The Pirate And The Pussycat (3 page)

"And you’re telling this to me...why?"

"I thought you would want to know, sir, in case the media arrived."

"If everyone is okay and the house is still standing, Basil, then the media can wait."

"Oh," said the disembodied voice. "Then I’m terribly sorry to disturb you. I apologize. Please enjoy the rest of the evening, Master Wolfe."

Rolfe turned back to the bed. "Sorry about that." He slid onto the mattress beside her again. "Now, where were we?"

Celia sat up, her mouth suddenly dry. "Mr. Wolfe? As in Devlin Wolfe?"

He paused for a moment. Instead of responding to her question, he asked, "Would it matter if I was?"

"Well, no, it wouldn’t matter," she admitted. "But it’s kind of a shock to learn you’ve just slept with the richest guy in town. Someone more mysterious than Batman." She raised an eyebrow. "And look at the lucky coincidence of us being paired up. Do you realize how many women would have killed for the chance to be in my shoes tonight?"

He slid his hand down her leg and over her boots. "Damn sexy shoes they are, too."

His touch sent warm thrills shooting through her veins. "I’m serious," she said, trying to remain focused.

"What if I told you it wasn’t a coincidence?"

She frowned, confused. "I’d say you’re kidding me. Why would you pair up with me? You could have anyone you want."

"Because you’re real." He reached out and pulled off her mask. "You’re not after riches or power." She felt her hair tumble down her shoulders in thick waves. "I trust you." Combing his hands through her curls, he let it fall through his fingers. "You’re beautiful, Cecelia, and you don’t even realize it. I’ve wanted you since the first day I met you."

How did he know her name? "What do you mean you’ve wanted me since the first day? You just met me for the first time tonight, Devlin."

"You know me, Celia." He removed his mask and let it fall to the bed behind him.

Celia gasped. The man beside her wasn’t Devlin Wolfe. It was Jack Howell, assistant football coach at the high school. "Jack!" Truthfully, she’d been attracted to Winston’s assistant coach the few times she’d been around him. But this had to be some sort of elaborate practical joke he and Winston had dreamed up.

"Am I being Punk’d?" she asked, looking around for hidden cameras. Oh, God. If this got on television, life as she knew it would come to a screeching halt. What had she gotten herself into?

"Celia, I’m serious. I am Devlin Wolfe. Winston and I went to school together years ago. I sometimes use an alias when I do extracurricular things like helping out a high school football team because I value my privacy." He shook his head. "It’s a stupid image thing. Jack Howell’s a name I’ve used for years because of the whole Wolf-Howl connection."

"I can’t believe this." Why hadn’t Winston or Marilyn said anything to her? Surely they knew Devlin had this night planned—didn’t they? "I’m...I’m shocked to say the least."

"But are you angry?" He rubbed his hand lightly across her belly. "I swear I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wanted to get to know you in a different environment than at school. Hell, even at school, I’ve rarely had the chance to talk with you. I wanted more. Does that make sense?"

She was actually pretty damn flattered by the whole thing. "I honestly wouldn’t have cared what your name was after tonight. The sex was better than incredible. And I had a wonderful time role-playing with you. Whoever you want to be, Devlin, Jack or Rolfe, I don’t mind, as long as I can have one of them in bed. Deal?"

He bent and touched his lips to hers. "Anything you want. Just name it." He deepened the kiss, tasting her, teasing her. A groan tore from him as he pulled back to catch his breath.

It was a delicious and wicked mating of tongues that made her pussy wetter with each stroke. Celia fell back against the pillows and tugged him down with her. "Kiss me again."

Grinning, he rolled on top of her and straddled her hips. "With pleasure, my lady."