Blame It on the Bachelor (4 page)

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Authors: Karen Kendall

Tags: #All The Groom's Men

BOOK: Blame It on the Bachelor
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“Actually, I don’t smoke.”

They stood looking at each other for a long moment, and she had to admit that if any guy could carry off leather pants, it most certainly was Devon McKee.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” he said simultaneously.

They both laughed.

“I’m not normally a slut or a tease,” Kylie added.

“That’s a real shame. What was it about me that brought out those admirable, delightful qualities?”

Her face flash-fried. She didn’t answer.

“I don’t normally play hard to get,” Dev said. “But I’m usually in the driver’s seat, so to speak. This was a whole new ball game.”

“Yeah…listen, we really should get back out there.” Once again, Kylie tried to maneuver her way out of the closet.

Once again, Dev blocked her way, this time, by simply stretching his arms across the narrow breadth of the closet and putting his palms flat on each wall.

Kylie eyed him nervously.

“Not that it wasn’t refreshing, but I prefer to do the seducing,” he said with a predatory grin.

My, but he had a lot of very white teeth. Rather wolfish ones, truth to tell.

She swallowed nervously, all of her former bravado having deserted her. She was locked in a closet with a guy she didn’t really know, and she’d teased him shamelessly.

Dev’s arm shot out and he caught her around the back of her neck, under her hair. Her stomach flipped as he drew her inexorably toward him. She was barely aware of her feet moving, or of her knees shaking as he bent his head to hers.

His lips sent liquid fire shooting through her veins, and they parted hers easily. He delved into her mouth, his other hand slipping down her back, over the thin silk of her dress. He pulled her against him, hard, and his hand drifted lower, cupping her bottom and then curving up again.

“You lied,” he said. “You
are
wearing panties. A thong.”

He slid his fingers up, under her dress, and the heat of him against her bare flesh shocked and excited her.

“So smooth,” he murmured. “So soft.”

She gasped as he dipped under the thong, into the cleft of her backside and down to the most private area of her body. The pleasure exquisite, it sent erotic ripples all over her body. He released her nape and picked her up with both hands, her skirt rucked up and the core of her snug against the hardness of him.

His breath came hot and shallow against her lips as he rocked against her, doing through their clothing what he wanted to do naked.

Through her dress, her breasts rubbed against his shirt, aching and wanting.

Supporting her weight with his left hand, he went back to cause more sensual trouble with his right. He dipped under her thong again, stroking and rubbing.

The sensations held her at gunpoint, taut and caught on a moan and shivering at the possibility of what he might do next.

Devon bit her lower lip gently and slid two fingers into her, still teasing her core with his thumb.

Unintelligible noises came from her own mouth, and she finally tore away from his. “You can’t— We can’t— You have to put me down!”

“Why?” asked Devon, and did something even more disturbing and wonderful.

“Because—
aaahhhhh
…”

“I thought you wanted me to do you.”


Ohhhhhhhhhhh.
No, stop! Wait, don’t stop—”

“Am I doing you wrong?”

“Nooooooooo!”

“Then what’s the problem?” He cleared space on the cleaning cart by knocking a bunch of bath tissue off it, then set her down. He fished in his pocket for his wallet and took out a condom. While she caught her breath, he unzipped his pants and rolled the condom on.

She couldn’t help being stunned at the size of him. She also couldn’t help coming to her senses about their ugly surroundings. “This is really cheap and sleazy,” she said, as he picked her up again.

“I know.” He grinned. “Ain’t it grand?” And he lowered her slowly onto his cock, kissing her as she reacted with a helpless moan. “You’re so tight. So hot. So delicious. Mmm.”

“I’m such a
slut!

He chuckled, nuzzling her neck. “Yeah, that’s right. Feel guilty about it, feel dirty. ’Cause I’m gonna make you come anyway and a filthy, screaming orgasm is the best kind there is. Okay, honey?” He backed her against a wall and gave it to her hard, the way she needed it right now.

She needed passion. She needed to be with someone so excited by her that he could barely control himself. She needed so desperately to be wanted.

Devon supported her now with his right arm and used his left to pin her wrists above her head, driving into her almost violently, taking her to the edge and then beyond. The heat and the friction and the sense of the forbidden built to a crest. Then he bit her nipple lightly through her dress and she lost control, spasming around him.

“That’s right, darlin’. That’s beautiful. Give it to me, give me all you’ve got.” It was his turn to groan, now, as he took himself to the hilt inside of her, once and twice and a third, final time. He cursed softly as he came and held her to him tightly until every last tremor between them subsided.

Kylie leaned her head against the wall, her eyes unfocused. Devon kissed her neck and finally put her down, not that she could stand on her own two feet at the moment. She slid down in a boneless heap.

Dev leaned on the supply cart, panting. “You are something else, sweetheart.”

She nodded. “I’m now officially a tramp.”

He frowned at her. “If you feel this conflicted about things, why did you proposition me to begin with?”

“It’s complicated,” she said, pulling her dress over her thighs. At least she hadn’t thought once about Jack. “Why did you come looking for me? I thought you said that you wouldn’t bang me if I were the last chick on the planet. Not if the fate of the free world hung in the balance.”

