Chapter Ten
What was it about this woman that sucked all the control out of him? He loved playing the part of the dominant, loved bringing women to the point where they wanted everything at once, loved being clothed while having a woman’s body at his disposal to play like an instrument until they were a boneless mass of pure pleasure.
But with Becca?
A simple “please” from her, and he came undone. The sight of her sweet rosy pussy, quivering and wet, made his cock overrule his head.
“Where are you going?” Cal asked when he returned from the bathroom to find Becca pulling her dress over her head.
“Back to my villa.”
He took her hand and pulled her into his arms, catching the soft cotton of her dress and drawing it back up over her head.
“I’m not done with you yet.”
“Cal,” she said, a soft smile touching her lips. “I need to get back to my room.”
“In a bit.”
“Fine.” She rested her hands on his chest and gazed up at him from beneath her lashes. “But then this shirt needs to come off.”
“Fine.”
He watched her delicate fingers work the buttons on his shirt. He could imagine her at a computer, the same intense concentration on her features as her fingers flew over a keyboard. It was a strangely sexy image.
“God, I love your chest,” she said, pushing the fabric apart and kissing the spot between his pecs.
“I love yours, too.”
When he went to touch her, she slapped his hands away. “Uh-uh.” There was a glint of mischief in her expression. “My turn to torture you, mister.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Oh. I think so.”
She pushed his shirt off his shoulders, muttering the whole time about how abnormally broad his shoulders were, and that it wasn’t fair to other men—which made him smile—until she dropped in front of him and undid his fly, pushing his shorts down his legs and remaining there on the floor, gazing up at him with a wicked gleam in her eyes.
Sifting his fingers through her hair, he guided her head toward his already growing erection. But instead of taking him in her mouth, she said, “Nope.”
“What do you mean?” he asked huskily.
“I mean, I’ll suck your cock when I decide to suck your cock and not one second before.”
Cal’s fingers curled into her soft strands, and he growled. No woman had ever dared to talk to him like that before.
The result was immediate.
His erection raged, and despite the fact he’d just come, he needed Becca Evans. Again. Right now.
…
“Where were you last night?” Grace asked Becca after emerging from her hour-long shower the next morning.
“Out.”
“That’s two nights in a row you’ve been ‘out.’” Grace squinted at her. “What have you been out doing?” Her brows waggled suggestively. Then she covered her mouth, but not before a little squeal escaped. “You met someone.”
“No,” Becca said, pushing past Grace to the bathroom and then shutting the door on her sister. “I haven’t,” she called through the closed door.
“Oh my God,” Grace shouted back. “You’re having sex! How was it?”
Cracking the door, Becca leaned her head out. “I’m not having sex. Now leave me alone so I can shower.”
But Grace was like a dog with a ball, tirelessly asking for it to be thrown over and over again. Twenty minutes later, when Becca emerged, a towel wrapped around her midsection and another wrapped like a turban on her head, Grace was sitting in front of the vanity, flat ironing her hair.
“So? How was it?”
“Grace. Drop it.”
“I knew it.” She grinned. “You know, I told Calum that you needed to get laid. Little did I know you’d take my advice. But, I’m so happy for you.” This time she didn’t even bother to hide her squeal.
Becca groaned inwardly as she grabbed a clean dress from the drawer. Her empty stomach roiled with discomfort. She needed to change the subject, but Grace followed her into the bathroom, leaning against the doorframe and observing Becca in the reflection of the mirror. “Who is he?”
“No one,” Becca insisted. “I didn’t meet anyone. Can I please get dressed in peace?”
“You’re lying,” Grace said in a singsong voice, ignoring Becca’s request for privacy. “Tell me all about him.” She sat on the closed toilet seat, waiting for Becca to answer.
Which of course, she didn’t. There was no way she was going to tell Grace who she was with and what she’d been doing.
“Oh, come on, Bec,” Grace urged. “What’s he like? And don’t say he doesn’t exist. You were out last night until after midnight, and the night before it was like two a.m.” Grace got up and came to stand behind Becca. “You thought I was asleep, but I wasn’t.” She winked at her sister in the mirror. “You had sex hair both times.”
“I did not.”
“I know sex hair when I see it.” She came to stand behind Becca and messed up her hair, giggling as she did it. “You know, I don’t need babysitting. If you want to have a sleepover, do it. Just text me so I don’t get worried.”
Thank God Grace’s phone chose that moment to chirp to life.
