Unraveling Him: A Small Town Family Romance (The Bailey Brothers Book 3)

by Claire Kingsley

  “Oh, um, we actually need two rooms,” Fiona said.

  I let out an annoyed breath. I’d been sitting right there when Fiona had called to see if they had any rooms available. She’d clearly asked for two.

  “Sorry about that.” The woman went back to her computer. “That’s actually our last room. We’re renovating, so half our rooms are under construction right now. I’m really sorry.”

  “Um…” Fiona brushed her bangs out of her eyes.

  I swiped the keys off the counter and shoved one at Fiona. “It’s fine. We just need a place to crash.”

  After paying for the room, we went out to the truck to get Sasquatch and our bags—thankfully she opted to leave her plants in the truck tonight—then headed to room one-twenty.

  She went in first and paused just inside the door. “Oh boy.”

  I followed her in with Sasquatch at my heels, wondering what the fuck was wrong now. Everything looked fine. The room was dated and worn, but it seemed clean. Small TV, tiny fridge, thick curtains blocking out the light from the parking lot. The bed was—

  The bed. The only bed. A queen-sized bed, at that.

  Well, shit.

  Sasquatch was already sniffing his way around, making sure there were no unexpected surprises lurking in the corners. For a second, I envied my dog. He could curl up anywhere and sleep like a baby. And it looked like I was going to be on the floor with him. Obviously, I couldn’t make her do it.

  “You can take the bed,” I grumbled, dropping my duffel bag. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

  “No, you can’t sleep on the floor.”

  “Looks like I have to.”

  She looked back and forth between me and the bed a few times, opening and closing her mouth like she wasn’t sure what she wanted to say.

  I kicked off my shoes. “Do you want the bathroom first?”

  “Um, sure. But you really don’t have to sleep on the floor.”

  “It’s fine. I’m too big.”

  “Evan—”

  “Just use the fucking bathroom so we can go to sleep.”

  She hiked her backpack up her shoulder and her lip twitched in a smile. “Okay, okay. I see he needs his beauty sleep.”

  I rolled my eyes, but she ignored me and went into the bathroom.

  Sasquatch plopped down in a corner and looked up at me with his muzzle resting on his front paws.

  “What?”

  He blinked.

  “I’m doing the gentlemanly thing and giving her the bed, even though I’m the one who needs sleep because I have to drive.”

  He got up, circled once, and laid back down.

  “Yeah, buddy, you’ve got the right idea.”

  I found an extra blanket in the closet. It wasn’t much, but it was better than the threadbare carpet. I spread it out next to the bed and grabbed one of the pillows. Not exactly comfortable, but better than sleeping in my truck.

  I was tired enough that I started to drift off while Fiona did her thing. I heard the door open and I could see the glow of the bathroom light from behind my closed eyes.

  “Evan,” she whispered. “You can have the bathroom if you want.”

  Opening my eyes, I grunted a reply.

  And almost choked on my tongue.

  Fiona stood at the foot of the bed, folding her big sweatshirt. I’d only seen her wrapped up in too-large clothes. Her huge coat or baggy sweatshirts. Sure, I’d caught a glimpse of her ass being hugged by her leggings earlier, but that had done nothing to prepare me for what she actually looked like.

  Fuck.

  She was dressed in a blue tank top and a pair of blue plaid shorts. The whole getup looked like pajamas, but that wasn’t what had my attention. As if I’d lost control of them, my eyes traveled from a set of tits a guy could get lost in, down to a narrow waist, wide hips, thick thighs. She was the definition of curves. Her body was a work of art—soft and feminine—adorned with floral tattoos on one shoulder and upper arm. I spied more ink on her thigh and when she turned—

  Oh fuck. That ass. In leggings it had looked good, but barely concealed in plaid pajama shorts? Kill me.

  The shock of sudden arousal made my head spin. What the fuck was wrong with me? So what if she was hot underneath her clothes? I’d seen hot women before.

  But no one had made my dick react like this. She wasn’t even looking at me and it was like she’d reached right into my pants and wrapped her hand around my cock.

