The Wolf Prince (7 page)

A thrill of excitement swept through her. Her very own sexy secret agent living in the guest house. She wondered if he had all of James Bond’s bedroom moves.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

Heat flooded her face. She really had to stop fantasizing. But it was such a good fantasy. She regretfully brought her attention back to the present. “I think we might have just discovered what you do for a living.”

“But I still don’t know what a secret agent is.”

She jumped up and grabbed his hand. “Come on, I’ll show you. My dad is a big Bond fan. He has a media room full of his movies. If that’s what you are, maybe it’ll jog your memory.”

Her father’s addiction to Bond had probably sparked Darcy’s dream of becoming a private investigator. She’d watched every
Bond movie at least twice with her father. They’d bonded over Bond.

She was really losing it.

They went into the house and upstairs. When they walked inside the media room, she realized she still held his hand. She quickly dropped it, and went to the DVD player. Holding his hand had felt nice, though. Too nice. The relationship had to stay platonic, professional. Her gaze landed on him and lingered for a moment. At least platonic until she knew his background.

The media room could seat up to twenty people in chocolate-suede covered, oversized recliners. The screen filled one entire wall. There was even a popcorn machine at the back and a small bar where you could get a soda or alcoholic beverage. Not that she had been allowed alcohol until she turned twenty-one, and by then she discovered she preferred soda.

But her favorite part of the media room was the lights. When they were dimmed, the ceiling automatically began to twinkle with thousands of fiber optic lights. The atmosphere created a feeling of being outside under the stars.

She motioned Surlock toward one of the chairs and went to the library cabinets. Her organized father had every movie alphabetized and arranged by genre. She quickly found the Bond movie she wanted and grabbed the remote. Her father had hundreds of movies. Collecting them had gone way beyond the hobby stage and become an obsession.

Darcy inserted the DVD, then took the chair next to Surlock’s. With just the push of a few buttons, the lights dimmed, and the movie started.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as Surlock really got into the movie. Halfway through, she realized one thing: All guys were alike. It wasn’t hard to tell that he enjoyed action flicks.

But she’d forgotten about the sexual tension, the love scenes. She shifted in her seat as James Bond became Surlock and she became
the female lead. It was Surlock touching her, flirting with his eyes, seducing her.

Darcy was glad when the movie finally ended. She jumped to her feet and turned the lights on, rather than using the remote. She needed to put some distance between them.

“What did you think?” she managed to ask with only a small catch in her voice.

He shifted in his seat until he met her gaze. “Yes, I think I might be a secret agent.”

“You’ve remembered something?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. But being a secret agent feels right.”

Which didn’t really tell her a lot since most guys would like to play the part of James Bond in real life. She was no closer than she had been before they watched the movie. The only thing it had created was more sexual frustration, and confusion about who Surlock might be.

So, how to find out for sure? She thought about it for a moment before coming up with an idea. “We can fingerprint you.”

“What will that do?”

“If you work for the government, your prints might be on file. You could work in intelligence of some kind and not necessarily be a secret agent. There are a lot of possibilities.”

A slow sexy grin curved his lips upward. Her toes curled in response. Damn, the man was devilishly handsome.

“I don’t know, I kind of like the idea of women falling all over themselves to mate with me.”

Her mouth went dry and swallowing was suddenly not an option. The way he looked at her, she had a feeling he wanted to mate with her right here, right now.

What he’d just said finally sank in. “That’s not the first time you’ve referred to sex as mating. I’ve never heard anyone call it mating. That might be a clue to where you’re from.”

“Mating is not correct?”

“It is, but most people refer to it as sex or making love. Mating
is usually associated with animals. That’s why I think you’re probably not from around here.”

He still looked at her as if he was more interested in making love than finding out who he was. She understood the feeling perfectly. There was a strange current that seemed to pass between them. It was hard to explain. It was almost as if she’d known him all her life, but that wasn’t possible.

“You’re very beautiful,” he said, reaching over and brushing some loose strands of hair behind her ear.