Dev shrugged. “Clearly I’m not superhero material.”

“I don’t know about that.” She shot him a sidelong glance.

“We aim to please, here at McKee, Inc.” He winked at her.

“Devon, how are we going to go into the rehearsal dinner without everyone knowing what we just did?”

He pursed his lips. “People knowing is a problem for you?”

“Yes! I’m really not this type of girl.”

“The riddle again. So it was my animal magnetism that toppled you from your nice-girl pedestal?”

“Absolutely.”

“Why am I not buying this? Why do I have a feeling that you had some twisted female agenda of your very own?”

She gave him a look of limpid innocence.

He snorted. “All right. Now, I’m going to sneak out of here and find a pack of cigarettes. My official story is that I went out for a smoke and lost track of the time. You, on the other hand, got a business call. So you go back in still ‘talking’ to someone on your cell phone and then hang up and apologize to your table. I’ll saunter in about five minutes later, looking surprised that the meal has started. Does that work for you?”

She nodded and got to her feet, smoothing her dress. She found her purse and dug out her lipstick and compact, repairing the damage he’d done.

He watched her silently while he readjusted his own clothes and disposed of the condom. “Okay. One final thing, Kylie Kent.”

“What’s that?”

His dark eyes crinkled at the corners as he gave her a dazzling smile. “Well, I’d like your phone number, of course.”

She froze for a moment, then shook her head decisively as the smile dropped off his face. “Oh, no, no, no. No offense—you were great—but I don’t think that’s a good idea at all.”

And Kylie bolted out of the supply closet, once again leaving him speechless.

4

OUTSIDE, DEV sucked hard on his Marlboro Red and squinted at the duck in front of him. It tilted its head and stared at him out of black eyes that would have been menacing on any other creature.

“You want bread. I want a phone number. Life sucks, buddy. That’s all I can tell you.” Dev blew smoke out of his mouth and nostrils, feeling like a disgruntled animal himself—some sort of hairy, two-legged dragon.

The duck opened its beak and expelled a hiss of displeasure before turning its tail feathers on him and waddling to the edge of a man-made pond.

A couple of smaller ducks bobbed on the surface of the water. Big Duck sailed toward them grumpily, then without notice flapped his wings and climbed onto one of the others, shoving her half under the water. Rustling and squawking ensued. It took Dev a minute to clue in.

“Dude,” he said, shaking his head. “That’s just wrong.” At least
his
woman had been willing. “And you could, at a
minimum,
buy her dinner first.”

After the unromantic, er, ducking, the female emerged outraged and shook herself off, clearly wanting nothing further to do with Big Duck.

“Feeling used?” Dev asked. “Me, too.” He finished his cigarette and left the butt in the sand on top of a trash receptacle. “Except you’re not stupid enough to want his phone number after that kind of treatment.”

It did occur to him that cosmic payback was a bitch. That women all over the city of Miami—and probably the whole state of Florida—would find his predicament funny and satisfying.

The leather pants stuck to his legs in the humidity, and he again cursed himself for wearing them. But he didn’t own a suit and the two pairs of dress slacks he did own were dirty. Dev shoved his aviators up his nose and reluctantly went inside to join the party, damp patches and all.

Kylie sat cool and elegant at a table three away from his, looking like a modern Grace Kelly. Not a soul in the room would believe he’d had her moaning in a utility closet. He almost didn’t believe it himself.

He glowered at her from behind the aviators as he seated himself with Adam and Pete and the other groomsmen, but she didn’t spare him a glance.

“What’s with the shades?” their old college friend Jay asked. “Did I miss the paparazzi?”

“He’s crying,” Pete suggested. “He crashed and burned with the hot blonde over there.”

Dev snatched the sunglasses off his face and shoved them into the breast pocket of his blazer. He turned his scowl onto Pete. “I did not crash and burn.”

“Devon, I saw her walk away from you. I saw your mouth hanging open like a guppy’s. So just admit it—you’ve lost your touch.”

“Along with some of his hair,” Adam added.

The table of guys erupted into laughter.

“Go to hell,” Dev said, grinning and, in spite of himself, putting a hand up to his head. Still bristling with frolicking follicles, thank God. “You’re just bitter.”

“Bitter, he claims!” Pete waved his fork. “Why, because in college, the Gig used to leave no women standing for the rest of us?”

The Gig. His old college nickname was very unwelcome right now. Dev ignored the hot slab of beef on his plate—it felt too much like a brother. He went to work battling the almond slivers that had slyly infiltrated the perfectly good green beans. Then he uprooted the parsley encroaching on his potatoes.

“I wasn’t under the impression you wanted the women standing,” he retorted. “So I left them on their backs for you.”

Silence ensued.

“The sheer arrogance of that statement takes my breath away,” Jay marveled. He was the writer among them.

“Good. ’Cause we don’t want no stinkin’ poetry out of your mouth, Shakespeare.” Dev squinted at him much as he had at the duck.

“Wait, wait, wait. You’re skillfully leading us away from the main topic,” Pete pointed out. “Which is that
you went down in flames
with that woman.”

More like up in flames.
But Dev stayed silent. Why, he didn’t know. He didn’t owe her anything, not even privacy. But he kept his mouth closed.

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