  That visual wasn’t helping.

  “Hey. Eyes up here, buddy.”

  Shit, she’d caught me staring at her ass. “I didn’t know you had any ink.” Not the best excuse, but she did have a tattoo on her thigh.

  “Oh, yeah, I have several,” she said brightly. She moved closer and turned so the side of her leg faced me, then pulled the hem of her shorts higher up her thigh. “This one kind of winds around back here too.”

  My heart pounded against my ribs as she slowly twisted, lifting her shorts across the smooth skin of one of those luscious ass cheeks. She was so close, all I’d have to do is sit up and I could haul her on top of me.

  No, big guy. I sent my dick a mental reprimand. Stand down. This is how we get in trouble.

  He didn’t listen. I tried to ignore him. It wasn’t easy.

  Fiona, clearly oblivious to my struggle to maintain control of my own body, turned to face me again. She traced her finger along her shoulder and upper arm. “And this one, obviously.”

  “They’re nice,” I managed to grind out. “Are you done with the bathroom?”

  “Yep. All yours.”

  “Took you long enough,” I muttered and got up, keeping my gaze on anything but her.

  I grabbed my bag and went into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me harder than necessary. My blood ran hot in my veins and the ache in my groin was annoying as fuck. How was I going to sleep a few feet away from… all that?

  Easy. She was just some girl. A few days from now, she’d be gone and I wouldn’t even remember her name, let alone the type of flower she had tattooed on her thigh.

  Did she have any other tattoos?

  Jesus, I didn’t care about her tattoos. I just needed to get some sleep. The more ground we covered tomorrow, the sooner I’d be rid of her.

  I needed to be on my own. I operated best that way. All this time spent in close quarters with her was fucking with my head.

  Or rather, with my dick. My head knew what was best for me. The aching erection in my pants did not.

  I decided a quick shower was in order. I’d wash off the road and take care of this biological overreaction so I could get some fucking rest.

  The hot water felt good, calming my nerves and soothing my knotted muscles. I washed, half expecting my erection to go away on its own.

  It didn’t.

  Fine. Bracing myself against the shower wall, I took my cock in my hand. Just pressure at first. A squeeze at the base. An answering pulse rippled through me. God, that felt good already. Apparently I needed this.

  Closing my eyes, I took deep breaths as I started to stroke. The image that came to mind was only half real—I hadn’t actually seen her like this—but was there any point in fighting it?

  Not when I knew it was going to get me off fast.

  I could practically feel my fingers digging into her ass. See her pussy on display for me. It wasn’t her—didn’t have to be her. It was just a fantasy. Just my imagination. Just some girl bent over in front of me, ready for me to fuck her dirty.

  Stroking harder now, I kept that image in my mind. I needed to get this over with. Needed release. My cock was thick, throbbing in my fist, white-hot tension building fast.

  I held the groans I wanted to unleash locked in my throat as I rubbed it out. That was it. Just a little more and I’d come all over that hot ass.

  Fuck yes. My teeth ground together, my jaw tight, and the muscles in my back clenched. The tension in my groin skyrocketed as I raced to the edge, and I rolled with the fantasy in my h
ead, picturing the come hitting her ass. Claiming her. Marking her as mine.

  My dick pulsed hard and I barely contained a throaty growl. I started to come and, oh god, sweet relief. I stroked it out while my cock throbbed in my hand, over and over. Fuck, that felt good.

  Pausing for a moment, I kept my eyes closed, basking in that brief moment of post-orgasm bliss. I was breathing hard but the aching tension in my groin was appeased.

  There. Better. I was sated.

  At least for now.

  I finished cleaning up and got out of the shower. Now that my erection was gone, exhaustion swept through me. I dried off and tugged on some underwear and a t-shirt. Hopefully I’d be warm enough, although at this point, I didn’t think it would matter. I was past the point of needing comfort to fall asleep. I’d be out as soon as my head hit the pillow.

  Fiona was in bed when I came out, curled on her side beneath the covers. She hugged the edge of the bed, like she’d tried to leave room for me. Which was kind of sweet in a weird way. I’d told her I’d sleep on the floor.