His fingertips grazed her cheek. A shiver of anticipation rippled through her. She knew he was going to kiss her. One kiss wouldn’t hurt.

Darcy leaned forward, welcoming his touch, needing his touch. Instead of pulling her closer, his hand slipped to her arm. He ran his fingers lightly up and down in an absentminded caress. It was all she could do to stop herself from jumping his bones.

“You feel it, too,” he said.

“Feel what?”

“The attraction.”

Her cheeks grew warm. “You’re a nice-looking man—of course I feel attracted to you.” That was an understatement if she’d ever heard one.

“No, more than that. I’ve never felt anything such as this. I want you so much, my need has become a deep ache inside me. Do you feel this?”

As if an electrical current passed between them. Yes, but she’d been afraid to say anything to him. She finally nodded, unable to speak.

“I think if I can’t touch you, I will explode.” He moved his hand to the shoulder ties on her shirt. He didn’t hurry as he untied first one, then the other.

Darcy knew that he was giving her time to protest, to stop him, but she couldn’t. Instead, she reached for the remote and dimmed the lights. She refused to remind herself she’d only been
going to let him kiss her, nothing more. She’d think about the consequences later.

She started the movie playing again to drown out the noise she knew they would make. When she faced him again, she reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, tossing it to the floor.

Her hands trembled when she unbuttoned the first button on his shirt. He didn’t try to stop her, either. Not that she had really thought he might. It was a good thing, too, because she wanted to touch him.

When his shirt was open, she pushed the sides off his shoulders, relishing sliding her hands over his sinewy muscles. Her body quivered with anticipation as he stood, letting the shirt fall to the floor with a shrug of his shoulders.

She stood as well, kicking off her sandals. He toed off his shoes, then removed his socks before reaching for her again.

Her mouth went dry when he unfastened her shorts, tugging the zipper down. His palms caressed her at the same time as he pushed her shorts over her hips. She stood in front of him wearing only a lacy pink bra and a matching thong.

“You’re so beautiful.”

“So are you.”

“I’m a man, a hunter, not beautiful.”

She stilled. “A hunter?”

He frowned, then grabbed his head. He groaned, then closed his eyes tight, his expression pained.

“What?” Worry shot through her. She touched his arm, guiding him back down in the chair. “Surlock, what’s happening?”

“Noise,” he gasped. “In my head.” He fumbled in his pocket, but he wasn’t having much luck retrieving whatever he was trying to get.

“What? How can I help?”

“The doctor gave me eardrops.”

She brushed his hand out of the way and reached inside his pocket, bringing out the small bottle. “Got it. Move your hands
and I’ll put some drops in.” He moved one hand. She put in several drops and hoped it wasn’t too many, then repeated in the other ear.

As soon as she finished, he put his hands over his ears and dropped his head between his legs. She could see he struggled to keep from crying out. Once again, guilt flooded her.

“Maybe I should take you to the hospital.”

“No, it’s easing. It only happens when I remember something. It’s not so much painful as it is loud. Like someone screaming in my ear.”

A few moments passed until he straightened. She breathed a sigh of relief. He slowly lowered his hands as if he was afraid the noise would return.

“Better?” she asked, nibbling her bottom lip.

“Better.”

She stood, reaching for her clothes. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. It’s probably too soon after your injury.” Could she feel any more guilty? Or embarrassed?

When she straightened, he was beside her, taking her into his arms, lowering his mouth to hers. She let the clothes fall to the floor, forgotten as she lost herself in the man. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer still. He undid the clasp of her bra, then his hands slipped under to cup her breasts. He teased her nipples. They tightened and became more sensitive.

When the kiss ended, she was breathing hard. She rested her head against his chest, and heard the pounding of his heart. He slid his hands down her back, cupped her butt and pulled her close. She wiggled against him, and smiled when he groaned.

