Unraveled (The Untangled Series Book 1)

by Ivy Layne

  "Only tonight. Is the cottage available for tomorrow night if our plans change?"

  "It is. May I ask, have you eaten yet?"

  "We haven't. Do you have any recommendations?"

  "There are a number of excellent restaurants within walking distance. We also have an award-winning restaurant on site." Giving us an assessing look she offered, "Room service is available if you aren't interested in a crowded dining room."

  Evers' eyes gleamed with interest. "Is there a menu available in the room?"

  "There is."

  "Does that work for you?" he asked.

  Alone with Evers? Food or no food, being anywhere alone with Evers worked for me.

  "Sounds great," I agreed.

  "Our car is out front, the valet said he'd wait—"

  "I'll take care of everything." She handed Evers back his card. "One moment and I'll have someone show you to the cottage. If you're interested in dining in, you'll want to look at the menu and order right away. The kitchen closes in an hour and I wouldn't want you to miss it. If you do, there are other options in town, but our restaurant really is exceptional."

  "Our bags?"

  "They'll be delivered to the cottage, Mr. Wilcox. They'll follow you by a minute or two, not much more." She looked up, catching the eye of a nearby bellhop. He was at our side a moment later. "James, please show our new guests to the Honeymoon Cottage."

  "Of course, this way."

  Evers and I fell in behind the bellhop, his uniform a match for the rest of the staff. I was impressed. Thanks to my job, I'd stayed in a lot of hotels, from the big and corporate to small, exclusive boutique hotels, some of them among the best in the country.

  The Inn at Sawyers Bend had a polish and professionalism I would have expected in a bigger city, not in a small mountain tourist town.

  Looking around at the well-managed hustle and bustle of the busy inn and crowded restaurant, the attention to detail was first rate. The main room of the inn was welcoming and majestic, with stone fireplaces on either side tall enough to stand in, a vaulted ceiling with timber beams, and comfortable sitting areas around coffee tables, some of which had game boards set out. Checkers and chess. A puzzle.

  A few were being used by guests, gathering in the central area to visit and share the adventures of their day. As we passed I caught snatches of conversation. Someone had been tubing, another couple hiking, and a third had been exploring the local breweries and restaurants.

  This was the place that had cast Griffen out. Why? As if my thoughts had conjured him from thin air, Griffen appeared behind the bar at the far end of the restaurant. I stopped, stumbling into Evers, staring. Griffen was in Atlanta with Cynthia. What—?

  Evers took my arm, following my gaze. When his eyes landed on the Griffen look-alike, he tugged me back into motion, shifting position so I was on his other side, blocking my view of the bar. Before I could say anything, he shot me a look and gave a short shake of his head.

  Okaaay… I remembered what Evers had said in the car. Griffen's family owned half the town. If they owned half the town I'd bet they owned The Inn at Sawyers Bend. That wasn't just a Griffen look-alike, but one of his brothers or cousins. Someone so closely related they looked almost exactly like him.

  Weird.

  Weird, and not my business. Whatever had sent Griffen from this town, however pretty and quaint it was, it must have been bad. Sawyers Bend was a little spot of paradise dropped in the beauty of the mountains. If Griffen had left, he must have had a good reason.

  Part of me was dying to know what that reason was, but if the Sinclairs hadn't been able to ferret out the information, I was out of luck.

  Leaving the restaurant behind, we followed the bellhop across the rear terrace and down a stone path, past a series of cottages built in the same stone-and-timber style as the inn itself, accented with dark red awnings at the windows that matched the employees' jackets and the awning over the front entrance.

  At the end of the path, the sounds of the Inn and Main Street faded away, replaced by the babble of the river. The Honeymoon Cottage looked like the others but was set a little apart, just as private as advertised.

  The bellhop opened the door and stepped inside, flicking on the lights. In contrast to the stone and timber of the exterior, the inside of the cottage was bright white, fresh and crisp, from the fluffy white couches flanking the pale gray stone fireplace to the crystal chandelier.