“Beach volleyball?” Grace complained as she stared at her phone where the message from the organizers had just come in. “I haven’t played volleyball since the eighth grade.”
“Well,” Becca said, “I’m willing to bet that most of the other women haven’t, either, so you’ll be fine. You just have to come up with a strategy that sets you apart. Just like you did yesterday.”
Grace set the phone down and fiddled with her hair as a dreamy expression stole over her features. “That was such good advice you gave me last night. Being the first one there really allowed me to get to know Calum better.” She sighed. “Did I tell you what happened?”
Becca froze. “No.”
“He touched me.”
“Who touched you?” Placing a hand to her stomach did nothing to quell the unsettled feeling. She must be hungry.
“Calum, silly.”
Becca’s stomach twisted one hundred eighty degrees in the opposite direction. “Where?”
“On the beach. At dinner.”
“No, I mean, where did he touch you?”
“Oh.” Her eyes fluttered closed. “On the back of my hand.”
Becca slowly released a breath. “Okay, so that’s good, right?” She applied lotion to her skin and got dressed, putting her bathing suit on first before slipping her summer dress over her head.
“On the one hand, he’s such a gentleman,” Grace said. “But there’s this animal magnetism about him that makes me think he’s good in bed.”
Becca’s hands shook as she tied the straps of her dress at her shoulders. She could so clearly remember Cal’s touch there. The feel of the straps sliding down her shoulders. His hands on her breasts. Rough…
“You okay, Bec? You look weird.”
She shook herself out of her reverie and forced a smile. “So, what’s your plan for the volleyball game?”
Grace’s expression soured. “I wish you could take my place. You’re the volleyball player.”
“Just because I played intramurals does not make me a volleyball player.”
“Yeah, well. At least you know the rules.”
“Honestly, Grace. Based on last night’s events, I don’t think rules are a big part of this competition.” Becca rubbed her suddenly aching temples. “We just need you to stand out. You’re not going to be the most skilled, so…it has to be something else.”
“I’ve got that cute bikini.”
“Everyone is going to have a cute bikini.”
Grace shrugged. “I don’t know, then.”
“Okay, let’s go about this the other way. What is every other girl going to be doing?”
“Playing hard. Showing off. Being competitive.” Grace’s pretty nose crinkled “Oh, and being mean.” Was she thinking about the mud-slinging Kaitlyn who’d tried to kill her in the ring yesterday?
Becca towel dried her hair. “Then you be your sweet self, which is everything that every other woman is not being. Just like you did yesterday.”
Grace sat up straighter. “I can do that.”
“And don’t wear your bikini.”
“What?”
“Everyone else will be in teeny tiny suits.” She twisted her lips. “Probably hoping for a wardrobe malfunction.”
“But—”
“No buts. You need to stand out, and the only way is by wearing something that is different. Plus, you need something supportive, unless you want your boobs hanging low.”
“My boobs have never hung low, thank you very much.”
Becca leaned closer. “Have I ever led you astray?”
“No…”
“So?”
“Okay. But can you help me practice a few skills before the matches start?”
“Of course.”
Grace smiled and clasped Becca’s hands. “What did I ever do to deserve a sister like you?”
After Grace shut the bathroom door behind her, Becca doubled over the vanity. Her sister’s comment was a punch, right to the gut. Grace was so wrong about her, and the only thing Becca could do to make up for her duplicitous behavior was to do her damnedest to make sure her sister won.
…
It was seven thirty a.m., and Cal got off the phone with his second-in-command, Nolan Wayne, who was in New York, working behind the scenes to buy up the remaining stocks needed to make more than 50 percent interest for the resort before the shareholders’ vote in three days. Nolan reassured him that the lawyers had been working with him the entire time. Everything was happening according to schedule, and the papers were ironclad.
He had just hung up with Nolan and was about to make his way to the event tent when his phone rang.
“Cal? Is that you?”
“Hey, Mom.” He couldn’t help smiling. She’d called his cell, of course it was him.
“Where are you? Are you in New York?”
“No.”
“Well, I’m just calling to remind you about Dad’s retirement party on Friday.”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Cal said, “I won’t be able to make it.” He explained where he was and what he was doing.
“You’re on The Bachelor?” she asked excitedly. “Oh, that’s so exciting!” His mother was a huge fan of the popular television show and all its spin-offs.
“No, Mom. It’s not The Bachelor. It’s like The Bachelor. Sort of. It’s a beauty pageant set at a tropical resort. And a trip with me to Paris is part of the prize.”
