Evolve Series Box Set (71 page)

Usually two braids or ponytails are known as “handlebars” in my language, but on this girl, they’re cute; cute, wet dream-inducing braids.

Her eyes are as dark as her hair and hold the fear and anxiety of a kitten stuck in a drainpipe when it’s raining. I may never know where it came from, this instinct that up until this point I would have sworn on a stack of Bibles I didn’t possess, but I swear I hear her mind screaming to mine, “you’re big and strong! Protect me, Sawyer! Take care of me, hold me, make me unafraid!”

That body of hers is tiny. Not frail, just petite, and tan and muscular…and her own. She turns it to the side and away from the onlookers and keeps her hands over her barely covered breasts like the tease is part of the dance, but it’s not. I’d bet you a nut this girl has never danced or stripped before in her life. And if she has, she should stop immediately, because she absolutely sucks at it.

Those come fuck me heels she’s wearing? They’re two sizes too big and she’s never walked in them before. Also something she should stop doing immediately. If the teetering and wobbling didn’t draw attention to her shapely legs, it’d just be sad, but the legs are worth the painful show. Oh and fuck me, she’s skipping around in a circle, I hope she doesn’t think that’s a good cover for her lack of dance skills…skipping, for crying out loud.

And lastly, she loves this song. She’s mouthing the words, keeping her eyes unfocused and on the back wall, dying for everything but the song itself to be over. And when it is, she runs like she’s on fire for cover behind the curtain.

“Who was that?” I ask Dracula Nails, still standing beside me.

“New girl,” she answers snidely. “First night, can’t you tell?” She laughs.

“Yeah, I can.”

“So, I’ll see you later?” She curls those inflated lips at me.

“Maybe, if I see ya I see ya.” I get up, walking over to Dane. “Where’d you get these girls?”

“Hell if I know; Brock hooked it up.”

“So the company, it’s local to us, like in Statesboro?”

“I think so, why?”

“Find out for sure, I’m gonna hit the can. Be right back.”

I really do need to take a leak, but somehow I veer off course, peering behind the curtain like the Great and Powerful Oz will be waiting to hand me the 411 on this girl. I don’t see him, or her, only several other scantily clad women who only remind me how different she was. I want to bust in a demand they tell me her name and where she is, but I’m forced to duck out and shove the curtain back when their escort/bodyguard/whatever guy spots me.

No worries, Dane can find out for me, that man has scary ways of digging up the buried. I hurry back from the bathroom and catch him just as he’s hanging up his phone. “Well?”

“Local company, kinda off the radar, Brock isn’t sure they’re on the Better Business Bureau, if you catch my drift.”

“I don’t.”

He leans into me, talking low and discreet. “I know nothing, and I’m going to say this: walk out of here and never speak of it again. I may also fire Brock for being a dumbass. It’s some on the side thing for one guy, mostly underage college girls needing money.”

“Fuck,” I mumble.

“Fuck is right. My name is never to be associated with this, ever. I had no idea and I’ll kill Brock if he jeopardized any of us in any way. You hear me?”

“Wait, so college, as in our college?”

“Yes,” he sighs, running his hand through his hair, mad as hell.

“My old job ready at The K?” Wait, better yet… “I’ll replace Brock even.”

“You always have a job with me, Sawyer, you know that. Just say the word.”

“Word. I’m heading back early. Don’t fire Brock until I say, okay? I need to talk to him first.”

“You just fire him when you have what you need. My hands are washed of this whole thing. Now get the fuck out of here and pay for the party in cash. No paper, you hear me, Sawyer?”

“Got it. Go, man.”

Look out, Skipper, Daddy’s coming home.

Entangled

An Evolve Series Novella

S.E. Hall

Prologue

People probably think streets like this don’t exist anymore. I know I did. But as Dane and I drive down Elmhurst Drive in his shiny silver Roadster, top down and an unusual Georgia breeze in my hair, the neighborhood looks downright picturesque. All the lawns are perfectly manicured with huge maple tress dotting the area and 1428 loves pink, evidenced by the rows of flowers lining the walkway. I glance sideways when I hear his chuckle; his tan, smiling face looks back at me, a flirty glint in his dark eyes.