  Through an open door, I spotted the bedroom with its wide king size bed and more white—a thick duvet and mounds of pillows. The bellhop walked us through the small cottage pointing out the bathroom, an expanse of white marble, and the bedroom with its white-beamed vaulted ceiling and oversized bed. He opened the French doors beside the fireplace and flicked on the light in the screened-in porch overlooking the river.

  Main Street wasn't far away, but here on the porch of the honeymoon cottage, we might have been in the middle of nowhere. The bellhop handed us the room service menu before he helped a newly-arrived bellhop deliver the bags we'd left in the back of the SUV. Evers slipped them both a discreet tip and they disappeared, leaving us alone.

  Evers crossed the room and wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me flush to his body.

  "I want to forget about dinner and take you to bed right now, but we'll regret it when the restaurant closes and we're starving. This is a small town. I doubt they have a twenty-four-hour grocery store."

  "Good point," I said, tugging at his shirt, pulling it free to slide my hand beneath and press my palm to his warm skin.

  I was starving. Even upside down from my crazy day I knew that I needed food, but my deepest hunger was for Evers.

  I took the menu from his hand and scanned it quickly before handing it back. "Steak, medium rare. Loaded baked potato. Chocolate cheesecake."

  Evers pressed a hard kiss to my mouth. "That sounds like heaven."

  Releasing me, he went to the phone in the kitchen and placed our order, two of the same except for the dessert. Evers ordered himself raspberry cheesecake. I hoped he planned on sharing.

  I heard him say, "About how long do you think you’ll be?" Then, "Perfect."

  He hung up the phone and stalked across the room toward me, his eyes hot and determined.

  "They said twenty minutes. What do you think we can do with twenty minutes?"

  We could do a hell of a lot with twenty minutes.

  I reached under my arm for the zipper of my dress and whipped it down. Evers' eyes flared. I turned to dash into the bedroom, yanking the dress over my head and letting it fly.

  Without warning, he lifted me off my feet and tossed me onto the bed. I bounced, landing legs splayed, one sandal hanging off my toe, my breasts spilling out of my bra.

  Evers stood at the foot of the bed, rapidly shedding his clothes. It didn't take me long to get rid of my underwear and toss off my sandals. I hadn't been naked with Evers in so long. Almost two months. A lifetime.

  The library didn't count. Evers had managed to get all of his clothes off, but I'd just pushed mine out of the way. Not that I was complaining about spur of the moment library sex with Evers, but this—a big, wide bed and total privacy—was so much better.

  Rushed library sex hadn't come close to banking the heat between us.

  The whole strip club thing had only fanned the flames.

  Evers was hard before his pants hit the floor. I expected him to pounce, but he reached out and closed his hands around my calves, sliding me to the end of the bed.

  Bending over, he leaned in, his shoulders spreading my legs, baring me completely. If it hadn't been so long, if I hadn't wanted him so much, I might have been embarrassed.

  I had no room for that now. Evers traced a finger from one hipbone to the other, then down between my legs and up again, stopping to drawing a circle around my clit, his touch so light my hips moved of their own volition, seeking out more.

  "Tease," I accused. His ice-blue eyes lit with devilish amusement as he fli
cked his tongue across my clit, his fingers dropping to slide the tiniest bit inside. His touch set every nerve in my body alight.

  I needed more. Not the slow long buildup—I'd already had that over the last two months. The last few days. The last few hours.

  I wanted Evers, hard and hungry and inside me. Right now.

  Shifting my legs, I wrapped them around his back and pulled.

  His eyes flared in surprise.

  I wasn't passive during sex, but I wasn't usually aggressive either.

  The clock was ticking. We were running out of time before someone would knock on the door of our hideaway. I didn't want to wait.

  Evers placed his palms on my inner thighs, pressing them open. His lips feathering against my most sensitive skin he said, "You don't like that? You just want me to fuck you? Right now?"

  He punctuated his question with a hard suck to my clit, sending a bolt of white-hot ecstasy up my spine to detonate in my brain.

  All I could say was, "Yes. Please, yes. I want you to fuck me. Right now. You can tease me later."