“Wow. Is it going to be on TV?”
“No, it’s streaming live on the internet.”
“Oh.” He could hear the disappointment in her voice. She wasn’t a big fan of the internet—thank God—because he didn’t want her watching this.
“Well, if it’s anything like The Bachelor, you be careful, Calum. Some of those girls are manipulative.”
Cal chuckled. “Okay, Mom. I’ll be careful.”
“And make sure you choose a nice girl, okay? Outer beauty is fleeting. Inner beauty lasts a lifetime. You deserve a nice girl.”
“Right, Mom.” Cal recalled the many times he’d heard this mantra over the years.
“You sure you can’t make Dad’s retirement? It would mean so much to him.”
“I can’t.” The answer had become a pat response over the years, but this time, it was legitimate. He didn’t want the media circus that he was a part of to be thrust down his parents’ throats.
Is that the real reason?
Cal cleared his throat. “I’m really sorry, Mom. I’ll send a gift.”
He hung up and then went to stand on the patio, leaning against the wrought-iron rail, gazing out at the crystal-blue waves crashing upon the white-sand shore.
The life he lived now was so far removed from where he’d grown up, sometimes he forgot that he’d been a poor kid, growing up in Paterson, New Jersey. His parents had done their best, he knew that now, but things hadn’t been easy growing up. He’d been teased for wearing second-hand clothes, teased because of what his father did for a living—custodian of the high school he’d attended—teased because his mother was sick.
He’d always told himself he’d stayed away to protect his down-to-earth parents from his publicized life. But now, he wasn’t so sure that was the truth. His dad was a hard worker and his mom had loved him.
Still loved him, even though he hadn’t visited in years.
You deserve a nice girl.
His mom would adore Becca.
Though it didn’t bear thinking about, because he was never going to introduce the two. However, that didn’t stop Cal from imagining making love to her in his old bedroom. Why that fantasy came up when he had so many others to work with from last night, he had no idea. But it was hot.
Thoughts of Becca in any and all positions seemed to be taking over his brain. From last night to the moment he’d woken up this morning—with a raging woody—wishing she was there in his bed so he could play some more control games with her.
He’d always enjoyed taking over a woman and her needs. He’d never let a woman do the same to him. But with Becca? Fuck. Both were enjoyable. It was as if they were made for each other.
Whoa, easy, dude. You just met this woman.
Scrubbing a hand across his face, Calum gathered all the Becca memories and shut them up in a room in his mind, closing the door firmly behind it. He had to focus.
He made his way to the event tent that had been set up on the beach next to a bunch of sand volleyball courts. He gazed out toward the horizon, taking a deep breath of salty air, when a ball bounced off a chair and rolled in the sand toward him. Becca appeared on the other side of the roped-off partition, her hair pulled back into a ponytail, wearing a one-piece bathing suit and sunglasses.
“This yours?” Cal asked.
“Yes.” She stretched her arms out for the ball, asking for him to toss it. Why? Because she didn’t want to get too close?
“You play?”
“A little. I’m just helping Grace with a few skills before the tournament.”
“She shouldn’t worry. Each of the contestants will be teamed up with two professional players.”
“I know. But, she wants to do her best.”
When Cal still didn’t toss the ball, she said, “Can I have the ball, please?”
“Absolutely. On one condition.”
“What’s that?” She sounded out of breath.
Coming to stand closer, he said quietly, “Stay overnight, tonight.”
With a panicked expression, she glanced around, like she was worried people had overheard.
“Becca?” Grace called from about twenty feet away as she weaved in and out between lounge chairs. “Oh, hi, Calum. How are you?” She beamed.
He smiled in Grace’s direction and then dropped his voice. “If you don’t come to me, I’ll come to you.”
Becca glanced over her shoulder at her sister. “Fine,” she whispered.
“Okay.” He placed the ball into her hands right before Grace drew close enough to hear. “Good luck today, Grace.”
“Thanks, Calum,” she said, smiling shyly, which was in contrast to the way she struck a pose with her hand on her hip, one knee bent and her body turned to the side. It was probably done subconsciously—presenting her figure to the best advantage.
“Come on. Let’s go.” Becca tugged on a reluctant Grace’s hand.
“See you out there,” Cal called.
As the women walked away—their differences never more pronounced—it was Becca, with her more athletic figure and no-nonsense attire, that drew his attention. And his desire.