellie dragged in a deep breath as she gazed into Uriel's eyes. Two weeks hadn't softened them any. They were just as cold as that day he had left Cavanaugh Lake. But she couldn't let that stop her from doing what she needed to do. What she had to do. It would be the same thing Tamara had had to force Grant to do: to listen to her reasons for doing what she'd done, and make him believe, no matter what or how long it took, that every time he had touched her, had made love to her, she had loved him.

And before she left, she would make Uriel face up to the fact that he loved her, too. She truly believed it, and it had taken finis.h.i.+ng her aunt's ma.n.u.script to realize it. She was not dealing with make-believe, but hard, cold reality. And no man would have handled her the way he had unless he had loved her. She believed that. Once they got their love out in the open, they would be able to handle the rest. The man standing in front of her was her destiny. Now she had to convince him of that.

"I asked what you are doing here, Ellie."

"We need to talk." Before he realized what she was about to do, she slipped past him and walked into his house. She didn't turn around until she was in the middle of his living room, and when she did, the shocked look on his face almost endeared him to her.

"You weren't invited inside my house," he said, slamming the door shut.

"Then put me out," she challenged, knowing he wouldn't. He wouldn't come close to her. He wouldn't touch her. He was so much like Grant Hatteras that her heart ached. That's why the last two chapters had come easily to her, and she had been able to finish them in ten days.

And since she had decided to come clean, before she sent the ma.n.u.script to Lauren Poole yesterday, she had called the woman, confessed to what she'd done. Lauren had been more than understanding, and had agreed to read the entire ma.n.u.script as soon as she got it. If Lauren felt everything flowed smoothly, and Ellie had been able to capture her aunt's writing voice, then she would notify Vandellas Publishers, and request that they go ahead and print the book as the first and final work of Flame Elbam.

"You have three minutes."

She glanced over at Uriel. "I'm taking five," she said, sitting down on the sofa and crossing her legs. "Ten, if I need them."

She'd seen him glance at her legs when she crossed them. She had him figured out, which was why she had worn this particular skirt with the split in the side. And she wondered if he had picked up on the fact that she didn't have a bra on underneath her blouse. He would find out soon enough.

He stared at her. She stared at him. There were some things a man couldn't hide, no matter how quick he might be to do so, and when he came and quickly sat down in the chair across from her she knew. He might be mad at her, but his body still wanted her.

"I'm waiting."

She pulled in a deep breath and then said, "I don't want you waiting, Uriel, I want you listening. Will you listen to what I have to say?"

"Maybe."

Okay, if he wanted to be difficult, then she would show him what being difficult was about in a minute, if he kept it up. "I will start at the beginning. I found my aunt's unfinished ma.n.u.script...."

Uriel stared at her. Was he listening? Most of the time. The rest of it was spent watching her lips move, watching that tongue work inside her mouth, watching how she nervously twitched her crossed legs, watching her hand gestures. Just plain watching her. And remembering.

Remembering the lips he kissed. The tongue that had mingled with his, the pair of legs he had been between and the hands that had stroked him. He felt his crotch harden. Felt the way his pulse rate increased. Felt the heat that was beginning to run up his spine.

"Uriel?"

He blinked. "What?"

"I asked you a question."

He frowned. Had she? He s.h.i.+fted in the chair. "Could you repeat the question?"

"Sure. I asked whose idea it was for us to have that summer fling?"

His frown deepened, wondering what point she was trying to make. "It was my idea."

"Why?"

"Why?" he repeated.

"Yes, why?" she almost snapped.