  Evers didn't answer with words.

  Evers answered with his mouth, but he didn't use words.

  He sucked again, driving one finger and then two in my pussy as he worked my clit, sending me from hot and aroused to trembling and begging in seconds.

  My hips rocked into his mouth and fingers, short, choppy moans coming from my throat. I teetered on the edge of orgasm, almost falling over. He rose above me. His cock pressed slowly inside, filling me until I wanted to cry with the sheer pleasure of Evers joined to me. A part of me.

  I wrapped my legs around his waist and held on, eyes closed tight at the stretch and pressure, the exquisite slide as he pulled back and slammed in, driving me over the edge.

  He did exactly as I asked and fucked me hard, riding me through my orgasm, my nails digging grooves into his shoulders, my mouth pressed to his neck. The pulses of pleasure went on until it was too much, my body too sensitive for more.

  Just when I thought my brain would short out from the overload of sensation, Evers stiffened as the wave took him under, too.

  Just in time.

  Only moments after we separated, the expected knock fell on the door. I scrambled for the bathroom while Evers grabbed a robe and answered the door.

  I could take a break for food. As long as I could have Evers for dessert.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Summer

  We ate dinner on the screened-in porch overlooking the river. Wearing the fluffy white robes provided by the inn, we moaned over the amazing steak and twice-baked potatoes, fed each other bites of chocolate and raspberry cheesecake, and sipped the champagne that was part of the Honeymoon Cottage package.

  Surrounded by so much pristine luxury, it was hard to believe we'd spent the first part of the evening in a dingy biker bar and musty strip club. Our stomachs full, we filled the massive soaking tub and climbed in, Evers pulling me into his lap, my back to his front, our legs entwined.

  There, immersed in steaming, scented water, he fulfilled his promise to tease.

  I rolled my head back on his shoulder, my lips grazing the side of his neck, his ear, his jaw, as his hands slid along my soapy skin, cupping my breasts, squeezing my nipples, dropping between my legs and sliding up over my belly, my ribs.

  He was everywhere and nowhere, his cock between my legs, not seeking entry, just there, its hard length a tease in and of itself. I lay still as long as I could, reveling in his undivided attention until I couldn't stay still any longer.

  When his roaming hands had me on the edge of insanity, I flipped over, splashing water over the sides of the tub, and settled myself on top of him, reaching between us to guide his cock where I needed it most.

  It was my turn to tease. I rode him slowly, offering my breasts to his mouth, letting him feast before leaning back, grinding my hips down, playing until he lost patience and clasped his hands around my waist, holding me still and thrusting hard, driving me over the edge, following a moment later.

  He helped me from the tub, drying me carefully, reverently, before lifting me into his arms and carrying me to the bed. We lay there beneath the fluffy white duvet, arms and legs tangled, kissing and touching. Murmuring nothing and everything until sleep pulled us under.

  Waking up in the honeymoon cottage, sunlight streaming through the tall windows, it seemed like no darkness could touch my life again.

  Evers slept beside me, his face relaxed, looking younger than I'd ever seen him. His thick dark hair fell over his forehead, his tanned skin warm and soft as silk. I slid a hand down his chest, fingertips absorbing the ridges of muscle, the lines of his abdomen narrowing into a V pointing straight to my destination.

  I woke him with a kiss before taking his already-hardening cock between my lips and tasting him, teasing him awake. I owed him one after the night before in the tub.

  Evers' hand sank into my sleep-tousled curls, holding on as I worked my mouth over his length, sucking and licking, my mouth watering and so full of him.

  Evers was a lot to handle, but I had enthusiasm on my side. I'd always loved his taste, the way he filled my mouth, the sounds he made when I squeezed the base of his cock and sucked hard.

  I loved his voice, rough with sleep and heat, saying, "Summer. Oh, God, Summer."

  I thought about climbing up, riding him until we both came. Later. There'd be time for that later. Right now, I wanted his pleasure for myself. I wanted to bring him to the edge and send him over, just like this.