He stepped away from her. Her body tingled as she watched him undo his pants, then slide the zipper down. Her pulse raced when he shoved them downward, his briefs going with them. The man was truly magnificent. He was thick, swollen with need. She imagined what it would feel like to have him buried deep inside her. Hot, scorching, stroking … unprotected.

Damn!

“I’ll be right back.” Before she gave him the chance to say anything, she was at the door, cautiously opening it. All clear. The maids always cleaned the upstairs first. She prayed they were gone now as she ran naked down the hall—a thong didn’t really count as clothes. Her bedroom was only two doors down, thank goodness.

Once inside, she hurried to her dresser and yanked open the top drawer. In the far back corner she found the condoms. She rifled through them until she found an extra large. Her fingers trembled as she hurried back to the door. She cracked it open. All clear. Her pulse raced as she darted back to the media room and slipped inside.

“Protection,” she said, completely out of breath as she waved the condom in the air, then realized what the hell she was doing. God, how embarrassing. She was acting as if she had never had sex before. She’d just never had really, really good sex, but she had a feeling this time would be different.

“Protection?” His forehead wrinkled.

“You know, sexually transmitted diseases?”

“You are diseased?”

She frowned. “Well, no, but it’s better not to take any chances.” She thrust the condom toward him. She had a feeling he had no idea what to do with it. “I’ll show you.” Right before she died of embarrassment.

She tore open the foil packet and removed the condom. “It, uh, sheaths your, uh, erection.” She was so glad she’d dimmed the lights. He jerked when she brushed across the head of his penis. She had an insane desire to wrap her hands around him and slide his foreskin down. But she didn’t. Instead, she slowly rolled the condom onto him. It was a snug fit.

She swallowed past the lump in her throat. Was he too big? She hadn’t had sex in almost a year.

“I want you,” he said, his voice husky.

Screw it. She couldn’t stand not feeling him buried inside her. She jerked her thong down and kicked it away. He pulled her
close, sliding his hand down, slipping between her legs. She drew in a sharp breath when he scraped his fingers through her curls.

“Yes,” she breathed, moving closer. “More.”

He slipped a finger inside. Her body quivered from the small eruption he caused. She bit her bottom lip, moving against his finger. “More,” she cried.

But rather than give her what she asked, he slipped his finger out and moved to a recliner, tugging her hand so that she went with him. At this point, she would’ve done anything he asked, followed him anywhere, just as long as he promised to give her more of what he already had.

He sat first, then pulled her onto his lap so that she straddled him. She rubbed against his erection. He groaned. She raised herself enough so he could move inside her, then slowly brought herself down on him. Each inch of him was an explosion of delight. She waited until her body adjusted to his size. It didn’t take long.

He watched her, also waiting, and seemed to know when she was ready. He raised his hips. She moaned with pleasure, raising and lowering her body.

“Feels so good,” he gasped.

“Yes,” she cried out.

In the background James Bond raced across the screen. Shots rang out, a car crashed and burst into flames. A woman screamed. More shots, running feet.

Darcy ran her hands through her hair. He massaged her breasts, tugging on the nipples. Heat filled her. The blood pounded through her veins. She moved her body against his. Faster, harder.

She heard an old familiar humming in her ears, growing louder. She blocked the sound, only wanting to feel what he was doing to her body. Blocked it as she had when she was younger. The humming stopped as suddenly as it had begun. She only wanted to feel what was happening to her body, the incredible sensations that were exploding inside her.

“Look at me,” he said, his voice hoarse with need.

She opened her eyes, made the connection. Something passed between them. More than just making love. It was almost as if they were becoming one. Words were no longer necessary between them. She knew what he wanted, needed, without his saying a word.

The fire built inside her. Rising to a crescendo.

Release shook her body. She stilled. Muscles clenched. Heard him cry out and was glad the sound was turned up on the movie. His body suddenly tightened, then slowly relaxed.

She melted against his chest, a film of sweat covering her body as she tried to bring her breathing under control. She’d never, ever had an orgasm like the one she’d just experienced. She was afraid Surlock had ruined her for other men. Right now, she really didn’t care.