  Then again, maybe it wasn’t sweet. Maybe she was trying to keep as much space between us as possible.

  Didn’t matter.

  I got into my makeshift bed and closed my eyes. Clean, relaxed. The hard floor underneath me wasn’t so bad. Any second now, sleep would overtake me.

  But it didn’t.

  I waited, trying to clear my mind and accept sleep. To slip into oblivion. But I still couldn’t.

  Then she moved.

  Sheets whispered across her skin and my eyes flew open. I was thinking about her ass again. Was she wearing those pajamas to bed? I never thought I could be so preoccupied with blue plaid shorts, but here I was.

  Not sleeping.

  Fuck.

  She moved again, and this time it sounded like she’d turned over. Maybe turned toward me. Was she having trouble sleeping?

  An instinct I thought I’d suppressed flared to life. I had a sudden urge to ask her if she was okay. Maybe even climb up in that bed with her, hook an arm around her waist, and pull her next to me.

  That was a good way to get punched in the throat, even if I’d wanted to do it.

  Which I didn’t.

  I turned away from the bed and adjusted the pillow. This was fine. I just needed sleep.

  Her soft voice tickled the back of my neck. “Evan?”

  Don’t answer. Pretend you’re asleep. “Yeah?” Damn it.

  “Are you sure you can sleep down there?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Because it’s not a big deal if you want to sleep up here. I’ll stay on my side of the bed so you have room.”

  There was something soothing about her quiet voice. I was tired, and I didn’t particularly want her talking to me, but I didn’t feel the urge to snap at her either.

  And the bed would be more comfortable than the floor.

  “Okay.”

  I climbed onto the bed and slid beneath the covers, keeping my back to her. It was the oddest thing: She didn’t move much, just shifted a little. But I could have sworn I felt her relax.

  Stranger still, it made me relax.

  I settled into the bed, my eyes heavy. In the back of my mind, I wondered why lying next to her made a difference.

  It wasn’t her; it was just the bed.

  That was a lie. It was her.

  But I was too tired to worry about what that meant.

  11

  Fiona

  Nestling into the warmth of the bed, I decided not to open my eyes. It was probably morning, but my alarm hadn’t gone off yet. I was so warm and comfortable, I didn’t want to move until I absolutely had to.

  Except, why was my pillow breathing?

  That thought woke me up more, and as my awareness grew, I realized that maybe—just maybe—my head wasn’t resting on my pillow. That it might be—

  Oh god.

  Keeping my eyes firmly closed for fear of what I’d discover if I opened them, I tried to make sense of what I felt. My cheek rested against something warm and firm, and I was lying at an angle that wasn’t exactly flat. I was still in the bed, but I didn’t feel the softness of a pillow or the mattress beneath me.

  Risking a peek, I cracked one eye open and got a close-up view of a t-shirt stretched across a broad chest.

  Evan took a deep breath, his lungs expanding beneath me. Oh my god, I was draped across his body, my face squished against his chest. Was the corner of my mouth wet?

  Yep, I’d drooled on him.

  This was how I was going to die, in a bed in a cheap motel with a guy I’d gone on the road with after knowing for ten minutes. Cause of death: abject humiliation.

  I still hadn’t moved, but I was afraid if I did, I’d wake him up. And I really, really didn’t want Evan to wake up. Not like this.

  Maybe there was a way I could slide off him and it would just feel like the covers moving. I could roll over and pretend I was still asleep.

  It was the perfect plan.

  Slowly, carefully, I lifted my head off his chest, trying to pretend there wasn’t a drool spot right on his nipple. Maybe he wouldn’t notice. Or it would dry before he woke up.

  A girl could hope.

  Still moving as slowly as I could, I started to roll to my side.

  He moved, clamping his thick arm around me, and pulled me against him. My eyes squeezed shut and I froze, not even daring to breathe.

  But his chest rose and fell in the same steady rhythm. He was still asleep.

  Of course he was still asleep. He wouldn’t have been holding me like this if he were aware of what he was doing.