  When he said, "Summer, I'm going to… I can't…," and tugged my hair, I didn't move. I couldn't quite take all of him, but I tried, squeezing the base of his cock and sliding my hand in rhythm with my mouth until he shook beneath me, his hips thrusting, giving me his pleasure. Giving me everything.

  When he caught his breath, he hooked his hands under my arms and hauled me up the bed. Rolling to pin me down, he kissed me hard and deep before pinning my hands above my head and tasting every inch of my body until I was limp with satisfaction.

  I was half dozing when he threw on a robe and ordered breakfast.

  "I should get up," I said, "take a shower." That big, lush bathroom with the oversize shower and Evers. I'd get out of bed for that.

  "No, you shouldn't. You should stay right there. We can take a shower after breakfast. We don't have to go anywhere yet."

  Still in his robe, Evers crawled back into bed. I rolled into him, pushing the lapel of the robe back so I could rest my head on his chest. He stroked his fingers through my hair.

  "I could stay here forever," I said.

  "Here is nice," he agreed, "but as long as I have you, I can go anywhere."

  His sweetness struck me dumb. I couldn't think of what to say. I believed him. It wasn't that.

  A voice in my head was saying, I love you.

  I love you.

  The words wouldn't come out of my mouth.

  I believed that Evers loved me.

  I did.

  I wanted to believe he did.

  I wanted to give him those words, but they were stuck.

  All I could say was, "I missed you so much."

  That was the truth.

  Evers craned his neck to kiss the top of my head. "Me too. I missed you like crazy."

  Evers wanted me. I wanted him.

  We'd messed it up—mostly he'd messed it up—but we'd figured it out and we were together. That's what was important.

  And still, those three little words stuck in my throat.

  Evers didn't seem to notice. I was relieved. Once I got used to having him, I'd be able to say them. I knew I would. I just needed a little more time.

  Now that we were together again, we had all the time in the world.

  We lay there, me listening to his heartbeat while he ran his fingers through my hair until a knock sounded on the door. Breakfast.

  After we ate, we showered, got dressed and packed our bags. Evers was quiet as we checked out, making no men
tion of the possibility of returning for a second night.

  Fun time was over. We were back to work.

  We drove straight to the address Evers had for Warren Smithfield. Funny that I'd never known his last name until now. A thought occurred to me as Sawyers Bend disappeared in the rearview mirror.

  "Why are we going to Warren's? Why aren't we going to my Dad's place? I thought he lived around here?"

  Evers didn't answer right away. Sending me a cautious look, he said finally, "We have cameras in his place. It's empty."

  "You had cameras in his place in Atlanta and you took me there."

  "His place in Atlanta had been tossed. Harder to tell if anything was out of place." He pressed his lips together before flashing a quick, embarrassed smile. "And I wanted you alone. Away from Rycroft. You wouldn't talk to me, but you wanted to help your dad."

  "Hmmph." I didn't know what to say to that. Sweet and sneaky. That was Evers. I wasn't going to complain. "If you have cameras on his place here, you know when he was home last."

  "Three months," Evers said, the embarrassed smile replaced with a tight jaw.

  "What? If he hasn't been home, where has he been?"

  "A lot of people would like the answer to that question."

  Our problem in a nutshell.

  Warren didn't live in Sawyers Bend proper. We drove back toward Asheville before turning on to a narrow country road that transitioned from pavement to gravel to dirt, barely wide enough for two cars to pass. We must have bumped along the dirt road for over a mile, never seeing another soul. The only sign of inhabitants were the rusted mailboxes that popped up here and there, drunkenly leaning in every direction, looking as if the postman hadn't touched them in decades.

  Evers slowed as we reached a hunter green mailbox with the number 48 drawn on the side in black marker. He turned down the rutted drive, his SUV bouncing and jolting. I grabbed the handle above the door to steady myself before I bounced right off the seat.

  At first glance, the house at the end of the drive looked abandoned. Cracked windows had been repaired with frayed duct tape. Sagging cardboard boxes were stacked haphazardly on the porch. A washing machine that could have been from the fifties sat in the center of the front yard.