“You trying to break my fingers, baby?” he asks, lifting our joined hands between us.

“Oh, sorry.”  I blush, relaxing my grip, seeing that the ends of his fingers are now crimson.

“It’s okay,” he kisses the back of my hand, “I know you’re excited. I’m glad.”

The street is a dead end cul-de-sac, a community basketball hoop in the circle, several young boys playing a game there now. Two older men watch the game from their lawn chairs parked nearby and wave to us as we climb out of the car. I giddily wave back, once again earning Dane’s lighthearted laugh. The whole scene is worthy of a “Welcome to the Neighborhood” brochure and makes me smile, already feeling homey.

My duplex is precious, red brick with white shutters and a large bay window right in the front; I literally bounce my way up to the front porch. The landscaping needs to be touched up, the hedges are way overgrown and all the plants looking half-dead since no one’s lived here to keep it up, and I can’t wait to do just that. I look over and notice Bennett’s already got a sunflower flag flying proudly over her porch next door and it just makes my fire to get started burn brighter—I have my own house to fix up! I’ve never been so pumped about a project in my life!

“You ready to go in, Miss Walker?” he teases in my ear, swatting me playfully on the butt.

My “yes” turns into a squeal as I’m swept up, bride-style, in his arms. “Then go in you shall,” he responds before leaning down to kiss my lips and carrying me over the threshold.

CHAPTER 1

***Laney***

I love everything about the place, from the long list of things that need to be done to those which are only necessary to make it mine. As we wander from room to room, my excitement spills over and I start to tell Dane my ideas.

“I think in here I’ll paint it softball yellow and then draw red stitches all along the top, like a border.”

“I think that’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard,” he groans, backing away from me as he says it—good idea.

“Don’t hold back, Dane, tell me what you really think.” I cross my arms over my chest, because he just lost his boob ogling privileges with that comment.

He’d bought this duplex for me, sick of the 11pm curfew that often can’t be “worked around” in the dorm, not to mention it’s a closer drive to his house, strategically located at almost the dead middle between Chateau Kendrick and GSU. But, he’s being a bossy boots caveman—a trait he’d kept somewhat hidden until he felt absolutely comfortable with me—and shooting down all my top notch decorating ideas.

“Baby, if that’s what you really want, go ahead, but it sounds gaudy and juvenile, and you have to think of resale. When it comes time for you to marry me and move into the big house, we’ll have to make the room look normal for potential buyers.”

Some girls probably would have heard “marry me” and melted right where they stood, fanning themselves and batting their eyelashes.

Not this girl.

“What do you mean gaudy? Juvenile?” I mock and shrink him on the spot with my glare. “Just because it’s not black, white or gray,” (yes, I’m referring to the sterility of his house right now) “doesn’t mean it’s ugly. I think it’d look cool and you said this was my place. I should be able to decorate it how I want.”

I’m not pouting, really. I’m standing with my legs braced apart with my hands on my hips and a scathing frown on my face—ready to spar.

“And the other bedroom?” he asks, patronizingly calm.

I wave a hand and scoff, “do whatever you want with it. Go absolutely crazy with your three-color palette.”

And now for the zinger that’s really gonna get him.

“Men shouldn’t know how to decorate anyway, using words like gaudy.” I let one brow raise and give him a suspicious smirk. “Do I need to learn how to fix the cars then? What if I get a flat?”

“Oh, baby,” he growls, his feet pounding the floor as he stalks toward me, “are you questioning my manliness?”

“Maybe,” I tease, slowing backing up, “Nancy.”  My eyes dart anxiously around the room, mentally planning my escape route in this new territory.

He laughs deeply, not a “ha ha, that’s funny” laugh, but more an “uh huh, I’m coming to get ya” sexy laugh. “Got it planned yet?” He grins knowingly, one eyebrow cocked. “Better run to wherever looks the most comfortable.”

There’s no furniture yet, what is he talking about comfortable? Seeing the confusion on my face, he answers unasked.

“I’ll be showing you how much of a man I am when I catch ya,” he creeps closer, “so I’d stay away from the tile, it might hurt your back,” the mischief in his eyes ignites as he continues moving slowly closer, “or your knees.”

