Entangled (Evolve Series Novella 2.5) (3 page)

Oh, it’s something all right. The walls are a deep
red, the bed a dark brown and prominent…but not as much as the pictures on the
walls.

“Wow, Ben,” I look at the ground, my cheeks
heating, “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“What, the pictures? Do you like them? They were
Tate’s Valentine’s Day present. He had them blown up when we got this place.”

“They’re very, um,” I stammer, searching for the
right word, but all that’s coming to mind is
revealing
. I mean, I
literally see nipple from here. What if her parents want a tour one day? “They’re…
You’re… I mean, they’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

“Thanks,” she chirps happily, “Paul down at MK did
them.”

“Halo” by Beyonce sounds from my pocket and interrupts
us, which tells me it’s my love calling. And thank God for his timing.

“Hello?” I quickly answer, stepping back into the
hallway.

“Where are you?” He cuts right to the chase, as
always.

“At Bennett’s, where are you?”

“At the door.”

I hear the knock, and go answer it, only just
realizing I can hang up the phone now.  “Hey, you.” I smile when I open it and
see him on the porch in a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his
elbows, dark slacks and shiny silver belt buckle.  Yummy.  The pink tie around
his neck is very nicely loosened, and just like that, he takes my breath.  Every.
Single. Time.

“Baby,” he sighs heavily, wrapping me tightly in
his arms, his face finding the crook of my neck. “I’m sorry it took me so
long.”

“It’s okay, I needed to catch up with my girl
anyway. Do you want to come in for a minute, say hi to Bennett?”

“Just for a sec,” he whispers in my ear. “I wanna
shower, change, eat and make love to you in that order, and sooner rather than
later.”

I pull back and place a soft kiss to his lips, more
than game with his plan. “Then what are you waiting for? Go give her a hug and
get me home. But make sure she meets you in the hall.” I smirk, half-thinking I
shouldn’t have warned him.

Chapter 4

~Dane~

“
L
aney?”

“Back here!” she shouts from the bedroom, then
appears, hurrying out to meet me in the hallway, pulling the door closed behind
her.

“Hey,” I greet her with a deep, slow kiss. “Whatcha
hiding?” I glance to the closed door behind us when we break apart, much too
soon for my liking.

“My room makeover. You think I’m gonna let you
steal all my great ideas?”

“I bet I can guess what color you’re painting it,” I
grin, picking up a strand of her paint-splattered hair and rubbing it between my
fingers. “I’m glad you changed your mind on the softball yellow. It wouldn’t go
with your eyes.”

“Hmpf.” She pushes playfully on my chest. “Are you
just here to spy? I thought you had a meeting.”

“I did, but I’d had enough today. I thought I’d
come take you furniture shopping. We can start filling the living room, the kitchen,”
I shrug, “whatever.”

She slides her arms around my waist and tucks her
hands into my back pockets, squeezing my ass. “I was thinking about hitting
some garage sales this weekend first. You can get some great deals at them.
That’s how I had filled the house for Daddy and me, living on a fixed income. He
never knew, really.  He’d come home to a nice new shirt, or pair of shoes, or
boots, or work gloves, and go on and on like I’d spent way too much on “such a
fine present,” and I’d spent a dollar.”

The story is sweet, and so is Laney, taking care of
others any way she can…but I can give her better. I can take care of her in the
finest ways possible. And what good is money if not to spend it on the woman
you love?  

“W-we are not getting your furniture at a
garage
sale
,” I sputter like there’s a bad taste in my mouth.

“Don’t be such a snob, Richie Rich,” she rolls her
eyes, “lots of stuff you find is very nice. And it’ll save money. You’ve
already spent so much. You bought me a house, for crying out loud. I just want
to cut costs when possible.”

I take my time, running both my hands through my
hair, then down my face, planning my next sentence. “Baby,” I begin,
deceptively calm as I let out a deep breath, “who better to spend money on than
my favorite person in the world? It makes me happy to do things for you. Please
don’t fight me, just let me.”

Relationships are about compromise, I know this.
Love is patient, love is kind, blah, blah, blah, but this woman is literally gonna
turn me into a saint…or kill me. I’m not sure which will come first.

“Dane,” she purrs, closing the practically nonexistent
gap between our bodies and running her hands up my chest, “how about we see
what we can find at sales first and then we can buy the rest?”

Ah, she, too, was calculating a compromise.

“I’ll think about it,” I grumble. “I’m starving
anyway. Go get cleaned up and we’ll go eat instead.” I pause to slap her butt.
“We can sleep at my house tonight since you have no bed.”