  Okay, new plan. Get enormous heavy arm off me, then roll over and pretend to be sleeping.

  I moved a little, trying to wiggle his arm down without waking him. It moved off my waist, his open palm sliding across my body.

  Almost there.

  He stopped with his huge hand right on my ass.

  My eyes widened.

  His hand squeezed.

  Suddenly I really wanted to know what he was dreaming about.

  He squeezed again, kneading into my flesh in a way that made it very easy to guess what was going on behind his closed eyes.

  I didn’t know whether to be mortified or aroused. Truthfully, I was a lot of both.

  The slow breath I took to calm my nerves didn’t help. Dear god, he smelled good. He’d showered before bed and the result was a clean, manly smell, something no cologne could ever replicate. The weight of his arm and his hand on my ass gave me just a hint of his strength, and it was all too easy to imagine him manhandling me on a bed. Or a couch. Or in the back seat of a muscle car.

  Focus, Fiona. You’re using Evan as a pillow and he can never, ever know.

  I waited for his grip on my ass cheek to ease a little, then carefully tried again.

  His sharp intake of breath sent a rush of heat crawling across my cheeks. Oh no, was he awake? Reflexively, I lifted my head just enough to peek at his face.

  His eyes were open.

  Quick, Fiona, look away.

  It was too late. We’d made eye contact. Horrible, horrible eye contact.

  His eyebrows shot up, he let go of my ass, and I scrambled to get off him. The sheets tangled in my legs and I kicked wildly to get free, while Evan rolled over so fast he fell off the bed with a loud thump.

  He groaned as he stood. I pulled at the sheets, still trying to disentangle myself.

  “What the fuck,” he muttered.

  “Um…” These sheets were like a spiderweb.

  Sasquatch appeared at his side, sniffing the edge of the bed, looking for the source of his daddy’s distress.

  Evan’s gaze swung back to me, then his eyes widened and he quickly turned his head. “Uh, Fiona.”

  “What? I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.” I kicked again, trying to get the spiderweb sheet off my foot.

  “Your, um…”

  My foot broke free. Finally. I looked up at Evan. Sure enou
gh, he had a wet spot on his t-shirt. “I’m sorry I drooled on your man nipple.”

  He absently touched his chest, but kept his head turned, like he couldn’t look at me. “No, that’s not…”

  “What?”

  “Your shirt.”

  “My shirt?” My nipple tingled, hardening at the brush of air against skin. Not fabric against skin. Air.

  Oh no.

  I looked down to find my left boob hanging out of my tank top.

  Instead of calmly moving my shirt so I was appropriately covered, like a normal person, I over-corrected. I yanked the fabric too hard, exposing my right boob to the air.

  Fortunately, Evan wasn’t looking. Or was he? I didn’t lift my gaze to find out. I fixed my shirt so it covered both boobs and checked my shorts to make sure I hadn’t undressed myself while I was sleeping. Why would I have done that? No idea, but I’d just woken up sprawled on top of Evan. Anything was possible.

  “Well, after that I won’t be needing coffee to wake up,” I said, giving my tank top a final little tug. “I shouldn’t be surprised that happened. My boobs are not small. I have the hardest time keeping them in my shirt when I wear a tank top to bed. I think the lesson here is, next time I’m sharing a bed with a guy I barely know, wear something with more fabric.”

  Evan cleared his throat. He still wasn’t looking at me. “So much for not moving around when you sleep.”

  I winced. It was possible I’d exaggerated my lack of bed hog habits. But I hadn’t slept in a bed with someone else in a while. Sure, my ex had complained that I always stole the blankets and could take up an entire king mattress, leaving him with no space. But I’d been comfortable with him. I’d been sure I’d stay away from Evan.

  Except… wait…

  I glanced around. Something still felt off.

  “Didn’t you start out over there?” I gestured to the other side of the bed.

  “What? No.”

  “Yes, you did. Look, the blanket you had on the floor is over there. I woke up on top of you, but you were on my side of the bed.”

  His dark brow furrowed and he opened his mouth—probably to argue—but snapped it closed again.