Do I still have to pretend I don’t want to be caught? I love this side of Dane and I love that the dominant, controlling, hunter comes out more and more every day.

The game’s precept itself is laughable; no one could question Dane’s virility. It seeps from his pores, an aura around him that takes up all the air in a room. And he’s all mine. From his forever-jostled brown locks and matching warm eyes to his cocky, lopsided grin to his sculpted chest, all the way to his tight back, that irresistible V and toned, tight ass—he is mine.

“You wouldn’t!” I challenge, knowing delightfully well that he would.

“Oh, baby, you know I can and I will.” He flips open the button on his pants, that cocky grin suffocating me from where he stands. “And I think you want me to.”

The man is a degree of hot and sexy that cannot be measured and I’m instantly aflame, tingly and wanting, every single time I look at him. And when his dominating stare is fixed on me, telling me I’m helpless to stop him when he wants me this badly, my ability to move, think, or possibly resist leaves me. I am but his for the taking, whenever and however he wants.

I shake my head back and forth, biting my bottom lip in the way that I know drives him crazy. “Do not,” I say throatily, barely above a whisper.

Only Dane makes me forget that not too long ago I was simply a girl; a scared, unsure, shy girl a long way from home. With him, as his, I am anything but. He revealed the true me—a confident, sensual woman ready to embrace all that makes me feel alive.

I cut my eyes right, staring at a deceptive destination, waiting for him to take the bait, then juke left, squealing like a schoolgirl in a slasher film as he grabs me. He never even flinched right, stepping in front of me effortlessly, growling into my neck as he swings me in his arms.

“You’re mine now,” he warns in a deep, sultry timbre.

“Wasn’t I already?” I breathe out, pulsing from head to toe just from his touch, his tone, his command.

“Mmm hmm, but the chase makes it so much sweeter. And now, baby,” he hoists me up by his strong hands spanned across my ass and my legs wrap around him of their own volition, “we’re gonna christen your carpet.” He goes down to his knees, still holding me tightly against him as he slowly lowers me to my back, laying his body across mine.

“You can’t be serious!” My moan betrays my protest as he suckles my neck, hands still kneading my backside. “There aren’t any curtains. Someone could see us!”

Another interesting fact I learned about Dane after the first time—he wants it all the time. Anytime, anywhere, any way…now that the seal is broken, my man can’t be stopped.

Can I get an Amen?

His warm breath fans across my already sensitized flesh, raising goosebumps and triggering a pull in my core. “If anyone peeps in your windows, I’ll take care of them later. And,” one hand slides to the front, snapping open my jeans, “we can keep it as discreet as possible.”

“You’re insa— Oh, Dane,” my breathing is labored and stuttered, his fingers deliciously teasing me, “discreet could work.”

“I love it when you see things my way.” He lifts his body off me slightly, the loss of his heat like an arctic blast. “Pull ‘em down, baby, just enough.”

I comply with his demand wantonly, no longer caring where we are, raising my hips off the floor and pushing only my jeans down to the middle of my thighs.

“Good girl, so discreet,” he teases as he looks down at me with a mischievous curl to his mouth and a growing flame in his gaze. “Now let’s see if I can do the same.”

Watching through my lust filled haze, he reaches in his back pocket, tossing a condom packet by my head. Seems he had this christening planned all along. Still balancing himself on one forearm above me, a hand slides in between us, easing down his zipper, pushing his pants and briefs down in the front. If a peeping Tom did happen upon us now, we might get away with the infamous “we were just making out and his jeans are baggy” defense.

He pulls the neckline of my shirt down with his fingers and the cup of my bra with his teeth, his mouth finding the center of my bare breast quickly. “See,” he points out huskily as his tongue circles my hardened point, “shirt still on. I’d never let anyone see you but me, Laney, ever. But this is happening, right here, right now. I want you.”

“How are we—”

“Shhh.” He silences me by covering my mouth with his, greedily seducing my senses, grinding against me and kissing me as though he may never get to again. Everything with Dane is intense, always; even an afternoon quickie on the carpet, he finds new heights to take me to. “Want it, baby?” he asks, rubbing his rock hard length along my saturated panties, one hand tight again on my ass, pushing me into him. “Say you want it, Laney, tell me.” His voice is edgy, he’s losing his control.