“Let’s just go to your house now. I’ll clean up
there and cook for you,” she offers.

“I swear, you’d argue with a fence post. Fine, let’s
go.” My voice chastises, but I wink, letting her know that I really can’t wait
to have her in my space, all to myself.

“
B
aby, leave the dishes and come to me.” I push
back the chair and pat my lap. “Helen can get those tomorrow. I wanna hold
you.”

“It’s no trouble; it won’t take me ten minutes.” She
glances back over her shoulder and smiles.

“Laney. Come. Here,” I growl at her, so very
tempted to get up and go swat her constantly argumentative ass.

“Well,” she drawls saucily, slowly moving to me,
swaying her hips temptingly, “since you asked so nicely.”

When she’s near enough, I reach out and tug on her
hand, pulling her to me. “Why must you always torture me?” I groan against her
neck, nipping lightly. “So sassy.” I turn her to face away from me and lift her
onto my lap. “Feel what it does to me? I think that’s exactly why you do it.” I
move her silky hair to the side and off her neck, nuzzling my face there, placing
intermittent kisses along her shoulder. “Talk to me, tell me everything I
missed today,” I mumble as I now pull her shirt down those smooth, tan shoulders,
giving myself more bare skin to taste.

“Nothing really,” she turns her head back to look
at me, “why? What’s going on with you?”

How do I tell her, without sounding like a psycho,
that I want to know every facet of her every day? If she laughed, I want to know
what was funny. I want to know what she ate, what she wore, who she saw. I want
to connect with her on a youthful, carefree level. She needs to know I can
relate, that I like to have fun, too. I miss her when we’re apart and want to
recreate every moment when we’re together. I’m busy all day, but that’s all it
is—busy. Not engaged, not interested, and far from impassioned; I go through
the motions to keep my
father’s
passion afloat, to secure a future for
my brother and his children, perhaps my own children, but only if it’s what
they
want
to do. More often than not, I feel like the stuffy businessman
who shows up late to catch a few half-hearted laughs with the Crew, a complete
outsider way too old for his age.

“Hey, you,” she cups my cheek, her thumb skimming
my jaw whisper soft, “tell me what’s going on in that head of yours. Be here
with me. Let me help you solve your problems.”

I don’t answer with words, unable to find the right
ones just yet, but rather run my fingers from her shoulders down her arms, eyes
solely focused on their trail. Several times I do this, still in silence,
taking every nuance of her skin. I take my time, memorizing every small freckle
placed here and there before finally taking her hands and lifting them, pulling
her arms straight up in the air.

“Keep them there,” my voice rumbles, my first words
in several minutes, and then pull her shirt up and off in one swift move. “Wrap
them around my neck,” I direct in a heated breath on her neck.

She curls her arms back and finds my neck, twirling
her fingers in the longer hairs at the nape, lying her head back against my
chest.

“Love you so much, Laney.” I nip along her
shoulder, pressing myself into her from behind. “I’ll always love you, my
beautiful angel. You save me every day.”

“You’re scaring me,” she whispers, and I feel her trembling
under my ministrations. “What’s wrong, babe?”

Again, I have no verbal answer to give her, not one
that would make sense to her, anyway. I don’t know what triggers it, or
obviously I’d work on stopping it, but sometimes…sometimes I get lost in my own
headspace, feeling like I live in one world and her in another; and I don’t
like it. I need to reaffirm my connection to her, and I need it now.

I turn us, draped around each other, and walk us to
the large window that offers a view of the backyard and the lurking storm I can
hear rumbling closer and closer. A flash of lightning streaks across the dark
sky, making my hair stand on end. The storm outside should know it’s met its
match, because the force here on the inside is unbeatable, the current between
Laney and I one to be reckoned with.

I knew it the moment I first saw her. Something
instinctual told me that together, we’d be magnificent. Until you’ve felt it,
it sounds cliché. All you can do is pity the skeptics who haven’t ever
experienced it—I should know, I was one until that night.

God bless my brother for picking that school,
that dorm.

“You’re a part of me now, Laney, there’s no going
back. No one and nothing exists before us, or after us,” my hand spreads wide
across her stomach, “all that remains is our forever.”

 “Forever,” she murmurs, earning an answering groan
from deep within me, my other hand now flicking open her bra and drawing it
down her arms, gripping a bare breast in my palm.

I love her breasts, not too big, not too small,
high and tight with nipples that respond eagerly. She bows back, pushing
herself against me as she lays a hand flat against the window, an outline of
steamy fog instantly forming around it. My free hand rubs circles lower and
lower down her stomach until I can take no more and release her breast, using
both hands to unfasten, then yank down, her pants.

“Even when I’m not with you, I feel you. Do you
feel me? When we’re apart,” I use one finger to trace her spine, “do you long
for me? Think of me touching you? Can you close your eyes and see us, as one,
in your mind?” My question is a sultry rumble I can’t disguise in between bites
to her earlobe and jawline. My hands have returned to her boobs, squeezing
greedily in between tweaks to each nipple.

“Yes! Yes, Dane!” Her breath fogs the glass in
front of me, temporarily distorting my view of nature’s upset outside.

One finger now seeks out her sweet spot, tracing
that which pulses for me, circling her wettest point. “You are mine and I am
yours. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep you, Laney. Keep you safe, keep
you happy, keep you with me. Only with you do I feel whole. Do I love you right,
Laney?”

I clasps the hand at her side and lift it, placing
it flat against the window to join the first, then shift slightly to stand
directly behind her. My hands skim the outline of her body, molding over those
delicious curves excruciatingly slow, teasing her hips with a squeeze before
slinking to the insides of her thighs.

“Just right, babe, just right,” she answers, trying
to turn to me.  

I stop her with a firm tightening on her hips,
keeping her back to me.

“Dane,” she begs, “let me love you.”

Without acknowledging her plea, my hands begin
their up and down survey of her body again. I could pick her out of a lineup by
touch alone; every line, dip, bump and curve has been seared into my brain.

“I love your body, Laney. So soft and feminine, yet
hard and perfect in all the right places, just made for me. Feel how you fit my
hands,” I grunt, fitting both cheeks of her ass, by
far
my favorite part
of her body, in my hold. “I have to know I live in your heart, your soul,
Laney, like you do mine. That nothing can touch us, we are unbreakable.”

Her head falls forward, forehead meeting the steamy
window, and she moans through her shuddering as my hands knead her ass,
spreading it apart for one digit to tease the part of her I’ve yet to take. We
are so far from that point,
or so I thought
, but the sinful noises
coming from her as I tease her there…me thinks she doth not protest too much.

“I need you,” I say, mouth open, wet along her back,
“need to feel close to you right now.”

“Take me,” she shamelessly cries, pushing that
glorious ass harder against me.

“Don’t move your hands,” I pull down my zipper,
“and don’t argue, for once.” Now the rest of my clothing finds the floor. “Be
my good girl,” I croon in her ear.

“Yours,” she moans.

So freaking sexy
.

The more I talk, the deeper my voice, the stricter
my direction, the more she responds. She was made for me.

“Bend.” I push only slightly on her back and she bends
like a double-jointed sex goddess, yearning to be taken there; the place where
we are both whole. I push on the bend of her back once more, just to really
stir her up. “Get that sexy ass up in the air, baby.”

I ease into her slowly and hold her hips still to
keep her from thrashing back against me like I know she so desperately wants to.
“You always feel so right, Laney,” I manage on a pant, “so tight around me.
Squeeze me, baby.” I am now the beggar, and my knees damn near buckle under me
as she clenches her inner muscles around my dick just the way I like. Squeeze,
release, squeeze, squeeze, release… “Fuck yes, Laney, wanna stay here forever.”
I thrust manically now. “I wanna stay in you forever.”

“Harder!” she screams, trying again to counter my
thrusts, but unable since my lock on her hips is a death grip. I hear her growl
in frustration.

Lying against her back now and releasing one of my
hands from her hip, I use it to join her faltering grip on the window, holding
us steady. Our slick, sweaty skin glides together and feels so damn right. “I
love you, baby girl, always you, you and me.” I can’t help but tell her again
and again; sometimes the love, passion and adoration I feel for this woman is too
much to hold inside, unspoken.

“Yes,” she wails as I feel my orgasm approaching.

One thing I know for sure, because Laney told me
very blatantly, is that it’s 30% physical and 70% mental for her. She loves it
when I talk, not only dirty, but also tender words telling her how perfect she
is or how much I love her; I gotta work for her to join me in coming. It’s
never gonna happen just because I tell her it’s time; one directive simply
doesn’t work, no matter what voice I use. Her G-spot remains somewhat elusive,
challenging me as though it’s moving around in there to a different place every
time, but we’ll get there, and I’m ecstatic about the practice it will take.
For now, her clit is her hot spot, but it isn’t a hair trigger. I have to touch
it just right, at the right time, for the right amount of time. That I
have
mastered. And honestly, it turns me on like nothing ever has or could to take
the time and effort needed to please Laney. She’s no easy or fake lay—when she
comes, I feel like a king.